“You’ve got my girl, master.”
“Your daughter is here and stays here. Now go, and remember this: The smithy belongs to me and if you wish to stay there you must obey my wishes. If aught happens to your daughter through your ill-treatment I shall accuse you of murder and that will not be very pleasant for you.”
“I’m a godfearing man, master, who only wants to serve the Lord and do his duty by his family.”
“Harsh duty, Thomas Cast.”
“They be my children and I be responsible to God for ‘em.”
“You are also responsible to God for yourself,” said my father. “I, master! There’s no more religious man in these parts. I’m on my knees four hours a day, and I’ll see it’s the same with my family. This girl of mine have brought terrible disgrace on us all and God calls for vengeance.”
“Mind you do not bring disgrace on us all by your cruelty to your wife and children.” That stung Thomas Gast to retort. In that moment he was ready to fling away his very smithy in his righteous anger.
“‘Tis a sorry matter when such as I am is chided by those as harbor whores and witches among them.”
With that he turned and went out.
I could see the horror on my parents’ faces as they looked at each other; and I knew what was responsible for it.
It was the reference to witches.
The aura of glory in which I had been living since I went to Phoebe in the barn seemed to evaporate. My father slipped his arm through my mother’s and they went out of the hall together. He was clearly reassuring her.
During the next two days Phoebe would not venture out. Angelet and I looked after her. We had reminded our mother that she had once said that when we were eighteen we should have a personal maid between us-one who would look after our clothes, sew for us, do our hair -and take our messages. Well, here was Phoebe and we both wanted her. We weren’t eighteen yet but soon would be.
Our mother, delighted by our sympathy for Phoebe, readily agreed and at first I was afraid that Angelet with her more appealing ways might win Phoebe from me. But that was clearly not to be. Phoebe remembered what I had done-and I believed she always would. I was her savior and she told me that was something she would never forget as long as she lived.
“I’ll be your slave all the days of my life, Mistress Bersaba,” she told me. “We don’t have slaves nowadays, Phoebe,” I replied. “If you’ll just be my maid that’s good enough.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for ‘ee,” she answered fervently. “You changed everything for me. You’ve even made me love the baby.”
I was very happy.
Ginny told me that Thomas Gast was preaching hellfire every night on the village green.
“Crowds do go and listen to him, mistress. Once there was just the few ... them like himself. They want to stop dancing and singing and have nothing but church and prayers all day long.”
I watched Carlotta with Sir Gervaise. They often went out riding together. They were becoming very friendly, which seemed to please Senara. I heard her say to my mother, “It would be quite a good match. Carlotta would never settle in the wilds.” My mother replied, “You were happy enough here once, Senara ... until you went away, and then you didn’t want to go.”
“I liked adventure, but it’s true I often wished I was back. Carlotta is different. I was brought up here. The place where you spend your childhood means something to you.”
Once when I was standing at our bedroom window watching the moon, which was nearing its fullness, Phoebe came and stood silently behind me.
I turned and smiled at her. I took great pleasure in her devotion to me and I was constantly amazed that it did more to soothe me than my plans for revenge had done. “Look at the moon, Phoebe,” I said. “Is it not beautiful?”
“Twill soon be full, Mistress Bersaba.”
Her brows were puckered and she looked anxious. I said, “What’s wrong, Phoebe? Everything is going well, isn’t it?”
“There’s something I think I should tell ‘ee, mistress. ‘Tis about the moon.”
“The moon! What on earth do you mean?”
“I know you don’t like her, mistress, and that is what have held me back. But ‘tis for you to say what should be done.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Phoebe?”
“There be a lot of grumbling in the village, mistress. My father have always spoke against witches. And now I be here it have made a hate in him against this house. He’s a man with a mountain of hate in him for all his goodness and that he never laughs or sings seeing it as sinful. He hates sin, and he hates that you have sheltered me and robbed me of my punishment and he hates witches. He says he wants to see every tree with a witch hanging on it. Then perhaps we’ll be free of them.”