The Murder of Busy Lizzie

chapter eleven

The Witches’ Cavern

‘Dame, dame! the watch is set:

Quickly come, we all are met.

From the lakes and from the fens,

From the rocks and from the dens,

From the woods and from the caves,

From the churchyards, from the graves…’

Ben Jonson

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What made you think that the cave had a second exit?’ Dame Beatrice asked as they climbed the knoll at the back of Puffins.

‘There’s a similar way up out of the cave I use as a bathing hut. There may be others on the island, for all I know, and there’s also a deep gorge which goes halfway across the island where the stream runs. This place must have been a smugglers’ paradise at one time and I believe it still is. Stuff comes in from the Continent, or further east, and goes out to Ireland and maybe to Cuba, or it comes in from America and goes out to the Middle East. There are all sorts of possibilities and apparently, on the island itself, no restriction. But the smugglers can wait for a bit, don’t you think? I feel that our immediate concern is with the death of Eliza Chayleigh.’

From the top of the knoll a well-trodden path led to the top of the old quarries. These had been so long untouched that they were pleasantly overgrown by climbing plants, bracken, heather and wild flowers. For fifty yards or so Laura still followed the path and this kept to the line of the old railway track, which also sprouted wild plants, grass and gorse-bushes. When they came to the end of it against a huge pile of rubble and discarded blocks of stone, a further path led along the cliff-top towards the old lighthouse. Here Laura stood still.

‘Now the fun begins,’ she said. ‘Oh, damn! We’ve got company.’

The company to which she referred was that of Sebastian and Margaret, who greeted her as they came towards her from the direction of the old lighthouse. Dame Beatrice leered at them kindly and asked how they did.

‘Well,’ said Margaret, when they had returned her salutation, ‘I’m glad we met you. Mrs Gavin—Laura—there’s a marvellous story going around among the bird-watchers at the hotel that you climbed down the cliffs on the end of a rope, took if off and left it dangling and came up by another route. We thought that could only mean you’d found another cave like the one we use for bathing. Do show us the exit. We’ve looked everywhere.

‘Another smugglers’ hole, in fact, it is. Quite right,’ said Laura. ‘I’m going to show it to Dame Beatrice. So you want to come along? All right, then. But I had no rope.’

Behind the heap of stone and rubble there were bushes. Laura parted these and held them apart for Dame Beatrice to follow her before she plunged into a sea of bracken through which a narrow path led away to the left and fairly steeply downwards.

‘Mind how you go,’ she said. ‘There are chunks of stone and all sorts of rubbish down here, but I think we’re pretty well hidden from view from up top.’

Dame Beatrice thought so, too. The sides of the quarry, although they were not precipitous, were steep and almost perpendicular, but the reason for Laura’s assumption was the dense growth of vegetation, chiefly gorse, bracken and small hawthorn bushes, which covered the sides. Even the sky, except for the blue slit directly above their heads, was seen through a maze of green and gold.

It was rough going and they took it slowly. The quarry broadened out and became a square instead of a narrow rectangle. Laura plunged across it and on the seaward side there was an opening from which crudely-hacked steps descended to a tunnel.

‘This is where I came out,’ Laura explained, ‘and quite pleased to see a spot of daylight, I don’t mind telling you.’ She produced a torch and switched it on. ‘I reckon the quarrymen were in cahoots with the smugglers and between them they blasted this passage down to the sea.’ It led downwards fairly steeply and Sebastian, who was bringing up the rear behind his sister and Dame Beatrice, estimated that they must have covered more than half-a-mile before Laura said, in tones that reverberated, ‘You’d all better stand still for a minute. The last bit is a ladder. It’s quite firm, but we have to go one at a time. I’m going down now, and I’ll light the rest of you.’

The ladder, an extremely steady and stable affair, as Laura had indicated, consisted of only a dozen rungs. When all four explorers were on the sandy floor of the cave, Laura cast the beam of her torch around and they could see, on the dry floor, the shuffled outline of a circle.

‘Your surmise that the island witches use the cave seems to be borne out by the evidence,’ said Dame Beatrice, who had also produced a torch.

‘Perhaps folk-dancers practise down here,’ said Margaret, giggling nervously because she found the echoing surroundings eerie.

‘Folk-dancers,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘do not usually place candles at the four cardinal points of the compass.’

She walked round the outside of the scuffled circle. Plainly to be seen in the light of her powerful torch were the marks of four sets of candle-droppings. Then she led the way towards the mouth of the cave, but kept well back from the edge of the water. Here she and Laura switched off their torches, for it was brilliantly sunny over the sea. The force of the waves, as Laura previously had discovered, was broken on the series of black rocks which stood about ten yards out and among which the corpse of Eliza Chayleigh had been caught and held. Dame Beatrice, after studying the scene for several minutes, during which none of the others disturbed her thoughts, turned away and said decisively.

‘I do not think Mrs Chayleigh’s body was ever in this cave.’

‘No?’ said Laura. ‘But it would have been so easy. Knock a person on the head in our present dwelling, get the body into the quarries, cart it down here—you’d be screened all the time, once you got into the quarries—heave the body into the water from the mouth of the cave on an out-going tide, and there you are.’

‘Yes, that sounds feasible, I know. My objection is this: those rocks where the body was found constitute a natural barrier to the force of the incoming tide.’

‘Granted.’

‘They also act as a foil to the outgoing tide. There is never sufficient strength in the ebb to carry a body beyond those rocks and out to sea.’

‘Well, we know that’s true, so what?’

‘The people who know of this cave must be dwellers on the island, I think. If that is so, they must be well aware of the point we have just raised. They would know that the body would get caught up among the rocks and that, when it did, it would be seen from the old lighthouse and also from the cliff-top. They might just as well have left the body in the cave.’

‘With all those witches, or whatever, coming down here to hold their meetings?’

‘Well, but the witches would equally well have seen the body caught up among the rocks. It seems to me that the murderer’s most sensible plan would be to get the body carried out to sea and for it to remain in the water long enough to become unrecognisable. The fact that the body got caught up among rocks makes me wonder whether the murderer (and I am not necessarily assuming that Mrs Chayleigh was killed and disposed of by only one person) was a stranger to the island and not a native of the place, otherwise surely he would have allowed for the rocks and the tides.’

‘It could have been a witchcraft plot, you know,’ said Laura. ‘Had you thought of that?’

Dame Beatrice cackled.

‘Do you mean that the whole coven was in a plot to rid the world of poor Eliza Chayleigh?’ she asked.

‘Well, I’m keeping an open mind,’ declared Laura, stoutly. ‘Has everybody seen enough? I’m getting hungry.’

They were about to return by the way they had come when Margaret murmured,

‘I think there’s somebody coming.’ Instinctively she flattened herself against the dark wall of the cave and, such is the herd instinct, her brother and Laura did the same. Dame Beatrice remained where she was. From the top of the ladder came an oath and it was followed by a woman’s voice saying in frightened tones:

‘Somebody down there!’

‘No matter. Just carry on,’ said a man. ‘It’ll only be some of the bird-watchers and they’re innocent and harmless enough.’

‘Yes, do come down. Don’t mind me,’ said Dame Beatrice, her beautiful voice echoing oddly around the cavern.

‘Out of the way, then, ma’am. Us be carrying a table and that,’ said one of the women, ‘and it’s kind of ockard on this here ladder.’

One after another, five persons climbed down the ladder into the cave, Dame Beatrice politely lighting their descent with her torch. In silence they stacked what they were carrying against the back wall of the cave. There was only one man. Of the women, one was young, the others middle-aged. In illuminating their labours Dame Beatrice also contrived to shine her torch into their faces and was rebuked by the woman who had already spoken to her.

‘Keep that torch out of my eyes, and thank you kindly,’ she said, curtly but not offensively. ‘ ’Tis a powerful light and makes me go quite blind.’

‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ said Dame Beatrice, who had seen as much as was necessary. ‘Do tell me, are you preparing for a picnic?’

‘Ay, you might call it that, then.’

‘But where is the food?’

‘Coming later,’ said the man briefly.

‘You won’t tell nobody as you’ve seen us, like, will you?’ said the woman. ‘Don’t want interlopers. Some of they tourists would be all over us if they thought there might be a free supper.’

‘How did you get into the cave, may I ask?’ said the man, who, from his accent, was not an islander.

‘Largely by chance. I have rented Puffins, the house near the hotel, and I found, in traversing the old quarries, the entrance to a passage which brought me ultimately to the ladder and this cave.’

‘Do you usually carry an electric torch with you?’

‘Almost invariably when I am exploring. I read that the island used to be the haunt of smugglers, so I expected to find caves, you see.’

‘Oh, yes? Well, look, you better be off home now, ma’am,’ said the woman. She spoke in a tone of authority and gave the impression that she was the leader of the party. ‘Us ’ud be greatly obliged if we could have the place to ourselves, to finish our preparations, like, as there’s much to be done. Up the ladder with ee, and us’ll foller suit. Don’t want to put ee about, like, but we’ve sort of made this our meetin’ place over the years, so, if it’s all the same—’

‘You wish me to precede you? Very well.’

Hoping that the woman meant what she said and that the party really did intend to make the ascent behind her and leave the way clear for the Lovelaines and Laura to follow as soon as the coast was clear, Dame Beatrice climbed the ladder and made her way along the narrow passage to the open air. She emerged and took the path towards Puffins. The party of five were not far behind her. She looked round when she lost the sound of them, and was pleased to see that they had turned away from her, and were taking the way which would lead them towards the old lighthouse. When they were but of sight she stood still and waited for the others. It was a quarter of an hour before they emerged.

‘Thought we’d better give those people plenty of time to get away, as they didn’t know we were there,’ said Laura. ‘You certainly gave them the benefit of your torch. Did you recognise any of them?’

‘I didn’t,’ said Sebastian. ‘Did you, Maggie?’

‘I knew one of them. Surely you remember the church cleaner who showed you the black-magic ladder in the tower?’

‘Oh, good gracious, yes! She was the woman who seemed to do most of the talking. I’m a bit puzzled, though. They didn’t seem the sort of people who would want to picnic in a dark cave.’

‘Judging by the paraphernalia they brought with them,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘I fancy they were no ordinary picnic party. I imagine that, after they had gone, you took the opportunity of examining what they had left behind them?’

‘Yes. Laura had a torch. There was a long, narrow board which could be used as a table-top, two trestles to rest it on, a very well-laundered tablecloth and a big, rather terrifying knife with one straight edge and one slightly curved cutting-edge. We could make out some curious-looking marks on the handle—an inscription of some sort—but we couldn’t translate the characters.’

‘Yes, that was all,’ said Laura.

‘No doubt they’ll bring the rest of the ritual articles later -maybe not until tonight, then,’ said Sebastian.

‘The food, do you mean?’ asked his sister.

‘No,’ replied Sebastian, looking questioningly at Dame Beatrice and receiving a nod of approval. ‘I mean chalk, salt, fresh water, a ceremonial sword, a censer and probably some kind of whip or scourge.’

‘Good heavens! What on earth for?’

‘A witchcraft session, of course. That chap on my staircase—the one I think I’ve told you about—mentioned things he knew, and, of course, I recognised what kind of knife it was which we saw.’

‘Yes,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I fancy there will be a meeting of the coven tonight. The only thing which surprises me is that they brought the athame, that ritual knife, with them. It is to them a sacred object.’

‘It’s exciting and rather horrible to think of them holding midnight orgies in that cave,’ said Margaret, shuddering delightedly.

‘You are mistaken, dear child. There will be nothing horrible and I doubt very much whether there will be what even the wildest flight of imagination could construe as an orgy. The proceedings will be extremely formal, except for the dancing, perhaps. They will be deeply religious (in a non-Christian sense, but devotional, none the less) and probably of a simple ritual nature. The whole ceremony, if these people are white witches, as their cult objects suggest, will be dedicated to the doing of good.’

‘But I thought all witches were supposed to have made a pact with the Devil.’

‘In earlier, less tolerant, more superstitious times, it was thought to be so. A modern witch, however, will tell you that his or her dedication is to the Great Mother and the Horned God. The religion of the witches is a fertility cult and, as such (unless one condemns it as an unforgivable heresy) entirely harmless.’

‘How disappointing!’

‘I am sorry you find it so,’ said Dame Beatrice, solemnly. Somewhat to Sebastian’s surprise, he found himself missing his father’s company at dinner, especially as (so the head-waiter, to whom he had complained, informed him) Miss Crimp had now planted two of the ornithologists at their table. He and his sister went early to their chalet and Margaret, who seemed tired and somewhat out of sorts, went to bed earlier than usual. After about an hour Sebastian followed suit, but found himself wide awake and extremely restless. There was a remedy, however. With no need to alarm or disturb his sister, he could get out into the open air and had done so for one or two nights already when he found himself unable to sleep. On this particular night it was not only sleeplessness which possessed him, but a very lively curiosity. The indications were that the island coven was to meet that very night and although he knew that the ancient reports of the doings of witches were not only exaggerated but were largely untrue, he found himself very curious to find out exactly what did happen on such occasions, particularly as he suspected that this time an extraordinary meeting had been convened.

The candle-droppings which he had seen on the floor of the cave had appeared to him to be comparatively fresh. The last meeting of the coven, therefore, he argued, could not have been held so very long ago. To hold another one so soon, therefore, appeared to indicate that something of importance was in the wind.

He had no idea when the coven was likely to foregather. Shakespeare had caused Macbeth to call his three witches ‘secret, black and midnight hags’ and it seemed to Sebastian that midnight was as good an hour as any other for secret meetings and the casting of spells. On the other hand, darkness, as such, was a reasonable cloak at any hour, and at the beginning of July it would be dark, except for the moon, then almost at the full, at any time after ten at night.

He had no idea, either, of how long the ceremony was likely to last, but he supposed that the coven would break up before dawn. He decided to leave his room at eleven. It would take him the best part of half-an-hour to reach the cave. He had marked a jutting-out part of the cave wall where he thought it would be possible to screen himself even if the witches floodlit the cave, an operation which he deemed unlikely. If they were already in session when he arrived, he thought that, by lying on his stomach at the top of the ladder and peering down the hole into the cave, he would be able to see and hear enough of the proceedings to satisfy his curiosity even if the satisfaction were not justified by any excitement.

He thought he had made his preparations quietly, and so he had, but he reckoned without one thing. It suddenly occurred to him that he would need a torch. He had not brought one with him, but he remembered that Margaret possessed one. He stole into the sitting-room and opened the door which communicated with his sister’s room. He had no idea where she kept the torch and he did not want to wake her by putting on the electric light, so he groped his way to the dressing-table and felt for the handles of the top drawer. A loud gasp and a cry of, ‘Who’s that?’ interrupted his manoeuvres.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Where’s your torch?’

Margaret switched on the bedhead light.

‘What do you want it for?’ she asked.

‘I’m going out.’

‘Let me come with you.’

‘Better not. Two of us might be rumbled.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the cave, of course. Where’s the torch?’

‘Top drawer, right-hand side. Seb, I don’t want to be left alone in the chalet.’

‘Oh, rot! You’ll be all right. Lock your outside door.’

‘I always do.’

‘Well, I’ll lock mine and take my key with me.’

‘There are still the windows. Somebody might force them open.’

‘Look here, what is all this?’

‘Oh, Seb, I’m sure Aunt Eliza was murdered, and I’m scared.’

‘We don’t know yet what happened to her. I expect we’ll get a ’phone call from The Tutor as soon as the inquest is over.’

‘Please, Seb!’

‘Well, what?’

‘Don’t leave me here alone.’

‘Oh, hell! What’s biting you? Look, I must go now, or they’ll arrive before I’m in position.’

‘If you go, I’ll follow you. I swear I will.’

‘All right, then, shove some clothes on, but you’ll queer my pitch, you know.’

‘Will you really lock your door if I stay behind?’

‘Of course. I should have done so in any case.’

‘Well, all right, then. I don’t want to spoil your fun. Don’t be too long, though, will you?’

Sebastian, having found the torch, made a reassuring promise, went back to his room with a feeling of relief and let himself out, locking the door behind him and trousering the key. He had been out by moonlight before, but never in the direction of the quarries. It was astonishing, he always found, how different everything seemed by night, especially as he did not want to use the torch until he was at the entrance to the cave passage.

The descent into the quarry was tricky, for the moonlight made treacherous shadows, but he reached his objective without disaster, stood in the passage opening for a moment to listen, heard nothing except the muted booming of the sea, switched on the torch and made his way downwards towards the cave.

At the top of the ladder he halted and listened again, but it was plain that the cave was untenanted, so he shut off the torch, pocketed it and groped his way from rung to rung until both his feet were on the floor of the cave. Then he switched the torch on again, found the outcrop of rocky wall about three-quarters of the way towards the sea, settled himself in hiding, and wondered how long he would have to wait for the witches to appear. He also wondered whether they would appear at all.