Soon a fire was blazing away, my staff tossed casually onto the kindling with the other wood. It was my first staff, given to me by my master, and its loss hurt me badly, as if my apprenticeship to the Spook were also going up in flames.
Helping themselves to the contents of the sack, the soldiers soon had both chickens roasting on a spit and were cutting slices of bread and toasting them over the fire. To my surprise, when the food was ready, they untied me and gave me more than I could eat. But it wasn’t out of kindness.
‘Eat up, boy,’ the sergeant commanded. ‘We want you fit and well when we hand you over. You’re the tenth one we’ve taken in the past two weeks and probably the icing on the cake. A young, strong, healthy lad like you should earn us a good bonus!’
‘He don’t look very cheerful!’ jeered the corporal. ‘Don’t he realize this is the best thing that ever happened to him? Make a man of you, it will, lad.’
‘Don’t look so down-in-the-mouth, boy,’ the sergeant mocked, showing off to his men. ‘They might not take you to fight. We’re short of sailors too! Can you swim?’
I shook my head.
‘Well, that’s no barrier to being a Jack tar. Once overboard and in the sea, nobody lasts long. You either freeze to death or the sharks bite off your feet!’
After we’d emptied our plates they tied my hands again, and as they talked, I lay back and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep while listening to their conversation. It seemed that they were fed up with pressing for the army. They were talking about deserting.
‘Last one, this is,’ I heard the sergeant mutter. ‘Collect our pay, then we’ll disappear north o’ the County and find ourselves some richer pickings. There’s got to be better work than this!’
Just my luck, I told myself. One more and then they were finished. I was the very last one they intended to press into service.
‘Not sure about that,’ said a plaintive voice. ‘Not much work anywhere. That’s why my old dad signed me up to soldiering.’
It was the lad, Toddy, who’d spoken, and for a moment there was an uneasy silence. I could tell that the sergeant didn’t like being contradicted.
‘Well, Toddy,’ he answered, an edge of anger to his voice, ‘depends who’s looking for work, a boy or a man. And it depends what kind of work we’re talking about. Still, I know the job for you. There’s one spook who’ll be looking for a new apprentice. I think that’s just the job you need!’
Toddy shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t like it much. Witches scare me . . .’
‘Just old wives’ tales. There are no witches. Come on, Toddy. Tell me! When have you seen a witch?’
‘Had an old witch in our village once,’ Toddy replied. ‘She’d a black cat and used to mutter under her breath. She had a wart on her chin too!’
‘The cat or the witch?’ mocked the sergeant.
‘The witch.’
‘A witch with a wart on her chin! Well, doesn’t that just have us all shaking in our boots, lads,’ brayed the sergeant sarcastically. ‘We need to get you apprenticed to a spook and then, when you’ve finished your training, you’ll be able to go back and deal with her!’
‘No,’ said Toddy. ‘Wouldn’t be able to do that. She’s dead already. They tied her hands to her feet and threw her in the pond to see if she’d float . . .’
The men roared with laughter but I couldn’t see what was funny. She’d clearly been what the Spook called ‘falsely accused’ – a poor old woman who didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Those who sank were presumed innocent but often died of shock or pneumonia if they hadn’t already drowned.
‘Well, Toddy? Did she float?’ the sergeant demanded.
‘She did, but face down in the water. They fished her out to burn her but she was already dead. So they burned her cat instead.’
There was another burst of cruel laughter even louder than the first, but the conversation soon became desultory before ceasing altogether. I think I must have dozed off because I suddenly became aware that it had grown extremely cold. Only an hour previously, a chill damp autumn wind had been gusting through the trees, bending the saplings and causing older branches to creak and groan; now everything was perfectly still and the ground was coated with hoar frost that sparkled in the moonlight.
The fire had died right down until there were just a few glowing embers. There was plenty of wood lying in a heap at the side, but despite the bitterly cold air, nobody had made a move to fuel the fire. All five soldiers were simply staring at the cooling embers as if in a trance.
Suddenly I sensed something approaching the clearing. The soldiers did too. They came to their feet as one and peered out into the darkness. A shadowy figure emerged from amongst the trees, moving towards us so silently that it appeared to be floating rather than walking. As it drew nearer, I felt fear rising in my throat like bile and stood up nervously.
My body was already cold, but there’s more than one kind of cold. I’m the seventh son of a seventh son and I can sometimes see, hear or sense things that ordinary people can’t. I see ghosts, and ghasts; hear the dead talk; feel a special kind of cold when something from the dark approaches. I had that feeling now, stronger than I’d ever felt it before, and I was scared. So scared that I began to tremble from head to foot. Could it be the Fiend, come for me at last?
There was something about the head of the approaching figure that disturbed me deeply. There was no wind yet its hair seemed to be moving; writhing in an impossible way. Could this be the Fiend approaching now?
The figure moved closer; suddenly it entered the clearing so that moonlight fell on it properly for the first time . . .
But it wasn’t the Fiend. I was looking at a powerful malevolent witch. Her eyes were like fiery coals and her face was contorted with hatred and malice. Yet it was her head that terrified me most of all. Instead of hair, she had a nest of black snakes that writhed and coiled, forked tongues flickering, fangs ready to inject their venom.
Suddenly there was a moan of animal terror from my right. It was the sergeant. For all his brave words, his face was now deformed by fear, his eyes bulging in his head, mouth open as if to scream. But instead he gave another moan, deep from within his belly, and set off into the trees, heading north at full pelt. His men followed, with Toddy bringing up the rear, and I could hear them in the distance, their frantic footsteps receding until they’d faded away altogether.