4.4 The Shetland Witch, or, Atropos Wants Her Shears Back

In which there is a trial of strength.

‘She came in behind Avril,’ Ishabel continued, still cross, ‘driving her like a sheep, so she was in the house before I kent she was there. And now she’s eaten bread and meat and salt. We’re stuck with her. She can see right through into all my cupboards, so I have na expectation that we can hide anything from her.’

But then the woman looked straight at Hazel, and Hazel felt a connection that hurt her teeth. Skin on rock, cheek on snow, honey in the mouth.

‘It’s her!’ she muttered to Maggie. ‘She arrived in that rush of power that knocked me over, this afternoon.’

Ishabel looked at them both with warning. ‘As I said, a very strong presence. I’m going to try something.’

She turned to the woman in the chair – Hazel noted with further indignation that Avril was kneeling in a muddy pool of water that was draining from the woman’s skirts – and gestured politely.

<I hope that you have eaten well?>

The stranger felt warm again, and she had eaten well. The customs in this house were strange – everything about it was strange – but the bread and the meat were good. She was considering what to do next, where to go. And she needed to find the shears. She had no doubt that she was in the right place, that she had indeed been sent to the ends of the earth and that what she searched for was somewhere near.

But for now, the ends of the earth were confusing, and so very strange that even finding food and warmth had taken much of her strength. She needed rest, and to be alone. Were all these women sorceresses? Would they bind her with spells, or would they give her help?

There was a pushing in her mind, almost a shove. She glanced at the young sorceress kneeling at her side.

Avril jerked her arms, tipping the platter over herself.

<She is our sister. She is not your slave.> Ishabel said softly in all their heads.

No-one moved. The sense of vastness had receded, but Hazel could feel it beating at her like the heat behind an oven door.

The stranger’s inner voice was harsh, but not unamused. <The woman of the house is kind to offer all she possesses for the guest’s use.>

<I am glad that you are satisfied.> Ishabel replied with calm assurance and looked pointedly at Avril. The woman laughed.

<I thank your handmaiden for her service.> Hazel sensed a trailing sigh of exhaustion, and felt hopeful. Would the intruder’s fatigue be the way in?

There was a sense of release.

Avril dropped the platter, and stumbled awkwardly off the floor, looking dazed. Hazel grabbed her arm to help her up and propelled her out of the kitchen into the hall.

‘You were staring at me for hours,’ Avril said furiously. ‘I couldna dae a’thing.’

‘It was really weird,’ Hazel agreed, pacifyingly. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up.’

‘I’m na doing this any more.’ Avril’s face was mutinous. They were in the bathroom and Hazel was scrubbing at the crumbs and grease that had been tipped over Avril’s fleece.

‘But we need you!’ Hazel whispered furiously. ‘You cannae bail out now! If you dinnae help, how can we stop her from doing whatever it is she wants to do?’ She glared at Avril, suddenly jealous of the power that Avril had but didn’t want, and her own meagre efforts.

‘You’re so strong, much stronger than I can ever be. Please, da’ leave now.’

Avril was not pacified. ‘I’ll see.’

She marched back into the kitchen, and Hazel scuttled after her, feeling hopeless.

In the kitchen an accord seemed to have been reached. Ishabel was sitting at the table and now the alien vastness in the room was barely palpable.

<This is my home, but my sisters come and go as they wish. They are not my slaves. We have na slaves.> Ishabel was looking nettled.

‘She thinks we’re a commune or something. Oikos was the word she used. Do you know what she means?’ Maggie muttered to Hazel.

<Why have you come here?> Ishabel asked the stranger.

<I search.> The stranger sat formally but with a strong sense of reserve. Her eyes flickered over everything in the room. She seemed uncertain, as if she were taking things in and yet could not understand them.

<What is it you seek?>

<My own.> And there it was again, a pressing wave of vastness forcing itself through the kitchen and through their very bones. Hazel shuddered.

Maggie opened the cleaning cupboard and took out a broom. ‘I’ll just dae a peerie clean-up,’ she said to Ishabel, smiling.

There was silence while Maggie picked up the platter, swept the floor and tipped the food scraps into the bin. She filled a bowl in the sink with hot soapy water and washed the wooden platter with care. Hazel could see that the marks of grease were disappearing, but Maggie was doing something else, swirling the water with her ink-stained fingers in a pattern that Hazel realised that she knew but could not name.

Hazel looked away, down at the floor, and back at the women at the table. The stranger seemed to be feeling tired and held herself upright with more effort.

<Where are you from?> Ishabel asked conversationally.

The figure looked at her with an empty gaze.

<I am lost.>

As Maggie poured away the water from the bowl the stranger crumpled in her chair with a sudden gasp. Avril had joined Maggie at the sink, and they were gazing at the woman with a frightening intensity, their hands gripping the edges of the counter behind them.

The stranger pushed herself up from her chair, growing vaster in moments. She filled the kitchen, but yet she didn’t hit the ceiling, realised Hazel, confused. There was rage swirling in the air, and she could not move. Ishabel still sat, and the stranger still stood, but the stranger was gradually diminished. She shrank back to human size and dropped back into the chair with an angry cry. Her hands rested on the chair’s wooden arms, her fists clenched, her eyes furious. The room was silent, except for Avril’s hard breathing, and the irregular tapping of Ishabel’s fingernail on her table-top.

<Your name is very old.> Ishabel remarked. <May I say it?>

<If you dare.>

This came out in a gasp but the stranger was smiling.

<Great Atropos, welcome to our place.>

Ishabel sat in her chair like a queen, her white curls like a crown, her brown skin glowing and her eyes blazing, her old blue sweater and grey corduroy trousers her robes of power.

<How may we help you?>

Episode 5.1 will follow.

The Shetland Witch © Kate Macdonald 2024.

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The Shetland Witch is a reader-supported publication. As well as taking out a free subscription for the novel, you can subscribe to the paid tier for the two novellas that unpack some aspects of the story and characters a bit more. The first one, In Achaea, will begin on 5th January 2024.