Chapter Three - Mother Shipton's Blessing

Chapter Three – Mother Shipton’s Blessing

“March 1561

My Dear Catherine,

As you suggested in your previous letter, travel in Yorkshire is passing vexatious, but then again not without its lighter moments. With the courts sitting at Beverly, Perkin and I were present in Knaresborough to witness a most remarkable ceremony. To whit, he burial of one Mother Shipton, a local personage of some note. Intrigued by the large and mournful crowd, I chanced to ask a rude mechanical who she was. He feigned great surprise at my ignorance, but was mollified when he realized from my superior speech that I am not, as he put it, from those parts.

Apparently Mother Shipton hailed from the alarmingly named Dropping Well. They say that she was born in a cave, in the early years of good king Henry VII. In these places it really wouldn’t surprise me. Apparently she possessed magical powers, especially the gift of prophecy. They do say that she only used her powers in the service of others. That, my dear Catherine, would never stand up in a court of law.

You will be glad, I am sure , when I tell you that I did not give voice to my thoughts. However , it does seem to me that here we have a creature which, in another town or dare I say it, another county, would be condemned as a common village witch. Yorkshire folk, though, seem remarkably tolerant of behaviour by one of their own , for which they would only too quickly condemn those born in other shires.

The mechanical with whom I spoke seemed convinced that her prophecies have been recorded and bound by a scrivener, who wishes that they may be widespread throughout England for the better governaunce of the country ! God forbid that the guild of scriveners should ever admit such a plain patch into their brotherhoods !

Knaresborough having provided its share of amusement, thence swiftly to Beverly. “

Extract from “The Letters of Robert Etchingham , Man of Law”

Harold Halfdan repeated his instructions.
“I want you to tell me all about your dealings with Mother Shipton.”
The potion was already working its enchantment, and Robin Inkpen was unable to resist it any longer, and he began to speak.
“ I was born in Knaresborough in the year 1528, the same year that the blessed Queen Katherine gave birth to the King. My father, and his father before him, were all scriveners,

I cannot recall the first time that I heard of Mother Shipton. Everyone knew of her, or so it seemed. A great white witch who used her powers for the common good, if that’s possible. You remember the great plague year of 1559 ? Great swathes of Yorkshire, in fact the whole of the north were devastated by the Black plague ? Well, my father died first, then my sister Kate. My mother took ill and the physicians could do nothing. As for your magicians, they refused to even try, the plague being, in their words, ‘a non-magical condition’.

What choice did I have ? The only thing might save my mother was going to see Mother Shipton. She lived in a cave, you know ! Called Dropping Well, of all things. Well, I don’t mind admitting that I wondered what sort of creature I’d find coming out of the cave to greet me, but as I walked up that well-trodden path , all that was there was a little old woman, not even particularly ugly, though I suppose that her nose was a little crooked and misshapen.

She knew who I was, and what I wanted, without me having to say a word. She said, and I remember this quite distinctly, “Come no further, Robin Inkpen. Take this woollen cloth. Soak it within my well here. Place it on your mother’s forehead when you arrive home. The fever will pass during the night. “ She handed me a small square of worsted cloth, and turned to go back into the cave.

It was then that I made my big mistake. Fatal.

She didn’t ask for any payment, and I was worried that she might turn up and try to force some payment or service from me later on. This could be very embarrassing. So I called her back and asked her what she would take from me. I did not want to be under obligation to her, you see. She refused to say. So I made up my mind. It was well known that Mother Shipton could see into the future, but she framed all of her prophecies into the form of verse. I thought carefully about what skills I could use to pay her back for what she had done, and the answer came to me.

I followed her into the cave, and this was a great rudeness of me, because she had told me to come no further. Even though I was in my 31st year I was still rather immature and presumptuous.
“Mother Shipton, “ I said, “for what you have done for my mother , I swear, as a member of the honourable Guild of Scriveners of the city of York , that I will take your wondrous verses, and set them down for you, so that they shall be preserved for the future use of the people of England, at no expense to yourself.”

She seemed rather annoyed when I made my little speech. She took a hazel stick, and for a moment I thought that she was going to hit me with it, but she waved it over my head and said,
“There. I have just freed you from that rash oath. Go home and cure your mother, boy. “
I persisted.
“ I mean it. I say again, I swear that I will take all the verses that you can give me, and write them down so that your wise words will spread far beyond this cave. “
Again, she made the waving gesture with the hazel wand and said,
“ For the last time I free you from your oath. Don’t swear such things again, for even I can’t free you from it a third time. You have no idea what you are actually saying. “

Well, she was right there, and I really should have listened to her. But this was a matter of stubborn pride, and it made me deaf to the sense in what she was saying. So once again I said,
“Then for a third time I, Robin Inkpen, swear that I will immortalize your verses at my own expense, whatever may be the consequences. “

Mother Shipton began to scold and cluck like a mother hen.
“Well, Robin Inkpen, if its prophecy you want, then I shall give you this one, and not in verse neither so that you may the more easily understand it. You will get no joy from the rash oath that you have made, although you will have my verses to write, since your oath binds the two of us now. Just remember that I tried twice to free you from this obligation. So when you reach the depths of your despair and rue this day, do not curse my memory. Give me your arm.”

I had no idea what she intended to do, but I did as I was told. She passed her wand once up and down the length of my forearm. When she removed it I felt a stinging, a burning, itching sensation and so I scratched at it. As I did so a bright red mark appeared on my arm. A mark in the unmistakeable shape of a carrion crow. Mother Shipton then said that this was the visible sign of the invisible and unbreakable bonds which I had forged for myself with the oath. Then she sent me away to tend to my mother. As for the verses, she said nothing more that day.

Just as she had promised the fever left my mother that night and she regained her strength. The next day I walked to the cave with my pens and my parchments, fully intent on starting to carry out my oath. But Mother Shipton would not come out, and I found that I could not go in. There was nothing which I could see that was blocking my way, but as I came nearer to the mouth of the cave the mark on my forearm began to sting again, with a pain which began to feel as if the Devil himself was fastening his claws upon me. So I had to return home , and go about my business.

That night Mother Shipton invaded my dreams. I am choosing my words carefully here. I did not dream of Mother Shipton, but somehow she forced herself into a dream which did not concern her in the least. Imagine that she had made herself infinitesimally tiny, and had physically crawled into my mind while I was dreaming. Perhaps that’s how she did it – I don’t know if such things are possible, but then I’m not a magician. Whatever, I awoke the next day to find that the verses of her prophecies were there in my head, in the place where the dream had been. What is more, the mark on my forearm had turned black.

I will not lie to you, I had serious second thoughts about carrying out the work, not least because I remembered her words about heartache and suffering. But I was scared that my mother would drop dead if I didn’t live up to my word. However the only time I could devote to the commission was my own spare time, and let me tell you that being as I was the family’s sole breadwinner I had precious little of that to go around, I can assure you. For all that I was a member of the Guild, valued clients of my father began to look elsewhere, and I had to prove myself by becoming not only the best scrivener for miles around, but also the quickest. There was always work that needed doing more urgently than completing my oath. As a result Mother Shipton’s verses actually took more than two years to complete.

Here’s a strange thing that I recall. As I completed my work on each verse I found that the memory of it left my mind. Completely. It was as if the words had poured themselves out of my head and onto the page. I could always remember the next verse to come, but never the one I had just fastened to the parchment. By the time I had completed all of the verses Mother Shipton had died. And I felt so empty , since there was nothing left of her inside my head once the last verse had been captured on the parchment.

In one way I was sad. I’d always seen myself ceremoniously striding into her cave and presenting her with w beautifully bound manuscript of the verses. But I was also quite relieved in a way as well. It seemed to me that at least the whole business was over now.

Even before Mother Shipton’s body was cold, so it seemed, rumours started to circulate. I had told no one about my copies of the verses, not even my own mother. Yet within days of completing the task I found that I was receiving secret offers of wild sums of money to produce copies for various worthies. Don’t condemn me for this. I had an ageing and infirm mother who needed support and three plain looking sisters who needed dowries to make them the least bit attractive to would be husbands. Better men than me would never have resisted the temptation either.

It was my own Guild of Scriveners who took action against me. They were probably doing me a favour, for if it had been left to the church they would probably have tried me as a witch , just for writing down Mother Shipton’s prophecies. As it was the Guild only expelled me, and forbade me from scrivening, being as my actions were against the interests of the Guild. Now I can see what they did as being almost an act of charity. At the time I wept and screamed at the injustice , and I am sorry to say that I did even curse the day that I ever met Mother Shipton. The day that I did that my mark burned bright red, and caused me no end of pain.

So I could not stay in Knaresborough, and I could not be a scrivener, that was made clear to me. I had to leave and to learn new skills. So Robin Inkpen the scrivener became Robin Naylor, the carpenter. I worked apprentice rates for many masters for many years before earning my guild mantle, for persistence as much as for any demonstration of skills acquired. Before I was expelled from the scriveners I made a score or so of copies of Mother Shipton’s verses. They do tell me that cheap and inferior copies of copies of my copies can be bought for a few copper coins in any market of the North Thrithing of Yorkshire now. I have never laid quill to parchment for more than ten years now. That is all. “

Harold Halfdan gave Robin a few moments to collect his breath and his thoughts before he spoke.
“You don’t like magicians very much, do you ?”
“No, I don’t. They are all lazy and ignorant parasites – present company excepted. It wasn’t just the church that wanted to persecute me over Mother Shipton’s verses, you know. The York Guild of Magicians, your lot, wanted me killed. That didn’t do a great deal to endear them to me. “
Harold didn’t reply.
“Well ? Is that all you want from me ? I don’t know anything more about Mother Shipton.”
Harold shook his head.
“I know that you don’t. But you can’t go yet.”
“I beg your pardon ?”
“ I want you to stay here. Please. “
Robin sat down, surprised that the magician had asked , not ordered him to stay. Anyway, Harold was still talking,
“ I need your help. I will pay you either as a scrivener or a carpenter, whatever you think is a fair price. But it’s your help that I must have, and nobody else’s.”
“ Don’t be so mysterious, Master Halfdan. What do you honestly think that I can do for you which nobody else could do better ? I’m a terrible carpenter, you know.”
“ I know. I know plenty of better carpenters, and believe it or not I even know of a few better scriveners. But that’s not the point. They can’t help me. Only you can. “
“Why do you keep saying that ? What is it that makes you so certain that I’m the only person who can do whatever it is you want ? “
Harold rolled up the sleeve of his robe which covered his right arm.
“Because, Robin Inkpen, “ he proclaimed solemnly, pulling his sleeve up past the elbow to reveal a black mark , in the shape of a crow, “ you see that I too have been marked with Mother Shipton’s blessing. “