“I hope so,” Martha replied.
I took her arm in an attempt to comfort her, but I knew full well that only Will’s safe return would end her distress.
We had just turned from Stonegate toward home when a voice no less cold than the north wind echoed down the narrow street. “Bridget Hodgson, I have been searching for you throughout the city. I should like a word with you.”
We turned to find Rebecca Hooke approaching us, a terrible and triumphant smile on her face.
Chapter 13
“Where have you been?” Rebecca crowed as she approached us. “I should have thought you’d be at Peter’s Prison with your boy. Who would have thought he’d do such a thing? Well, I suppose it’s not such a surprise, after what happened to his father. Perhaps the rumors are true and young Will is indeed a patricide. Now twice over, it seems.”
A terrible combination of anger and fear seized me by the throat, for I knew that any turn of events that brought such joy to Rebecca Hooke could only bring sorrow to me and mine. As was her habit, Rebecca had draped herself in rich silks. When the King’s men had held the city, she had favored blue—often the same blue as her eyes—and after the Parliament-men took power, she’d started wearing black. But there was no mistaking the quality of the cloth or dye.
“I imagine you’ve come from some birth or another,” Rebecca continued. By now she stood only a few feet away. I felt my heart racing as if we were about to come to blows. Perhaps we were.
“Have you welcomed some new bastard into the world, or uncovered yet another of the city’s witches?” Rebecca’s smile grew wider as she spoke. “Mr. Hodgson and I must thank you for your assistance in witch discovery. Since you uncovered Mother Lee, the women of all the suburbs have been falling over themselves to find the rest of her company.”
“You know all those women aren’t witches,” I replied between clenched teeth. “One or two, perhaps, but not all of them.”
Rebecca started to reply, but I had not finished.
“The two of you don’t even care about their guilt or innocence. They’re mere rungs in Joseph Hodgson’s climb to power. And yours.”
“Ah, now there you are mistaken, at least in part,” Rebecca replied. “Joseph is a fascinating figure, for he truly believes the women are guilty. He is convinced that by God’s grace he has uncovered a company of witches here in the shadows of the Minster, and that it is his duty to seek them out. It sounds mad to me, of course, but Joseph believes that the Lord preserved him during the wars so that he might pursue His enemies here in York. He believes he is God’s instrument for the city’s deliverance. Our Puritans are so sure of themselves, aren’t they?”
“And what of you?” Martha spat. “You’ve joined with him, haven’t you? How are you any better?”
A shadow passed over Rebecca’s face, and she stared at Martha. Martha held her gaze far longer than I could have, but eventually looked away. Then Rebecca turned back to me. “What option did you leave for me? You came to York, waving your coat of arms and jangling the cash in your purse. And what did the mothers—my mothers—do? Before I knew what had happened, they started crying out Lady Bridget this and Lady Hodgson that. Soon enough it was all the fashion to be delivered by a so-called gentlewoman.”
It was the first time I’d heard what might be called pain or regret in Rebecca’s voice.
“And then you called on your friends in the Minster and had them take my license,” she continued. “Did you think I would forget what you did to me? That you would take my place in this city, and I would let it pass as if it meant nothing at all?”
“No, Rebecca, I never thought that,” I replied softly. “But you were a cruel and unforgiving midwife. I regret nothing I’ve done.”
For some reason Rebecca laughed at this, and my heart filled with fear. What reason did she have for merriment?
“You might not regret it now, but soon you will,” she said. “A Searcher has far more power than a midwife, more power than you can imagine. And as a Searcher I will enjoy more respect than you’ll ever know. Bringing life is a joyful thing, and people love you for it, but now I bring death, and people fear me.”
“Why have you come?” I asked. “To display your newfound authority and lord it over me? You should enjoy it, because I promise that I will see you brought low before this business is through.”
“I know you think that.” Rebecca spoke to me as she would a child. “But before you even consider such a scheme, I would suggest you look about you. Your nephew is in gaol, accused of murder. And that red-haired girl you call your daughter … I’ve heard she is rarely seen without her cat. Your neighbor said that she talks to it constantly.” Rebecca paused. “Did you hear that in Essex they hanged a witch who was just eleven years old? Just a girl! The devil is no respecter of children, is he?”