Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

I could feel the cold air from the ramparts and then suddenly my heart leaped in terror, for a flash of light illuminated the scene and came to rest on the hideous face of a gargoyle carved in the stone. He leered at me in the sudden light and I gave a scream as I fell backwards.

I could not have fallen far though because the turn of the staircase stopped that. I lay inert on the stone staircase and I felt consciousness slipping away from me.

Noises everywhere—voices. I was lifted in a pair of strong arms.

“Colum,” I said.

He said: “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

I knew I was in Ysella’s Tower because of the smell. It was everywhere. It was light now because there were several men and they all carried lanterns.

Colum brought me down the staircase to the hall. It looked different now with so many lanterns to light it up.

He said: “I’ll carry my wife. She cannot walk, I think. She has hurt her ankle.”

Two of the men went ahead, their lanterns lighting our way. I was aware then of the darting pain in my ankle.

I was taken up to our room and Jennet was sent up to me. She took off my clothes and wrapped me in a warm gown. Then she drew the curtains about my bed. Some of the women came up—those who were specially skilled with herbs and such like. One of them examined my foot and put a paste of herbs on it and wrapped it up tightly.

I must not stand on it, I was told.

So I lay there, thinking of Ysella’s Tower and I went on living those moments as I had mounted the stairs. Then I was given a posset to make me sleep and I did.

I did not see Colum next morning. I remained in my bed for it was painful to walk and it was dusk when Colum came in to our bedchamber. I still lay on my bed.

He drew the curtains back and looked at me lying there.

“Now I wish to know what you were doing in Ysella’s Tower,” he said.

“I found the door open and looked in.”

He leaned over me. His eyes were narrowed. He looked cruel. “You have been told not to go there.”

“The door was open. I saw no harm in looking in.”

“Yes,” he said, “that has been taken care of.”

“What?” I asked.

“He who left open the door has been punished.”

“Punished. How?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“It was my fault for going in.”

“It was indeed,” he said. “You knew you had no right.”

“I saw no harm,” I retorted. “I wanted to know what was in there.”

“If I had wanted you to know would I not have told you?”

“If it had been something of little importance you would have told me. As you did not I knew it was significant.”

“I expect you to obey me. Has it ever occurred to you what could happen if you angered me?”

“You could kill me, I suppose, as your ancestor killed his wife Nonna.”

There was a silence in the room. He did not move; he stood like a stone statue, his arms folded.

Then he said slowly: “Do not provoke me. You have yet to learn that I can be an angry man.”

“I know it well. I have seen something of your rages.”

“You have seen nothing yet.”

I had a feeling then that I did not know him. He was a stranger to me though he was the father of my children. I felt that he had worn a mask and that it was slowly slipping from his face.

I was not afraid of him, strangely enough. I knew that his rage could be terrible; I had lost sight of the man who had stormed into the inn, who had taken me to his Castle. I had forgotten that man in the gratified husband, who was so delighted with his son. But he was still there.

I thought: He is capable of killing me if I angered him, or if he wanted to be rid of me.

It was almost as though the ghost of Nonna had lingered with me, that she was telling me this, that she was warning me to take care.

I felt strangely reckless. I was going to confront him with my discovery. I was not going to pretend.

He stood there in that pose as though he kept his arms folded to stop their seizing me; and whether they would have caressed me or his fingers would have gripped my throat and he strangle the life out of me, I could not be sure.

What I realized in that moment was that I knew little of this man.

He said: “You should not have been in the courtyard. You should not have entered the tower. You could have stayed there for days and we not discover you. But for the fact that one of the servants was hysterical because she had seen a ghost on the ramparts and we found your petticoat there we might not have found you. When I knew you were missing I sent men out looking for you. You caused me great alarm.”

“I am sorry to have done that.”

“So should you be. Never behave in this way again or you will be sorry.”

“You sound … murderous. I believe you would kill me.”

“It is right that you should fear me.”

“I did not say I feared you. I said I thought you capable of killing me. You are hating me now because I have discovered the nature of your business.”

“What have you discovered?”

“That in the tower there are goods salvaged from the sea.”

“And why not?”

“You could tell me why you wish to keep them so secret.”

“Is it not better for me to take them than to let the sea have them?”

“They are cargoes of wrecked vessels. Do they belong to you?”

“Salvage belongs to those who bring it in.”

“Surely sometimes there are survivors. What then?”

“If there were, then the goods would doubtless be theirs, but if there are none we take them from the sea.”

“But why did you not wish me to know?”

“I do not intend to answer your questions. It is you who shall answer mine. Have you spoken of this to your mother?”

“How could I? I have not seen her since I discovered it.”

“Perhaps you were suspicious.”

“I have not spoken to my mother.”

He leaned forward suddenly and gripped my wrist.

“Then you will speak of it to no one. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you perfectly well.”

“What happens in my castle is my affair. Remember that. No one else’s.”

I said: “I never want to wear the ruby locket again.”

He said: “You will wear it.”

“It belonged to someone … someone drowned in a ship. Did you take it from her corpse?”

“Be silent, you foolish woman. Be glad that you have a husband who cherishes you enough to bestow gifts on you.”

“I don’t want those which have been snatched from the dead.”

He turned away and went to my trinket box. When he came back the chain with the ruby locket was in his hand.

“Put it on,” he said.

“I prefer not to.”

“You will put it on,” he told me.

I refused to take it.

With a savage gesture he fastened it about my neck. I felt it cold against my skin.

I shut my eyes and lay there. I felt helpless to resist him although my whole body cried out for me to do so.

He threw himself down beside me.

He caressed my neck and played idly with the chain.

He said: “You please me now as ever you did. I have never been so long delighted with a woman. You are fortunate, wife. We have our children and they please me. I want more sons though. We’ll have them. And there is something else we’ll have. You will do as I say and be happy to. You will say I have no will but his. And whatever he does, still for me it will be right. Say it.”

“Nay,” I said. “You may put a chain I do not want about my neck, you may do to me what you did on the night you drugged my wine. But you cannot change my feelings. If I do not like what you do, even if I do not say so I still dislike it and nothing will change that.”

He laughed aloud.