Joseph Delaney: The Spook's Mistake

'It hurts me to be lied to, Alice. You did something and I want to know exactly what.' I paused, blazing with anger, and the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. 'If you don't tell me the truth, Alice — then I'll never trust you again!'

'All right, I'll tell you the truth,' Alice cried, the tears glistening in her eyes. 'What else could I do, Tom? Where would you be now if I hadn't come along and got you away? Ain't my fault that I scared you. Aimed at them, it was, not you.'

'What did you use, Alice? Was it dark magic? Something Bony Lizzie taught you?'

'Nothing special. Similar to Glamour, that's all. It's called Dread. Terrifies people, it does, and makes 'em run away in fear for their lives. Most witches know how to do it. It worked, Tom. What could be wrong with that? You're free and nobody got hurt, did they?'

Glamour was something a witch used to make herself appear younger and more beautiful than she really was, creating an aura that enabled her to bind a man to her will. It was dark magic and had been used by the witch Wurmalde when she'd tried to unite the Pendle clans in the summer. She was dead now, but dead too were men who'd been in thrall to the power of Glamour and had only realized too the late the threat she represented. If Dread were another version of that same dark magic, it worried me that Alice had used such power. It worried me deeply.

'If the Spook knew, he'd send you away, Alice,' I warned her. 'He'd never understand. For him nothing ever justifies using the power of the dark.'

'Then don't tell him, Tom. You don't want me to be sent away, do you?'

'Of course not. But I don't like lying either.'

'Then just say that I caused a distraction. That you got away in the confusion. Not far from the truth, is it?'

I nodded but I was still far from happy.

The Spook returned that evening, and despite feeling guilty at withholding the truth, I repeated what Alice had said.

'Just made a lot of noise from a safe distance,' Alice added. 'They chased me but I soon lost 'em in the dark.'

'Didn't they leave somebody guarding the lad?' my master asked.

'Tied Tom's arms and legs so he couldn't run away. I circled back and cut him free.'

'And where did they go afterwards?' he asked, scratching at his beard worriedly. 'Are you sure you weren't followed?'

'They talked about going north,' I told him. 'They seemed fed up with press-gang work and wanted to desert.'

The Spook sighed. 'That could well be true, lad. But we can't afford to take a chance on those men coming looking for you again. Why did you go down into the village alone in the first place? Haven't you the sense you were born with?'

My face flushed with anger. 'I was sick of being mollycoddled. I can look after myself!'

'Can you now? Didn't put up much of a fight against those soldiers, did you?' my master retorted scathingly. 'No, I think it's time I packed you off to work with Bill Arkwright for six months or so. Besides, my old bones ache too much now to give you the combat training you need. Harsh though he is, Bill's licked more than one of my apprentices into shape. And that's exactly what you need! And just in case that press gang come back looking for you, you're better off away.'

'But they wouldn't be able to get past the boggart, would they?' I protested.

In addition to kitchen duties, the boggart kept the gardens safe from the dark and any sort of intruder.

'Yes, but you're not always going to be protected here, are you, lad?' the Spook said firmly. 'No, it's best if we get you away.'

I groaned inside but said nothing. My master had been muttering for weeks about seconding me to Arkwright, the spook who worked the part of the County north of Caster. It was something my master usually arranged for his apprentices. He believed that a concentrated period of training with another spook was beneficial — that it was good to get different insights into our trade. The danger from the press gang had simply hastened his decision.

Within the hour he had written the letter while Alice sulked by the fire. She didn't want us to be separated but there was nothing either of us could do about it.

What was worse, my master sent Alice to post the letter rather than me. I began to wonder if I'd be better off up north after all. At least Bill Arkwright might trust me to do something by myself.

For almost two weeks we'd waited for the reply from Arkwright. Recently, to my annoyance, in addition to collecting the provisions, Alice had been sent down to the village every evening to see if it had arrived, while I'd had to stay in the house. But now a letter from Arkwright was finally here.

When Alice entered the kitchen, the Spook was warming his hands at the fire. As she handed him the envelope, he glanced at the words scrawled on it.

To Mr Gregory of Chipenden

'I'd know that handwriting anywhere. About time too!' my master commented, annoyance strong in his voice. 'Well, girl, thanks for that. Now run along!'

With a downward turn of her mouth, Alice obeyed. She knew she'd find out what Arkwright had written soon enough.

The Spook opened the letter and began to read while I waited impatiently.

When he'd finished, he handed it to me with a weary sigh. 'You might as well look too, lad. It concerns you. '

I began to read, my heart slowly sinking into my boots as I did so.

Dear Mr Gregory,

My health has been poor of late and my duties heavy. But although it's not a good time for me to be burdened by an apprentice, I cannot refuse your request for you were always a good master to me and gave me a sound training that has served me well.

At 10 o'clock on the morning of the eighteenth day of October, bring the boy to the first bridge over the canal north of Caster. I will be waiting there.

Your obedient servant,

Bill Arkwright

'You don't need to read between the lines to tell that he's none too keen to take me on,' I commented.

The Spook nodded. 'Aye, that's plain enough. But Arkwright always was a bit down in the mouth and overly concerned with the state of his health. Things probably won't be half as bad as he makes out. He was something of a plodder, mind, but he did complete his time and that's more than can be said for most of the lads it's been my misfortune to train!'

That was true enough. I was the Spook's thirtieth apprentice. Many apprentices had failed to complete their training; some had fled in fear while others had died. Arkwright had survived and had plied our trade successfully for many years. So, despite his seeming reluctance, he probably had a lot to teach me.

'Mind you, he's come on a lot since he's been working by himself. Ever heard of the Coniston Ripper, lad?'

Rippers were a dangerous type of boggart. The Spook's last apprentice, Billy Bradley, had been killed by a ripper: it had bitten off some of his fingers and he'd died of shock and loss of blood.

'There's an entry in the Bestiary in your library about it,' I told him.

'So there is, lad. Well, it killed over thirty people. Arkwright was the one who dealt with it. Ask him about it when you get the chance. No doubt he's proud of what he did, and so he should be. Don't let on what you know — let him tell you the story himself. Should help to get your working relationship off to a good start! Anyway,' the Spook said, shaking his head, 'that letter's barely arrived in time. It's best if we get to bed early tonight and set off soon after dawn.'

My master was right: the meeting with Arkwright was scheduled for the day after tomorrow and it was about a day's journey to Caster over the fells. But I wasn't feeling too happy at having to set off so suddenly. He must have noticed my glum face because he said, 'Cheer up, lad, Arkwright's not that bad. '