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nodded and drank more wine. ‘I had to come. Jane has been arrested on charges of witchcraft.’
    ‘Jane? Jane is a Protestant! The only member of your family to receive the Anglican Communion.’
    ‘It is a trap, I know.’
    ‘Do they want your head so badly?’
    ‘They will not stop till all of the Gunpowder Plotters are dead.’
    ‘King James has set his sights on Lancashire, Alice. He believes that this is the county of England where he has the most to fear – from Catholic traitors or from witching hags.’
    ‘Demdike and Chattox have been taken for trial at Lancaster Castle.’
    ‘I know. Jane is in there with them. They are in the Well Dungeon until the August Assizes. She will not survive that ordeal – instant death would be more merciful.’
    ‘I have just come from Roger Nowell. He said nothing to me of this.’
    Alice told Christopher about the matter at the Malkin Tower. He was listening carefully, restless, tapping his fingers on the bedpost.
    ‘None of this is coincidence or chance. There is danger here. Alice. Listen to me. Withdraw. Apologise. Equivocate. Do not risk yourself for that broken family of vagrants and thieves they call the Demdike.’
    Alice drew away from him. ‘Are you like all other men after all? The poor should have no justice, just as they have no food, no decent shelter, no regular livelihood? Is that how your saviour Jesus treated the poor?’
    Southworth was ashamed. Only Alice Nutter talked to him like this. He was used to high theological arguments, great causes, single-minded passions, and she reminded him that every day poor people suffer for no better reason than that they are poor.
    ‘You are right’ he said, ‘but there will be no justice.’
    Alice shook her head. ‘All the more reason that there should be love.’
    ‘Love? For the Demdike?’
    Alice said, ‘You have a god to forgive you your past. I carry mine with me every day.’
    ‘Why do you call Him my God? Who is yours?’
    Alice did not answer. She was standing up, looking out of the window into the dark and empty courtyard. She said, ‘I will tell you the story of Elizabeth Southern.’

Elizabeth Southern
     
    HER FAMILY WERE from Pendle Forest as mine are, but separated by the hill
. We did not know each other. Her family had a reputation for witchcraft but I had no interest in that.
    I was married early to Richard Nutter and when he died just as early I was left to fend for myself. That is when I went to work in Manchester, at the Cloth Fair, trading some of my dyes and stuffs.
    I was at my stall one morning when a grave and distinguished gentleman came to me and asked me the date of my birth. I told him, with some surprise, and he quickly made a calculation, nodding his head all the time. Satisfied, he asked me if I would meet him at an address that night. He told me to have no fear – it was in connection with the Great Work, he said. Alchemy, he said. ‘My name is Doctor John Dee.’
    I went to the house at the appointed hour. There were two other people in the room besides John Dee: a man called Edward Kelley and the woman Elizabeth Southern.
    This woman had been working for John Dee for over a year. She had a flair for mathematics and he had taught her how to work out the astrological computations he needed for his work. He used the lunar calendar of thirteen months.
    Edward Kelley was a medium. He claimed he could summon angels and other spirits.
    John Dee asked me if I would be the fourth of the group. He said he had seen it in my face and confirmed it by my nativity.
    I asked him what he had seen but all he said was that I would be suitable for the Work.
    He offered me a sum of money and proposed that we should pursue the Work in Manchester until such time as we would leave for London.
    I had no reason to go home to Pendle and no reason to stay in Lancashire and so I agreed.
    Several months later I was making a preparation of mercury when Edward Kelley came in and announced that Saturn