Free The Daylight Gate by Jeanette Winterson Page B
Authors: Jeanette Winterson
both.’
‘What did you put in it? Sheep brain?’
‘No, child. I made the sacrifice and used the baby in the bottle.’
The child Jennet let out a great wail, so much so that the trapdoor above was pulled back for a second and someone called to see what was the harm.
‘That was my toy.’
‘It was your toy, I know it well, and I had to smash the bottle to get the baby out, but she will set us all free and give us power and then you will get another toy as much as you like,’
‘I shall have nowt to talk to now the baby is boiled.’
‘You will talk to the Head, my dearie, and the Head will talk to you. The baby couldn’t talk, could she?’
Tears running down her filthy face, Jennet shook her head. She was a sad sight, dirty and torn and bruised, her blonde hair in knots, her skin calloused from crawling and hiding. ‘I gived you the tongue of Robert Preston from under the bush. You said you’d give me something for it.’
‘And I will!’ said her mother. ‘Soon all this will change.’
Mouldheels had finished her gruesome sewing. The swollen black tongue protruded from the mouth cavity of the head.
She plunged the head into the stew. The cauldron boiled over in a sickening froth.
Mouldheels came forward and taking the doll she had made, she pierced it through with a sharp stick and baptised it in the cauldron:
In his likeness it is moulded, he shall die
.’ And she plunged the doll under the scummy water. It shrieked.
Elizabeth pushed Mouldheels aside, and with a pair of heavy tongs she fished in the boiling brew for the head, lifted it out and set it to drain. Much of what had remained of the decomposing flesh had been scalded off into the pot. The head retained a few strands of hair and its new tongue. It sat on the altar, steaming as the water fell from it.
The stench in the cellar was so bad that the company assembled above began to complain. Elizabeth got on the wormy ladder and poked her head into the room. ‘When you are free and Roger Nowell is dead you will not complain. And when we are free we shall fly to Lancaster Castle where the Dark Gentleman will reward us for our pains.’
‘We cannot do it without Old Demdike or without Mistress Nutter,’ said one.
But Elizabeth was blazing now. ‘I have claimed the power. I shall lead you. My proof will be the proof of my Spell.’ She went back down into her lair. ‘Mouldheels, bring up the head.’
Mouldheels took a cloth and wrapped the damp head in it. Elizabeth climbed the ladder into the round room of Malkin Tower and reached down for the head. As it was produced, the company gasped.
‘Yea,’ said Elizabeth, ‘now you see me. I have made the head that not even Demdike could make. The head will speak to you, confirm my power, and guide us from this place.’
She placed the head on the plank-board table.
‘At sunset it will speak. In Demdike’s name it will speak.’
In the cellar Jennet Device was poking in the cauldron for the remains of her bottled baby. She found a tiny hand and put it carefully in her dress pocket.
The Fog
ALICE NUTTER HAD ridden home to the Rough Lee to discover that Roger Nowell had ordered her house to be searched. She was sitting in her study with Christopher Southworth. He kept fingering his neck. She made a joke about the noose. He shook his head. ‘I have lost my crucifix. I took it off in your bed. Now I cannot find it. I took it off to make love to you.’
She kissed him as they sat either side of the fire. She had made up her mind. ‘I will leave for France with you, Kit.’
He looked at her in disbelief. She stood up. ‘I dreamed of Elizabeth Southern last night, if it was a dream – a nightmare. For the first time in a long time I feel afraid. It is as if she is coming for me.’
‘Coming for you? From beyond the grave?’
‘Or near to it.’ Alice was crying. Christopher tried to comfort her but she pulled away.
‘That night I told you about, at Elizabeth Southern’s house
‘What did you put in it? Sheep brain?’
‘No, child. I made the sacrifice and used the baby in the bottle.’
The child Jennet let out a great wail, so much so that the trapdoor above was pulled back for a second and someone called to see what was the harm.
‘That was my toy.’
‘It was your toy, I know it well, and I had to smash the bottle to get the baby out, but she will set us all free and give us power and then you will get another toy as much as you like,’
‘I shall have nowt to talk to now the baby is boiled.’
‘You will talk to the Head, my dearie, and the Head will talk to you. The baby couldn’t talk, could she?’
Tears running down her filthy face, Jennet shook her head. She was a sad sight, dirty and torn and bruised, her blonde hair in knots, her skin calloused from crawling and hiding. ‘I gived you the tongue of Robert Preston from under the bush. You said you’d give me something for it.’
‘And I will!’ said her mother. ‘Soon all this will change.’
Mouldheels had finished her gruesome sewing. The swollen black tongue protruded from the mouth cavity of the head.
She plunged the head into the stew. The cauldron boiled over in a sickening froth.
Mouldheels came forward and taking the doll she had made, she pierced it through with a sharp stick and baptised it in the cauldron:
In his likeness it is moulded, he shall die
.’ And she plunged the doll under the scummy water. It shrieked.
Elizabeth pushed Mouldheels aside, and with a pair of heavy tongs she fished in the boiling brew for the head, lifted it out and set it to drain. Much of what had remained of the decomposing flesh had been scalded off into the pot. The head retained a few strands of hair and its new tongue. It sat on the altar, steaming as the water fell from it.
The stench in the cellar was so bad that the company assembled above began to complain. Elizabeth got on the wormy ladder and poked her head into the room. ‘When you are free and Roger Nowell is dead you will not complain. And when we are free we shall fly to Lancaster Castle where the Dark Gentleman will reward us for our pains.’
‘We cannot do it without Old Demdike or without Mistress Nutter,’ said one.
But Elizabeth was blazing now. ‘I have claimed the power. I shall lead you. My proof will be the proof of my Spell.’ She went back down into her lair. ‘Mouldheels, bring up the head.’
Mouldheels took a cloth and wrapped the damp head in it. Elizabeth climbed the ladder into the round room of Malkin Tower and reached down for the head. As it was produced, the company gasped.
‘Yea,’ said Elizabeth, ‘now you see me. I have made the head that not even Demdike could make. The head will speak to you, confirm my power, and guide us from this place.’
She placed the head on the plank-board table.
‘At sunset it will speak. In Demdike’s name it will speak.’
In the cellar Jennet Device was poking in the cauldron for the remains of her bottled baby. She found a tiny hand and put it carefully in her dress pocket.
The Fog
ALICE NUTTER HAD ridden home to the Rough Lee to discover that Roger Nowell had ordered her house to be searched. She was sitting in her study with Christopher Southworth. He kept fingering his neck. She made a joke about the noose. He shook his head. ‘I have lost my crucifix. I took it off in your bed. Now I cannot find it. I took it off to make love to you.’
She kissed him as they sat either side of the fire. She had made up her mind. ‘I will leave for France with you, Kit.’
He looked at her in disbelief. She stood up. ‘I dreamed of Elizabeth Southern last night, if it was a dream – a nightmare. For the first time in a long time I feel afraid. It is as if she is coming for me.’
‘Coming for you? From beyond the grave?’
‘Or near to it.’ Alice was crying. Christopher tried to comfort her but she pulled away.
‘That night I told you about, at Elizabeth Southern’s house