The Owl Killers

may

saint helen discovered several old crosses. to test which was the true cross she stretched a corpse out on each cross and the one that revived the corpse was pronounced the true cross on which christ had died. this is also known as avoiding day, a day of ill fortune. time to avoid getting married, travelling, or counting money, because the evil spirits are determined to cause mischief.

mY BIG BROTHER WILLIAM picked up a fat handful of pig shit and grinned at his friend Henry.

“Watch this-I bet you I can land this right on her nose.”

Henry snorted. “Even your stupid sister could hit her from there and she’s a girl. Dare you to stand behind that post and do it.”

William looked scornful and sauntered back to the post.

Little Marion could see what was coming and she tried to duck her head, but locked into the stocks she couldn’t move much. Thick rivers of snot ran from her nose. She wriggled on the narrow strip of wood she was sitting on. It was a thin plank turned on its side and hammered into the Green. She couldn’t slide back because of the stocks round her ankles. It was really sharp, that wood. Last time she’d had this big black welt across her backside for days after, from where she’d been sitting on it. It hurt worse than a switch.

William took aim and Marion started bawling again.

“Don’t, William, that’s mean!” I yelled before I could stop myself.

William turned to me, grinning. “You want me to throw it at you instead, Pisspuddle?” He raised his fist again, this time in my direction.

Henry sniggered. “Your little sister’s got a face like a turd anyway, nobody’d notice the difference.”

“Yeh. Come here, turd-face.”

I started to run across the Green. I knew he’d do it. I kept expecting to feel the wet slap of it on my back.

“Drop that at once, boy.”

I stopped and peered round, with my hands up in front of my face, just in case. Henry was running away, but a tall lady had got hold of William by the wrist and was forcing him to open his hand. The shit plopped on the ground. The tall lady pulled William’s wrist down until he yelped. Then she wiped his hand back and front on the grass as if he was a baby still in clouts.

I’d seen the lady before, in church. She came from the house of women.

“Outlanders,” that’s what Mam called them, that’s why they dressed so queer. “It’s not natural,” Mam said, “a group of women living altogether, with no men among them. Only witches or nuns do that.”

I’d seen nuns when they came to the village with the shrivelled lips of Saint Alphege to collect money. They walked slowly in silence and never ever smiled, as if they always had a headache. But these women were always laughing whenever they came to the village, all except this one; she looked like she’d eaten a sour apple.

The lady let William stand up, but she still had him by the wrist. His face had turned red.

“Now, boy, for whom did you intend that?”

William looked from me to Marion and opened his mouth like a great fat carp, but nothing came out.

“Speak up, boy, I can’t hear you.”

She looked like a giant heron, grey cloak, grey hair, and grey kirtle. She had a nose as sharp as a beak.

“Her… in the stocks,” William muttered.

“Then you should be ashamed of yourself, boy. She’s only a little girl. Our blessed Lord teaches us to show compassion for prisoners. Didn’t He Himself say let him who is without sin cast the first stone?”

“Wasn’t a stone,” William said, sulking.

“Don’t be impudent, boy. Now get about your business and leave her alone, do you hear me?”

“You can’t make me,” William jeered.

“But I warrant I can.” John the blacksmith grabbed his ear and twisted hard. William jumped and yelped again. He hadn’t noticed John walking up behind him. It served him right. John pulled him up by the ear till he was standing on tiptoes. I stuffed my fingers in my mouth trying hard not to giggle.

“This lad bothering you, Mistress?”

“Just mischief, nothing I can’t deal with. But, tell me: The child in the stocks, what has she done to earn such a punishment?”

“Out gleaning wool before the Terce bell.” John had let go of William’s ear, but his thick hairy fingers clutched William’s shoulder.

“It’s no justice to punish one so young for that,” the lady said. “The child can be no more than six or seven summers at most.”

“Old enough to know the law. Isn’t the first time she’s been caught.”

“How long is she to stay in there?”

John shrugged, “Till the Vespers bell. Maybe longer if her father hasn’t paid his fine by then.”

Marion, though she already knew that, began yowling loud enough to be heard right across the Green.

“You can’t keep the child in there against her father’s debt.” The lady sounded cross.

“It’s either her or him. And he can’t earn the money to pay the fine if he’s in there, now can he?” John said.

The lady pulled herself up so tall I thought her head would fall off her neck.

“Then I’ll pay the fine, but I want that child released now. Her father must be in great want if he is forced to send this little one out to collect a few pitiful scraps of sheeps’ wool from the bushes. You’re only adding to their burden with your fines when you should be giving them charity.”

“Nowt to do with me. D’Acaster’s steward gave the orders.” He pointed towards the inn. “You’ll find him supping in the Bull Oak. Phillip’s his name, if you’ve got any complaints.”

“Then I’ll speak with him.”

The lady swept off across the Green. She walked so fast that her cloak swirled back behind her as if she was flying like a witch.

“If you ask me,” John called after her, “you’re wasting good money. That family never learns. The brat’ll be back in the stocks before the month is out.”

But I don’t think the grey lady heard him.

John grabbed the back of William’s shirt and gave him a good shake. “Now you listen to me, my lad, your father would flay the hide off you if he knew you were messing with those hags. You don’t know what goes on behind those walls of theirs. If those women got hold of a lad like you, like as not you’d never be seen again.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” William said, but I knew he was, because his face had gone all red and blotchy.

“Well, you should be. All of those women together like that can do things you wouldn’t dream of, lad. They can make your nose rot off your face and your cock shrivel up like a worm. So mind you stay well out of their way.”

He gave William another shake and strode off, kicking the stocks as he passed. “And you can stop your bawling, Marion. You’ll not cod Phillip D’Acaster as easily as that daft gammer.”

William stomped furiously towards me.

“What are you laughing at, Pisspuddle?” He tried to clout me one, but I dodged out of his way and that made him madder than ever.

“Nothing,” I said quickly and started to walk home.

William followed me. “I’ll get the old besom back, see if I don’t. I’m not afraid of those gammers. What can they do?”

“Cured cousin Stephen’s arm, didn’t they?” I reminded him. “Mam said he’d lose it for sure. Bone came right through the skin, but it healed right up. He was screaming like a scalded pig when he fell off the roof, but they stopped it hurting too. Even the cunning woman, old Gwenith, can’t do that.”

William snorted and chucked a stone at a fluster of hens, which scattered, squawking.

I walked very carefully along the top of a fallen branch lying in the track, putting my hands out to balance myself, but it rolled and I slipped off.

“What are you doing that for?” William eyed me suspiciously.

“No reason.” I stopped at once and started walking fast along the path.

“Yes, you are. You did it on the way here too, and yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

A nasty grin spread across his face. “I know what you’re doing. You’re pretending you’re that tumbler’s girl, the one walking the pole at the May Fair.”

“I’m not.” I could feel my face going red and I tried to run, but William grabbed me by one of my braids.

“Oh yes, you are. Just wait till I tell Henry, he’ll wet himself. Little Pisspuddle thinks she can walk on a pole and have pretty golden curls and have everyone admire her.”

“Let go!” I yelled.

He twisted my arm round and scrubbed my face with the end of my braid. I hated it when he did that. I fought to wriggle free.

“It’s not a bad idea sending you up a pole. With a face like yours everyone would think we’ve got a performing ferret!”

I yanked my hair out of his hand and ran as fast as I could down the path. I could hear him roaring with laughter behind me. I wished with all my might that they’d put him in the stocks. I’d throw all the dung and every rotten vegetable I could find at him. I’d tie a stinking fish right under his nose and I’d drop spiders and worms and beetles down his neck so they’d wriggle inside his shirt. I’d wait until he was really hungry and thirsty, then I’d eat a big juicy apple right in front of him. Then I’d put earwigs inside his ears and they’d bite their way right through his brain and plop out of his nose and he’d scream and scream. And then I’d, I’d… I’d think of something else to do to him, even worse than that.