Free The Gallows Curse by Karen Maitland

shrivelled black root, roughly formed into the shape of two legs, two arms
and a body, with a head made by the withered knot where leaves had once grown.
        Yadua.
Some call them mandrakes. The male is white, but this is the woman, black and
precious as sable. Comes all the way from the hot lands across the sea.'
        Gytha
was honest about that much at least. It was the genuine article. There are many
bilge-spewers and piss-filchers who, through ignorance or greed, will try to
pass off bryony root as mandrakes. Any fool holding them in his hands can feel
they are as lifeless as drowned kittens and about as much use. But that cunning
woman was no fool and she had enough respect for what we could do to give us
our proper name, for an immortal deserves a godlike appellation.
        Gytha
cradled the mandrake in the palm of her hand as if it was a baby. 'You must
take a drop of your blood drawn from your tongue and a drop of white milk from
a man, smear them on the head of the creature, then hide her beneath the place
where you sleep. She'll strengthen your dreams so that you will hear the
spirits speaking to you and see the shadows more clearly.'
        Elena
scrambled up, holding out her hands for the mandrake, but Gytha swept it away
from her reach.
        'I
told you, they grow only in the hot lands. Men risk madness and death to
capture them, for they scream as they are dragged from the earth, a sound so
dreadful that it shatters a man's reason. Yadua is costly, worth far more than
a few dried apricots.'
        'But
I only want to borrow it for a night, if it shows me what —'
        Gytha
laughed. 'She can't be lent or borrowed. A fetch will only bring visions to the
one who owns it. You must buy her from me and once she is bought, you can only
rid yourself of her by selling her in kind, for the same price at which she was
bought.'
        'I
have money. Lady Anne gives me coins and clothes, ones that she has finished
with, and pretty silver pins too.'
        Gytha
shook her head. 'You think I bought Yadua with money or jewels? Where would I
get such things? No, you may take her now and one day in the months or years to
come, I'll ask you to perform some small service for me. That will be the
payment. Are we agreed?'
        Elena
hesitated, as well she might. It's foolish to strike a bargain when you don't
know the price. And everyone knows you must never fail to pay a cunning woman,
unless you have grown weary of living. It's as dangerous as swimming in the
mill race or killing the king's venison; worse, for even a slow hanging is
quicker and less painful than the death that a cunning woman will send you. But,
so Elena reasoned, Gytha had refused payment.
        'Swear
on the bones.' The voice from the bed was cracked and shrill.
        Elena
jumped. She couldn't remember ever having heard the old woman speak before.
        The
old lady was leaning, forward, her white, sightless eyes fixed on Elena's own
as if she could see right through to her soul. 'Unless you see where the shadow
of the devil fox is running, you'll not be able to protect yourself or the
bairn. You need Yadua. Swear you will do what my daughter says.'
        Both
women were watching her intently. Elena found herself nodding, and the old
woman relaxed against the bed as though she could sense the movement of assent.
Gytha took her wrist and led her, stumbling, to her mother's bed. The old woman
fumbled for Elena's free hand and pushed it down upon the heap of bones so hard
that it felt as if she was trying to impress her skin with the seal of them.
Elena winced, but the old woman's hand held her fast like an iron shackle. 'Say
it.'
        'I sw
. . . swear.'
        They
released her. Gytha wrapped the mandrake in a piece of rag and thrust it into
her hands.
        'Remember
first you must feed her — a drop of his seed, a drop of your blood.' As Elena
walked away, Gytha called after her, Yadua has other powers,