Tidelands

“Are you arguing with me?” Mrs. Miller shouted at him. “A witch in our house with her hands full of faerie gold, and you’re standing there arguing with me?”

Mr. Miller cast one incredulous look at Alinor and went out of the parlor into the kitchen, and pulled on his winter cape. He threw open the door to the yard and everyone heard the sound of a horse. “Sir William,” Mr. Miller said with evident relief. “His lordship’s coming. He’s a magistrate. He can decide what’s to be done.”

Everyone in the parlor crowded around Alinor and led her through the kitchen and out into the mill yard to greet the solitary horseman. But it was not Sir William. It was James Summer.

“His lordship’s on his way.” He smiled, but then he was silenced as he saw Alinor, her cupped hands filled with coins, surrounded by frightened people. “What is this? What’s happening here?”

“It’s Mrs. Reekie, taken for a witch,” Mrs. Wheatley said, matter-of-fact, going to the horse’s head and looking up at James. “Mrs. Miller here has had her savings changed into faerie gold, and she accuses Alinor Reekie, who makes no defense.”

“What?” James demanded incredulously.

Alinor could not bring herself to face him, could not speak to him.

“It’s not true,” Alys said, pushing forwards. “Of course, it’s not true.”

“Then how are my savings turned into faerie gold, and the true coin gone?” Mrs. Miller demanded. “Who would do that, if not a witch? Who could do such a thing? And doesn’t everyone know that Alinor has always loved the faerie gold? Even when she was a girl she would find it and keep it?”

“I didn’t steal your money! Of course I knew where you had it hidden. I’ve known for months—probably everyone does. But I didn’t steal it. I wouldn’t steal from you, or anyone! I’ve been in and out of your house and your yard all my life. I go into people’s houses all the time. There’s not many houses on Sealsea Island that I’ve not attended, and I’ve never ever taken anything. I’m a licensed midwife—”

“Not got a license now,” a man remarked, making Alinor break off and look at him.

“That’s not my fault!” she said. “How can you say that against me?”

“What about Ned’s wife and baby?”

Alinor gasped. “She lost her baby. I did everything I knew . . .”

More wedding guests had followed James into the yard. Alinor looked around at a score of her neighbors and saw puzzled and fearful faces.

“You know me. You all know me. I would never . . .” Alinor could barely speak, even in her own defense.

“Well, someone did it,” Mr. Miller said heavily, looking up at James, who was still mounted, frozen with indecision, as everyone turned to him to rule on what was to be done. “What do you think, sir?”

“Mrs. Reekie will have to go before a magistrate to clear her name,” James said reluctantly.

“Is Sir William following you?” Mr. Stoney asked.

“Yes,” James said. “He’s on his way.”

“He’s a magistrate. He’ll do. He can hear the case against her now as soon as he comes,” said Mr. Miller, a church warden who knew the law. He went a little closer to James and took the reins of his horse. “We don’t want her carried off to prison in Chichester,” he muttered quickly. “She’s a good woman. We don’t want her put on trial for a thief. She’ll be hanged if more than three pounds are missing, and there was fifty pounds in that purse. Best keep this here, in the village. Best his lordship rules here, where we can keep it among ourselves. Better get started, sir, so no one thinks of Chichester.”

James was shocked into action. He dismounted from his horse and the stable lad took it to the barn. “I’ll take the evidence here,” he said loud enough foreveryone to hear. “Sir William and I will confer when he arrives.”

He tried to exchange a glance with Alinor, but she was looking away from him, at her daughter. Alys was white. She clung to Richard’s arm and her gaze was fixed on her mother’s face.

“Where’s the defendant’s brother?” James asked, thinking Edward would have a strong voice in this frightened community.

“We don’t need him,” Mrs. Miller interrupted. “He’s got no control over her at all. She does whatever she wants. He couldn’t even save his own wife. She has no father, and now she says she has no husband, though Zachary Reekie has no grave.”

“Just disappeared,” someone said from the back of the crowd. “Spoke against her one day, and the next day he was gone.”

“Mr. Ferryman is an important witness,” James overruled them. “Send for him.”

James’s calm voice, his tone of authority, was stilling the sense of panic. Mr. Miller, looking around the people crowded into his yard, felt the desire for excitement, for violence, was diminishing.

“Aye, that’s for the best. You go and fetch him, lad,” he said to the stable boy. He turned back to James. “You’ll want a table, and papers, sir,” he said, quietly deferential. “Best sit in the kitchen, if you don’t mind. It’s the biggest room, and we’ve got the table there and the Carver chair.”