The Witch from the Sea (20 page)

Thus I came to the cobbled courtyard before Ysella’s Tower. I looked up at it remembering the story and asking myself how it was possible for a man to keep two women in the same dwelling and one not know the other was there. “Preposterous!” I said aloud. But if they were meek women who obeyed without question the husband they shared, it might have been managed. No, I could not believe it. Although with the forceful Casvellyns perhaps anything was possible. Colum would like me to be as docile as Ysella and Nonna must have been.

Then I noticed the sand among the cobbles. There was a good deal of it. I wondered idly how it could have got there. Could it have been blown up in the storm? Impossible. It would have to come right over the top of the tower to get there. The only answer was that people who had been on the beach had been walking here. Strangely enough, I had been here the day before and not noticed it.

I was there on the stone step close to the iron-studded door, so whoever had brought it in had stood on that stone step.

As I stood there I saw a glittering object and stooping to pick it up I saw that it was an amulet. It glittered like gold.

I examined it. It was oval in shape, about an inch wide and two inches long. It was beautifully engraved and what was depicted fascinated me. It was the figure of a beautiful youth about whose head was a halo, and at his feet lay a horned goat; one of the youth’s feet was resting on the goat as though he had vanquished it. There was a name engraved on it in very small letters so that I could scarcely read it: I took it to my room and examined it and at last I made out the name to be VALDEZ. So it was Spanish. Someone must have dropped it. Someone who had been on the shore and brought the sand up on his boots.

I put the amulet in the drawer.

Colum returned two days later. I saw him riding towards the castle with the men and the pack-horses. They were unladen.

I went to the kitchen and ordered that the joints should be set on the spits immediately and that one of his favourite pies should be made without delay—squab perhaps as there was plenty of bacon and mutton and Colum had the Cornishman’s love of pastry.

We dined alone in the little room where we had our first meal together. Colum always wanted us to be there alone on occasions like this. It showed an unsuspected sentimentality.

I put on the diamond chain with the ruby locket and it was a very happy evening. It was when I put the chain and locket away that I opened it and looking at the space for a miniature inside it decided that I should like to have a picture of my son there after the custom.

I smiled, thinking of suggesting this to Colum and that he might be a little disappointed because I did not choose to have his picture. But would he ever allow himself to be painted? Then of course I might have other children and I should want pictures of them all. While I was thus idly thinking I was stroking the edge of the locket and to my amazement the layer in which was a space for a picture sprang up and I was looking into a woman’s face. She was beautiful, with clouds of dark hair, an olive skin and languorous dark eyes. So cleverly had it been painted that in spite of the fact that it was so small all this was apparent.

How strange that an unknown woman’s face should be depicted in a locket which was given to me by my husband. It could only mean that the locket had belonged to someone else before me.

Colum came into the room while I sat there holding it in my hand.

“Look at this, Colum,” I said, and I gave it to him.

He took it and looked down at the woman’s face.

I could see that he was taken aback.

“This is very strange,” he said.

“Clearly it once belonged to someone else. Where did you get it?”

I saw that for the moment he was nonplussed. Then he recovered himself.

“It could not have been the one I wished made for you. The goldsmith has lied to me. People dispose of their valuables and articles of gold, silver and precious stones are sold as new, for how could one be sure whether such articles had been freshly wrought or not?”

“So the goldsmith sold you the locket as new.”

“And,” said Colum, “it was not. I must take the fellow to task. How do you feel about it now; Can you wear something that was not made especially for you?”

I said: “I don’t want to part with the locket. Perhaps some day I might meet this mysterious lady. It is exquisitely done. The painter must have been a man of talent.”

“Give it to me,” said Colum. “The miniature shall be removed. You can put in something of your own family. I shall have your initials engraved on it. That goldsmith must do this, since he has sold me a secondhand article for a new one.”

Later on I said: “I’ll keep it as it is. Perhaps I could have pictures of my babies in it. That reminds me.” I opened a drawer and took out the amulet. “I found this, Colum,” I told him.

He frowned and almost snatched it from me.

“Where?”

“In the courtyard.”

He examined it in silence and I wondered whether he was as interested in the article or just trying to control his annoyance.

“Which courtyard?” he snapped.

“The one before Ysella.”

“I told you not to go there.”

“It was perfectly safe and I must walk somewhere since I can’t ride. What is it? I thought it looked like an amulet.”

“It
is
an amulet. I’d say this belonged to a Catharist. I have seen them before.”

“What sort of people are they?”

“It is a sect that has been in existence for many years, and has its roots in pre-Christian times. These people, though, profess to believe in two gods, the good one and the evil one.”

“As Christians do.”

“It is so. But the general belief is that these people serve the Devil. They profess they do not and this is the kind of amulet they carry with them to prove it. But they meet at midnight in what are called covens and they worship the Horned Goat. This shows the good triumphant. I have seen this kind of thing before.”

“I wonder whose it is. Do you think we have one of the Catharists in the castle?”

“I will discover,” he said, holding out his hand for it.

“It is beautifully engraved,” I pointed out. “See, there is a name on it. Valdez. That’s Spanish, is it not?”

“By God, so it is. Who could have come by it? A case of another second-hand article I’ll swear.”

“I like it,” I said. “It conveys the idea of virtue prevailing over evil.”

“I must find who owns it.”

He put it into his pocket.

“Let me know when you do find the owner,” I said. “I should like to know who would have such a thing.”

I sensed he was faintly disturbed.

Later that afternoon I went down to the shore. It was warm and there was a faint mist in the air. I could see the sorry sight of a vessel caught on the rocks, toppling drunkenly as the waves washed over her. I thought of the people who had confidently set out from some place on their way to a destination which they had never reached and wondered how many had perished in the storm.

Parts of the vessel still floated on the water, useless pieces of wood—the remains of what had once been a stalwart ship; and again I thought of my father, sailing on the treacherous waters which could be so calm and smiling and in a brief hour so cruel. All people who went to sea did so at their own risk, of course. They all knew that they needed good fortune as well as skill to come safely to land. All his life my father had been a sailor and he had come safely through. Men such as he was thought themselves invincible. Even the sea could not tame them.

A piece of wood was being brought in by the tide—in it came and was carried back, in and back, each time a little nearer. I watched it feeling a great desire to hold it in my hands.

Nearer and farther, tossed hither and thither on the waves. Now a big one brought it right to my feet.

I picked it up and I saw that it had letters on it. There they were:
San Pedro
.

So the ship out there was a Spaniard. A thought flashed into my head then—the amulet which I had found in the courtyard was also Spanish.

There seemed some strange significance in this but I was not sure what.

My time was fast approaching and my mother had come with Damask to stay with us. She brought Edwina and her little boy with her for it was almost Christmas. My father was on the high seas, so were Carlos and Jacko, who was now married.

They had not returned from the East Indies and my mother told me that so much would depend on the success of that first enterprise.

I was always happy to have her with me. I had been so immersed in preparations for the coming of my child that I had not thought very much about the amulet and the locket. Colum said no more to me about the amulet then and I thought he had forgotten them. He went away from time to time on his business and I did not accompany him.

So it was Christmas again and our thoughts were with the men on the high seas. Edwina I could see was anxious; my mother seemed to have a placid belief in my father’s survival through all conflicts.

She did tell me during her stay that Fennimore’s wife had that September given birth to a son who was named after his father.

My mother and Edwina decorated the castle hall. I was too cumbersome, my confinement being hourly expected.

And on Christmas Day of that year 1590 my child was born.

This time I had a daughter. I think Colum was a little disappointed for he would have preferred another son, but it was only a fleeting displeasure. I was twenty years old and already the mother of two healthy children.

My mother was delighted with the child.

“Daughters can be such a comfort,” she told me and kissed me.

Damask loved the baby and in fact when my mother went back to Lyon Court wanted to stay with us. However that was not possible and they left after the New Year.

For some time I was absorbed in my children. Connell was a lively child. I used to tell myself that this was just how Colum must have been at his age. He was going to be tall and strong, I was sure, and fond of his own way. Colum doted on him and was impatient for him to grow up; and sometimes it seemed that the boy was too, for to us in the castle he appeared to be far in advance of his years.

Mothers I know are supposed to love their children equally but I loved my little daughter with a single-mindedness which I believed I could never feel towards any other child I might have. Perhaps it was because her father showed less interest in her than he did in the boy. Perhaps she seemed more vulnerable than Connell ever had. He had appeared to be born with that self-confidence which he had inherited from his father. We called her Tamsyn, the feminine form of Thomas, the name of Colum’s father, and I added Catherine to that for my mother.

Through the rest of the winter, the spring and the summer I felt cut off from the outside world, so completely absorbed was I in my nursery.

Jennet adored the baby and she and I became more friendly than we had ever been and I was glad my mother had sent her to me.

In the August of that year my mother came to stay with us. She was eager to see the children. Tamsyn was now nearly eight months old and showing a decided character of her own. She was going to be a spirited girl. She had lost that air of helplessness which she had had as a little baby and was beginning to show a lively interest in everything around her.

My mother’s news was a little disturbing. My father with Fennimore and his father, Carlos and Jacko had all returned safely from the expedition to the East Indies. They had brought back rich goods and had started to trade with that part of the world. Alas, the journey had been a hazardous one and not all the ships which had set out had returned. They had mustered a fleet of fifteen vessels. Some had foundered and gone down with all hands; two had been captured by pirates; three had been engaged in an action against foreign ships the identity of which was unknown but clearly they had been some sort of traders. Out of the fifteen only eight had come into harbour, but they had been richly laden with spices, ivory and gold. Therefore the venture could be said to have been profitable.

“I thank God that our men returned safely,” said my mother, “but I pray for those poor souls who have not been so fortunate.”

I nodded and the memory of the
San Pedro
smashed on the rocks came back to me.

“I sometimes wish,” I said, “that my father and the rest were not seafaring folk. How much better if they pursued a profession ashore.”

“You are fortunate,” replied my mother, “in that Colum is occupied with his lands. I am glad for you, Linnet, that he does not make these long and hazardous journeyings.”

I nodded, and I thought of Colum who left mysteriously now and then and did not tell me where he had been.

My mother stayed until the end of September. I missed her very much after she had gone and a certain restlessness came over me. It was in this mood that the certainty that a great deal went on in Castle Paling of which I was ignorant persisted.

It was October. The evenings were fast drawing in and there was more than a touch of autumn in the air. Soon, I thought, the gales will be with us and my thoughts again went to the
San Pedro
which I had never quite been able to get out of my mind.

I found myself in the courtyard facing Ysella where I had discovered the amulet, and as I approached the iron-studded door I was aware of something different about it.

Then I realized what it was. The door moved. It was swinging ajar on its hinges.

The impulse was irresistible. I pushed it open and went in.

The first thing that struck me was the smell. It was strange and yet familiar. The place was close of course—little air came in. Then I realized what it was. It was the odour of sea water, seaweed, and a sort of musty dampness.

The door opened on to the hall which was very similar to that of the other towers. It was dark not only because little light came in but because this hall was full of articles. There were great boxes and piled objects of all kinds strewn about the floor. My foot touched something which made me cry out. I thought it was a man lying there trussed up. It was a bale of cloth. I bent over it. The sea smell was strong. It was slightly damp.