Which Witches

chapter 8

Two hours later the coven was in full swing. In the middle of the heath, the bonfire roared and crackled, lighting up the Great Rock on which the ancient druids had done their dreadful deeds.  The smell of burnt feathers from Ethel Feedbag's roasted jackdaw rose hideously on the night air; clouds passed to and fro across the fitful moon. The witches had finished feasting and singing rude songs ( the kinds where " owl" doesn't just rhyme with " howl", but with things like " bowel " or "foul" ) and were dancing back to back, or trying to.  Ethel Feedbag's Wellingtons did not help, nor the size of her behind as she lurched round with Mabel Wrack.

    ." You're going the wrong way, you stupid stick," yelled Nancy over her shoulder to her twin. " It's widershins we should be going."

" This is widershins, you half --witted cowpat," Nora screamed back.

       Mother Bloodwort did not dance anymore. She sat as close to the fire as she could get, her mouse -- bitten robe turned back so that the heat could get at her gnarled old legs.   Every so often a handful of the flies that buzzed drunkenly round her head fell into the flames and vanished.

       As  for Belladonna, as usual she was left out in the cold. No one wanted to dance with her, and anyway, like mothers who hand their children to nannies and nursemaids , the witches had told Belladonna to take their familiars away to a little clump of thorn trees and keep them quiet.

      This was wiser than done. As soon as the familars saw Belladonna they always went into pieces. Ethel Feedbag's enormous pig had collapsed like a felled tree and was lying on it's back, it's legs in the air, squealing for her stomach to scratch it's stomach.  The Shouter chickens who hadn't laid anything in years began to puff out their feathers and squawk , trying to please her with with an egg.   And Doris the octopus stuck a tentacle out of her plastic bucket and laid it softly on Belladonna's knee.

    Meanwhile, over by the fire, the witches grew wilder and wilder. Mother Bloodwort was knocking back a bottle of black liquid labelled Furniture Polish: Not for Human Consumption.  Mabel Wrack was kicking her scaly legs higher and higher, showing off her garters of lungfish skin.  The Shouter twins wad hacking at each other's shins.

              And then , suddenly, something happened.
First there came --- from the very depths of the earth it seemed -- a low and sinister rumbling.  Then the ground began to shake and shiver and a dreadful crack appeared beneath the Great Rock of the druids.
      " It's an earthquake," yelled Mabel Wrack, and the witches threw themselves on the ground, gibbering with fear.
    Next came a thunderclap, louder than any they had ever heard, followed by a streak of forked lightening so brilliant that it turned night to day.
     " The thunder before the lightning!" Wailed Mother Bloodwort, and began to beat her white old head against the ground.
         After that came the fog, a great, yellow, choking, blinding fog which rolled across the heath, enveloping everything in it's cold and smothering darkness.
        "It be t'end if the world," wailed Ethel Feedbag's.
       " It's the Creeping Death," shrieked Nora Shouter.
Only Belladonna was still on her feet, trying to comfort the terrified familiars.

       Then, as suddenly as it had come, the great fog rolled away, there was a last clap of thunder ----- and the witches gasped.
For  there, standing astride the Great Rock of the druids, was a figure so splendid, so magnificent, that it quites took their breath away.
            Arriman had taken a lot of trouble with his clothes.
He wore a flowing mantle embroidered with the constellations of the planets, his trousers were of gold lame , and he wore not just horns but antlers, which Lester had fastened most cunningly behind his ears.
With his devilish eyebrows, his soaring moustache , and the sulfurous glow that surrounded him, he presented a vision from which one simply could not tear one's eyes.

        " Greetings, ye foul-mouthed hags and lovers of darkness! " boomed the great magician.
          "Greetings!" croaked the witches, rising slowly to their feet.
  Arriman could not see Belladonna, who was hidden behind a thorn tree, but he could see Mabel Wrack, whose sea plug had fallen over one eye, and Ethel Feedbag's, a burnt jackdaw feather sticking to their chin. He could see Mother Bloodwort and he could see the Shouter twins, and when he 'd seen them he turned and tried to scramble down the rock.

       " Steady, sir ," said Mr. Leadbetter, who was standing behind the rocks with a shelf of papers.

     "The Cankers have been quitters, sir," said Lester, placing a huge hand on his master's shoulder.
Seeing his retreat cut off, Arriman reluctantly climbed up the rock again. The witches meanwhile were getting dreadfully excited. They had begun to realize that they were in the presence of the Great wizard of the North, whom nobody had seen for years and years and years and whose power was the greatest In the land.
     
      " Know ye," Arriman went on bravely, " that I am Arriman the Awful, Loather of Light and Blighter of the Beautiful. "

  " Know we . I mean, we know," croaked the witches.
  " Know ye also that, obedient to the prophecy of the gypsy Esmeralda, I have waited nine hundred and ninety days for the coming of the new wizard to Darkington Hall." He caught a whiff of manure from Ethel Feedbag's Wellingtons and staggered backward.

     "Bear up, sir," came Lester's voice from the darkness behind him, and with a great effort. Arriman pulled himself together and went on.
   "Know ye also that the aforesaid wizard not having turned up, I , Arriman Frederick Canker, have decided to take a wife."
      The excitement of the witches grew to a frenzy. They began to mutter and nudge each other and to cackle fiendishly because it was known that Arriman had sworn never to marry.  Only Belladonna went on standing quietly in the shelter of the trees, her periwinkle eyes fixed wonderingly on the great magician.
       "Know ye," Arriman went on, bracing himself, " that for my bride I have decided to choose a witch of Todcaster and that whichever I choose shall reign ------" His voice broke.  " I can't do it," he murmured, passing a hand across his eyes. He had just caught sight of Mother Bloodwort 's  fly -- covered whiskers in a sudden spurt of firelight.
         " No use turning back now, sir " came Mr. Leadbetter's quiet voice.  But both the secretary and the ogre, peering out behind the rock , were very much upset. They had had no idea that things had got so bad in Todcaster.
     So Arriman made a last desperate effort.  " Know ye, " he went on, " that to choose which witch shall be my bride, I have arranged a great competition on the grounds of my estate at Darkington during the fearful week of Halloween. And know ye that whichever witch does there the vilest, darkest, and most powerful piece of magic shall be my wife! "
      
   Pandemonium now broke out. Arriman waited for the lurching, cackling and hiccuping to die down and then he said: " Mr. Leadbetter , my secretary, will stay behind to give you instructions for the contest.
And remember," he said, throwing out his arms, " that what I am looking for is power, wickedness, and evil.
Darkness is All!".

         And with a sigh of relief, Arriman vanished.