The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 6

They came for us in May, when the late primroses were still making yellow splashes on the banks. The first I knew of the trouble to come was the sight of Tam hurrying down the lane on his sticklike legs, his tattered coat flapping around him.

"Where's Elspeth?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"Here she comes now." I nodded toward the distant figure of Granny, who was walking back from the shore, carrying the finds of the morning bunched up in her apron. "Why? What's the matter?"

Tam grasped my arm.

"Get away, Maidie! Run! Now!"

I gaped at him.

"Run? Why?"

"They're on their way here! To arrest her!"

My hand flew to my mouth.

"Arrest who? For what?"

"Elspeth!" He was dancing in an agony of impatience from one foot to the other. "For being a witch!"

"Granny's not a witch! You know that! Everyone knows it. All this fuss is coming from Macbean because he wants our cottage. We'll explain and they'll let her go."

"No! You don't understand! Rothesay's in a panic. The talk's all of witches and the Devil and wildness. I'm telling you, they're looking for women to burn! There's no help for Elspeth. And you'll be next. You will, I know it."

I clutched at the doorpost.

"Tam! What am I going to do?"

"Do? I'm telling you! Run!" His almost hairless brows rose till they disappeared beneath his bonnet. "You must leave here. Now! This minute!"

"I—Ica n't! Granny—"

"Maidie, your granny's a dead woman, or as good as. They'll never let her go. They've been wanting this for a long time. There'll be a hanging at the Gallowgate and a burning afterward, and they'll do the same to you if you give them the chance."

"Me? They'd burn me? But I'm not a witch!"

"I know that! You're wasting time!" He snatched off his bonnet in exasperation, then clapped it back onto his head. At any other moment, I'd have laughed at the way he looked, with it dangling down over one eye. "I knew this would happen! How often have I said to her, 'Don't speak so sharp to everyone. Don't give those preachers and praters and black-beetle Presbyterians the chance!' But she would never listen, and now she's done for."

I was slowly catching up with what he was saying.

"They're going to hang Granny? And burn her?"

"Yes. Yes! I told you! And you too! Maidie, you must get off the island."

"Where to? Where can I go?"

He looked behind me into the cottage, as though he would find the answer written on the cottage wall.

"I don't know. Come with me. We'll be vagabonds together."

"I can't leave Blackie. And there's Sheba."

"The cat'll fend for herself. We'll get word to the farmer at Ambrismore. He'll take the cow. Come on, now. They'll be here any minute!"

I backed away from him.

"Tam, I can't. How can I just run away and leave Granny to fight this on her own? Everyone knows I'm not a witch. They wouldn't hurt me."

I was sure I was right. Granny, I could see, might be in danger, but I couldn't imagine how anyone could accuse me. I knew, too, in my heart of hearts, that I would be a fool to trust myself to Tam. He would run away and leave me at the first sign of danger.

And I was right about that, because a moment later, when figures appeared on the crest of the hill above and Tam saw them hurrying down the track toward us, he turned and sprinted up the narrow path past Loch Quien to disappear among the trees.

My knees had turned to water at the sight of the approaching crowd. My confidence vanished, and I wished I'd run when I'd had the chance. It was too late now.

Granny arrived up from the shore. She hadn't noticed the crowd coming ever closer down the path. She pushed past me into the cottage, tipped out the contents of her apron on to the table, and dusted the sand off her hands. I found my voice at last.

"Granny! Tam was here! He said—they're—it's—" was all I could say.

"What the matter with you?" She scowled at me. "You've gone white. You're not falling into another fit, are you?"

She heard the sound of voices then and came back to the cottage door, shading her eyes to look up the road.

"They'll be on the way to Macbean's for something or other," she said, but I heard uncertainty in her voice.

"No, Granny! They're coming here! To arrest you—to arrest us! Tam said."

They were close now. I could see Mr. Robertson in front, carrying a Bible, and Mr. Macbean beside him, slapping at his thigh eagerly with his riding whip. But what scared me most was the sight of two soldiers, sheriff's men from Rothesay, and a raggle-taggle crowd of loons and loafers, who had thought it worth the five-mile walk to see an old woman dragged from her home.

We could do nothing but wait and watch them come.

They crowded into our little room, filling it entirely. I saw them look around avidly, though goodness knows what they expected to see—instruments of some kind to make magic, herbs drying for potions—the Devil himself, perhaps, with his fiery eyes.

"Mistress Elspeth," Mr. Robertson said, with the utmost solemnity, "you are to come with us to Rothesay, to answer charges of malefice, casting spells, and using witchcraft, and you will be tried by a court assembled for the purpose."

Granny swayed, and I was afraid she would fall. I think she saw at that moment that the greatest battle of her life was about to begin.

Mr. Robertson paused and cast a sideways look at Mr. Macbean.

"If you are free of guilt, as you may well be, you have nothing to fear. The court will find out the truth."

"And if you take me away," said Granny, recovering herself at once, "who is to care for my granddaughter? And my cow?"

"Surely Maggie's old enough to look after herself?" Mr. Robertson looked at me, his face suddenly anxious. "You have turned sixteen, Maggie, have you not?"

"And I'll make sure that the cow and the land are properly cared for," Mr. Macbean broke in, too eagerly. "Leave that to me."

"Now, there's a surprise!" one of the hangers-on called out from by the door. "It's not your place yet, Macbean!"

Most of them laughed, but Mr. Macbean scowled.

I was seized with panic.

"You can't take her! She's done nothing! She never hurt Ebenezer or anyone else. Leave her alone! Take your hands off her!"

One of the soldiers had already grasped Granny by the arms, and I could see that he was going to drag her out of the cottage. I threw myself at him, trying to beat him away.

"Ouch! Little viper," he said, panting. "Shouldn't we arrest her too, Mr. Robertson? She'll have taken the evil from the old woman."

"Go on, then! Why don't you?" I yelled at him, suddenly reckless with anger.

"Stop that, Maggie!"

Granny put all the fear and anger she was feeling into the command. I automatically obeyed her.

"Let me go!" she said, turning such a glare on the soldier holding her that he dropped her arm and stepped back in a hurry, knocking her stool over in his panic.

"I'll come with you, Mr. Robertson. You don't have to use violence on me." She wiped the touch of the man off her, and in spite of her dirty, ragged dress and the roughness of her uncombed hair, she looked as magnificent as a queen conferring a favor.

The crowd began to back out of the cottage, thinking that there was no more to be seen inside. I could see Mr. Macbean looking around, assessing the place. He seemed disappointed at the sight of the daylight coming through the holes in the roof, and the beams so powdery with rot that they barely held it up.

"That's right," Granny spat at him. "Take a good look. You've wanted it long enough. But you'll not enjoy it, John Macbean. I'll see to that."

Before anyone could stop her, she had pushed him aside and was kneeling down on the hearthstone.

"All the witchcraft I ever had, I leave it on this hearth," she intoned, staring boldly up at him. "If I never return, the vile toad and the cold snail will be the only creatures here. And if anyone takes this place from me and my granddaughter, he will be cursed, and his cattle will die and his children—"

"Granny, stop it!" I cried, the picture of little Robbie coming suddenly to me. "Don't say those things!"

Scarlet with rage, Mr. Macbean lifted his hand to strike her, but Mr. Robertson caught it and pulled it down.

"Out of her own mouth, she has condemned herself," he said, shaking his head.

Another man rushed in and gave her a violent blow across the face, before Mr. Robertson could stop him.

"That's for last summer, witch!" he roared. "It's for the storm you called up that flattened my crops and left us with nothing for the winter. There's never natural hail in June. It was a Devil's strike. You brought it on us."

"That storm swept my brother's boat away—four men drowned and all the fishing gear was lost!" burst out another man, elbowing the first aside.

Then came a voice that I knew too well.

"I saw her making magic with my own eyes," Annie was squealing excitedly. "She said something foreign, and the ashes from her hearth flew up the cauldron chain and then—and then there was a noise."

"What sort of noise?" someone said, above the general intake of breath.

"A—a horrible sort of a voice," said Annie.

It was too much. I couldn't bear to listen any longer.

"She's a liar!" I shouted, startling everyone. "Don't listen to her! She's a liar and a thief! She stole my father's silver buckle!"

Annie went pale and stepped back, but she recovered almost at once.

"Maggie's a witch too!" she shrieked. "She learned it all from the old one. There was a witches' Sabbath at Ambrisbeg. She was there. I—"

Mr. Macbean turned on her.

"Hold your tongue," he said furiously. "This is not the time or the place. If you've something to say, you'll be called as a witness. Get back to Scalpsie and your mistress."

Annie stared back at him with a boldness that surprised me and made no move to go. Mr. Macbean hesitated, but Mr. Robertson said worriedly, "If this young person has evidence of a material nature, she must come with us and give it before the court. A witches' Sabbath! I had no inkling that things had gone this far. The matter must be investigated. Superstition and hearsay must be separated from fact. I will remind you all"—he nodded gravely at the crowd that was swelling all the time as people from Rothesay ran up the hill to watch and listen—"that the only grounds for the conviction of witchcraft is consorting with the Evil One. I must warn you against heeding mere gossip and slander."

Annie was nodding earnestly at the minister's words, an expression of the most sickly humility on her face.

"Oh, Mr. Robertson," she said sweetly. "I wouldn't slander anyone, but that girl is tainted with evil like her grandmother, and there are things ... I can testify—"

"Stop it, Annie," interrupted Mr. Macbean. "Don't bother the minister now." He turned to Mr. Robertson. "But the girl is right. The witch's granddaughter should be examined too. We can lock them up together tonight and let them both answer to the court in the morning."

"Let them burn together! Let them rot in Hell together!" shouted the man whose brother had drowned.

I saw too late what a fool I'd been, and as one of the sheriff's men caught hold of my arms, gripping them with painful strength, I was flooded with such fear that I thought I would faint. The man shoved me toward Granny, who staggered under the impact so that we had to clutch each other to save ourselves from falling into the fire.

"Look at them, bound with the Devil's pact!" someone shouted, while others jeered and some began to jostle us and hit out with their fists. The sheriff's men, at a command from Mr. Robertson, put a stop to that, or I really believe that we would have been murdered on the spot.

"Little fool!" Granny hissed in my ear. "Why didn't you hold your tongue? Now you're in trouble. Don't let them see you're afraid. Do you want them to tear you to pieces?"

She was led out first, and as she emerged into the bright light outside the cottage, a kind of howl went up, the sound that dogs make when they scent their prey. I sensed a movement behind me, and looking around saw an old woman scooping oatmeal from our barrel into the linen bag lying on the table.

The insolence of such a barefaced theft enraged me. I opened my mouth to shout at her, but she frowned at me to be quiet and thrust the bag into my hands.

"Hide it quick, under your apron," she said. "You'll be needing this. They'll not feed you in the prison."

This small act of kindness shook me almost more than the terror and anger of the past half hour. Tears started into my eyes.

"Th-thank you," I stammered.

Her face hardened.

"Don't thank me. Tell your grandmother what I've done. She'll curse everyone that's come here. Tell her Christian Blackie did this, and she'll keep me out of it."

I had no time to reply. They were coming in for me. I snatched up my plaid and wrapped it around my head, and I let them take me.

And so we left the old cottage, with all the loons and wonder-seekers of the island jeering and capering around us, and set off up the long road to Rothesay. I stuck close to Granny's side. She had tossed her hair back, and the weal on her face where she'd been hit showed up as a scarlet slash. She marched with her usual deliberate stride, planting her feet down one after the other with force, as if she was stamping on the earth to punish it. Her mouth was set tight, and her eyes gave nothing away.

The people following us had fallen into a sullen silence, whispering to each other, passing poison back and forth between themselves.

All around us lay the quiet fields of Bute, green and lush, speckled with gold and blue flowers, and the sea curling in quietly onto the beach.

Then I saw a lapwing strutting through grass, and it began to cry, as it always did, "Bewitched! Bewitched!"

"Oh, hold your noise, you dratted bird," I hissed at it. "There's no bewitching here."