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Novel Treatments / Witch! chapter 2
2
The freezing wind came howling off the North Sea baring vicious teeth. It rushed over hedge and wall driving life out of all living things. It drove snow up the estuary of the River Stour to the town of Manningtree and slammed frozen flakes onto every surface that got in the way. It scythed round the houses, cutting through cracks and gaps, making the flames on tallow candles shiver and shrink.
Christ’s Mass of 1644 had been celebrated barely two weeks earlier and yet the winter got worse. Had God finally forsaken his people?
In the bedroom of a small house just off the High Street John Rivet, the town’s tailor watches his wife as she lies in bed drenched in a delirious sweat. A neighbour, Goodwife Smith, is nursing the sick woman as best she can. The small fire on one side of the room offers little solace as it fights with the weather that's forcing its way through to every soul.
Goodwife Rivet’s body suddenly contorts in a muscular fit. She writhes and moans uncontrollably for a few agonizing minutes then collapses, panting heavily and still semi-conscious. This is no ordinary illness. John looks to the dried herbs and charms hanging around the room and shakes his head. Next he looks imploringly to his neighbour. She leans towards him and speaks in a low conspiratorial tone.
“This illness is not natural John. There is a black hand in this, make no mistake.”
“That’s rubbish woman.”
There is more than a hint of uncertainty.
“Is it? My counsel, for what it's worth is that your wife needs the help of one skilled in the arts of healing.”
John pulls away from Goodwife Smith and he looks to the fire. Smith finds a more confident tongue.
“You know what I'm saying don't you?”
John gives her a stern look.
“A good woman will be able to break the spell”
John considers the suggestion briefly and then shakes his head.
“I know you mean well Goodwife Smith but the church forbids such things, it’s against the law as it’s against God's will. It’s consorting with the Devil that’s what it amounts to!”
The nurse looks to his wife then back to John.
“Do you wish to see your wife continue to suffer so?”
“Of course not!”
“There is little else you can do. Has God listened to your prayers?”
“God is doing what he thinks best for her soul.”
“That is as may be, but what about her body?”
John turns away, frustrated and fearful. The nurse continues her voice full of earnest endeavour.
“This woman is your wife and you have a duty to her! You can not deny that fact.”
Goodwife Rivet convulses once more, her sinews stand proud of her bluing complexion, bubbles foam slightly round the piece of wood tied between her jaws.
“If the church finds out I’ll be locked up and she’ll die.”
“If you do nothing she will die also. You have no choice!”
John looks down to his wife, at the perspiration on her brow and the rolling eyes then looks back to his neighbour.
“Where do I find such a woman?”
A brief smile flickers across the face of Goodwife Smith.
“In the morning take you to Hadleigh and seek out Goodwife Hovey. She'll need a lock of hair and a jug of water passed by your wife.”
John furrows his brow.
“How am I supposed to gather some of her water?”
Goodwife Smith looks to the ceiling in despair.
“Leave that up to me. I shall call round first thing and deal with it for you.”
A blast of wind rattles the shutters and shakes the flames on the candles.
Goodwife Smith pulls her shawl tight round her shoulders.
“It is fearsome. The devil rides out this night if I a judge of anything.”
John nods in agreement.
“Then all the more reason for you to get back to your husband. I will stoke the fire and nurse my wife as best I can: and pray for a miracle.”
Goodwife Smith smiles.
“Your wife is a good woman. If there is one person worthy of a miracle then it is she. God looks after his own you know. Have faith in God.”
John doesn’t look convinced.
“Of course.”
“I’ll make all the necessary preparations in the morning. Now get some sleep John. You’ll need all your strength for the journey to Hadleigh. You stay here, I’ll see myself out.”
Goodwife Smith turns and leaves. When she opens the front door a gale blows up the stairs putting out one of the candles. John blows the other out then sits in the chair betwixt the bed and fire and pulls the sheepskin about him. He sits staring at his wife, blinking with heavy eyelids.
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I like this, he has to match the choice of saving his wife or staying true to God. I now understand the title and it’s made me laugh a little, I smell a witch hunt. It’s interesting that the witch isnt the main character though, it’ll be cool to see how she changes Johns life.The dialog is okay, it still sounds a little how we talk, but atleast you didnt go overboard with the seventeenth century talk. Try watching some clips of The Tudors on youtube…you get a good taste of the lingo.
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