He pulled the cloth from his back pocket and wrapped it around her head, tying it in a knot.
“Curses! Curses on both of you and everything you hold dear!” the old woman screamed at us as John lifted her by her knees and I took her arms. Her face was towards the ground and she wiggled back and forth trying to get free.
“If we drop you, you will fall on your face. This would be much easier for all of us if you would cooperate. Then we could take these ropes off. You would be much more comfortable like that wouldn't you?” I asked.
“If you drop me, I will fly!”
John let her legs fall to the ground and I struggled to keep grip on her arms with the sudden transference of weight. “What are you doing, John!”
He laughed, “I wanted to see the old hag fly.” He lifted her legs again, and we tossed her in the back of the cart. She skidded across the rough boards, blood poured from her nose as she collided face first with the floor. The cart rocked back and forth while she flopped like a fish out of water with her arms and legs tied together tightly behind her back. She couldn’t see where she was, but it didn’t stop her from screaming at us.
“Give it a rest already, as soon as we have all eight of you together, you can all go to Colchester castle together. You want to go to the nice castle, right?” John latched the back of the cart closed securing the woman inside.
“Damn you both to Hell!” she screamed at him.
John chuckled, “This is a lively one, eh Matthew?”
“She is. She ripped my leg open with her nails.” I pulled my trouser leg up and inspected the deep marks in my calf. It bled freely, running down into my boot.
“Here,” John handed me a second blindfold and I tied it in a knot around my leg effectively stopping the flow. That would do for now.
One of the horses whinnied. “Easy girl,” Henry calmed the mare. The horses were uneasy, spooked by all the yelling. Poor beasts had no idea how close to true evil they were.
As we settled ourselves back into the cab, John turned to me, “Two down. Six to go.”
I nodded, “God help us if they are all this wild.”
Thankfully, the rest of the day went smoother. Of the remaining six women, only two gave us any trouble, but not so much as Joan Fern. She remained hogtied, screaming obscenities, for the duration of her stay in the cart. The two that tried to fight back quickly settled down when they saw her state with the shackles, ropes, and blindfolds and resigned themselves to following orders. One was a girl of only thirteen years old. Her mother was hysterical when we came for her and only relinquished the child to us when John threatened to arrest her as well. Of all seven women in the cart, the girl and Joan were the only ones that did not cry or beg. In fact, the girl didn’t utter a single word. She would also not allow the other women to comfort her when they tried to pull her over to them. She sat by herself with her back against the wood walls of the cart with her knees up and her arms around her legs. She was a very abnormal child.
We arrived back in town approximately eight hours later, which was a relatively good time considering how long it had taken to subdue the old woman. One by one, we marched the witches from the cart and lined them up in front of the courthouse. We tethered them altogether with rope with their hands securely knotted behind their backs.
“Are you going to behave now?” John asked the old woman, “Or should we leave you laying on your face in the dirt?”
She seemed to have lost her fight. Instead of uttering curses and trying to bite and spit, she just remained silent. John untied her feet and stood her up. He removed her from the cart and tethered her to the others.
The jailer led the delirious Mary outside, and she squinted in the glaring sunlight, attempting to shield her eyes. Her hands were tied in front of her and the jailer grabbed them roughly. They were a strange shade of purple from the tight ropes. Removing a knife from his pocket, he cut through the ropes and pulled both her hands behind retying them with a new length, using that rope to bind her to the other women.
All eight were now in custody. Interrogations could begin in earnest now, but first we had to get them to Colchester Castle.
Henry removed the harnesses from both the mares and fitted saddles on their smooth backs. They remained side by side, the witch's leads attached securely to their backsides. John and I would bring them to the castle this way. We could have used the cart for this, but it was much better to have them good and tired when we arrived.
We made the trip to Colchester in a little more than an hour. The attendants took our horses and watered them while we took the women inside and led them all to a single, small cell.
“Are you not going to give us water?” the young girl asked. “Even the beasts you rode in on got water.”
“Why don’t you conjure some,” John said snidely.
I helped the jailer remove the ropes from their wrists while John leaned against the wall, watching. His feet were crossed at the ankles and he drank freely from a jug of water that had been handed to him upon our arrival. The women watched him with despair, licking their chapped lips.
“This water tastes like horse piss,” he declared, dumping the remainder of the liquid on the ground. “It's not fit for animals.”
Mary began to sob. “Do not cry, sister,” the little one spoke. “Can't you see he enjoys your tears?” She gave a sideways look to John. Mary took a deep breath and held it, trying to control herself. Her face turned red with her effort.
With all the ropes removed and the cell locked, there was nothing more for us to do. “Come on John. We are done here for now,” I said as I turned to leave. The water jug hit the iron bars with a loud ringing noise as John kicked it at the women before turning to follow me out. The clanging startled Mary and she cried out as it made contact.
Our horses were outside, ready to take us back. I mounted first and pulled the reins up, my horse turned and started back down the path with John right behind me. There was something calming about the motion one's body made upon horseback. The gentle swaying back and forth was enough to clear a mind of all the troubles of the day.
We didn’t speak on the way back to our temporary home. I’m sure his mind was on all the things he was going to do to the women to get them to admit to their wrongdoing. He was in a rather happy mood today however, and for a time he whistled an upbeat tune.
I couldn’t think of anything but getting back to the Inn and seeing Taryn. Was she bewitching me? I didn’t know what being bewitched felt like. I always imagined it would feel like you were being forced to do something against your will, but this didn’t feel like that. If this was bewitching, I would happily give myself over to it.
Soon enough, the inn came into view on the dirt road before us and Henry rushed outside to take our reins. The horses seemed to like him, nuzzling his face as he stroked their long manes and whispered to them gently. John went in ahead of me and wasted no time finding an empty seat at the bar. Motioning to Harold, he soon had a pint of ale before him. In a moment, he would call for a second and possibly a third.
It was normal for him to have many drinks after a round-up. A celebration of sorts for a job well done. Any other day, I would sit down beside him and put down just as many pints as he did, sometimes more. He gestured to the seat beside him and invited me to join him.
“Harold! A pint for my best friend, the best damn witch hunter in England!” John proclaimed, throwing his head back and emptying his second mug. He was well on his way to being drunk.
I waved my hand to the barkeep, declining the offer. “I’m heading to bed, John. I’m still sore from last night and I would like to get some sleep.”
“Are you still my friend at all?” he snapped. “You won’t drink with me, you barely talk to me, I’m beginning to think you are losing your stomach for this line of work.”
“You’re drunk, my friend,” I said to him. “Nothing has changed at all.” I beckoned Harold to bring him another round. That should take his mind off
the fight.
He laughed loudly, “Not yet, I’m not, but I will be shortly.”
I took my leave and made my way back to my rented room. The door was locked as I had instructed her to do. I started to knock but stopped as a wave of panic washed over me. What if she had left while I was gone. What if I would never see her again, or look into her eyes? I swallowed back the irrational fear. She wasn’t even my woman, after all. What if she didn’t even care for me?
I knocked three times and waited for a response. “Who's there?” came her beautiful voice from within the room.
“It's Matthew,” I said.
I heard the bed squeak as she got up and came to the door. She turned the lock and pulled the door open. Her pretty face looked up and she smiled at me. “I’m so glad you’re back," she said.
Chapter Eleven
Taryn
I knew I was dreaming because I was in my own bedroom, in my own pajamas, my own bed, and the sheets smelled like fabric softener. A luxurious pillow was under my head and an oversized sky-blue comforter was pulled over my body. What was different was the window. Usually I would see a tall, stockade fence and the upper floor of the house that was situated up the hill from the split-level that I shared with Sam. However, the view from this window was nothing but trees. I didn’t want to get up out of the safety of the bed, but I knew if I took a closer look, I would see the dirt road below and the city hall building across the way that couldn’t have been more than two rooms at the most. Likely, the courtroom proper, and the holding cell for those being judged, but from where I lay, I could only see the tops of the evergreen trees, swaying in a soft breeze.
The sky above those trees was littered with more stars than I had ever seen, and it took my breath away. City lights and pollution had truly ruined the world in modern day. It was sad to think none of my family or friends would ever be able to see the sky like this.
I felt something move in the bed, and I froze. I was laying on my side and had not been aware that there was someone else with me. I held my breath and listened. Heavy breathing. Whoever it was, was deep asleep. I let my breath out. If they were sleeping, they were not likely to be there to hurt me. I turned carefully, not wanting to disturb them.
It was a man with his back to me. The blanket was pulled up to his shoulders but his mane of shoulder length, wavy black hair was on full display. It was Matthew. Why was he in my dream? His breath was soft and even and my body relaxed, listening to the rhythm he made. His shoulders were strong and broad, and I had a crazy urge to snuggle up to him and touch him.
But what the hell, right? It’s my dream, I can do what I want.
I inched my body closer to where he lay and placed my cheek against his back. His hips were against my groin and my knees fit perfectly behind his. I put my hand on his side and felt the muscles beneath his skin react to my fingertips. Slowly, I slid my hand around to his belly, feeling taunt skin and ripple of muscle. Moving up, I ran my hand along the curve of his pectorals, and he moaned in his sleep.
He took my roaming hand in his.
“I thought you were asleep,” his voice was a low purr that made something low in my belly go tight and my breath catch in my throat.
“Is this a dream?” I whispered into his skin.
He rolled onto his back pulling me into the crock of his shoulder. My head was on his chest, arm draped across him. He laced his fingers in mine and kissed my forehead.
“You are my dream, Taryn, “he said.
He tilted my face to look at him. The eyes looking back at me were full of love. Bringing his face to mine, he touched his lips to mine. The pressure was soft like a feathers touch, it felt so right.
“I have never loved another woman. I’ve never let myself fall, but you had me from the moment I first saw you. My soul is yours forever,” he kissed me deeper. My lips parted, I sighed his name and he took advantage of my open mouth, touching his tongue to mine.
Electricity shot through me. My body cried out for him. The thin fabric of my pajamas felt blasphemous between us and I hated that I had them on my body. I wanted so badly to feel his skin against my own. This couldn’t be a dream. It felt too damn real, and you can’t feel anything in a dream, not pain, not pleasure, but this feeling reverberated through me. I pressed every inch of myself against him and it wasn’t enough. He wrapped his arms around me completely and held me to him. I could smell the spices of his skin. I could taste him in my mouth.
“I don’t want to wake up,” I said to him.
I had both arms up on his chest and I was just held, swaddled against his muscular chest, and I had never felt safer. I knew without a doubt this was my destiny. This man was my soul mate, I had always been meant for him.
He drew one hand through my hair and kissed me passionately once more. “Then don’t. Stay with me.”
A loud noise jarred me awake, abruptly.
Someone was knocking on the door, “Who’s there?”
“It's me, Matthew,” called the voice on the other side.
I instantly recalled my dream and a wave of relief washed over me. I left the bed and threw the door open with a smile on my face I couldn’t control.
He looked at me bewildered.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” I said to him.
“What happened to your dress?” he asked me.
I blushed, remembering that I was now in trousers and a men’s shirt. “I’m sorry. I’ve never liked dresses. It is sitting beside the bed. I asked Elizabeth to bring me pants and a shirt, and she found some for me. You’re not mad, are you?” I asked him.
“I’m not mad. I just was not expecting to see a boy standing in my room.”
I looked down at the floor feeling a little embarrassed. He chuckled and I realized he was joking.
“It’s very dangerous for you to leave this room without me,” he said. “I would really rather you stay inside.”
I smiled at him, “I didn’t leave, I just had help from Elizabeth. She also brought me the inn's yearly ledger. It is fascinating.”
“What makes you so joyful? Surely not a book like that. It’s not the sort of thing a woman would enjoy. I’ve never heard of a woman that knows how to read, let alone who enjoys it,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “Did you and Elizabeth work out a way for you to go back?” Worry flickered across his face just for a moment as he asked the question. He recovered quickly, but the emotion behind his eyes showed through for the moment he left himself unguarded.
I shook my head, “No, but I did have a pretty fantastic nap, and any book from this time is a treasure. It doesn’t matter what it is about,” I told him. “Thank you for sending Elizabeth to help me out today. Although you should know, someone here really hurt her. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone, but someone took advantage of that girl and they really should pay for it.”
He pondered what I said, but offered no further comments, so I dropped it.
“What I wouldn’t do for a large iced coffee right now.”
“A what?” he implored.
“I forgot for a second that I’m not home. Iced coffee is a delicious beverage from my time that is made from coffee beans with milk and sugar and it is poured over ice. It’s magical."
“Magical?”
Not the best choice of words given the time period. He stepped inside and shut the door, putting his back to it. “Don’t let anyone hear you speak like that. They would string you up without a second thought.”
“Sorry. It’s a figure of speech used in my time. I’ll be careful not to say that again.”
He looked at me in amusement. “You are so different from the other women I have known.”
He removed his cloak and hung it beside the door and proceeded to remove his boots. “You will have to tell me all about what it is like in the future.” He didn’t make eye contact, but he added nonchalantly, “Did you leave a man behind there?”
I thought back to my dream and the way his arms felt around me. “No. I didn
’t have anyone. I lived with my best friend and she and I were focusing on our careers, or at least I was. But neither of us were looking for love. I guess I was in love with my job.”
He looked at me and I swear relief was written all over his handsome face. “Women in your time have jobs? What did you do?”
“I studied history. It was my passion. Still is. Being here hasn’t changed that. It’s very exciting for me to be in a time that I spent my life learning about.”
He sat down beside me. The things I said seemed to intrigue him, like a wild fantasy. People from this period could never fathom how different the world would become several hundred years from now.
“Why would people in the future be interested in the things people now are doing?” he asked. “We don’t do anything particularly worth remembering.”
“Because it helps us to understand who we are, to know who our ancestors were and how they lived. Aren’t people now interested in their past?” I asked him.
He considered this. “They are, more so with the history of the monarchy than regular people. Families are interested in their own heritage, but not really anyone else’s,” he paused considering my words. “I had never really thought about it before.”
“I have to admit, I was kind of obsessed with studying you. Your story kept me up many nights and I read whatever I could get my hands on about you.”
“Yes. You told me yesterday, I believe not everything you read was flattering,” he frowned making little crease lines beside his mouth. I wanted to run my fingers down them and wipe them away.
“I had a dream about you earlier,” I said.
Shock washed over him. “I do hope it was more flattering than the stories about me you have read,” he turned his body towards me. “I must admit that I too had a dream about you, but it occurred before we happened upon you on the street.”
“You did?” I asked. “What was it about?”
He cleared his throat and moved away from me slightly. Judging by the sudden color in his cheeks and the sheen of sweat on his forehead, it must have been a pretty steamy dream. I wished he would tell me all about it. But he was a gentleman. He would keep it to himself.
The Witch Hunter Page 8