‘Well, you’d better start by learning how to manage a boggart,’ the Spook said, shaking his head sadly.
‘That was your other big mistake. A whole Sunday off every week? That’s far too generous! Anyway, what should we do about that?’ he asked, gesturing towards a thin plume of smoke that was still just visible to the south-east.
I shrugged. ‘I suppose it’ll be all over by now,’ I said. ‘There were a lot of angry villagers and they were talking about stoning.’
‘All over with? Don’t you believe it, lad. A witch like Lizzie has a sense of smell better than any hunting dog. She can sniff out things before they happen and would’ve been gone long before anyone got near. No, she’ll have fled back to Pendle, where most of the brood live. We should follow now, but I’ve been on the road for days and I’m too weary and sore and need to gather my strength. But we can’t leave Lizzie free for too long or she’ll start to work her mischief again. I’ll have to go after her before the end of the week and you’ll be coming with me. It won’t be easy but you might as well get used to the idea. But first things first, so follow me…’
As I followed, I noticed that he had a slight limp and was walking more slowly than usual. So whatever had happened on Pendle, it hadn’t been without cost to himself. He led me into the house, up the stairs and into the library, halting beside the furthest shelves, the ones near the window.
‘I like to keep my books in my library,’ he said, ‘and I like my library to get bigger rather than smaller. But because of what’s happened, I’m going to make an exception.’
He reached up and took a book from the very top shelf and handed it to me. ‘You need this more than I do,’ he said. ‘A lot more.’
As books went it wasn’t very big. It was even smaller than my notebook. Like most of the Spook’s books, it was bound in leather and had its title printed both on the front cover and on the spine. It said:
‘What does the title mean?’ I asked.
‘What it says, lad. Exactly what it says. Read the book and you’ll find out.’
When I opened the book, I was disappointed. Inside, every word on every page was printed in Latin, a language I couldn’t read.
‘Study it well and carry it with you at all times,’ said the Spook. ‘It’s the definitive work.’
He must have seen me frowning because he smiled and jabbed at the book with his finger. ‘Definitive means that so far it’s the best book that’s ever been written about possession, but it’s a very difficult subject and it was written by a young man who still had a lot to learn. So it’s not the last word on the subject and there’s more to discover. Turn to the back of the book.’
I did as he told me and found that the last ten or so pages were blank.
‘If you find out anything new, then just write it down there. Every little bit helps. And don’t worry about the fact that it’s in Latin. I’ll be starting your lessons as soon as we’ve eaten.’
We went for our afternoon meal, which was cooked almost to perfection. As I swallowed down my last mouthful, something moved under the table and began to rub itself against my legs. Suddenly the sound of purring could be heard. It gradually got louder and louder until all the plates and dishes on the sideboard began to rattle.
‘No wonder it’s happy,’ said the Spook, shaking his head. ‘One day off a year would have been nearer the mark! Still, not to worry, it’s business as usual and life goes on. Bring your notebook with you, lad, we’ve a lot to get through today.’
So I followed the Spook down the path to the bench, uncorked the bottle of ink, dipped in my pen and prepared to take notes.
‘Once they’ve passed the test in Horshaw,’ said the Spook, starting to limp up and down in front of the bench, ‘I usually try to ease my apprentices into the job as gently as possible. But now that you’ve been face to face with a witch, you know how difficult and dangerous the job can be and I think you’re ready to find out what happened to my last apprentice. It’s linked to boggarts, the topic we’ve been studying, so you might as well learn from it. Find a clean page and write down this for a heading…’
I did as I was told. I wrote down,
As I already knew, binding a boggart involved a lot of hard work which the Spook called ‘laying’. First a pit had to be dug as close as possible to the roots of a large, mature tree. After all the digging the Spook had made me do, I was surprised to learn that a spook rarely dug the pit himself. That was something only done in an absolute emergency. A rigger and his mate usually attended to that.
Next you had to employ a mason to cut a thick slab of stone to fit over the pit like a gravestone. It was very important that the stone was cut to size accurately so as to make a good seal. After you’d coated the lower edge of the stone and the inside of the pit with the mixture of iron, salt and strong glue, it was time to get the boggart safely inside.
That wasn’t too difficult. Blood, milk or a combination of the two worked every time. The really difficult bit was dropping the stone into position as it fed. Success depended on the quality of the help you hired.
It was best to have a mason standing by and a couple of riggers using chains controlled from a wooden gantry placed above the pit, so as to lower the stone down quickly and safely.
That was the mistake that Billy Bradley made. It was late winter and the weather was foul and Billy was in a rush to get back to his warm bed. So he cut corners.
He used local labourers, who hadn’t done that type of work before. The mason had gone off for his supper, promising to return within the hour, but Billy was impatient and couldn’t wait. He got the boggart into the pit without too much trouble but ran into difficulties with the slab of stone. It was a wet night and it slipped, trapping his left hand under its edge.
The chain jammed so they couldn’t lift the stone, and while the labourers struggled with it, and one of them ran back to get the mason, the boggart, in a fury at being trapped under the stone, began to attack Billy’s fingers. You see, it was one of the most dangerous boggarts of all. They’re called ‘Rippers’ and they usually just feed from cattle, but this one had got the taste for human blood.
By the time the stone was lifted, almost half an hour had passed, and by then it was too late. The boggart had bitten off Billy’s fingers as far down as the second knuckle and had been busily sucking the blood from his body. His screams of pain had faded away to a whimper, and when they got his hand free, only his thumb was left. Soon afterwards he died of shock and loss of blood.
‘It was a sad business,’ said the Spook, ‘and now he’s buried under the hedge, just outside the churchyard at Layton – those who follow our trade don’t get to rest their bones in hallowed ground. It happened just over a year ago, and if Billy had lived, I wouldn’t be talking to you now because he’d still be my apprentice. Poor Billy, he was a good lad and he didn’t deserve that, but it’s a dangerous job and if it’s not done right…’
The Spook looked at me sadly then shrugged. ‘Learn from it, lad. We need courage and patience, but above all, we never rush. We use our brains, we think carefully, then we do what has to be done. In the normal course of events I never send an apprentice out on his own until his first year of training is over. Unless, of course,’ he added with a faint smile, ‘he takes matters into his own hands. Then again, I’ve got to feel sure he’s ready for it. Anyway, first things first,’ he said. ‘Now it’s time for your first Latin lesson…’
Chapter Eleven. The Pit
It happened just three days later… The Spook had sent me down into the village to collect the week’s groceries. It was very late in the afternoon, and as I left his house carrying the empty sack, the shadows were already beginning to lengthen.
As I approached the stile, I saw someone standing right on the edge of the trees near the top of the narrow lane. When I realized that it was Alice, my heart lurched into a more rapid beat. What was she doing here? Why hadn’t she gone off to Pendle? And if she was still here, what about Lizzie?
I slowed down but I had to pass her to get to the village. I could’ve gone back and taken a longer route but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I was scared of her. Even so, once I’d climbed over the stile, I stayed on the left-hand side of the lane, keeping close to the high hawthorn hedge, right on the edge of the deep
