Your witch has a guest on here today; Barbara Henderson on her new novel:
“Isn’t language wonderful? Some words have an impact far beyond their literal meaning. How apt then that I should write about the witchcraft angle in The Boy, the Witch and the Queen of Scots for the Bookwitch blog. Nothing could be more fitting!
Scotland has form when it comes to witches and warlocks, particularly following the Scottish Witchcraft Act of 1563 when both the practice of witchcraft and consulting with witches became capital offences, punishable by death. Shockingly, Scotland executed at least 15 times as many witches as England relative to its population. The act came into effect during the troubled reign of Mary, Queen of Scots. In 1597, her son King James VI of Scotland (and later I of England) became the only European monarch to publish a treatise defending the reality of witchcraft. Is it the dark nights of winter|? The dreich, foggy weather? Whatever the reason, the supernatural has always occupied a key place in the Scottish psyche.
My book, The Boy, the Witch and the Queen of Scots, is set just before the Scottish Witchcraft Act comes into force – but my characters already inhabit a world which is steeped in religion and superstition. It was an age of fear – the plague was ravaging Europe, wars and counterwars spilled across borders and as if that wasn’t enough, you had to remain wary of witches and devils, too.
The idea to make a little more of this angle in the story arose when I read up on one of the villains in my story, the Earl of Huntly, also known as the ‘Cock o’ the North’ on account of his showy and proud conduct. Keen on a Catholic counter-reformation, the Earl staged a revolt against the newly arrived Queen when she refused to be manipulated by him. And guess what – his wife, the Countess of Huntly, is rumoured to have been partial to witchcraft. Soon, the very association with sorcery was to carry the death penalty. It inspired fear. It generated power. It made one feel invincible, perhaps. It is said that the Earl’s wife received a witches’ prophecy that her husband would emerge from the final battle without a wound on his body. This proved true, if not in the way she expected – the Earl was captured and died of ‘apoplexy’ (probably a stroke or seizure). Queen Mary was victorious.
Of course, prophecies and witchcraft also gave me the opportunity to put one of my main characters in danger through vicious and false accusations: a young seamstress called Lizzie simply repeats a prophecy she has overheard. When the events prophesied come to pass, she is accused of witchcraft and treason, and dragged away to Edinburgh’s notorious Tolbooth prison. Witchcraft may not carry the death penalty yet, but treason most certainly does. The stakes could not be higher for my young protagonists.
And then there is the title. Initially, the book was called The Queen’s Hawker. Not bad – but where was the jeopardy? A rethink was needed. The Spy and the Queen of Scots? Yes, better. But then I discovered the existence of a novel for teens called Spying for the Queen of Scots, by Theresa Breslin, an author I respect and admire greatly. Time for another rethink, no doubt about that. The Boy and the Queen of Scots? It was one of my teacher friends, Steven Kenyon, who had read the novel draft and suggested the threefold title: The Boy, the Witch and the Queen of Scots.
Once more, aren’t words great? My work here was done. That single additional word delivers threat, drama, jeopardy, intrigue, and an echo of the iconic The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It took me a while to get there, but I have arrived – with the supernatural angle firmly embroidered into the story, as if by Mary’s own hand.
Read more about the Witchcraft Act at https://blog.historicenvironment.scot/2022/06/the-witchcraft-act-and-its-impact-in-scotland/”
The Occasional Bookwitch 