The Witching Tide
September 1645 brings trouble to the East Anglia village of Cleftwater. After several women are accused of witchcraft, Martha, a midwife, is assigned to the team of ‘searchers’ working for Master Makepeace, the witch finder. Two of the accused are friends: Prissy, the cook in the household where Martha works, and Jennet, sister of a neighbour, whose recent childbed, overseen by Martha, went awry. Mute since childhood, Martha communicates by signing, but without words to express herself, she lives inside her head, often seeking guidance from her deceased mam.
Troubled by a need to unburden herself, she turns to her mother’s few possessions, amongst them a wax poppet. During two weeks of arrests, imprisonment, starvation, torture, ‘searching’ and hangings, the novel pushes the poppet front and centre, a symbol of the persecution of all women, holding life and death, good and evil within its waxy grasp.
Stepping into Cleftwater is to live in those menacing times, rampant with prejudice, hypocrisy and fear, beset by storms, sickness and infant death. The fictional village is as real as anywhere I’ve set foot. Martha’s muteness and the palpable conviction of her guilt are compelling plot-drivers. She waits in vain for ‘them’ to come for her, displaying a martyrish ambivalence to the cruelty inflicted on her by others. With the poppet, she feels strong; without it, her resolve weakens. The ‘special contagion’ Makepeace has wrought on the village erodes belief in others’ innocence. The accused must be guilty of something! But does Martha have a sin which needs redeeming?
This dark, unsettling tale does little to soften the unfolding tragedy, but it is a strong vindication of the women who suffered in the East Anglia witch hunts. At the novel’s poignant conclusion, uppermost are thoughts of faithfulness, loyalty and the enduring power of connection. An emotionally spellbinding narrative.
