I shrugged. 'It's possible,' I admitted.
'So let's take it one more step. I'm asking you now: how can you be sure, lad? How can you be certain that Alice isn't exactly who the Fiend says she is?'
'I'm sure,' I said, trying to fill my voice with conviction. 'It can't be true . . .'
'Look into your heart, lad. Are there no doubts there at all? Nothing that worries you in the slightest way?'
There was something that had been bothering me, and I'd been thinking about it all day as I walked back to Chipenden. The Spook was staring at me hard so I took a deep breath and told him.
'There's something I never told you before,' I said. 'When Alice frightened those soldiers away and rescued me, she used something she called Dread. But her head was covered with snakes and I felt cold when she approached. She looked like the most frightening witch I'd ever seen. Did I see the truth of things by the moonlight that night? Did I see her as she really is?'
The Spook didn't answer.
'And there's another thing,' I continued. 'The way Alice behaved when you sent her away. She didn't say a single word in her defence. That's not like her. The Fiend claimed to have told her the night before and he said she was resigned. And that's what she looked like to me. As if she'd given up and all the fight had gone out of her. She knew who she was and there was nothing she could do about it.'
'You could well be right,' said the Spook. 'But the Fiend would certainly lie to suit his own purposes. There's actually one other thing that worries me, lad. You say Alice got some of Morwena's blood. That would be difficult. When did she get it?'
'After Morwena was dead. When she washed my chain—'
'I saw her wash your chain, lad, but she didn't put any blood into a jar. I could be mistaken, though she was just a few feet away when she did it. But she believed in the jar and I've had an unpleasant thought. Maybe she used her own blood! She was desperate to keep you safe, and if she knew she was the Fiend's daughter, then she'd be confident that her own blood would work just as well . . .'
I buried my face in my hands but the Spook put his hand on my shoulder. 'Look at me, lad.'
I looked into his eyes and saw sadness. 'None of that is proof. I could be wrong. Maybe she did save blood from the chain. So I'll tell you this – I'm undecided myself. There's one other person knows the truth and that's Bony Lizzie – but witches lie too. If Bill Arkwright were here in my shoes, he'd drag Lizzie from that pit and make her talk. But I don't hold with that. Besides, people will say anything to avoid being hurt.
'No, we'll just have to be patient. Time will deliver the truth into our hands, but in the meantime you must promise me to have no contact at all with the girl. If she is the Fiend's daughter, I've made the biggest mistake of my whole life. Not only did I spare her the pit because you pleaded for her, I've given her a home and let her share our lives for far too long. She's had all that time to corrupt you. Too many opportunities to undermine everything I've tried to teach you. What's more, whether or not she's the Fiend's daughter, I still think she's a dangerous influence. She may well try to reach you either in person or using a mirror. You must resist that, lad. You must have no contact with her at all. Will you do that for me? Do you promise?'
I nodded. 'It'll be difficult,' I said, 'but I'll do it.'
'Good lad! I know it will be hard because you two had become very close. Too close for my liking. But the biggest danger is that the Fiend will try to compromise you and draw you towards the dark. It could happen gradually, bit by bit, so you hardly notice. And he'd most likely use the girl to achieve it.
'Now then, things aren't all bad. I do have some good news. A letter arrived for you just two days ago.'
'A letter? Who from? Is it from Jack?'
'Why don't you come back to the house and find out?' the Spook said mysteriously.
It was good to be back. I realized just how much I'd been missing my life at Chipenden. The Spook told me to sit myself down at the kitchen table. Then he went upstairs and came down carrying an envelope, which he handed to me with a smile. One glance and my smile became even broader than his.
To my youngest son, Thomas J. Ward
It was from Mam! News of her at last! Eagerly I tore it open and began to read.
Dear Tom,
The struggle against the dark in my own land has been long and hard and is approaching a crisis. However, we two have much to discuss and I do have further things to reveal and a request to make. I need something from you. That and your help. Were there any way at all to avoid this, I would not ask it of you. But these are words that must be said face to face, not in a letter, and so I intend to return home for a short visit on the eve of midsummer.
I have written to Jack to inform him of my arrival so I look forward to seeing you at the farm at the appointed time. Work hard at your lessons, son, and be optimistic, no matter how dark the future seems. Your strength is greater than you realize.
Love,
Mam
'Mam's coming back to visit at midsummer,' I told the Spook, handing him the letter excitedly. It was now the tenth of April. In just over two months I'd see her again. I wondered what she wanted to tell me.
The Spook read the letter, then looked up at me, his face very serious, and began to scratch at his beard, deep in thought.
'She says she wants my help. And something from me. What do you think she means?' I asked, my mind still whirling.
'We'll just have to wait and see, lad. It could be anything – it's a bridge that can only be crossed when we come to it. But when you go to the farm, I'll go too. There are things I need to say to your mam, and no doubt she'll have words of her own for me. But until then we have work to do. How long have you been my apprentice now, lad?'
I thought for a moment. 'About two years . . .'
'Aye, two years, give or take a week or so. In the first I taught you about boggarts. In the second we've studied witches, including six months' sound training from Bill Arkwright concerning the ones that lurk in stagnant water. So now we've arrived at your third year of study and we're about to begin a new topic, which is "The History of the Dark".
'You see, lad, those who fail to learn the lessons of history are doomed to make the same mistakes as others before them. We're going to examine the different ways the dark has manifested itself to people during the centuries leading up to our own. And we're not just going to confine ourselves to County history. We'll be broadening our horizons and looking to accounts from other lands. You'll also begin your study of the "Old Tongue", the language of the first men who came to the County. It's a lot harder than Latin and Greek so you'll have your work cut out!'
It all sounded interesting. I couldn't believe that in six months I'd be halfway through my apprenticeship. A lot had happened – good things, bad things, scary things and sad things. And with or without Alice, my training would go on.
After that we had our supper – one of the best the boggart had ever cooked. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. The first of many to come.
Once again, I've written most of this from memory, just using my notebook when necessary.
It's just three weeks since I arrived back at Chipenden and the weather's starting to get much warmer; the mists and cold weather up at Arkwright's mill are now just a memory.
Yesterday I had a letter from my brother Jack. He's as excited as me at the news of Mam's visit. All's well at the farm and my other brother, James, is doing really well as a blacksmith and getting lots of business.
I should be happy but I keep thinking about Alice, wondering how she's doing and whether or not the Fiend told the truth about her. So far she's tried to contact me twice, using the mirror in my bedroom. Each time, just as I've been about to climb into bed, I've noticed the glass begin to lighten and caught a glimpse of Alice's face.
It's been hard. I've really wanted to breathe on the glass and write to say I'm worried about her and ask if she's safe. Instead, I've thrown myself into bed, turned my face to
the wall and kept my promise.
He's the Spook and I'm only the apprentice. He's still my master and everything he does is for the best. But I'll be glad when Mam gets back. I'm really looking forward to seeing her again. I'm intrigued by what she wants to ask me and I also want to find out what she thinks about Alice. I want to know the truth.
Thomas J. Ward
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Title
The Wardstone Chronicles
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1 The king's shilling
CHAPTER 2 The truth of things
CHAPTER 3 A late reply
CHAPTER 4 The mill
CHAPTER 5 A shrill high scream
CHAPTER 6 Water lore
CHAPTER 7 Frog-kicks
CHAPTER 8 The fisherman's wife
CHAPTER 9 Whacks and lumps!
CHAPTER 10 The spook's letter
CHAPTER 11 The witch's finger
CHAPTER 12 Morwena
CHAPTER 13 The hermit of Cartmel
CHAPTER 14 A dead man!
CHAPTER 15 The dancing finger
CHAPTER 16 Trail of blood
CHAPTER 17 Pursuit
CHAPTER 18 Two messages
CHAPTER 19 The bargeman's daughter
CHAPTER 20 No choice at all
CHAPTER 21 Hobbled
CHAPTER 22 Widdershins
CHAPTER 23 A witch bottle
CHAPTER 24 The folly
CHAPTER 25 Grimalkin
CHAPTER 26 The unthinkable
CHAPTER 27 A hard bargain
CHAPTER 28 The fight on the marsh
CHAPTER 29 Where I belong
CHAPTER 30 The black barge
CHAPTER 31 Whose blood?
Joseph Delaney, The Spook's Mistake
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends