"There's serious work to do tonight, lads," he said. "Time is short. That beacon up yonder signals that they've already begun their foul work. It gives notice of the threat to you, your families, and all that you hold dear. The witches think they own the whole land now. No longer content to cower in remote dells, they flaunt their evil from the very top of Pendle Hill! If we don't stop them, darkness will fall upon this land. None of us will be safe -neither the strong nor the weak, neither adult nor child. No more will we sleep easy in our beds. The whole world will become a place of danger, plague, and famine, and the Fiend himself will walk the lanes and byways of the County, while witches rule the earth and prey upon your children. We must make this land safe!" "Our village is safe now!" snapped the blacksmith. "And we've fought hard to make it that way. Not only that. If needs be, we'd fight again to keep it this way. But why should we risk our lives to do the work that's the duty of others? Where are the men of Roughlee, Bareleigh, and Goldshaw Booth? Why don't they drive out the canker that's in their midst? Why is it up to us?"Because the good men left in those villages are too few," replied the Spook. "The dark has bitten too deep there, and the resulting wounds have festered. Those who hate the dark might once have fought and won. Now the witch clans rule, and good folk have mostly gone elsewhere-or died in the dungeons beneath Malkin Tower. So this is your chance now -maybe the last you'll ever have-to fight the dark."The Spook paused, and a silence fell. I could see that many gathered there were thinking carefully about what he'd just said.

It was then that a voice growled angrily from the back. "Where's Father Stocks? I thought he'd called the meeting. That's the only reason I came!"It was the farm laborer from that first cottage I'd called at with Alice. The first man I'd lied to. There was a muttering from the back of the church. It seemed that others felt the same way."We weren't going to tell you this, lest it drained away the last dregs of your courage," said the Spook. "But now it has to be said. A good friend of this village has died at the hands of the witch who is the chief instigator of all this trouble. A friend who has done more than anyone to keep you and your families safe. I speak of Father Stocks, your parish priest. And now I speak in his name, asking for your help."At the mention of Father Stocks, all the candles in the church flickered together and almost went out. The door closed, yet there was no wind; no earthly explanation for it. Gasps were heard from the congregation, and Finley, the blacksmith, put his head in his hands as if in prayer. I shivered, but the moment passed and the candles burned steadily once more.

The Spook waited a few seconds to allow the shocking news to sink in before continuing."So I'm begging you now. If you won't do it for yourselves, do it for Father Stocks. Repay the debt that you owe a man who gave his life fighting the dark. The witch, who slew him in cold blood when he lay helpless, is called Wurmalde. This witch covets even the bones of your beloved dead. This witch, given half a chance, would drink the blood of your children. So fight for them and for your children's children. Do it now! Fight while you still can. Before it's too late. Either that, or end up like the poor folk in the villages to the south."Matt Finley, the blacksmith, looked up and stared hard at the Spook. "What do you want us to do?" he asked."Witches can sniff out approaching danger, and they'll know we're coming," replied the Spook, locking eyes with the blacksmith, "so there's no need for stealth. Once we move in, make as much noise as you like. In fact the more the better! You see, they're not always that precise when it comes to numbers. There are enough of you to make the threat serious, but we need to make it appear even larger than it is. They won't know how many of us there are, and we can work that to our advantage. As well as weapons, we'll need torches."

"What will we face up there? How many?" demanded Finley. "Most men here have families to support. We need to know what our chances are of getting back in one piece." "As for numbers, I can't be sure," admitted the Spook. "There'll be at least two or three for every one of us, but that's not a worry because there's a good chance most of you won't even need to strike a blow. My intention is to disrupt what they're attempting and drive them off the hill to the west. In the confusion, I'll deal with Wurmalde and their evil schemes will come to nothing."I suggest you split yourselves into five groups of six or so, each group to take up a different position on the eastern slope. James here will climb a little higher up and light his torch. That'll be the signal for you to light yours. That done, move up the hill steadily and swing round toward the beacon. One more thing -don't bunch. Each group should spread out some way. For all they know, there might be others without torches walking among you. As I said, they'll just sense the threat, not the details of what they face."So that's the plan. If you've anything to say, say it now. Don't be afraid to ask." Someone spoke up immediately from the back of the group. It was the old man who'd been the first to enter the church. "Mr. Gregory, will we be in danger of attack from…" he asked nervously. He didn't complete his sentence, and when the Spook looked directly at him, the man simply gestured upward and uttered one further word: "Broomsticks?"

The Spook didn't smile, although I knew that in other circumstances he might easily have started roaring with laughter. "No," he said. "I've been following my trade for more years than I care to remember, but in all that time I can honestly say that I've never seen a witch fly on a broomstick. It's a very common superstition, but it simply isn't true."Now it's my duty to inform you of the dangers if the worst should happen. Beware of their blades. They'd cut out your heart as soon as look at you, and most have great strength-much more than your average man. So beware of that. Don't let them get close. If necessary, use your clubs and sticks in defense. "Oh, and one more thing. Don't look into their eyes. A witch can get you in her power with a glance; don't listen to a word she says, either. And remember, there might well be some male clan members to face. If so, be equally on your guard. They learn a lot from the women they associate with. They won't fight fair and can get up to all sorts of tricks. But as I said, most likely it won't even come to a pitched battle. Anything else?"Nobody spoke, but Matt Finley shook his head for all of them. He looked as grim-faced and resigned as the rest. They didn't -want to face the witches but accepted that for the sake of their families they had no real alternative."Well," said the Spook, "we've little time to waste. They're up on yonder hill earlier than I expected. But whatever's done is done, so now let's make sure they don't do anything worse. God be with you all."In response, some of the villagers crossed themselves; others bowed their heads. The Spook had never really made it clear whether or not he believed in God. If he did, it wasn't the God prescribed by Church doctrine. Nevertheless, it was exactly the right thing to say, and within moments the groups were leaving the church to go and collect their makeshift weapons and torches.