1593 was a dangerous time to be a healer in Scotland. The Wise Witch of Orkney is a pacy historical novel that tells the story of Elspet Balfour, suspected of witchcraft by the Earl of Orkney. Luckily, the queen has her summoned to Edinburgh to look after her while she is pregnant with James VI’s baby under the disguise of a lady-in-waiting. The subterfuge isn’t easy to maintain, and life at court is full of extra intrigue too. Below is an extract from the novel telling of Elspet leaving her beloved Orkney.

The Wise Witch of Orkney
By Anna Craig
Published by Black & White Publishing

Elspet throws open the deep wooden trunk in the corner of her one-room home and throws its contents into a pack next to her on the brushed earth floor. She’s sent Gillie and Broden to visit her friends, the Laird and Lady of Stenness, an hour away at the big hoose Skarravoe. If the Earl’s soldiers return, she doesn’t want her children to be here. She knows the laird and lady will keep them safe, and hidden if necessary, for as long as she is away.

‘The laird has some new paint colours he wants to show you,’ she said to Broden, holding him tight and breathing in the warm scent of his hair before turning to Gillie. ‘And the Lady of Stenness was telling me of a new astronomy book she wants to read to you. They’ll love to have you stay for a peedie while.’

Elspet knows she must leave immediately; the soldiers may return any moment. But there are some things she cannot leave behind. The trunk, decorated with twisted ornamental swirls, had been carved by her mormor. She wants to touch its whirls and spirals, feel the wood her grandmother had painstakingly sculpted, take comfort in her meticulous work. But she stops herself – there isn’t time.

Rummaging under a stack of blankets, she finds a pile of small, bulging cloth pouches and examines each one quickly before pushing them into the pack.

Margaret stands in the doorway, looking out down the lane impatiently. ‘Mistress Balfour, we must go now. My bluff won’t buy us much time.’

So it was a bluff . Was any of what Lady Margaret Livingston told the soldiers true?

‘I can’t leave without these plants.’ Elspet pulls out the last of the pouches and pushes them under her clothing at the bottom of her pack. ‘I’ve no idea what herbs you have in Scotland – I might not be able to do my work without these.’

‘You won’t be able to do anything at all if the Earl’s soldiers capture you.’

Elspet knows she’s right. ‘I’m almost ready.’

She looks into the trunk a final time to find her thick woollen travelling cloak. It may be summer but the year is already turning towards darkness, and she’s heard the winter lingers longer South. Th is cloak was Mormor’s too. She pulls it round her shoulders, hoping for some kind of protection.

What she’s really doing is stalling for time. She doesn’t want to go. Looking over at the pile of crumpled blankets on the bed set into the wall she shares with the children, her eyes swim with tears.

‘How will the laird and lady comfort them tonight?’ she says, more to herself than the glowering woman in her doorway.

‘Come on now. Children don’t need us half as much as we like to think they do,’ Margaret says, striding across the room and picking up the sack. She awkwardly wraps her arms around it and holds it against her chest.

‘Beatrix is waiting at the boat,’ she adds. ‘And I too have no desire to see the Earl’s men again.’

Elspet doesn’t understand any of this, but this is the path God has chosen for her, to go with this woman and use her skills to serve the Queen of Scotland. She follows Margaret out to the horses waiting under the hazel tree that stands like a sentinel outside her home. She glances down the lane; no one is coming. Not yet. She takes the pack from Lady Margaret and rests it on the saddle in front of her as she mounts the horse. They break into a gallop towards the harbour.

*

Elspet hears them as she follows the ladies up the boarding plank. Hooves, thundering down the hill to the small harbour on the Bay of Ireland where the ladies’ boat is docked, away from the many curious eyes in Orkneyjar’s busier ports.

More of the Earl’s soldiers have come this time. At least ten riders are drawing closer, an unmistakable figure on the leading horse. It is the Earl of Orkney – Patie has come himself.

Margaret has seen them too and turns to the men untying the ropes that hold the boat fast into the dock. ‘Hurry,’ she calls. ‘We must sail immediately.’

The sailor looks up. ‘That’s the livery of the Earl. We should wait and—’

Margaret doesn’t let him finish. ‘We will sail immediately, or you’ll see none of that fee you negotiated. I know very well it is far above the usual rate for this crossing.’

The man looks confused, as unused as Elspet is to hearing a woman issue orders at sea. But a full purse is a powerful argument, and he nods quickly before untying the last rope and stepping aboard.

The horses have reached the top of the slipway now. The Earl’s thin white face is clearly visible under his black peaked hat, his small eyes scanning the boat. Is he looking for me, or for Lady Margaret Livingston? Elspet wonders. Perhaps both of us.

As they move out into the bay and a gap appears between the boat and the dockside, Elspet sighs with relief. Patie and his men reach the waterside, their horses coming to a sudden standstill to avoid galloping straight off the edge of the dock and into the sea. Th e Earl’s eyes are trained on her, that strange brown so light it’s almost yellow. His lips curl in a sneer, showing his small teeth. Elspet shudders and instinctively takes a step back as the boat picks up pace. Th e further away they sail, the more Patie’s face becomes an indistinct blur, but ranyie pangs still stab Elspet’s stomach – that sneering expression, one she kens all too well, stays with her long after the dock has faded from view.

Beatrix looks at Margaret in panic. ‘The Earl of Orkney knows we’ve visited his islands. He knows we have Mistress Balfour.’

This clearly wasn’t part of the plan, then. Th e Earl of Orkney is the King’s cousin, an illegitimate one, but a cousin nonetheless – perhaps it isn’t surprising the women had hoped to avoid him.

‘It couldn’t be helped,’ Margaret snaps. ‘We knew the risk we were taking.’

‘What if he sends word to the King?’ Beatrix asks.

This is not an auspicious beginning to Elspet’s task. If the Earl of Orkney warns the King, this plan will be over before it’s even begun. ‘He will send men after me. After us,’ she says.

Margaret frowns. ‘How long will it take him to muster ships?’

‘A few hours at least. He’ll have to ride back to Kirkwaa, gather his sailing men and ready a ship.’

‘We’ll make for Durness then,’ Margaret says. ‘It’s a smaller port and he won’t expect us to go ashore there.’

Margaret goes to instruct the captain, and Elspet turns to look at the sea beneath them, calm today. The home she’s never left before slides further and further into the distance.

Next to her, Beatrix chats away without requiring any response. ‘We’ll have much time on our journey, Mistress Balfour. We will go to Dunrobin Castle first. We hope the Countess of Sutherland will help us prepare you for life at court before we travel to Edinburgh. You can teach me all about how you will treat the Queen, what plants and herbs you will use.’

Elspet turns her thoughts to what lies ahead but her foresight fails her; this is a situation beyond her imagining, the future shrouded in thick haar. If it wasn’t for the Earl’s men on her back, she would never have agreed to go with these ladies. Her heart is sore for her children before the islands have even faded from view. When will she return to them? Indeed, will she ever return to them? At least they’ll be safe at Skarravoe with the Laird and Lady of Stenness.

She shakes those thoughts away. She must believe she will see them again, or she’ll never be able to take on the task ahead.

Three orcns are playing in the boat’s wake below – their grey water-slick backs glistening where they catch the sunlight. Th ese are the creatures after which her island home is named – the subject of so many Orkneyjar tales: orcn selkies who shed their skins to come to the land and dance. Elspet must put on a new skin now, the skin of a noblewoman.

The Wise Witch of Orkney by Anna Craig is published by Black & White Publishing, priced £16.99.