Chapter12
City of London, Late afternoon, 1st September 1666
Lady Agyness De’athly awoke with a start, and for a second, wondered where she was. What were these strange, demonic dreams that tormented her slumber? What did they mean? Terrible visions of a time in the distant future when men flew inside metal birds to far off countries and speeding, horseless carriages of bright colors travelled the land. A time when families huddled around enchanted boxes called Televisions, hypnotized by the moving pictures.
Her nightmares were haunted by visions of a small girl, a child whose face is constantly hidden by a hood. But she is always there in the wings, watching and waiting, biding her time before she unleashes her powerful magic. Agyness was not afraid; those times were far off, that most terrible of nemesis not even born yet.
She sat uncomfortably in the horse carriage awaiting the return of her husband, the 1st Duke of Burnhamshire; he had been gone some thirty minutes, paying off the servants and suchlike. It was a hot, dry and dusty day and she had a terrible thirst, she constantly felt the need to sip from a flagon of water which the driver had kindly supplied. Her scented handkerchief was no barrier to the stench from the nearby open sewers and the odor of decomposing bodies. The reek was overpowering and she knew it would linger in her nose long after they arrived at the country house.
Attracted by the four black stallions and grand livery of the Aristocracy, scruffy beggars and tramps, now pestered her for a morsel of bread or a drink of clean water. The plague had been ravaging the land for more than a year and piles of bodies littered the street. Nowhere was safe, every city, town and village had been infected by the Black Death.
“Driver... Remove this rabble at once... I am feeling most put upon!” she cried. Then she muttered something under her breath, this time in Gibberish. She was about to curse them all when she realized there was no worse a fate as theirs, gutter scum one and all. Plagued by the Black Death, they were dying and would all soon be dead. Agyness was satisfied with her work, and the promise to her dead sister almost fulfilled. “And get me some more water for the journey... I am terribly parched!”
The authorities in their boundless ignorance had blamed infected rats from the continent for the epidemic. Agyness knew the truth, and that truth was nothing less than Witchcraft. When wielded by a powerful Witch, Sweet revenge knows no bounds and takes no prisoners. Little darling Imelda was certainly no Saint, but the great and good people of London had burnt the wrong sister.
The crowd grudgingly scattered while the driver cracked his whip and shouted obscenities. But as the mob parted her Ladyship spied her husband through the window of a tavern, flagon of ale in one hand and a buxom barmaid in the other. She wasn’t surprised and she didn’t care.
Lady Agyness considered the Duke a handsome brute of a man with the intelligence and manners of a pig, but none of that mattered now; his wealth far outweighed any misgivings she might have for her new husband. The honeymoon period, for what it was, had lasted no more than the time it took to walk the twenty three steps to the church doors. Then she had been the doting, beautiful bride in white, next time she would be the heartbroken widow dressed in black. For you see Edward Burnham was soon to die, most inexplicably and more importantly most brutally.
“I had to marry her... She thinks I am a Duke!” William Darke drank thirstily from a flagon. “She waits for me now outside. We are to go to our country house and live there as man and wife... What am I to do?” he spluttered and straightened his powdered wig in a mirror. “God have mercy on my soul, I have committed bigamy... With a Witch!”
Ruby Darke grasped her husband’s hand. “I am sure that God will look lightly on your crime when she is dead. The creature is an abomination against all that is holy. Promise me you shall not lay with her in our bed!” she paused for a second. “...I have not forgotten what happened in the lair of the Vampire...Nor shall I ever!”
William looked aggrieved; he was trying to forget that little adventure. “Take my horse and ride as fast as you can... stop for no one.” He said. “The men must know of this... If we are to send her back to hell then we must first find and destroy her ‘familiar’, the beast will try to protect her at all costs...”
“Husband of mine, promise me now that you will not lay with that abomination in our bed. I have seen her kind mesmerize and intoxicate a man with just one look!” Ruby Darke gripped his hand tight. She had good reason to be worried; after all it was his wedding night. “Be warned, she watches us as we speak!”
“Fret not my love... Now go and find Oaks and the others, tell them to follow us at a safe distance. They are to capture or kill anything that is not of this world or Godly. The beast will not stray far from its master... I will take care of her Ladyship!”
William Darke splashed ale on his face and tunic, and then leaned unsteadily on his cane. “Fair wench I am the 1st Duke of Burnhamshire, a dandy and a cad, and I bid you a good day!”
Playing drunk he staggered out of the door and back to the awaiting carriage, not so drunk though as his wife might think. “Ah Agyness my beautiful wife, married life agreeing with you I hope? Hic...hic”
“You’re drunk again! Get in before you are seen!”
William tripped on the step and sprawled across her lap. “Strong hind quarters I see! Hic” he slurred and slapped her thigh. “Good child bearing stock... Just what the doctor ordered.”
She was too angry or too distracted to notice him swipe the spell book secreted in her petticoat pocket. “Take your disgusting hands from my person and sit down!” Agyness was nearing boiling point and it took some considerable restraint on her part not to turn him into a bat on the spot.
“I apologize most profoundly dearest... Everyone knows I speak nothing but gibberish when I am drunk!”
“Gibberish Sir... What do you know of that word?”
William sat up and straightened his attire; the time for play acting was over. “I believe, if memory serves me right... That Gibberish is an incomprehensible language known only to... Oh yes that’s it...Witches!” He stared into her unblinking eyes and then shouted suddenly. “Driver, Finsbury fields if you please!”
“Your intoxication seems somewhat short lived sir. As I believe you will be!” Holding up both hands to control the spell, she began muttering in Gibberish, trying to conjure up the most gruesome of deaths for her husband.
“You know it’s really annoying when people mutter like that,” he said. “... and put your hands down Witch, the commoners are beginning to stare!”
“What have you done? My craft fails me!” she snarled, at last showing her true colors. “Why haven’t you turned into a disgusting cockroach yet?”
“Thank goodness it worked; you know I was a little worried there for a while. Dearest wife, it’s been a long hot summer and to quench your thirst you have been drinking nothing but holy water for most of it!” He smiled, mostly with relief. Then he reached under his seat and pulled out a pair of manacles. “Now be a good little Witchy and put these on!”
“You would have me in chains sir? Am I not at your mercy? Surely with your size you could easily overpower me!” She stared intently at him. “Look into my eyes... Do you not see the woman you married? The woman you love?”
“In the eyes of God we are not married and I certainly never loved you... Chains... Now please!” Once more William held out the manacles.
“Look into my eyes sir, look deep in to my eyes... Place your hand on my bosom and feel the beating of my heart.”
The chains fell to the carriage floor as William obeyed and slowly placed his hand on her chest. The rhythmical beating of her heart consumed his senses and dulled his mind.
“Look deep into my eyes and feel the rhythm... You feel tired, your eyelids grow heavy and you wish to sleep... Listen to my voice. I am going to count backwards from ten, with each number you will grow more weary and when I reach ‘five’ you will be asleep. As I get to ‘three’ you will no longer fee
l the need to breathe... And by the time I get to ‘one’ your heart will cease beating and you will be dead... Listen to my voice... Ten, nine, eight, seven.... You are falling asleep. Six, five...”
A single punch to the side of Agnes’s face knocked her clean unconscious. Ruby jumped from her horse in through the open door and slapped William several times before he came out of his trance.
“What happened?”
“Hood, gag and chain the Witch!” Ruby snapped angrily. “Husband you were mesmerized! It would seem I cannot allow you out of my sight for one second, without you finding yourself in some grave peril!”
“So it would seem!” William agreed and kissed Ruby on her forehead. “Once again you have saved my life.”
Just after midnight on the 2nd September 1666 the carriage came to a halt in the middle of Finsbury field. Two men approached on horseback. The first man was Oaks, William Darke’s best and most trusted friend. He had a look of fear about him and struggled to keep his horse still as he spoke. “The beast has been shadowing you for the past hour William. I have seen the creature with my own eyes and I can tell you it puts the fear of God in my soul!”
“Is everything prepared?”
This time the second man spoke, his name was reverend Jonathon ‘Jock’ McKay and he looked terrified. “’Och aye Billy boy! Silver tips, dipped in quicksilver!” he said nervously and then looked in the carriage. “Away wi’ you Missy... This is ne’ place fer a wee lassy like yourself’!”
Ruby smiled. “Don’t worry about me Father! Just be careful and look after each other... There is evil in this place!”
“Yer ne wrong there Lassy!” he replied wholeheartedly. “May God have mercy on all our souls?” Then he crossed himself.
The men bundled Agyness out of the carriage and chained her to a stake in the centre of the field. Bound and gagged, she was powerless and realized that this must have been how her sister had felt at the end. Throughout the whole process Jonathon McKay recited the Lord’s Prayer out loud and hoped someone was listening.
William Darke collected his crossbow and silver tipped bolts from Oaks and prayed to himself that they would work on this beast, as they had on the Werewolf in Nottingham. Ruby nervously helped him into his armor; and fastened his chain mail. Then she took his sword and gently kissed the blade, before finally sheaving it for him.
“If I am to need that... My love” he gripped the hilt. “Then I am surely in trouble!” He gave his wife a lingering kiss and held her close. “Now go to the others...” he said softly.
She held his hand until only their fingers touched and then went and hid in the undergrowth with Oaks and McKay, the two men and one woman didn’t have to wait long for their quarry. Roosting birds suddenly squawked and shot up into the starry sky and scattered in all directions. Oaks saw them first, two glowing green eyes moving through the woods on the far side of the field. He pointed them out to the others and they all watched, captivated, as the beast moved closer. Clearly suspicious of something, the creature hesitated for almost thirty minutes before daring to come out into the open. Once in the moonlight the huge feline shape was clearly visible.
“It’s just a wee Pussy!” McKay spluttered nervously. The beast must have heard him because it stopped half way across the field and sniffed at the air. Then the cat stealthily continued its journey toward its mistress ignorant to the impending danger.
Lady Agyness writhed in her shackles, trying to scream through the gag which bound her mouth as tears of impotence and anger poured down her cheeks. She could not, would not lose her beloved Felix. She may not be able to speak gibberish and control the spell, but maybe she could think and control the spell by sheer force of will power. This was something she had never mastered, but knew others had successfully in the past.
Observing the creature through the carriage window William gripped his crossbow tightly with both hands. This misshapen feline was huge, at least the size of a man at the shoulders. With green glowing eyes, a massively muscular frame and clawed paws the size of dinner plates, the creature looked awesome. This was no sport, certainly no game hunt, as soon as the cat was within range he would release his bolt. It troubled him that her Ladyship was making increasingly louder noises; perhaps the gag was coming loose, the chance to silence her had long since passed. Now there was rhythm and method to her noises, a voice was clearly audible, but somehow other worldly with an almost ghostly quality.
Whilst wondering whether to put a bolt in Agyness, just to shut her up, he suddenly he saw Ruby sprinting across the field under the moonlight. She was screaming. “Kill the beast... Pull the trigger... The Witch is casting a spell!”
William burst through the carriage door; his first and only thoughts were to protect his wife. He hit the ground running and fired at the creature, instinctively reloading and firing again. The first bolt missed by a whisker, but the second smashed into its shoulder. The cat roared, stumbled and momentarily fell onto its side. Within a second it was back on its feet and bearing down on Ruby.
Undeterred by a third bolt that skewered through the bottom part of the cats hind leg, it crouched, ready to leap upon its prey. William arrived Just as it pounced, and knocking Ruby out of the way, slashed upwards with his sword. As the cats guts spilled onto the grass William spun sharply on his heels and with one almighty strike cut the cats head neatly off its shoulders. The creature slumped to the ground, dead.
Oaks and McKay were now out in the open and sprinting toward Agyness. William could just make her out under the moonlight; she had freed herself and was clambering aboard one of the horses.
“Don’t let her escape,” he shouted. Then he too sprinted after them.
Ruby picked herself up off the floor and surveyed the bloody carnage. The cat twitched and shuddered as the magic coursing through its veins escaped through the wounds. Luminous blue and green auras flickered and danced around the carcass, eventually fading to nothing. In the end all that was left was an average sized, headless Tabby cat.
The three horsemen charged down the lane together, their horses straining under the whip. They were gaining quickly on Agyness, who seemed to be heading for London.
“We’ll be on Fish street hill in a minute,” shouted Oaks. “I think she’ll try to lose us in the slums!”
Lady Agyness De’athly rode side saddle as a lady should, as she and her beloved little sister had been taught. Sweet, tragic Imelda was no Witch, she didn’t have the gift. But the mob came for her anyway; she was barely sixteen years old when they dragged her kicking and screaming from her bed in the middle of the night. Tonight, exactly ten years later, they would know they burned the wrong sister.
Vengeance and guilt are uneasy bedfellows; one is intoxicating with its desire and the other an addiction not easily sated. Problems only arise when you try to tell them apart. Back then, Agyness was too weak to save her sibling from the flames. Now, a decade later, she was all powerful and a master of her art.
She had cast down a plague of biblical proportions on London, rejoicing as the burial pits brimmed with bodies. First a boiling fever to symbolize the flames in which her terrified sister burned, and then a cough for the smoke Imelda must have choked on, followed by agonizing swellings for her torture and suffering and finally black lesions to represent all that was left, ashes. The powerful curse became known as the Black Death and spread throughout the land.
The effects of the poisonous holy water must have been wearing off, for Lady Agyness De’athly could sense her powers returning. As yet they were weak, but nethertheless, that was better than nothing. She thought only of escape, though to where she knew not! She could not run forever. Witchfinders never stop, they never give up and eventually they would kill her or she them; and then what? More Witchfinders?
She stopped her horse just outside a bakery on pudding lane; the time was just before one o’clock in the morning. As she dismounted she noticed her hands glowing with a green aura, she would not let herself be taken alive. I
f she was to burn, it would be her own doing.
As she waited for destiny to arrive, a feeling of cold loneliness crept over her. She wondered if there had ever been another path for her, one of love, husbands and children. Perhaps that was all meant for Imelda. Deep down Agyness knew it was she who should have burned that night, all those years ago. She had been scared by the mob and had cast an invisibility spell. As all Witches know, destiny has a strange way of correcting itself.
William and the others reined in their horses and slowed to a canter. They could see her up ahead, just standing in the middle of the lane. At first Oaks wondered why she held candles in her hands, but the lights seemed to be growing into a pulsating green orbs. Suddenly one of the orbs flashed through the air and exploded in front of the trio. The horses reared, throwing the men off and bolted.
“Take cover,” William screamed. “Her powers have returned!” Then he scrambled to his feet and dived behind an old cart.
“Oh... Really!” Oaks said sarcastically. “How can you tell?”
McKay was on the other side of the lane crouching in the doorway to the Starr Inn tavern. “What now?”
William was about to speak when the cart he was hiding behind suddenly levitated into the air, shot across the street and smashed into a wall. With no cover and nowhere to run, William stood up.
Lady Agyness De’athly was hovering three feet off the ground. As she glowered at William she held out her hand, where a small flame appeared. The flame grew and was soon a miniature inferno.
“Why do you chastise me? Why could you not leave me alone?”
“Without discrimination your curse has killed thousands of men, women and children... You must be stopped before there is no one left!”
Agyness laughed and screeched out a stream of gibberish. Instantly William felt a cold invisible hand upon his throat. The force lifted him off his feet and tossed him into the middle of the lane as if he were no more than a rag doll.
Poppy Darke Page 9