County Durham

In Helen Steadman’s Solstice (click to read the review) she showed us the astonishing capacity for malice that lurked in the hearts of some Puritan Christians. In The Running Wolf, set slightly later in time, sectarian divisions are more in the background as she draws us into a Britain in the late years of the 17th century and the first decades of the 18th century. In 1688, when the Catholic King James II was replaced by the hastily imported Protestant William of Orange, the sectarian divide was not healed, but merely temporarily bridged.

Central to the story is an unusual migration – that of sword makers, based in the German town of Solingen who, in 1688, moved, lock stock and barrel, to the tiny settlement of Shotley Bridge in County Durham. The reason for their move was basically economic. Solingen was almost literally bursting at the seams with sword makers, and work was becoming increasingly hard to come by. The departing craftsmen and their families, however, faced the wrath of the exclusive town guilds – to whom they had sworn an oath never to reveal the crucial secret techniques which made a Solingen sword one of the best in the world.

Hermann Molle (who actually existed) makes the journey, with his family, to Shotley Bridge, and slowly builds his business again. As Lutherans they are, to an extent, on the right side of the ‘Protestant Angels’, but the supporters – the Jacobites – of the exiled King James are growing in strength and, particularly across the English Channel, their numbers begin to pose a significant threat. Check this historical timeline:

We watch as Hermann, his family – and the other German exiles – gradually rebuild their lives in Shotley Bridge, integrating as necessary, but preserving their own culture and customs. Their swords are, initially much sought after, but as the century draws to a close the craftsmen begin to feel the winds of change. While some men of wealth are still prepared to pay for a well made sword, the blades are beginning to be valued more for ornamental use than as lethal weapons, and the smiths of the future will have to turn their hands to fashioning gun barrels rather than cutting edges.

The men of Shotley Bridge have another problem – what we would nowadays call cash flow. Customers are not paying their bills, but the dealers who provide the raw material insist on being paid in full and on time. Hermann takes a risk, returns to Solingen and attempts to smuggle a consignment of German blades back into England. He is caught, and thrown into Morpeth gaol, with every expectation that he will be hanged for his pains.

Helen Steadman tells a gripping story, using the twin timelines of the Germans establishing their craft alongside the River Derwent and, using a corrupt gaoler as narrator, Hermann’s time of misery as he languishes in the squalor of his prison cell. There is fascinating detail about the craft of sword making, set against the rumbling of military and political events far away, but equally mesmerising is the way Helen Steadman captures the minutiae of the daily lives of Hermann and his family. This is historical fiction of the first order. The Running Wolf is published by Impress Books and is available now.

This is the final novel in the Widdershins trilogy, the previous two being Widdershins and Sunwise (both 2022). Most people with a smattering of historical knowledge will be aware of witch trials, perhaps most notably the events in Massachusetts in the late 17th century, famously dramatised by Arthur Miller in his play The Crucible. Closer to home, of course, were the events at Pendle in Lancashire much earlier in that century, and lovers of Hammer films (and Vincent Price) will be aware of the work of Matthew Hopkins – The Witchfinder General – in East Anglia during the English Civil War. I was totally unaware that there had been a virulent campaign against so-called witches in and around Newcastle in the 1670s. This is Helen Steadman’s subject.

Widdershins, by the way is a strange word. Some say it was German, others say it originated in Scotland. It translates as ‘against the way’, as in going the opposite way to the sun, which was an important part of many pre-Christian religions. The story plays out in the unlikely-sounding hamlet of Mutton Clog, in County Durham, and Helen Steadman (left) has created two dramatically contrasting female central characters. Patience Leaton is the daughter of an Anglican minister, who has been forced to leave his benign and comfortable living in Ely due to the shame brought on the family by his wife’s very public infidelity. Earnest, Patience’s twin brother – due to serve with the Royal Navy – has reluctantly accompanied them. In the opposite corner, as it were, is Rose Driver, the beautiful and passionate daughter of a local farmer, Andrew Driver.

The liberal ideas and laissez faire of the Restoration have clearly left Reverend Hector Leaton behind, as he is very Cromwellian in his distaste for anything resembling joy and pleasure, certainly where his church and its parishioners are concerned. Spurred on by the puritanical Patience, he is determined to put an end to any customs or celebrations in Mutton Clog that hint at England’s pagan past. He issues an interdict against any celebration of old customs like the equinox or the solstice, and there is a poignant passage where Rose sits on a black hill top and gazes around at the Beltane bonfires burning joyfully in distant villages.

In Mutton Clog, however, all is dark, both literally and metaphorically. Rose and Earnest have fallen in – if not love, then certainly lust – with each other, and when inevitable moment of passion is over Rose, ever in tune with her own body, senses that there will be dire consequences – a baby. Patience has been a scandalised witness of what took place, and informs her father. A hasty marriage is arranged, of which the only beneficiaries are Hector and Patience Leaton, and their sanctimony. As for Earnest, he is called to arms, and goes off to join his ship in the long running naval feud with the Dutch.

Rose is kept virtual prisoner in the Rectory, while the baby inside her grows. Very soon, however, comes news that Earnest’s ship has been sunk with all hands, and so she becomes Widow Leaton. Worse is to follow, as Patience tirelessly seeks to prove that Rose and her family are involved in witchcraft. She wants nothing more than to see Rose and her unborn child dead and buried, preferably not in the holy ground of Mutton Clog churchyard, and she uses the primitive criminal justice system of the day to sate her desire for justice against those who defile what she sees as ‘God’s Way’.

I can’t recall a more vindictive and unpleasant fictional female character than Patience Leaton, other than Trollope’s Mrs Proudie. The wife of the long suffering Bishop of Barchester had, however, several volumes in which to become more nuanced. Over 232 pages, Patience Leaton is simply vile. Her scheming does claim a life in the end, but not the one she was seeking.

Don’t be misled by the delicate decorative artwork on the cover. There is nothing twee about Solstice. It is a dark and disturbing read, with echoes of the kind of Aeschylean tragedy found in Thomas Hardy’s novels. Helen Steadman’s novel is a stark reminder of a more brutal time, when the English church was at the head of an army of bigoted zealots, determined to wage war on the simple and time-proven beliefs of ordinary people who were in tune with nature and the seasons. Solstice is published by Bell Jar Books and is available now.