Chapter 9
Footprints
I watched for half an hour and nothing happened. The moon drifted slowly down toward the west, and at one point there was a brief but heavy shower of rain, a furious cloudburst that left copious puddles on the carriageway. But soon the rain cloud floated away and the moon bathed everything in its yellow light once more. About another fifteen minutes passed, and I was now struggling to keep awake, my eyes beginning to close, my head starting to nod, when suddenly I was jerked alert by the hoot of an owl somewhere in the darkness. Then I heard the distant sound of galloping horses and carriage wheels.The coach was heading straight for the gates; just when the lead horses seemed about to crash right into them, they opened of their own accord. This time I saw it clearly. An instant later the coach was racing toward the house, the driver cracking his whip as if his very life depended on it, only slowing the horses as they reached the fork that would bring them round to the rear of the house.Suddenly I knew that I had to see if Mistress Wurmalde was in that coach. I had to be sure it was her, and I had a strong feeling that I would see something vital.
One of the back bedrooms would afford such a view. I assumed the servants had their own quarters, so apart from the priest and me there should be nobody on this floor. At least I hoped not.Nevertheless, I stepped out into the corridor cautiously and listened. All I could hear was loud snores from Father Stocks's bedroom, so I walked down the short passageway opposite until I reached a row of bedroom doors. I eased open the first one and crept inside, trying to make as little sound as possible. It was empty and the curtains were drawn back, allowing a narrow silver shaft of moonlight to enter. Quickly I walked over to the window and, keeping in the shadow of the curtain, peered out. I was just in time. Below was a gravel courtyard pitted with puddles of rainwater. The coach had halted close to a flagged path that led to a door down to my right. I watched the driver climb out and this time got a good look at his face.
It wad Cobden. He opened the carriage door wide and stepped back, giving a low bow.Mistress Wurmalde climbed down very slowly and cautiously, as if she were afraid of falling; then she stepped carefully across the gravel and up onto the flagged path before sweeping on more swiftly toward the door, the hem of her bell-shaped skirt brushing the ground, her haughty head held high, her gaze stern and imperious. Cobden ran ahead and opened the door for her, again giving a low bow. A maid was waiting just beyond the doorway; she curtsied as Wurmalde entered. When the door closed, Cobden went back to the coach and drove it out of sight behind the stables.I was just about to leave the window and go back to my own room when I noticed something that sent a chill straight to my heart. Although the gravel was still waterlogged, the flagged path -was quite dry and Mistress Wurmalde's footprints were clearly visible alongside those of the driver.I stared at them, hardly able to believe what I was seeing. Her pointy wet footprints started at the end of the path and -went right up to the door. But there was a set of smaller footprints between them. Three-toed animal footprints, no larger than those of a very small child. But not those of a creature that walked on all fours.
And in a moment of horror I understood. . . .Where she'd been I didn't know, but she hadn't returned alone. Those voluminous bell-shaped skirts had served a purpose. Tibb had been hiding beneath them. And now he was inside Read Hall.In a panic, remembering the ugly, terrifying face in the mirror in that cellar, I turned away from the window and walked quickly back toward my room. Why had she brought him here in such a hurry? Was it something to do with me? Suddenly I realized what he wanted. Tibb was a seer. Whether or not he could see into the future, he could certainly see things at a distance better than any witch. That -was how the Pendle covens had discovered the trunks in the first place. And Tibb must also know where the keys were--that I -was wearing them around my neck. That's why he'd been brought to Read Hall in the night. Mistress Wurmalde couldn't risk acting against me while I -was under Nowell's roof. But Tibb could!I had to get out of the house, but I couldn't just leave without waking Father Stocks and -warning him of the danger, so I went directly to his bedroom and rapped lightly on the door. He was still snoring loudly, so I eased open the door and stepped into the room. The curtains were closed, but a candle sent out a flickering yellow light.Father Stocks was lying on the bed on his back; he hadn't bothered to get undressed and climb between the sheets. Having told me that we'd be safe in Read Hall, it seemed he'd chosen to ready himself for any threat that might come in the night.I walked up to the edge of the bed and looked down at him.
His mouth was wide open and the snoring was very loud, his lips wobbling each time he breathed out. I leaned forward, put my hand on his near shoulder, and shook him gently. There was no response. I shook him again more urgently, then bent my head so that my mouth was very close to his left ear."Father Stocks," I whispered. Then I raised my voice and called his name again.Still he didn't respond. His face looked flushed. I put my hand on his forehead and found it to be very warm indeed. Was he ill?Then the truth sank like lead into my stomach. The Pendle witches were notorious for their skillful use of poisons. I hadn't eaten the mutton. Father Stocks had! Some poisons were extremely toxic. A finely ground toadstool could have been sprinkled on the meat. Some toadstools could stop your heart in an instant; others took far longer to have an effect.But surely Mistress Wurmalde wouldn't risk killing Father Stocks? Not under her own roof. She just wanted him in a deep sleep until morning, to allow time for Tibb to get to me. He was here to get my keys.But couldn't she have done that anyway, with no risk to herself? Then I understood. The maid must have reported that I'd not touched my supper. That's why she'd gone for Tibb. He would help her get the keys anyway, whether I slept or not!The room seemed to spin. My heart racing, I strode to the door, walked along the corridor, and started to descend the stairs. I had to get away from Read Hall, then back to Downham, in order to warn the Spook about the additional threat posed by Mistress Wurmalde. Where did she fit into the Pendle covens? And what was her part in their wicked schemes?The dark, wood-paneled hallway had three doors: one led to the study, the second to the kitchen, and the third to the drawing room.
Tibb could be anywhere, but I didn't want to meet Mistress Wurmalde either. She lived in the manner of the lady of the house and was, no doubt, used to being waited on hand and foot; she'd rarely visit the kitchen except to give orders, and nobody would be preparing food at this time of night. So without hesitation I opened the kitchen door. From there I'd be able to get out into the yard and make my escape.Immediately I realized my mistake. Lit by a shaft of moonlight from the window, Mistress Wurmalde was standing by the table between me and the door. It was as if she'd been waiting for me and knew which route I'd take to make my escape. Had that knowledge been given to her by Tibb? I avoided her gaze, and my eyes swept the room: It was gloomy and there were lots of dark corners. There was no sign of Tibb, but he was small. He could be hiding anywhere in the shadows--perhaps under the table or in a cupboard. Maybe he was still sheltering under her skirts?"If you'd eaten your supper, you wouldn't be hungry now," she said, her voice as cold and threatening as a sharp steel blade.I looked at her but didn't reply. I was tensed, ready to run for it. But for all I knew, Tibb was somewhere behind me."That is why you're here now in my kitchen in the dead of night, isn't it? Or were you thinking of leaving without even a word of thanks for the hospitality you've received?"