The Spook's Mistake

CHAPTER 12 Morwena

Once back at the mill, Arkwright rushed out for the local doctor to attend to my injured ear. Despite his reluctance to allow a stranger into his home, he must have thought it serious enough to make an exception. The truth was, I didn't think it was that bad. It certainly wasn't hurting much. If anything worried me, it was the possibility of it becoming infected.

Arkwright watched critically as the doctor dressed my wound. He was a tall man with an athletic build and a healthy outdoor complexion, but he was as nervous as most people are in the presence of a spook and asked no questions about how I'd got the wound.

'I've cleaned it as well as I can but there's still some risk of infection,' he warned, looking anxiously down at the dogs, which growled threateningly at him. 'Still, you're young and youth has resilience. It'll leave a bit of a scar though.'

Once I'd been attended to, the doctor set to work on the wounded dog, who whined with pain while Arkwright held her down. Her injuries weren't life threatening but there were deep gouges in her chest and back where they had been raked by talons. The doctor cleaned these, then smeared them liberally with ointment.

As he picked up his bag to leave, he nodded at Arkwright. 'I'll call back the day after tomorrow to see how both my patients are doing.'

'I wouldn't waste your time, Doctor,' Arkwright growled, handing him a coin for his trouble. 'The boy's strong and I'm sure he'll be fine. As for the bitch, she'll be right as rain in a couple of days. But if it does prove necessary, I'll contact you.'

With those words, the doctor was dismissed and Arkwright escorted him across the moat.

'Claw saved your life,' he said on his return. 'But it wasn't for love of you. You're going to have to work hard with these dogs. We'll see if they'll let you feed them, but now we need to talk. How did it happen? How did the witch manage to get so close to you?'

'She was walking on the path ahead. I was running hard, trying to stay ahead of the dogs, and just wanted to pass her. When she turned round, it was too late. She hooked her talon through my ear before I could move. '

'Not many have survived being hooked, Master Ward, so you can count yourself lucky. Very lucky indeed. That method of seizing prey is practised by all water witches. Sometimes they thrust their finger into the mouth and spear the inside of the cheek,' he said, pointing to the scar on his own left cheek.

'Aye, that's her mark on me — I was lucky to get away. The same witch did it! It happened about seven weeks ago. Afterwards poison set in and I took to my bed for three weeks and almost died. Occasionally she stabs her victim through the hand — usually the left. Sometimes she even hooks upwards into the lower jaw and wraps her finger around the teeth. Had she done that, she'd have had a much better grip. As it was, she couldn't pull too hard or your ear might have ripped. But with a grip on your jaw, she'd have dragged you away into the marsh long before the bitch bit off her finger.'

'Who is she?' I asked. It seemed to me that Arkwright knew a lot about her.

'She's an old enemy of mine, Master Ward. One that I've hunted for a long time — the oldest and most dangerous of all the water witches.'

'Where has she come from?' I asked.

'She's very old,' he began. 'Some say a thousand years or more. I wouldn't necessarily agree with that myself but she's roamed this land for a very long time, in other counties as well as this. Stories about her go back for centuries. Marshes and fens are her favourite haunts but she likes lakes and canals too. I don't dignify common water witches with a name because they aren't like land-based witches. Most have lost the power of speech and are little better than animals. But this one's special: she's got two names. Morwena is her true name, but Bloodeye is the name some folk call her in the County. She's crafty. Very crafty. She often goes for easy prey such as young children but can easily pull a grown man into the water, draining him of blood while she slowly drowns him. However, as you know to your cost, her left eye is her most potent weapon. A single glance from that bloodeye can paralyse her prey.'

'How can we manage to get close to her?' I asked. 'One glance and we'll be rooted to the spot.'

Arkwright shook his head. 'It's not quite as bad as it seems, Master Ward. Some, like you, have been close and still survived to tell the tale. You see, she must conserve her power for when it's most needed. That left eye is often closed, the lids bound together with a sharp piece of bone, and it has a further limitation — it can only bind one person at a time.'

'You seem to know a good deal about her,' I said.

'I've been hunting her for ten years but never has she come here, so close to my home. Never before has she ventured up onto the paths of Monastery Marsh. So what brings her here? That's the question we must ask. It was you she waited for on the marsh path so I think that Mr Gregory's warning might prove correct.'

'You mean. '

'Aye, lad, it might well be that the Fiend has sent her against you. And that's going to cost her dear. Because now I have her finger and we'll be able to use that to track her back to her lair. After all those fruitless years, now at last I'll have her!'

'Can the dogs follow a trail across water?' I asked in amazement.

Arkwright shook his head and gave me a rare grin. 'They're good but not that skilled, Master Ward! If something comes out of the water and goes overland, even across a deep bog, they can track it. But not through water. No, we'll find Morwena's lair by another method. But only when we're at full strength. We'll leave it a few days until Claw's and your own wounds have healed.'

I nodded in agreement because my ear was beginning to throb.

'In the meantime,' said Arkwright, 'I've got a book about her. I suggest you sit by the stove and read it so you know exactly what we're up against.'

So saying, he went up the stairs and came down a few moments later carrying a leather-bound book, which he handed to me. The title on the spine was:

Morwena.

He left me alone and went out with the dogs so I began to examine the book. Immediately I noticed that it was written in Arkwright's own hand. He was the author! I began to read.

There are many legends and accounts describing the genesis of Morwena. Some consider her to be the offspring of another witch. Others believe that she was somehow born of the soft earth, spawned from bog and slime, gestated within the very depths of Mother Earth, its deepest chasms her womb. The first seems the most likely but, if so, who was the mother? Neither in legends, folk tales, nor the many dubious histories I have researched is she named.

However, all agree on one thing — the identity of Morwena's father. Her progenitor was the Fiend, also known as the 'Devil', 'Old Nick', the 'Father of Lies' or the 'Lord of Darkness'.

I paused there, shocked by those words. The Fiend had sent his own daughter to kill me! I realized how lucky I'd been to survive that encounter with her on the marsh. But for Claw, I'd be dead. I read on, now starting to skip passages that were difficult or unclear in any way. Soon it was apparent that although Arkwright had taught me some things about Morwena, there was much more to learn.

Morwena is by far the most notorious of all water witches, her killings too numerous to document. She feeds upon blood, and that is the source of her dark, magical power.

Historically, human sacrifices were usually made to her as the moon waxed towards fullness, when blood was most able to augment her strength. Newborn babes best fed her cruel needs but when children could not be found, adults of all ages were welcome. The young were cast into the Blood Pool; older offerings chained in a subterranean chamber until the propitious moment.

When particularly thirsty, Morwena sometimes drinks the blood of large animals such as cattle and horses. If desperate, small animals will suffice: ducks, chickens, rats and even mice are drained.

Morwena rarely leaves the water and it is said that she cannot survive much more than an hour or so on dry land, where she is also at her weakest.

So that was something else to remember. But how to lure her out of her habitat? If two of us attacked her simultaneously, one would be free of the spell cast by her bloodeye. That could be the key to defeating her.

The next morning my ear was less painful, and while I made the breakfast, Arkwright took both dogs out onto the marsh paths. He was away for well over an hour.

'There's neither hide nor hair of the witch out there!' he said on his return. 'Well, after breakfast we'll carry on with your lessons but this afternoon you can get yourself down to the canal. I'm expecting a delivery of salt. Five barrels. They're not that big but they're heavy and you'll have to carry each one and keep it clear of the damp. We use some of it for cooking and preserving so I don't want it spoiled.'

So it was that, about an hour after noon, I strolled down to the canal bank to wait for Mr Gilbert. I wasn't alone. Arkwright had sent Claw with me just in case Morwena was lurking within the still waters.

I'd been at the mill for over a week and this was my chance to let Alice and the Spook know how I was getting on. So I took pen, ink, envelope and paper, and while I waited for the bargeman, I wrote two short letters. The first was to Alice:

Dear Alice,

I am missing you and our life at Chipenden very much.

Being Arkwright's apprentice isn't easy. He is a hard, sometimes cruel man, but despite that, he knows his job very well and has much to teach me about things that come out of the water. Recently we've had an encounter with a water witch that he calls 'Morwena'. Soon we are going to find her lair and hunt her down once and for all.

I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Tom

Next I began to write my letter to the Spook.

Dear Mr Gregory,

I hope you are well. I must confess that I did not get off to a good start with Mr Arkwright but the situation has settled down now. He has a good knowledge of things that come out of the water and I hope to learn a lot.

Recently, on a marsh path close to the watermill, I was attacked by a water witch called 'Morwena'. It seems that she is an old enemy of Arkwright's who has never, until now, ventured so close to his house. Perhaps you've heard of her. Arkwright says she is the Fiend's own daughter and he thinks that she has been sent against me by her father.

Soon, we are going to hunt her down. I look forward to working with you again in the spring.

Your apprentice,

Tom Ward

Both letters written, I sealed them into an envelope which I addressed:

To Mr Gregory of Chipenden

That done, I sat down on the bank of the canal to wait for Matthew Gilbert. Claw sat to my left, her eyes constantly flicking between me and the water. It was a crisp, bright day and the canal looked anything but threatening, yet it was reassuring to have her there to guard me.

About an hour later, the barge came into sight from the south. After mooring the barge Mr Gilbert unhitched the horses and tethered them to graze.

'Well, that saves me ringing the bell!' he called out cheerfully when he saw me. I helped lift the barrels of salt from the hold and onto the bank.

'I'll have a five-minute break before I set off again,' he said, settling himself down on the stern of the barge, his feet resting on the towpath. 'How've you found it working for Bill Arkwright? It looks like you've got yourself an injury already.' He gestured towards my ear.

I grinned and sat down beside him. 'Yes, it's been a hard start, as you predicted,' I told him. 'So bad that I nearly went back to Mr Gregory. But we're getting along better now. I'm starting to grow used to the dogs as well,' I said, nodding towards Claw.

'Dogs like this take a bit of getting used to, no doubt,' Mr Gilbert said. 'As does their master. More than one lad has gone back to Chipenden with his tail between his legs, so you wouldn't be the first. If you ever decide to leave, I pass here on my way south every Wednesday. It's a salt run that eventually takes me to the end of the canal at Priestown. As far as speed goes, it's no faster than walking but it would save your legs and get you through Caster by the most direct route. Might be a bit of company for you too. I've a son and a daughter about your age. They take turns to help me on the barge from time to time.'

I thanked him for the offer, then handed him the envelope with a coin to pay the post wagon. He promised to drop it off at Priestown. As he harnessed the horses, I lifted one of the barrels. Although relatively small, it was heavy. I tried positioning it under my arm.

'On your shoulder! That's the best way!' Mr Gilbert called out cheerfully.

His advice proved sound. Once in position, the barrel proved easy to carry. So, with Claw at my heels, I made the five trips to the house in just under half an hour.

After that, Arkwright gave me another theory lesson.

'Open up your notebook, Master Ward. '

I opened it immediately and looked up, waiting to hear what he would say.

'Your heading is "Morwena",' he told me. 'I want you to write down everything I've told you and you've read so far. Such knowledge will come in useful. It'll soon be time to go a-hunting. We've got her finger and we'll be putting it to very good use.'

'How are we going to use it?' I asked.

'You'll find out soon enough, so curb your impatience. The dog's wounds don't seem to have become infected, and so far your ear hasn't dropped off. Assuming there's no change tomorrow, we'll set off across the sands to Cartmel. If we find out what we need to know — well then, we might not be back here for quite some time. Not until we've dealt with Morwena once and for all!'