He opened it at a page close to the front."What's this?" he asked, looking puzzled. "It looks like Mam's handwriting, but I can't make moss nor sand of it. It's in a foreign language."It's Mam's language, Greek," I told him."Of course, Tom. I wasn't thinking. But she taught you the language, didn't she? I wonder why she didn't teach me?" For a moment he looked sad, but then his face brightened. "I expect it was because of the trade she wanted you to follow, Tom. She had a good reason for everything and always did things for the best. I don't suppose you could read a little of the book to me? Would you mind? Just a few words…"So saying, he handed me the book, still open at the original page that he'd chosen at random. I glanced at it quickly. "It's Mam's diary, James," I told him before reading aloud, translating from the top.Yesterday I gave birth to a fine healthy don. We will call himJames, a good County name and his father's choice. But my ownsecret name for him shall be Hephaestus, named after the god of the forge. For I see its light in his eyed just as I see the hammer in his hand. I have never been happier. How I wish I could be a mother with young children forever. How dad it id that they mustgrow up and do what must be done.I stopped reading and James looked at me in astonishment.

"And I became a blacksmith!" he exclaimed. "It's almost as if she chose that for me from birth…" "Maybe she did, James. Dad arranged your apprenticeship, but maybe Mam chose your trade. That's certainly what happened in my case."There was something else that I didn't bother to mention. But perhaps, in time, James would realize it for himself. It was the way he had picked the page that referred directly to his birth and name. It was almost as if Mam had reached out from afar and made him choose that page. This was the book that had attracted me, too; the book from which the letter had fallen, telling me what I needed to know about the contents of the other two trunks.If that was the case, it made me realize just how powerful Mam was. She'd prevented the witches from opening the trunks, and now they -were in our hands and protected by her lamia sisters. Thinking that made me more optimistic. The dangers ahead were great, but with a mam like mine behind me and my master at my side, maybe things would all work out in the end.

Chapter XIX

Agnes Sowerbutts

IN the morning Alice cooked us a good breakfast, making the best of the ingredients available. I helped her by cleaning out the pots and pans and peeling and chopping potatoes, car-rots, and turnips. We boiled one of the hams as well, after Alice had sniffed it carefully to make sure that it hadn't been poisoned. "Make the most of this, lad," the Spook told me as I tucked into the steaming stew. "It's the last big meal 'we'll be eating for some time. After this we'll be fasting and getting ready to deal with the dark!"My master hadn't yet outlined his plans for the day, but I was more concerned about something that had kept me awake for much of the night."I'm worried about my family," I told him. "Can't we go to Roughlee and bring them back here? There might be something in Mam's trunk that we can use to cure Jack."The Spook nodded thoughtfully. "Aye, that sounds like a good idea. Best to get them out of Deane territory. It'll be dangerous, but with the girl to guide you I'm sure you'll manage all right."It'll be fine, Tom," Alice agreed. "Don't worry, they're all right-we'll get em back here safe and sound in a couple of hours. And I'm sure there'll be something in the trunk to help your brother."And while you're doing that," said the Spook, "James and I will pay another visit to Downham. Time's getting short, and it seems to me that it would be wise to rally some of the village men and get them back here to the refuge of the tower. We'd be better placed to strike when the need arises. And on our way there, we'll be on the lookout for Wurmalde and young Mab. The first needs binding and putting out of harm's way. The second should have calmed down a bit by now and might just listen to reason."After breakfast I took a clean shirt from my bag and discarded the bloodstained one, glad to be rid of it at last, with the terrible memories it evoked of poor Father Stocks's death.

Less than an hour later we were on our way. With nobody to raise the drawbridge after we'd left, we had to use the tunnel. The Spook took the lead carrying one lantern; Alice brought up the rear, lighting the steps from behind with another. As we descended, everything was silent and deserted, and I noticed that the bodies of the witch and her male companion had been removed from the foot of the stairwell. But once through the lower trapdoor, I sensed a presence. The lanterns revealed nothing, and the only sound was the echo of our footsteps. But the circular hall was large and there were lots of dark shadows beyond the pillars; as we left the steps, the hair on the back of my neck began to rise."What have we here?" asked the Spook, pointing at the farthest of the pillars.He walked toward it, his staff at the ready, lantern raised. I was at his shoulder, my own staff in my left hand, Alice and James close at my heels.At the foot of the pillar was a wooden bucket, and something was dripping into it steadily. Another step forward, and I saw that it contained blood and that it was slowly being filled as we watched.Looking up, I saw that there were chains hanging from the darkness of the ceiling far above, chains that had no doubt been used to bind prisoners while they were tortured or left to die of starvation.

Now those chains had been put to another use. Attached to them at intervals, all the way up into the dark, were small animals: rats, weasels, rabbits, stoats, and the odd squirrel or two. Some were fastened by their tails, others by their legs, but all hung head downward. They had been killed, and their blood 'was dripping into the bucket. It reminded me of a gamekeeper's gibbet: dead animals nailed to a fence, both as a warning and as a display of kills made."It's a grim sight," the Spook said, shaking his head. "But we must be grateful for small mercies. There could be people hanging there."Why have the lamias done that? What's it for?" I asked.The Spook shook his head. "When I find out, lad, I'll write it up in my notebook. This is new to me. I've never dealt with this type of winged lamia before, so we've a lot to learn. It could be that it's just a way of collecting blood together from a lot of small animals to make it amount to a more satisfying meal. Or it could be something that only makes sense to a feral lamia. Year by year our store of knowledge grows, but we must think ahead, lad, and not always expect immediate answers. Perhaps one day you'll finally get a chance to read your mam's notebooks and find the answer there. Anyway, let's move on. We've no time to waste."When he had finished speaking, there came a slight scratching noise from somewhere above. I looked up nervously and heard a click as the Spook released the blade from its recess in his staff.

As we watched, a dark shape scuttled down the pillar toward the arc of light cast by the lanterns. It was one of the feral lamias.The creature had climbed down headfirst. Its wings were folded across its back, and its body was in shadow. Only its head was clearly illuminated. The Spook angled his blade at the lamia, and James stepped forward and raised his huge hammer, ready to strike. The lamia responded by opening its mouth wide and hissing, giving us a glimpse of razor-sharp white teeth.I put down my staff and touched the Spook and James lightly on the shoulder. "It'll be all right. It won't hurt me," I said, stepping between them and moving closer to the lamia.Mam had said the creatures would protect me, even at the cost of their own lives, and I felt that James was safe, too. It was the Spook and Alice that I was worried about. I didn't want it to attack them. Neither did I -want anyone to kill it in self-defense.