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."
Chapter 7
There were only twenty or thirty houses in Rothesay, clustered along the stream above the blackened, ruined walls of the castle, and there can't have been more than a hundred or so people baying like hounds around us, although it seemed like a vast multitude. The grim little tolbooth was unlocked, and we were bundled up the steep steps to the iron-bound door. I turned for a last fearful look at the faces of the people below us, grinning with hatred, before the door clanged shut. I saw Annie standing on the edge of the crowd, deep in conversation with Mr. Macbean. There was something about the way she stood so close to himâlooking up into his eyes with her head to one sideâthat seemed odd to me. But just as my glance fell on them, he bent his head and said something with a fierce look. She stepped back, her mouth open in shocked surprise. She reached forward and caught his sleeve, but he shook her off and turned to go. I saw nothing after that because the door had slammed shut. Granny and I were alone in the cold stone room.
***
Though it was already May, it was a bitter night, with a near frost. The small barred window was set high in the wall, and the shutter was hooked back on the outside, where we couldn't reach to close it. The wind blasting through the open space set my teeth chattering. Our bellies were empty too. No food was brought to us, and without water I couldn't even stir up a cold porridge with my oatmeal.
"You're a fool," Granny said. "Why didn't you run when you saw them coming? You could have saved yourself."
"They'd have come after me. Where could I have run to?" I spoke sharply, but I don't think she heard me. She was listening to the din outside, the crowd in an ugly mood, whistling and calling, and the jailer, Master Donald Brown the locksmith, trying to keep them at bay.
"There's sixpence for you, Donnie my man," someone yelled out, "if you'll open the door and give us a peep at the witches."
"Get away to your houses and stop bothering us," Mr. Brown growled in reply. "You'll get your fill of their evil faces in the morning."
"What does he mean, in the morning? Where? What are they going to do with us?" I whispered to Granny.
"You think anyone's told me?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Listen to them, the dregs of the island. If my father could see this day..."
She turned away and began a kind of mumbling, her jaw working. She'd been doing it often recently, and I didn't like it. She looked old and a little mad, talking to herself like that.
We heard the outer door creak open, then clang shut. The bolt shot across, and there was a cough that told us that Mr. Brown had withdrawn to his little sanctum beside our cell. The noise from outside slowly died away.
"For the love of Christ, Donnie Brown," Granny suddenly called out, "will you not give us a blanket or a crust of bread and a drink of water?"
Slow footsteps approached the door.
"A blanket you want now? With a swan's-down pillow and linen sheets, I suppose? And a supper of roasted venison? My wife's cousin was on that ship that sank in the storm you magicked from the Devil. Get him to feed and warm you. You won't get anything from me."
"She never called up a storm!" I burst out, banging on the door with my fists.
Granny dragged me away.
"Save your breath. He'll not listen. He's closed his mind against us. You'll only make things worse."
"Worse?
Worse?
How can things be worse than this?"
"Ha! You really want to know? Just wait, miss, and you'll find out."
She had been prowling around the cell, and now she sank down into the far corner from the door.
"The draft's not so bad here. Settle down, for the Lord's sake. Let me think. There are things, maybe..."
Her head
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."
Chapter 7
There were only twenty or thirty houses in Rothesay, clustered along the stream above the blackened, ruined walls of the castle, and there can't have been more than a hundred or so people baying like hounds around us, although it seemed like a vast multitude. The grim little tolbooth was unlocked, and we were bundled up the steep steps to the iron-bound door. I turned for a last fearful look at the faces of the people below us, grinning with hatred, before the door clanged shut. I saw Annie standing on the edge of the crowd, deep in conversation with Mr. Macbean. There was something about the way she stood so close to himâlooking up into his eyes with her head to one sideâthat seemed odd to me. But just as my glance fell on them, he bent his head and said something with a fierce look. She stepped back, her mouth open in shocked surprise. She reached forward and caught his sleeve, but he shook her off and turned to go. I saw nothing after that because the door had slammed shut. Granny and I were alone in the cold stone room.
***
Though it was already May, it was a bitter night, with a near frost. The small barred window was set high in the wall, and the shutter was hooked back on the outside, where we couldn't reach to close it. The wind blasting through the open space set my teeth chattering. Our bellies were empty too. No food was brought to us, and without water I couldn't even stir up a cold porridge with my oatmeal.
"You're a fool," Granny said. "Why didn't you run when you saw them coming? You could have saved yourself."
"They'd have come after me. Where could I have run to?" I spoke sharply, but I don't think she heard me. She was listening to the din outside, the crowd in an ugly mood, whistling and calling, and the jailer, Master Donald Brown the locksmith, trying to keep them at bay.
"There's sixpence for you, Donnie my man," someone yelled out, "if you'll open the door and give us a peep at the witches."
"Get away to your houses and stop bothering us," Mr. Brown growled in reply. "You'll get your fill of their evil faces in the morning."
"What does he mean, in the morning? Where? What are they going to do with us?" I whispered to Granny.
"You think anyone's told me?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Listen to them, the dregs of the island. If my father could see this day..."
She turned away and began a kind of mumbling, her jaw working. She'd been doing it often recently, and I didn't like it. She looked old and a little mad, talking to herself like that.
We heard the outer door creak open, then clang shut. The bolt shot across, and there was a cough that told us that Mr. Brown had withdrawn to his little sanctum beside our cell. The noise from outside slowly died away.
"For the love of Christ, Donnie Brown," Granny suddenly called out, "will you not give us a blanket or a crust of bread and a drink of water?"
Slow footsteps approached the door.
"A blanket you want now? With a swan's-down pillow and linen sheets, I suppose? And a supper of roasted venison? My wife's cousin was on that ship that sank in the storm you magicked from the Devil. Get him to feed and warm you. You won't get anything from me."
"She never called up a storm!" I burst out, banging on the door with my fists.
Granny dragged me away.
"Save your breath. He'll not listen. He's closed his mind against us. You'll only make things worse."
"Worse?
Worse?
How can things be worse than this?"
"Ha! You really want to know? Just wait, miss, and you'll find out."
She had been prowling around the cell, and now she sank down into the far corner from the door.
"The draft's not so bad here. Settle down, for the Lord's sake. Let me think. There are things, maybe..."
Her head
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