Part 4 (1/2)

I distinctly heard Shanks say, 'You told us she'd been dealt with!' to which the Spook replied, T have her safe enough, don't you worry yourself. I know my business all right so it's no concern of yours. And you'll keep it to yourself if you know whaf s good for you!'

My master didn't look too happy when he walked back towards me. 'Did you give Meg her herb tea?' he asked suspiciously.

'I did it just as you said,' I told him, 'as soon as she woke up.'

'Did she go outside?' he asked.

'No, but she came to the door and stood behind me. Shanks saw her and it seemed to scare him.'

'It's a pity he saw her at all,' said the Spook. 'She doesn't usually show herself like that. Not in recent years anyway. Maybe we need to increase the dose. As I told you last night, lad, Meg used to cause a lot of trouble in the County. Folk were afraid of her and still are. And until now the locals didn't know she had the freedom of the house. If it were to get out, I would never hear the last of it. People round here are stubborn: once they get their teeth into something they don't easily let it go. But Shanks'll keep his mouth closed. I pay him well enough.'

'Is Shanks the grocer?' I asked.

'No, lad, he's the local carpenter and undertaker. The only person in Adlington who's got the courage to venture up here. I pay him to collect and deliver.'

After that we got the sacks safely inside, and the Spook opened the largest one and gave Meg what she needed to start cooking the breakfast.

The bacon was better than the Spook's pet boggart had managed, even on the best of mornings, and Meg had fried potato cakes and scrambled fresh eggs with cheese: the Spook hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Meg was a good cook. While we wolfed down our breakfast, I asked him about the strange noises in the night.

'It's nothing much to worry about for now' he told me, swallowing another big mouthful of potato cake. 'This house is built on a ley line so we can expect problems occasionally. Sometimes an earthquake thousands of miles away can cause disturbances to a whole series of leys. Boggarts can be forced to move from places where they've been happily settled for years. Last night a boggart pa.s.sed under us. I had to go down to the cellar just to see that everything was safe and secure.'

The Spook had told me all about leys when we were back in Chipenden. They were lines of power beneath the earth, like roads that some types of boggart could use to travel quickly from place to place.

'Mind you, it sometimes means trouble ahead' he continued. 'When they set up home in a new location, they often begin by playing tricks - sometimes dangerous tricks - and that means work for us. You mark my words, lad, we could well have a boggart to deal with locally before the week's out.'

After breakfast we went to the Spook's study for my Latin lesson. It was a small room with a couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, a large table, a solitary wooden stool with three legs, bare boards and lots of tall, dark-stained bookcases. It was a bit chilly too: yesterday's fire was now just grey ashes in the grate.

'Sit yourself down, lad. The chairs are hard but it doesn't do to get too comfortable when you're studying. Wouldn't want you to fall asleep,' said the Spook, giving me a sharp look.

I looked around at the bookcases. The room was gloomy, lit only by the grey light from the window and a couple of candles, so I hadn't noticed until then that the shelves were empty.

'Where are all the books?' I asked.

'Back in Chipenden - where do you think, lad? Not much point in keeping books here in the cold and damp. Books don't like those conditions. No, we'll just have to manage with what we've brought with us and maybe write some of our own while we're here. You can't just be reading books all the time and leaving the writing of them to others.'

I knew the Spook had brought quite a few books with him and it had made his bag very heavy whereas I'd just brought my notebooks. For the next hour I struggled with Latin verbs. It was hard work and I was pleased when the Spook suggested that we have a rest, but not by what he did next.

He dragged the wooden stool close to the bookcase nearest the door. Then he climbed up onto it and searched the top shelf with his fingers.

'Well, lad,' he said, holding up the key, his face very grim. 'We can't put it off any longer. Let's go down and look at the cellar itself. But first we'll go and see that Meg is all right. I don't want her to know we're going down there. It might make her nervous. She doesn't like the thought of those steps one little bit!'

Those words made me excited and scared at the same time. I'd been bursting with curiosity to find out what was further down the cellar steps, but at the same time I knew that to go down there would be anything but a pleasant experience.

We found Meg still in the kitchen. She'd done the was.h.i.+ng-up and was now sitting in front of the fire, dozing again.

'She's happy enough for now,' said the Spook. 'As well as affecting her memory, the potion makes her sleep a lot.'

We each lit a candle before going down the stone steps, the Spook leading the way. This time I took more notice of my surroundings, trying to fix the underground part of the house in my memory. I'd been down in quite a few cellars, but I had a feeling that this was likely to be the most scary and unusual one yet.

After the Spook had unlocked the iron gate, he turned and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Meg rarely goes into my study,' he said, 'but whatever happens, don't ever let her get hold of this key'

I nodded, watching the Spook lock the gate behind us. I looked down ...

'Why are the steps below so wide?' I asked again.

'They need to be, lad. Things are fetched and carried down these steps. Workmen need good access-' 'Workmen?'

'Blacksmiths and stonemasons of course - the trades we depend on in our line of work!'

As we descended, the Spook leading the way, my candle flickered his shadow up onto the wall, and despite the echo of our boots on the stone steps, I heard the first faint noises from far below. There was a sigh and a distant choking cough. There was definitely something or someone down there!

There were four levels underground. The first two both had just one door, set into the stone, but at last we came to the third, which had the three doors I'd seen the day before.

'The middle one, as you know, is where Meg usually sleeps when I'm away' the Spook said.

Now she'd been given a room upstairs, next to the Spook's, probably so that he could keep an eye on her - though based on the evidence from last night, she preferred to sleep in her rocking chair by the fire.

'I don't use the others much' continued the Spook, 'but they can be very useful for keeping a witch locked up safely while all the arrangements are made-'

'You mean while a pit is prepared?'

'Aye, I do that, lad. As you'll have noticed, it's not like Chipenden here. I don't have the luxury of a garden so I have to make use of the cellar ...'

The fourth and lowest level was, of course, the cellar itself. Even before we turned the final corner and it came into full view'I could hear things that made the candle tremble in my hand, sending the Spook's shadow dancing wildly.

There were whisperings and groans and, worst of all, a faint sound of scratching. Being the seventh son of a seventh son I can hear things that most people can't but I never really get used to it. On some days I'm braver than others, that's all I can say. The Spook seemed calm enough but he'd been doing this for a lifetime.

The cellar was big, even bigger than I'd expected, so big in fact that it must have been larger in area than the actual ground floor of the house. One wall was dripping with water and the low ceiling directly above it was oozing with damp, so I wondered if it was on the edge of the stream or actually underneath it.

The dry part of the ceiling was covered in cobwebs, so thick and tangled that an army of spiders must have been at work. If just one or two had spun all that, I didn't want to meet them.

I spent a lot of time looking at the ceiling and walls because I was delaying the moment when I had to look at the ground. But after a few seconds I could feel the Spook's eyes on me so I had no choice and finally forced myself to look down.

I'd seen what the Spook kept in two of the gardens back at Chipenden. I suppose this was just more of the same, but whereas the graves and pits back there had been scattered among the trees where the sun occasionally shone to dapple the ground with shadows, here there were lots more and I felt trapped, closed in by the four walls and the low cobwebbed ceiling.

There were nine witch graves in all, each one marked with a gravestone, and in front of this six feet of soil edged with smaller stones. Fastened to those stones by bolts, and covering each patch of earth, were thirteen thick iron bars. They'd been placed there to stop the dead witches under them clawing and scratching their way to the surface.

Then, along one wall of the cellar, there were much heavier, larger stones. There were three of those and each one had been carved by the mason in exactly the same way: The Greek letter beta told anyone who could read the signs that boggarts were safely bound beneath them, and the Latin numeral T in the bottom right-hand corner said that they were of the first rank, deadly creatures capable of killing a man quicker than you could blink your eyes. Nothing new there, I thought, and as the Spook was good at his job there was nothing to fear from the boggarts who were trapped there.

'There are two live witches down here as well,' said the Spook, 'and here's the first one,' he continued, pointing to a dark, square pit with a boundary of small stones crossed by thirteen iron bars to stop her from climbing out. 'Look at the corner stone,' he said, pointing downwards.

I saw something then that I hadn't noticed before, even back in Chipenden. The Spook held his candle closer so that I could see it better. There was a sign, much smaller than that on the boggart stones, followed by the witch's name.

'The sign is the Greek letter sigma because we cla.s.sify all witches under 'S' for sorceress. There are so many types that, being female and subtle, they're often difficult to categorize precisely,' said the Spook. 'Even more so than a boggart, a witch has a personality that can change over time. So you have to refer to their history - the full history of each, bound or unbound, is recorded in the library back at Chipenden.'

I knew that wasn't true of Meg. There was very little written about her in the Spook's library, but I didn't say anything. Suddenly I heard a faint stirring from the darkness of the pit and took a quick step backwards.