The Shepherd's Crown Read Online Free PDF

stairs where it would be noticed, for thosewith eyes to see.
    She tidied the remnants of her work back to the scullery and came out again with a small bag. A white one. And a red ribbon coiled in her other hand. She looked to the sky. Time was wasting.
    She walked briskly into the woods, You trailing behind, curious as only a cat can be until at least the first eight of its lives have been used up. Then, her task completed, Granny Weatherwaxretraced her steps towards the little stream which ran through the woods close by. It gurgled and tinkled.
    She knew the woodlands. Every log. Every bough. Every creature that lived in there. More intimately than anyone not a witch could ever know. When her nose told her there was no one around apart from You, she opened the bag, took out a bar of her soap and undressed.
    She stepped into thestream, getting as clean as could be. And now, drying herself off and wrapping just her cloak around her washed body, she went back to the cottage, where she gave You an extra meal, stroked her head, and climbed the squeaking staircase to her bedroom, humming an old dirge as she went.
    Then Esmerelda Weatherwax brushed out her long grey hair and repinned it into its usual bun with an army of pins,and dressed again, this time choosing her best witch’s dress and least-mended pair of drawers. She paused to open the little wooden window to the soft evening air and carefully placed two pennies on the small bedside table, beside her pointy witch’s hat festooned with unused hatpins.
    The last thing she did before she lay down was to pick up a familiar card she had written on earlier.
    And a littlelater, when the cat jumped up onto the bed, it appeared to You that something strange was happening. She heard an owl hoot, and a fox barked in the darkness.
    And there was just the cat, You. All alone.
    But if cats could smile, this one did.
    It was a strange night; the owls hooted almost non-stop, and the wind outside for some reason made the wicks of the candles inside wobble with a vengeanceand then blow out; but Granny Weatherwax was dressed in her best and ready for anything.
    And now in the deep warm darkness, as dawn began to stealthily steal the night, her soul had a visitor, an individual with a scythe – a scythe with a blade so shadow-thin that it could separate a soul from a body.
    Then the darkness spoke.
    ESMERELDA WEATHERWAX, YOU KNOW WHO COMES, AND MAY I SAY IT’S A PRIVILEGE TO DEAL WITH YOU.
    ‘I know it is you, Mister Death. After all, we witches always knows what’s coming,’ said Granny, looking down at her body on the bed.
    Her visitor was no stranger, and the land she knew she was going to was a land she had helped many others to step through to over the years. For a witch stands on the very edge of everything, between the light and the dark, between life and death,making choices, making decisions so that others may pretend no decisions have even been needed. Sometimes they need to help some poor soul through the final hours, help them to find the door, not to get lost in the dark.
    And Granny Weatherwax had been a witch for a long, long time.
    ESMERELDA WEATHERWAX, WE HAVE MET SO MANY TIMES BEFORE NOW, HAVEN’T WE?
    ‘Too many to count, Mister Reaper. Well,you’ve finally got me, you old bugger. I’ve had my season, no doubt about it, and I was never one for pushing myself forward, or complaining.’
    I HAVE WATCHED YOUR PROGRESS WITH INTEREST, ESMERELDA WEATHERWAX , said the voice in the dark. He was firm, but oh so polite. But now there was a question in his voice. PRAY TELL ME, WHY WERE YOU CONTENT TO LIVE IN THIS TINY LITTLE COUNTRY WHEN, AS YOU KNOW, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ANYTHING AND ANYBODY IN THE WORLD?
    ‘I don’t know about the world, not much; but in my part of the world I could make little miracles for ordinary people,’ Granny replied sharply. ‘And I never wanted the world – just a part of it, a small part which I could keep safe, which I could keep away from