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  I imagined myself with a mother and father that loved me, no Gran, no brother but one sister. A little sister just like Nettie, the Nettie I had known not the Nettie that had come to be. We sat in a beautiful garden, flowers of every colour and bright green grass. Butterflies and bumble bees floated in and out of the flowerbeds and me and Nettie lay on the grass in big white dresses with blue and pink ribbons in our hair. We played with a little white kitten and I could hear church bells in the distance. Then our mother and father came into the garden, smiling and beautiful like a pair of heavenly angels. They sat with us and we ate the most delicious foods, bread, cheese, cold meats and berries. My mother stroked my hair and crooned a song. I closed my eyes and listened to Nettie laughing at something our father had just said. When I opened my eyes the scene had changed. I was in the clearing with Gabe, my head on his knee. The light glimmered around the outline of his head making him look like he had a halo. He stroked my cheek and smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, he looked older, much older. I reached up to stroke his cheek and my hand looked older too. As I dropped my hand to my stomach I was surprised to feel a lump. The lump squiggled under my hand and I realised it was my stomach. I gasped. “Is the baby moving again?” Asked Gabe. I smiled and closed my eyes. I felt warm light on my eyelids and they shone gold which softened to silver then a grey. A cold wind blew across my skin and I opened my eyes. I was back in the cell and through the thin slit of window I could see the sun rising slowly.

  I stretched and went to the window to watch what I could of the sunrise. I felt calm now, and ready. Perhaps God would forgive me. I had always loved Him and always tried to be good. Perhaps that was enough. I closed my eyes and prayed. This time I didn’t pray to be saved; I prayed to go to Heaven and live the life that I had imagined. To live it from the beginning and enjoy every moment. To wait for Gabe and an eternity together in Heaven. I was still praying when the Warden came to get me and Mam.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “Come on witches. Good day for a hanging eh?”

  The Warden came into the cell with the shackles. Mam started sobbing and tearing at her hair. She struggled and screamed as the Warden tried to put the shackles on and in the end it took two of his men to hold her down. Once she was shackled the Warden gave her a hard slap across the face and she started to whimper. Then he looked at me. He looked wary, so did his men. They edged towards me but they needn’t have feared. I held my wrists out to them to be shackled. They kept shooting me nervous glances until I was held tight in the wrist and ankle bindings then they stepped back and relaxed, chuckling and joking about having been afraid of a young girl.

  As we left the cell the prisoners all stared at us. Their faces were ashen and scared. What at, I couldn’t tell. Scared of us? Scared that they would face the same fate? Whatever the reason it was through a crowd of silence that we were led to the gaol door and to the staircases. This time we turned left after the first two staircases and were led outside. Once there I saw a cart with high sides and heavy iron rings running along the inside walls. Two rings were free and me and Mam were tethered to them alongside the others in the cart. Chattox was there and half her family. James was sat at the front of the cart and he was gibbering like a fool. I’d never seen too much of him and he’d always been drunk when I did so it surprised me that he was even more moonstruck when he was sober. There was no violent streak there now, just a village idiot babbling away to himself.

  The cart set off and I was thrown to the floor. By the time I managed to get up again the cart had come to the end of the drawbridge and entered the city. On the cart some of the accused witches were howling and crying and some were spitting curses. As the cart trundled through the city the crowds on either side of the road grew thicker and the noises of street peddlers selling food and drink grew louder. Soon other peddlers joined in selling things especially for the day’s entertainment.

  “Crosses and Holy Water; protect yourself from the Devil’s whores.”

  “Lavender pouches; keep the pestilence of the evil dead away.”

  “Rotten meat, rotten fruit; get a few shots in before the witches hang.”

  Street urchins squeezed through the crowds, sometimes getting a free gift from the pedlars, sometimes a clip around the head. People leant out of windows; chamber pots were emptied on us from upper windows. The crowd was merry. I tried to block it out. I closed my eyes and concentrated on absorbing the last bit of the world before I left it. I ignored the smells of the chamber pot slops and tried to catch smells of stews, bread and lavender. I tried to ignore the noise of the crowds and tune into the laughter of the few young children and the noises of the birds and wind. I shivered as I enjoyed the sometimes cool sometimes warm September breezes.

  Suddenly I was thrown forwards and landed in a heap with the others in the cart. The noise of the crowds had softened and I looked around to find that we were in a city square. In the middle stood a large wooden stage and on it a row of nooses; four nooses, empty and swinging gently in the breeze. A few more of the women in the cart started to make panicked sobbing and screeching noises. I forced myself to look away from the gallows and looked towards the road we had arrived on. I saw now why the sound had dropped. Far behind us men, dressed in smart black dress coats, were holding back the crowds. Looking round the square I saw a row of chairs and in each sat a gentleman or finely dressed woman. The back of the cart was opened and we were un-tethered but left shackled. We were all led to stand in front of the fine folk and Mr Nowell stood up from one of the chairs then turned to face the fine folk.

  “Ladies and gentleman. Before you stand thirteen witches, accused, gone to trial and found guilty of many terrible deeds. Today they will hang but in your benevolence you have requested to free one of these witches to go forth and spread the word that we will not tolerate the work of the Devil in our good County. I ask you now to choose one of these wretched souls to be that person.”

  I looked up. There were a good twenty or so men and women facing us. Among them were the man and woman who had taken Nettie away. Her new Mam and Dad. On the woman’s knee sat Nettie, pretty today in a pink dress and cream bonnet. My heart lifted as Nettie caught my eye and gave me a small smile, a glimpse of the Nettie I knew. My Nettie.

  The men of the group gathered and discussed quietly which of us to release. They kept shooting looks at us then going back to their conversation. Throughout the whole time Nettie held my gaze with a sweet half smile on her face. After a few moments the man who was Nettie’s new Dad came to her and whispered in her ear. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. He gave her a hug then returned to the group. Not long after the men returned to their seats. Roger stood back up and turned to face the group.

  “Have you chosen which to save? Who will be your messenger to the rest of the Devil worshippers of this County?”

  A man stood up. I noticed that his big, bushy beard seemed to wobble as he spoke and it distracted me from his words. Then I forced myself to listen, ready to hear my name and go to Nettie, maybe to my new Mam and Dad too.

  “We choose that one, the old one. She’ll not live long so she won’t pose our County no danger without her coven. Her last few months of life can be spent spreading the news of our charity and the folly of witchcraft.

  I felt like someone had crashed a heavy rock into my stomach as I realised they were talking about Old Chattox. I looked at her as one of the Warden’s men led her away. Her face was glowing with joy and there was still the look of malice that I had seen my whole life in Gran’s face too. I looked back at Nettie and she smiled at me. That sweet smile but this time with those cold, hard eyes that I had seen at the trial.

  Then we were moving again and being pulled towards the stage. The first four people in the line were hauled onto the stage. One of them was our James. Men held them still as the hangman, tall, wide and dressed in black, slipped the nooses around their necks. Then he kicked a lever and the middle of the stage dropped away. The drop was short
and James and the three other witches hung from the nooses, twisting and kicking. Gargled, guttural noises came from their throats as they clawed at the ropes and tried to make room in their crushed windpipes for a few more gasps of air. After about five minutes the kicking stopped. The bodies hung loose like lumps of meat.

  A cart was rolled underneath them then one of the men cut the ropes and let the bodies fall heavily and noisily into a heap in the cart. The cart was pulled away by an old, large horse then the rest of us were ushered to stand by the stage. All was quiet apart from the trundling noise of the cart over the cobbled stones and the whimpering of a few of the people next in line to be hanged. I watched the gentlemen and women leave the square, all but Mr Nowell, Nettie and her new Mam and Dad. Then the Warden’s men let the crowd in. The crowd flooded forwards, a noisy rabble in a party mood. I looked for Gabe but he wasn’t in the crowd. Not here to save me, not here to say goodbye. I knew what we had had been real and I loved him but maybe he hadn’t felt it so passionately. Maybe he had felt it Justas much as I had and couldn’t bear to watch me hang. All these maybes and I would never find out the answers. All I could do was to hang on to the love I felt, the love that filled my heart.

  The pedlars moved among the crowds, shouting their wares and children ran about the knees of the crowds whooping and laughing. I looked to the stage and saw that new nooses were now in place. The next four people were dragged onto the stage and the nooses put around their necks. One woman tried to fight the men, clawing and biting like a trapped animal, but she was hit hard on the head with a stick and she slumped. A man held her upright as the hangman put the noose around her neck. Then the stage dropped. Three of the witches dropped when the lever was kicked but the fourth, the one who had struggled did not drop as far. Her toes scrabbled to grip onto the side of the now gaping hole in the middle of the stage. Every time the hangman kicked her feet away she managed to grab a hold again with her toes. Finally the hangman grabbed her waist and yanked her body down hard. From the side of the stage on which we stood I heard a crunching noise as her neck broke. The hangman held on to her like a drunken date and jigged her body around as if they were dancing. The crowd cheered and laughed. They called things out to the hangman which made the crowd laugh even more.

  I stood on the stage and stared at the crowd. Splinters were biting into my bare feet. The crowd jeered and threw things at me and I flinched as a rotting lump of meat hit my hip. I looked at the jeering, gaping faces of the crowd and saw the Devil in every one of the faces staring at me. Hate showed in some eyes, in others only joy and anticipation at the show which was playing out in front of them. Each jeering mouth was filled with crooked, brown stubs of teeth, like our own tombstones staring back at us but there would be no consecrated graves for us. No tombstones for the witches.

  The warm September breeze blew across my skin; soothing the tick bites and stroking my shaved scalp. I tried to enjoy the feeling and savour it but my calm had dissolved and the panic was clawing back into my stomach. I took a deep breath. Though the air smelt like sewerage and disease I didn’t want to waste one of my last breaths. I felt a rising panic which started in the pit of my stomach then built and built until I felt like I would vomit or faint. I felt my breaths come faster and faster until I felt dizzy. I fought to control them but I couldn’t. Every fibre in my body screamed for me to run but the shackles at my ankles held me fast. The wooden planks of the stage thudded beneath my feet and the crowd roared its approval. The body of the dancing corpse had been released from its rope and lay heavy and limp at my feet.

  The hangman turned me and smiled. I felt a tight grip on my arms as I was dragged to the end noose. The last three witches were lined up next to me. I felt the rough scratch of the rope as it was placed around my neck. I blocked out the noise of the crowd and listened to my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. I felt the warmth of the amber sun on my face and shining through my eyelids; like in my dream. Perhaps that was Heaven, what was waiting for me.

  I opened my eyes for one last look at the world. Still no Gabe. I looked past the sea of faces and saw one spot of clean, colourful cloth at the back. Nettie stood still between her new Mam and Dad. Each had a hand on her shoulder. Mr Nowell stood by but when I looked to him he couldn’t meet my eye. Nettie did though and she was still smiling. I blinked away my tears and saw a figure between her and Mr Nowell; a young beautiful man, barely more than a boy, wearing a dress coat which was half black and half brown. Mr Nowell did not notice him.The man bent slightly to kiss the top of Nettie’s head. Her smile widened.

  I looked away; I couldn’t bear to watch any more. I stared upwards at the clouds, the birds high in the sky and the bright golden sun. I took a deep breath and tried to conjure up the smell of the garden from my dreams and then I heard a thud and the world disappeared from beneath my feet.

  A Little History Lesson – The Real Life of Alizon Device

  So how much of this tale was true? Unfortunately a lot of it. Alizon Device did indeed live in Pendle in 1612 and was the youngest of the Pendle witches to go to the gallows. The main witness against her was her younger sister Jennet Device; our little Nettie. So for those of you wanting to get to the heart of Alizon’s tale here are the real facts.

  The Devices and the Chattox’s

  There were two “witch” families which made up the majority of the witch community in and around the area of Pendle in Lancashire. The Device family was headed up by the matriarch and widow, Elizabeth Southerns, otherwise known as Demdike. The other members of the family, as they were in 1612, were Elizabeth Device (Demdike’s daughter) and her three children; James, Alizon and Jennet. The Chattox family were actually named “Whittle” and was made up of another matriarch and widow, Anne Whittle (Old Chattox) and her daughter Anne Redfearn. These two families had a long standing history of arguments, most likely born of a rivalry between Chattox and Demdike to be the wise woman who was acknowledged as the best and therefore the one who villagers would seek and pay for the help of.

  It was believed that Chattox and her daughter were behind the death of the father of Alizon, James and Jennet after he refused to pay them a yearly sum which he had previously paid them in exchange for keeping him and his family safe from harm. It is also believed that Chattox and Anne were responsible for a theft of clothing and food from the Device family.

  With no patriarchs in the families they made money from occasional work, begging and the usual village “witch craft” of healing sick people and animals and making various cures.

  Alizon Device

  So our poor protagonist, Alizon. Shocking that a sixteen year old should suffer such a life and die in this way. Even more shocking that she was not actually sixteen as she is in this book but rather was thought to be around the age of eleven at the time of her death.

  Alizon was begging on the road to Colne when a peddler, John Law, refused to sell her some pins. Suddenly a black dog appeared and she ordered it to lame the peddler which she believed it did as he fell to the ground, numb on the left side. Many historians now put this down to the peddler having a stroke rather than witch craft.This began a chain of events which led to thirteen Pendle witches being sent to trial.

  At trial Alizon said that two years earlier her grandmother convinced her to let a familiar, in the form of a black dog, suck blood from her. He could then give her unlimited power in exchange for her soul. Alizon then accused her grandmother, Demdike, of several crimes including; causing the death of a cow belonging to John Nutter, using witchcraft to turn milk into butter, causing the death of the daughter of Richard Baldwin and two other deaths. Alizon then went on to talk about various deaths caused by Chattox. Alizon Device was hanged at Lancaster Gaol on 20th August 1612. The main witness against her, and her family, at trial was her younger sister Jennet Device.

  Demdike and Tibb

  Elizabeth Southerns had been known to villagers as a witch for fifty years at the time of her death. Demdike died in gaol awaiting trial s
o never saw the gallows. Demdike’s story was that she met a devil in the shape of a boy when she was on the way home from begging. His coat was half brown and half black. He told Demdike that she could have anything she wished if she gave him her soul. The spirit told her that his name was Tibb. Unlike in our story, however, Demdike claimed that she held out for five years before finally being tricked into Tibb, as a dog, sucking blood from her. She also claimed to have just enough time to cry “Jesus save my child” about the infant Elizabeth she held on her knee.

  Demdike also admitted to suspecting Tibb of causing the death of Richard Baldwin’s at her behest. In keeping with their long time grudges Demdike then went on to incriminate Chattox in all manner of crimes. Demdike also explained about the practice of making figurines from clay which was then dried and parts of the figuring pricked with a pin or snapped off to cause illness or injury to the person that the figuring represented. This is the practice which led me to name this book Blood and Clay.