I stuck my head out of the window for a better look. The moon was sitting right on top of the cliff directly ahead, looking impossibly large. Against it, in silhouette, I could see someone kneeling on the facing cliff, looking down. In an instant the figure was gone, but not before I'd seen that it was wearing a hood!
I stared up at the cliff for a few moments but the figure didn't reappear. Cold air was beginning to fill the room so I closed the window. Was it Morgan? And if so, why was he spying on us? Had it been Morgan watching us too when we were getting water from the stream?
I got undressed and climbed into bed. I was tired but still found it hard to get to sleep. The old house creaked and groaned a lot, and at one point there were patterings near the foot of the bed. It was probably just mice under the floorboards, but being a seventh son of a seventh son, I might well have been hearing something very different.
Despite that, I finally managed to drift off to sleep -only to awake suddenly in the middle of the night. I lay there feeling uneasy, wondering why I'd woken up so abruptly. It was pitch dark and I couldn't see a thing, but I just felt that something was wrong. There'd been a noise of some sort. I felt sure of it.
I didn't have to wait long before hearing it again. Two different sounds that began gradually, becoming louder and louder as the seconds passed. One was a sort of high-pitched humming noise and the other a much lower, deep rumble, as if someone were rolling huge boulders down a stony mountainside.
Only it seemed to be happening somewhere beneath the house, and it was so bad that the windowpanes were rattling and even the walls seemed to be shaking and vibrating. I began to feel afraid. If it got any worse then the whole house seemed sure to collapse. I didn't know what it could be, but a thought crashed through my mind. Was an earthquake causing the clough to collapse onto the house?
Chapter 5
What Lay Beneath
Earthquakes did happen, but they were very rare in the County. There hadn't been a serious one in living memory. Yet the house was shaking so much, I really was worried. So I dressed quickly, pulled on my boots and went downstairs.
The first thing I noticed was that the cellar door was open. Faint sounds were coming from below so, feeling curious, I went down a couple of steps. The rumbling sounded even worse down there and I distinctly heard a shrill scream, more animal than human.
But immediately following that I heard the gate clang and a key turn in the lock. A candle flickered in the darkness below and footsteps drew nearer. For a second I was afraid, wondering who it could be, but I soon saw that it was the Spook.
'What is it?' I asked, thinking that he'd been dealing with something down there.
The Spook looked at me, a startled expression on his face. 'What are you doing up at this hour?' he demanded. 'Get off with you, back to bed at once!'
'I thought I heard somebody cry out,' I told him. 'And what's causing all that noise? Is it an earthquake?'
'Nay lad, it's not an earthquake. And it's nothing to bother yourself about! I've more on my mind at the moment than answering your questions. It'll be over in a few moments so just get yourself back to your room and I'll tell you all about it in the morning,' he said, ushering me from the steps and locking the door behind him.
His tone of voice told me that it was no use arguing, so I went back upstairs, still concerned about the way the house continued to shake and vibrate.
* * *
Well, the house didn't fall down, and as the Spook had promised, everything became quiet again. I managed to get back to sleep but woke up about an hour before dawn and went down to the kitchen. Meg was asleep in her rocking chair and I wasn't sure if she'd been there all night or had crept down from her room when the noises began. She wasn't exactly snoring, but each time she breathed out, there was a faint whistling sound.
Taking care not to make too much noise and wake her, I added a bit more coal to the fire and soon had it blazing away. That done, I settled down on a stool by the hearth and began to revise my Latin verbs. I had two notebooks with me: one to write down everything the Spook taught me about boggarts and other spook business; the second for my Latin lessons.
Mam had taught me Greek, which saved me from having to study that language as well, but I was still hard pressed to keep up with Latin, and the verbs in particular gave me a lot of trouble. Many of the
Spook's books were written in Latin, so I had to work hard to learn it.
I started at the beginning with the first verb the Spook had ever drummed into me. He'd taught me to learn Latin verbs in a sort of pattern. That's important because the ending of each word is different according to what you're trying to say. It's also useful to recite them aloud because, as the Spook explained, it helps to fix them into your memory. I didn't want to wake Meg so I kept my voice to hardly more than a whisper.
'Amo, amas, amat,' I said, without glancing at my notebook, reciting three words which mean I love, you love, he, she or it loves'.
'I used to love someone once,' said a voice from the rocking chair, 'but now I can't even remember who it was.'
It startled me so much that I almost dropped my notebook and fell off my stool. Meg was looking into the fire rather than at me, with an expression on her face that was a mixture of puzzlement and sadness.
'Good morning, Meg,' I said, managing a smile. 'I hope you've had a good night's sleep.'
'It's nice of you to ask, Billy' Meg replied, 'but I didn't sleep well at all. There were a lot of loud noises and I've been trying to remember something all night but it just keeps whirling round in my head. If s something very fast and slippery and I just can't manage to catch hold of it. I don't give up easily though, and I'm just going to sit here by the fire until it comes back to me.'
At that I became alarmed. What if Meg remembered who she was? What if she realized that she was a lamia witch! I had to do something quickly before it was too late.
'Don't worry about it, Meg' I said, putting down my notebook and leaping to my feet. 'I'll make you a nice hot drink.'
Quickly I filled the copper kettle with water and hung it from the hook in the chimney so that, as my dad says, the fire could warm its bottom. Then I picked up a clean cup and took it with me into the parlour. There, I took the brown bottle from the cupboard and poured half an inch of the mixture into the cup. That done, I went back into the kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil before topping up the cup almost to the brim and stirring it thoroughly as the Spook had instructed.
'Here, Meg, here's your herb tea. It'll help to keep your joints supple and your bones strong.'
'Thank you, Billy' she said with a smile. She accepted the cup and began to blow into it, then sipped very slowly, still staring into the flames.
'This is delicious' she said after a while. 'You really are a kind boy. It's just what I need to get my old bones started in the morning .. .'
I felt sad when she said that. Part of me wasn't happy about what I'd done. She'd been awake most of the night trying to remember something and now the drink would make her memory even worse. While she was busy leaning forward and sipping her drink, I moved behind her to get a better look at something that had bothered me the previous evening.
I stared hard at the thirteen white buttons that did up her brown dress from neck to hem. Of course, I couldn't be absolutely certain but I was sure enough.
Each button was made out of bone. She wasn't a witch who practised bone magic; she was a lamia witch, a type that wasn't native to the County. But I wondered about the bone buttons. Had they come from victims she'd killed in the past? And underneath those buttons, inside the dress, I knew that as a domestic lamia witch she'd have line of green and yellow scales running the length of her spine.
Soon afterwards there was a knock at the back door. I went to answer it as my master was still sleeping after his disturbed night.
A man stood outside wearing a strange leather cap with flaps that came down over his ears. He was holding a lantern in his right hand; wit
h his left he led a little pony which was loaded up with so many brown sacks that it was a wonder its legs weren't buckling.
'Hello, young man, I've brought Mr Gregory's order,' he said, giving me a tight-lipped smile. 'You must be the new apprentice. He was a nice lad, that Billy, and I was sorry to hear what happened.'
'My name's Tom,' I said, introducing myself.
'Well, Tom, how d'you do? My name's Shanks. Could you please tell your master I've brought up extra provisions and that I'll double up each week until the weather turns nasty. Looks like being a harsh winter, and when the snow comes, it might be a long time before I can get up here again.'
I nodded at him, smiled, then looked up. It was still dark, but it was just beginning to lighten and the crack of sky was mostly full of grey clouds blowing in from the west. Just then, Meg joined me in the doorway. She was loitering slightly behind me, but Shanks saw her all right because his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and he took two quick reverse steps, almost backing into the little pony.
I could tell that he was scared, but after Meg had turned and gone back inside, he calmed down a bit and I helped him to unload the sacks. While we were doing that the Spook came out and paid the man.
When Shanks turned to go, the Spook followed him down the clough about thirty paces or so. They started talking but were too far away for me to catch every word of their conversation. It was about Meg though, I was sure of it, because I heard her name twice.
I distinctly heard Shanks say, 'You told us she'd been dealt with!' to which the Spook replied, T have her safe enough, don't you worry yourself. I know my business all right so it's no concern of yours. And you'll keep it to yourself if you know whaf s good for you!'
My master didn't look too happy when he walked back towards me. 'Did you give Meg her herb tea?' he asked suspiciously.
'I did it just as you said,' I told him, 'as soon as she woke up.'
'Did she go outside?' he asked.
'No, but she came to the door and stood behind me. Shanks saw her and it seemed to scare him.'
'It's a pity he saw her at all,' said the Spook. 'She doesn't usually show herself like that. Not in recent years anyway. Maybe we need to increase the dose. As
I told you last night, lad, Meg used to cause a lot of trouble in the County. Folk were afraid of her and still are. And until now the locals didn't know she had the freedom of the house. If it were to get out, I would never hear the last of it. People round here are stubborn: once they get their teeth into something they don't easily let it go. But Shanks'll keep his mouth closed. I pay him well enough.'
'Is Shanks the grocer?' I asked.
'No, lad, he's the local carpenter and undertaker. The only person in Adlington who's got the courage to venture up here. I pay him to collect and deliver.'
After that we got the sacks safely inside, and the Spook opened the largest one and gave Meg what she needed to start cooking the breakfast.
The bacon was better than the Spook's pet boggart had managed, even on the best of mornings, and Meg had fried potato cakes and scrambled fresh eggs with cheese: the Spook hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Meg was a good cook. While we wolfed down our breakfast, I asked him about the strange noises in the night.
'It's nothing much to worry about for now' he told me, swallowing another big mouthful of potato cake. 'This house is built on a ley line so we can expect problems occasionally. Sometimes an earthquake thousands of miles away can cause disturbances to a whole series of leys. Boggarts can be forced to move from places where they've been happily settled for years. Last night a boggart passed under us. I had to go down to the cellar just to see that everything was safe and secure.'
The Spook had told me all about leys when we were back in Chipenden. They were lines of power beneath the earth, like roads that some types of boggart could use to travel quickly from place to place.
'Mind you, it sometimes means trouble ahead' he continued. 'When they set up home in a new location, they often begin by playing tricks - sometimes dangerous tricks - and that means work for us. You mark my words, lad, we could well have a boggart to deal with locally before the week's out.'
After breakfast we went to the Spook's study for my Latin lesson. It was a small room with a couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, a large table, a solitary wooden stool with three legs, bare boards and lots of tall, dark-stained bookcases. It was a bit chilly too: yesterday's fire was now just grey ashes in the grate.
'Sit yourself down, lad. The chairs are hard but it doesn't do to get too comfortable when you're studying. Wouldn't want you to fall asleep,' said the Spook, giving me a sharp look.
I looked around at the bookcases. The room was gloomy, lit only by the grey light from the window and a couple of candles, so I hadn't noticed until then that the shelves were empty.
'Where are all the books?' I asked.
'Back in Chipenden - where do you think, lad? Not much point in keeping books here in the cold and damp. Books don't like those conditions. No, we'll just have to manage with what we've brought with us and maybe write some of our own while we're here. You can't just be reading books all the time and leaving the writing of them to others.'
I knew the Spook had brought quite a few books with him and it had made his bag very heavy whereas I'd just brought my notebooks. For the next hour I struggled with Latin verbs. It was hard work and I was pleased when the Spook suggested that we have a rest, but not by what he did next.
He dragged the wooden stool close to the bookcase nearest the door. Then he climbed up onto it and searched the top shelf with his fingers.
'Well, lad,' he said, holding up the key, his face very grim. 'We can't put it off any longer. Let's go down and look at the cellar itself. But first we'll go and see that Meg is all right. I don't want her to know we're going down there. It might make her nervous. She doesn't like the thought of those steps one little bit!'
Those words made me excited and scared at the same time. I'd been bursting with curiosity to find out what was further down the cellar steps, but at the same time I knew that to go down there would be anything but a pleasant experience.
We found Meg still in the kitchen. She'd done the washing-up and was now sitting in front of the fire, dozing again.
'She's happy enough for now,' said the Spook. 'As well as affecting her memory, the potion makes her sleep a lot.'
We each lit a candle before going down the stone steps, the Spook leading the way. This time I took more notice of my surroundings, trying to fix the underground part of the house in my memory. I'd been down in quite a few cellars, but I had a feeling that this was likely to be the most scary and unusual one yet.
After the Spook had unlocked the iron gate, he turned and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Meg rarely goes into my study,' he said, 'but whatever happens, don't ever let her get hold of this key'
I nodded, watching the Spook lock the gate behind us. I looked down ...
'Why are the steps below so wide?' I asked again.
'They need to be, lad. Things are fetched and carried down these steps. Workmen need good access-' 'Workmen?'
'Blacksmiths and stonemasons of course - the trades we depend on in our line of work!'
As we descended, the Spook leading the way, my candle flickered his shadow up onto the wall, and despite the echo of our boots on the stone steps, I heard the first faint noises from far below. There was a sigh and a distant choking cough. There was definitely something or someone down there!
There were four levels underground. The first two both had just one door, set into the stone, but at last we came to the third, which had the three doors I'd seen the day before.
'The middle one, as you know, is where Meg usually sleeps when I'm away' the Spook said.
Now she'd been given a room upstairs, next to the Spook's, probably so that he could keep an eye on her - though based on the evidence from last night, she preferred to sleep in her rocking chair by the fire.
'
I don't use the others much' continued the Spook, 'but they can be very useful for keeping a witch locked up safely while all the arrangements are made-'
'You mean while a pit is prepared?'
'Aye, I do that, lad. As you'll have noticed, it's not like Chipenden here. I don't have the luxury of a garden so I have to make use of the cellar ...'
The fourth and lowest level was, of course, the cellar itself. Even before we turned the final corner and it came into full view'I could hear things that made the candle tremble in my hand, sending the Spook's shadow dancing wildly.
There were whisperings and groans and, worst of all, a faint sound of scratching. Being the seventh son of a seventh son I can hear things that most people can't but I never really get used to it. On some days I'm braver than others, that's all I can say. The Spook seemed calm enough but he'd been doing this for a lifetime.
The cellar was big, even bigger than I'd expected, so big in fact that it must have been larger in area than the actual ground floor of the house. One wall was dripping with water and the low ceiling directly above it was oozing with damp, so I wondered if it was on the edge of the stream or actually underneath it.
The dry part of the ceiling was covered in cobwebs, so thick and tangled that an army of spiders must have been at work. If just one or two had spun all that, I didn't want to meet them.
I spent a lot of time looking at the ceiling and walls because I was delaying the moment when I had to look at the ground. But after a few seconds I could feel the Spook's eyes on me so I had no choice and finally forced myself to look down.
I'd seen what the Spook kept in two of the gardens back at Chipenden. I suppose this was just more of the same, but whereas the graves and pits back there had been scattered among the trees where the sun occasionally shone to dapple the ground with shadows, here there were lots more and I felt trapped, closed in by the four walls and the low cobwebbed ceiling.