Page 4 of The Queen’s Witch

“Never,” I repeated, my mind too contorted with grief to think on what Mother Redcap had just revealed. Mother Redcap tottered back to her chair, her face twisted with the effort.

“Alysoun, listen to me carefully. First, ye will not be haunted. Haunting be a fearful thing, but ye will not be haunted. The dead can haunt the living if not properly restrained, but . . .” She finished her sentence as if the words were forced out of her: “But only the dead can haunt the dead.”

Mistress Prentiss looked at my face, took a step backward, and clutched Matilda to her. Mistress Lupton stood as still as if caught by a binding spell.

I did not understand—who would haunt me? Not Grandmother. Then all at once meaning struck me like a blow. My words came out one by one, each a stone in my throat that I disgorged by pure force. “You stopped . . . something from haunting me. But Grandmother is haunted. By someone dead.”

“I be sorry,” Mother Redcap said, with more gentleness than I thought she possessed. “There be nothing I can do.”

“No. No! She is in pain—I saw! She . . . Is she still in pain?”

“Not pain of this body, now that I helped her spirit truly leave it behind. But in the Otherworld her spirit will be in torment, not constantly but . . . Joan’s pact with the Dark One must be powerful.”

“What kind of torment? What torment can a spirit undergo? Tell me!”

“I cannot tell ye, because I do not know. Only the dead know.”

“But Grandmother must have defenses against this!”

“She was only a cunning woman. She—”

“Do not tell me again that she never tied the thrice-braided cord! You did so! You just said ‘Never lay violent hands on a thrice-braided witch!’ You said it! There must be something you can do!”

“Not against this.”

Frantically, I searched for some path, some hope I had not seen . . . “You said ‘not constantly.’ When will Grandmother—” I could not choke out the words.

Mother Redcap said nothing. Mistress Lupton spoke for the first time. “The malefic dead regain their power every sacred day, from midnight to midnight. I know.”

Pain filled her eyes, and I wondered briefly which beloved of hers was so tormented. But only briefly. In that moment, I cared only about Grandmother. Tortured and in some unfathomable pain every day sacred to the Sisterhood—four times every year. Four.

I faced Mother Redcap. “There is something you are not telling me. Something else. What is it? Tell me!”

At first, I thought she would not answer. Mistress Prentiss shifted her weight as if to speak, but Mother Redcap forestalled her. “A thrice-braided witch may enter the Otherworld and do battle there. But only on Samhain, when the boundary between this world and the Otherworld be so thin. And it need be a witch of great power, and willing to use terrible malefic magick.”

“So you can—”

“No. I never be that powerful, and now I weaken with age.”

She kept her gaze on my face, and in her eyes, I saw that she knew what I would say. “Grandmother always said I show great natural ability. I could do battle to free Grandmother.”

“Ye be not thrice braided.”

“Make me thrice braided. Now. Summon my Third and extend my ceremony. It is my right to choose.”

“Ye be not ready. Now have done, child.”

What words could I find to convince her? I must convince her. How? Since neither Grandmother nor I had ever expected me to become thrice braided, she had taught me only a little of that powerful and dangerous lore. Only a thrice-braided Sister could create another. A thrice-braided Sister could command the great magicks, if she knew the spells. Her power came from the Goddess through the braiding of the Sister, her familiar, and her Third: “A threefold cord holds strong.” I had always thought Mother Redcap merely a cunning woman like Grandmother, but she was thrice braided. She could cast the spells of the great magicks, and I must be able to do so as well. That was the only way I could enter the Otherworld and free Grandmother from whatever torments had flung her body into the air, made her corpse scream, brought that look of fear to Mistress Prentiss and that deep pain to Mistress Lupton. I must become thrice braided.

How to convince Mother Redcap? Force would not work; I had none except the ineffective bodily strength of youth. So I sank to my knees in front of her, clasped my hands, and the words came, my first understanding that eloquence can flow from desperation.

“Mother Redcap, I cannot stay here. That chair you sit in: She sat there every summer evening, sewing. That basket on the table: She has had it ever since I can remember, and she and I took it to the Saturday market until I was old enough to market alone. This kirtle I wear, this apron and sleeves: She made them for me. That settle: In cold weather she sat there by the fire. There she summoned Pipkin and taught me the small magicks. There she died. I cannot stay here, in this cottage where everything speaks of her. I will be haunted, not by Grandmother but by the past. Knowing that she is tormented every sacred day . . . what I just saw—” Grandmother writhing in agony midair. “I cannot stay here, knowing that. I cannot sit idle and do nothing. If you will not help me find my Third and tie the thrice-braided cord, I will go from here and find a witch who will. Somehow, I will find her. And if during my ceremony I face the Dark One, another Sister may not afford me the protection that I know you would. So please, please help me summon my Third and tie the thrice-braided cord!”

Mother Redcap gazed at me as if she could search my spirit. Perhaps as a thrice-braided Sister, she could. The thought chilled me but did not weaken my resolve.

When Mother Redcap finally spoke, it was to Mistress Prentiss. “Take Matilda and Adela home. I must show Alysoun things ye may not see. Leave now.”

They could not escape the cottage fast enough. The wind had increased, blowing through the door before it closed, ruffling my skirts and causing the candle flames to leap. Mother Redcap’s familiar turned its great furry head and stared at me.