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The Pictish Witch
Oct. 7th, 2024 07:35 amWhen these stories turn up, I should write them straight away, or I lose them. This came a couple of hours ago.
Old Sal was a witch and everyone knew it. When the murrain came, the parish lost not one cow on account of her healing, and when women were abed with child it was Sal they called for to bring mothers and babies through healthy together. She had spells and potions, cures and herbs for all things, and she kept matters of wonder in her little house under her tree. Three were her pets, Brighteye the blackbird, Shinty the toad and Swagger the ginger cat, and three were the strange stone carvings she kept near her mantle.
One was like this, and folk called it her compass and sextant, by which means she could control the sea and the moon.
One was like this by which she was said to control beasts.
And one was like this, which no-one understood at all.
Now all was well with Old Sal until a famous witch-pricker found his way to the parish. He had assurances from the kirk, and a licence from the Kings own privy council, and the provost himself gave him the grandest house in the burgh. Folk concluded that there would be no peace til he had a burning, and better it be Sal than someone's gudwife with husband and family. So the finger was pointed. But Sal caught wind of this the night before the soldiers came to her house. She took Brighteye to a far tree, she placed Shinty under a stone by the burn, and she took Swagger to the old mill where mice and rats ran wild. Then she went to her own house and picked up the third of the carvings. She placed thumb, forefinger and little finger of her left hand on the left hand circle, and she placed thumb, forefinger and little finger of her right hand on the right hand circle, then traced the line that joined them until they swapped, and right hand was on left circle, left on right. All through this she chanted a pictish song, but what it meant none can say, for their language is lost. Then she drank a sleeping potion and lay down upon her little bed.
The witchfinder awoke next morning to the sounds of hammering at his door. Thinking himself still dreaming, he gaped to see guards burst through and drag him from an unknown bed in a unknown house! He lifted his hands in dismay to see that they were suddenly small and old and womanly, looked down to see his bare withered feet. But most terrible of all, behind the soldiers he saw his own self, strong and well fed and well clad, smiling at him.
Before he could utter a word, the not-him gestured to a guard and a hand was clamped over his mouth. Frail then seemed his struggling limbs, terror beating wild in his heart as the not-him gestured to the carved stones and declared them signs of devil worship. No need for pricking, came his own voice to his ears, the sins here were too evident, too manifest for merciful strangling before the fire. Faint with horror and disbelief, the witch-pricker was dragged to the pyre he helped build the night before and tethered to the pole he had placed at its centre. Then the torches came, and the wood crackled, and soon the winds howled with his pleas and screams, morning into night and into morning again, as the good folk stayed home and prayed their repentance.
The not-witch-pricker went into Old Sal's house, and picked the three carvings. He walked to the far tree and called to Brighteye, who came whistling to his wrist. He walked to the river, and under a stone found patient Shinty whom he slipped into his pocket. He went to the old mill and called Swagger, who came straight away - almost straight away - with a mouse in his mouth. And with these he went back to the grand house given by the provost. There he found the witch-prickers chest stuffed with silver and gold amidst many gifts given by fearful folk. He claimed them all and betook himself to a great place lofty over the sea. Neighbouring parishes say that sometimes a light can be seen flickering on the hills towards the coast, which signals where Old Sal lives in her new form. It has even been suggested that travellers may find help from her should they need it. But not one descendent of the villagers dares go find out.
Old Sal was a witch and everyone knew it. When the murrain came, the parish lost not one cow on account of her healing, and when women were abed with child it was Sal they called for to bring mothers and babies through healthy together. She had spells and potions, cures and herbs for all things, and she kept matters of wonder in her little house under her tree. Three were her pets, Brighteye the blackbird, Shinty the toad and Swagger the ginger cat, and three were the strange stone carvings she kept near her mantle.
One was like this, and folk called it her compass and sextant, by which means she could control the sea and the moon.
One was like this by which she was said to control beasts.
And one was like this, which no-one understood at all.
Now all was well with Old Sal until a famous witch-pricker found his way to the parish. He had assurances from the kirk, and a licence from the Kings own privy council, and the provost himself gave him the grandest house in the burgh. Folk concluded that there would be no peace til he had a burning, and better it be Sal than someone's gudwife with husband and family. So the finger was pointed. But Sal caught wind of this the night before the soldiers came to her house. She took Brighteye to a far tree, she placed Shinty under a stone by the burn, and she took Swagger to the old mill where mice and rats ran wild. Then she went to her own house and picked up the third of the carvings. She placed thumb, forefinger and little finger of her left hand on the left hand circle, and she placed thumb, forefinger and little finger of her right hand on the right hand circle, then traced the line that joined them until they swapped, and right hand was on left circle, left on right. All through this she chanted a pictish song, but what it meant none can say, for their language is lost. Then she drank a sleeping potion and lay down upon her little bed.
The witchfinder awoke next morning to the sounds of hammering at his door. Thinking himself still dreaming, he gaped to see guards burst through and drag him from an unknown bed in a unknown house! He lifted his hands in dismay to see that they were suddenly small and old and womanly, looked down to see his bare withered feet. But most terrible of all, behind the soldiers he saw his own self, strong and well fed and well clad, smiling at him.
Before he could utter a word, the not-him gestured to a guard and a hand was clamped over his mouth. Frail then seemed his struggling limbs, terror beating wild in his heart as the not-him gestured to the carved stones and declared them signs of devil worship. No need for pricking, came his own voice to his ears, the sins here were too evident, too manifest for merciful strangling before the fire. Faint with horror and disbelief, the witch-pricker was dragged to the pyre he helped build the night before and tethered to the pole he had placed at its centre. Then the torches came, and the wood crackled, and soon the winds howled with his pleas and screams, morning into night and into morning again, as the good folk stayed home and prayed their repentance.
The not-witch-pricker went into Old Sal's house, and picked the three carvings. He walked to the far tree and called to Brighteye, who came whistling to his wrist. He walked to the river, and under a stone found patient Shinty whom he slipped into his pocket. He went to the old mill and called Swagger, who came straight away - almost straight away - with a mouse in his mouth. And with these he went back to the grand house given by the provost. There he found the witch-prickers chest stuffed with silver and gold amidst many gifts given by fearful folk. He claimed them all and betook himself to a great place lofty over the sea. Neighbouring parishes say that sometimes a light can be seen flickering on the hills towards the coast, which signals where Old Sal lives in her new form. It has even been suggested that travellers may find help from her should they need it. But not one descendent of the villagers dares go find out.
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