Sarah Stokes

 

Granny Stokes

Sarah walked slowly along the lane, not only because she was old and feeble and relied on her walking stick, no, there was another reason. It was because she was always on the lookout for a useful herb. This particular lane had provided an excellent harvest over the years. Today would be no exception.

Sarah stopped by the hedgerow and reached out to pick some luscious green leaves from a comfrey plant she knew well and dropped them into her basket.

She had gleaned and used during her lifetime all kinds of healing herbs and berries. Many of the villagers owed their good health to the vegetation in this particular habitat. This comfrey would make exactly the kind of healing balm that Mary Guthrie's husband needed. Sarah could see Ebenezer Guthrie this very minute; he was in the field stooping over his plough. She knew he had a very nasty laceration on his right forearm. He didn't know that she knew of course. It would have been careless to let him know that she prepared all the potions. No, his wife would slip across the Dobbins field after night fall, when he was in the inn and the children were asleep. Her hooded cloak would be well drawn over her face and she would tap-tap very quietly on the door and walk straight inside. Sarah continued her journey and wondered how much longer she should continue to help people. As she approached the village, she became aware that quite a crowd had gathered near the church gate. The bell clanged as Sarah entered the shop. Rachel greeted Sarah solemnly.

"Mornin' Sarah I 'specs you 'ave 'eard the news".

"Mornin' Rachel. No what's that then?"

"Molly from over Little Haslington has been named."

Sarah grasped the handle on her basket so that Rachel could not see her hands shaking. She eased her old bones onto the stool in the corner. She thought she might faint. Her voice trembled. "So, what-how- have-?? She asked in spite of herself for she dreaded the reply.

"They say as it'll be tomoro' ", said Rachel. "The ducking stool. That crowd outside. They are all a plannin' to go an' watch."

Sarah's blood ran cold. She adjusted the sacking in her basket to make sure that the leaves of comfrey could not be seen.

" They do say as she 'as made potions and whatnot for folk. That young whatsername who got with child told her ma as she'd taken somethin' she'd brewed. Her lost her baby which was what she wanted. Her mother dragged it out on 'er 'cos she almost bled to death."

Sarah clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering, but she thought that helonious root and cramp bark would have stopped the bleeding.

She must gather her wits.

"I don't think I'll be a watching," she stuttered. It took all her resolve to buy the salt that she had gone in for and walk to the door.

"They do say as there's one in this village," called Rachel as she was about to close the door. Sarah didn't trust herself to reply and she let the door go without turning round and pretending not to hear.

The crowd by the church gate was larger now and more vociferous. They sounded angry. Sarah would have like to hear what was going on, but she knew that she mustn't be seen. She skirted down the side of the shop and resolved to go by the smithy's instead of over the village green. As soon as she turned the corner, she knew it was a mistake. A crowd of children were playing there out of the sight of parental eyes. They spotted her straight away. Encircling her immediately they started to chant.

"Who are the witches? Where do they come from?"

Sarah found the strength from somewhere and shouted in a strangled high-pitched voice, "Johnny Price. I'll tell your mother! Sally Anne, shouldn't you be alookin' after your new baby?"

It seemed to work. They stopped chanting and looked sheepishly at each other. They turned and ran away leaving her very shaken.

As she turned towards the direction of her cottage, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her heart almost stopped and she broke out in a cold sweat.

It was only Esther Beardmore.

"Are you alright Granny Stokes? I could see the children were up to their tricks. Here take my arm. I'll walk along with you."

So, it wasn't her threats that had frightened the children, thought Sarah, they must have seen Ester approaching.

"No, no Esther," said Sarah, "You are more than kind. But really it is too dangerous now. You must have heard about----"

"But I feel so helpless, and you have taught me so much."

"If you really want to help, then take this comfrey. You know what to do with it. It's for Mary Guthrie's man. Hurry now, I am sure I'll manage. She gave her a little push to make sure that she would leave, for her own safety.

For the remainder of the journey Sarah felt as though she was walking through treacle, thick black treacle. As she passed the cottage of Isac Stone, she thought she saw the curtain twitch. Also, little Abe Weller was playing in the dirt but when he saw her, he ran into the house crying. After what felt like a lifetime, she finally reached her cottage.

Inside she as she was bending over the glowing embers of the fire, she pulled her shawl more tightly over her shoulders and shivered. She knew that she wasn't cold.

She sat down in her rocking chair and immediately her black cat leapt onto her knee. Stroking the soft fur, she knew that her talisman would have to go. It would be heart breaking; but she would have to do it.

She was aware after today, that it was she who had been named. This morning, when the children had teased her and called after her, it had felt ominous. That wasn't the worst. She could cope with that. They weren't evil and meant no real harm. After all, she had been present at most of their births---- delivered most of them. She was not afraid of their mother's either. They knew the value of her knowledge and always called on her skills when there was a laying out to be performed. The cat leapt off Sarah's knee. She had to do something quickly. She wasn't afraid of her own death, her own natural death but she didn't relish the idea of leaving her destiny in the hands of those villagers who had named her.

Rachel's words had been a warning of that she felt sure. After all, Rachel had benefitted from Sarah's knowledge many times; not only for herself but for her whole family. There had been that time when her daughter had remained barren after five years of marriage. She had come secretly to Sarah and been given a very special brew. It had worked of course, as did all her potions. And then there was that time---------

Sarah stopped. It was no use remembering all the people she had helped. They knew who they were, and Sarah knew that they would be too afraid to help her now. Suddenly Molly came into her thoughts. Should she go to the ducking tomorrow? Could she save Molly? Could she bare to watch her drown? Would being there prove her own innocence? Would not being there prove her guilt?

So many questions and not a single answer. She was the problem solver. Who was there to help her now that she so desperately needed it?

Her black feline stood by the door and mewed. Was that a tap-tap she heard? Someone wanting help no doubt, she thought as she lifted the latch and opened the door just a crack. There was no-one there. She opened the door wider. She was sure that she had heard something. The cat followed her as she walked to the gate and peered up and down the lane. Nothing. No-one. They both walked back and as she stopped and looked down to allow the cat to enter the cottage first, she noticed a tiny basket on the step. She could just about bend low enough, with the aid of her stick. The basket contained berries, small, very small, purple berries. Was that the only way out? Wouldn't that mean that they had won?

Sarah had never been one to give in. She had always been a fighter. "But I am 87," she said to the cat. "How many years have got left anyway?"

Another voice inside her asked," Who will assist with births and life after death procedures if I give in? Who will the women turn to?"

Then Sarah realised who had gathered the berries and placed them on her step. Esther had learned all she could now. Sarah had hoped to teach her more before she left this world, but the village needed a young healer now.

Sarah hoped, as she tipped the berries into the pan of water on the fire, that Esther would be discreet.

She made enough for the cat and herself.

The only thing that the villagers would be able to call her when they found her would be deceased.