how did sarah good die

In chapter 8 of the book "Amulet," the story continues to follow the main characters, Emily and Navin, as they venture through the dangerous world of Alledia in search of a way to rescue their mother. They have recently arrived at the mysterious city of Kanalis and are determined to find an antidote for their friend, Leon, who has been poisoned. In this chapter, the siblings seek help from the city's council of elders. They are directed to a library, where they hope to find information about the cure for Leon's condition. The library is an ancient and vast place, filled with books and scrolls that hold the knowledge of generations past. While searching for the cure, they stumble upon a book that seems to hold the key to their quest.

Experts aren’t sure exactly when pointed lids became associated with sorcery. Medieval depictions of witches often show them nude and bare-headed, their long hair mingling with flames and smoke. Woodcuts from the 1600s occasionally outfitted spell-casters in common bonnets. It wasn’t until the 1710s and 1720s that children’s chapbooks in England began illustrating supernatural tales with crones in peaked hats. Fueled by the popularity of these “penny merriments,” the stereotype caught on quickly. Western European artists began to modify images of witches from the Middle Ages, lengthening the blunt tips of their caps into devilish spikes. According to Gary Jensen, a former professor at Vanderbilt and author of The Path of the Devil: Early Modern Witch Hunts, the pointed cap became an easy, evocative way to signal dark magic. Witches in peaked hats started to appear on postcards from the American colonies. Legendary figures like Mother Goose and La Belfana—an Italian mother deranged by the death of her infant, said to fly through the night air delivering gifts to children—acquired pointy hats. During the Salem Witch Trials, witnesses reported seeing the devil: “a large black man with a high, crowned hat.” Later, Victorian-era storybooks further developed the theme.

And generally speaking, at this time, a woman having a working knowledge of herbal concoctions and medicines was highly suspect, and might face rumors that she was using her knowledge for nefarious ends. Accessorize as you wish with a broom or a grassy complexion, but on pain of expulsion from the coven, do not forget the peaked, black, wide-brimmed hat.

While searching for the cure, they stumble upon a book that seems to hold the key to their quest. The amulet that Emily wears begins to react to the book, suggesting that there is something special about it. However, there is a catch - the book is written in a language they do not understand.

The Ale-Soaked Medieval Origins of the Witch's Hat

The tall pointed hats we associate with witches in pop culture were first worn by women hawking homemade beer.

All this time, you thought witches were supposed to be brewing up potions in those big, bubbling cauldrons. But what if we told you that instead, those massive black pots were full of a more popular poison: beer?

As far as Halloween decorations and elementary school literature is concerned, witches are frequently portrayed as a craggy old woman with wispy gray hair, a big hooked nose, a pointed black hat, and maybe a broom. Those latter two accessories have historically also been tools of the once-female-dominated ale brewing trade, a connection that historians have been puzzling out for decades. Yep—historically speaking, those ladies in big pointy hats might have actually been brewing ale.

Illustration of a 17th century alewife by David Loggan, via Wikimedia Commons.

Women who brewed ale at home were known in medieval Europe as “alewives,” and they did so as part of their normal routine of domestic duties. While in contemporary America, beer brewing is often dominated by hyper-masculine stereotypes and entrepreneurship, ale brewing—much like butter churning or bread baking—was considered well within the domain of the woman’s sphere of work within the home. It was as much of a necessity of life as any of those other chores, given that fermented beverages were often safer to drink than water. And like butter, cheese, or any other homemade foodstuffs, if a household could produce enough beyond their own immediate needs, the women of the house often took their goods to market to make a little extra money.

In order to catch as many eyes as possible, and to signal from a distance what they were selling, these “brewsters” wore tall hats. As a cottage industry, there was very little oversight or regulation to the home-grown brewing businesses, according to Rod Phillips in the comprehensive text Alcohol: A History. But there were also large-scale commercial breweries, widely owned by men, which were leveraging new technologies and making larger quantities of product. As these operations grew and took on the appearance of a "real" profession, with guilds and trade associations, women were by and large excluded.

In the 15th and 16th centuries, small-scale ale producers, mostly brewsters, began to face accusations of a whole host of immoralities that caused irreparable damage to their reputations. According to Judith Bennett, the preeminent historian of women brewers in this period of England’s history, both the public and the male-dominated brewing industry accused brewsters of diluting or adulterating their ale with cheaper brews, and thus of cheating customers. Brewsters were also accused of selling tainted ales that could make drinkers sick, perhaps intentionally. And generally speaking, at this time, a woman having a working knowledge of herbal concoctions and medicines was highly suspect, and might face rumors that she was using her knowledge for nefarious ends. Thus, the sign of the humble alewife’s hat came to be associated with all the same evil maliciousness of a poison-peddling witch.

All this time, you thought witches were supposed to be brewing up potions in those big, bubbling cauldrons. But what if we told you that instead, those massive black pots were full of a more popular poison: beer?

They realize that they need a translator, someone who can decipher the ancient text for them. In their search for a translator, they encounter a peculiar creature named Cogsley, who possesses the ability to communicate with the book. Cogsley agrees to help them and using his unique powers, he translates the book and reveals its secrets. Through Cogsley's translations, they learn about a hidden room deep within the city that holds a powerful healing stone. This stone is said to have the ability to cure any illness or poisoning. Excited and hopeful, Emily and Navin set out to find this elusive room, eager to find the cure for Leon and continue their quest to rescue their mother. Chapter 8 of "Amulet" is filled with mystery and discovery, as Emily and Navin uncover hidden secrets and make progress in their mission. The introduction of Cogsley adds an element of intrigue and magic, leaving the readers eager to see what else awaits the siblings in their journey through Alledia..

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how did sarah good die