The Irish Witch

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘It was for quite a different reason that the O’Brien woman left London,’ Roger interrupted. ‘But no matter. Continue.’

  Charles shrugged. ‘However that may be, it was on my account that Susan was invited to Dublin. In mid-March the witch must have learned from overlooking me that I was on my way back to England, so the time had come to spring their plot. When Susan had overstayed her visit, they forcibly detained her and brought her here. Meanwhile, Maureen Luggala had written her tissue of lies to my mother about the two girls having joined the witch’s coven; knowing, of course, that directly I learned of it I would come over and attempt to get Susan back. I did, and fell into their clutches.’

  Roger nodded. ‘’Twas a devilish clever scheme, and I’m not surprised that it succeeded. So this jade is now determined to keep you a prisoner until you agree to wed her. To have gone to such lengths, she must be nigh desperate with love for you.’

  ‘Maybe she is. At least she finds me physically attractive. But that is not her only motive. She is also mightily ambitious and would fain be the Countess of St. Ermins. Still further, she wants money, and part of the price of my freedom would be a marriage settlement in which I make over to her my eighty thousand acre estate around White Knights Park.’

  ‘The wench is no fool, then,’ Roger gave a bitter laugh. ‘She has the sense to realise that, having forced you into wedding her does not bind you to share your life with her. But for some such settlement you could have cast her off without even paying her a pittance. By these means she will net a great fortune.’

  ‘Nay. She says she would keep the house and a sufficient income to maintain it. But ’tis her intent to sell by far the greater part of the estate and use the money to help the rebellious Irish who wish to free their country from British rule.’

  ‘That fits with what I learned in London of her mother and the O’Brien woman. By rights, both of them should have been arrested, condemned as traitors and now be in prison. They were acting as French agents and collecting information of value to our enemies.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Charles exclaimed. ‘I had no idea of that, but since my converse with Jemima this past week or so I’m not surprised to hear it. She makes it no secret that she is rabid on this question of freeing Ireland, and would stop at nothing to help achieve it.’

  ‘Then let us hope she over-reaches herself and ends up in gaol. Fortunately, these fanatics are only a small minority, but they cause us a mint of trouble.’

  ‘I judge you wrong there, Uncle Roger, in believing them to be only a small minority. I do not believe Jemima lied to me on that. The ordinary Irish are a backward people, and live greatly in the past. Although my Lord Essex’s conquest dates back to Queen Elizabeth’s time, and Cromwell’s brutalities took place near two hundred years ago, the Irish think of them as having occurred only yesterday. Besides, as she argued, I think with justification, the Irish are just as much a different race from the English as are the Norwegians or Danes, and …’

  ‘And so, for that matter, are the Scots, yet they have become willing subjects of the Crown.’

  ‘Ah, but their case was very different. Our union with them came about by a Scottish king ascending the English throne. Here we occupy a land to which we have no right but conquest. To be fair, in this matter we must regard Jemima as a patriot.’

  ‘There is much in what you say about Ireland,’ Roger conceded. ‘So one cannot hold it against Jemima that she wishes to have her countrymen rule themselves. But it has naught to do with the matter that immediately concerns us. Do you intend to give in to her?’

  ‘I fear I’ll have to in the end. So far I have hedged, hoping that some turn of fortune might occur which would enable me to escape, make my way to Dublin and swiftly return with troops to free Susan. Your sudden appearance here was the type of miracle I have been praying for; but, alas, it has proved abortive.’

  ‘When your mother realises that I, too, have disappeared, I doubt not that she will come to Dublin, see the Viceroy and have him order the military to search for us. She will also have Maureen Luggala questioned. As the result of my talk with her she believes herself liable to be arrested and imprisoned, so it is most probable that, hoping to save herself, she will tell your mother where we are.’

  Charles’s eyes brightened for a moment, then he said dubiously, ‘But is it likely she will arrive in time? Some days must yet elapse before she becomes sufficiently concerned about receiving no letter from you to decide to act, and then she’ll have to make the journey from London to Dublin.’

  ‘True. We can hardly expect her in less than ten days. But does that matter? You have been down here a fortnight, and if they had intended to starve you into submission they would have attempted that already. To have to remain cooped up here in this uncomfortable hole for two or three weeks is plaguey annoying, but we must be as patient as we can until Georgina comes to our rescue.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ Charles burst out. ‘Or perhaps I failed to tell you. There is a deadline, a time limit beyond which I dare not procrastinate. The hour Jemima would have me wed her has already been fixed by she. ’Tis midnight on the 30th—that is May Day Eve, or Walpurgisnacht as some call it. ’Tis one of the four great Satanic feasts of the year, and that is obviously why Katie O’Brien chose it.’

  ‘I see no reason why you should not refuse to marry her that night more than on any other.’

  ‘But, Uncle Roger, unless help does come I must! I must, because of Susan.’

  As Roger’s mind grasped an awful possibility, he asked in an appalled whisper. ‘You don’t mean …?’

  ‘I do.’ Charles nodded miserably. ‘After I’d been incarcerated here a week, the witch came to the manhole up there and, as I’d proved stubborn, gave me an ultimatum. On the night of the 30th, whatever happens they mean to celebrate a Black Mass. She would like it to form part of my marriage ceremony, with me taking the priest’s place for the final act of copulating with Jemima on the altar. But if I refuse, it will be Susan on the altar, being deflowered by that filthy priest.’

  ‘Oh, God, how frightful!’ Roger groaned, burying his face in his hands.

  ‘It won’t come to that,’ Charles strove to reassure him. ‘I made up my mind days ago that the chances of my being rescued were almost non-existent, so I’d have to marry Jemima when the time comes.’

  Roger looked up. ‘We still have a fortnight. Two of us having now disappeared, there is a strong likelihood of Georgina coming over and demanding the Viceroy’s help to find us before the end of the month.’

  ‘That’s true, and gives me a more realistic hope to cling to than I had before your coming. But, Uncle Roger, you’re looking terribly fatigued. Had you not best now try to get some sleep?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Roger agreed. Firmly refusing Charles’s offer of the palliasse, he rolled up his cloak for a pillow and lay down on the fourth wooden platform, which had nothing on it, then Charles blew out the candle.

  Both of them lay long awake, so when they did drop off they slept late, and were aroused by a shaft of light from the ceiling, penetrating the stygian blackness of the dungeon. In the manhole above, the negro Aboe’s head appeared and, having called down to them, he lowered a rope with a hook on the end, to which a bag was attached.

  Before going to sleep Roger had pondered the possibility of making a base of the four wooden sleeping platforms, standing on it then, if Charles stood on his shoulders, the manhole might be reached and lifted. But he now saw that the manhole was a good twenty-five feet from the floor, so could not possibly be got at in that way. To have seized the rope and climbed up it was equally impracticable for, as soon as his head came within striking distance, the negro would hit him. The shute he already knew to be too smooth and steep for them to wriggle up, so he now resigned himself to the fact that there was no way in which they could break out.

  Charles lit the candle, removed the supply of fresh food from the bag and put his debris from the previous da
y in it. He also attached on the hook the six-gallon water jar. It was hauled up and a full jar let down, then a palliasse and blankets for Roger were lowered, after which the rope was withdrawn and the manhole closed.

  They used part of the water to wash in, then poured it down the hole that served as a latrine; but they had no means of shaving. During the past fortnight Charles had grown an inch-long, dark beard and, not having shaved now for two days, Roger’s chin was covered in stubble.

  After eating, they passed the morning exchanging accounts of Napoleon’s overthrow and Wellington’s final triumphant campaign. In the afternoon the manhole was again lifted, and the witch’s head appeared above it. She had come to take a look at her new captive, and to ask him how he had learned the whereabouts of her hiding place.

  As Roger considered Maureen Luggala criminally responsible for having lured Susan to Ireland, then abducting her, he had no scruples in telling the witch how he had blackmailed Maureen into bringing him out there. Katie then urged him to persuade Charles to agree to marry Jemima without further argument and, as an inducement, promised to use her powers to ensure their marriage being a happy one.

  When she withdrew her head, Jemima’s took its place. She gaily twitted Roger on having outwitted him, and said she thought him a gallant fellow for having attempted singlehanded to rescue his daughter. She went on to say that she was genuinely fond of Susan, that Susan would soon get over losing Charles to her, and that when they were married and she had become mistress of White Knights Park, he and Susan would always be most welcome guests there.

  The prisoners whiled away the rest of the day reading and chatting, then slept again. Charles had been so distraught about Susan when his attempt to get her away had failed that he was uncertain of the actual date upon which he had been thrown down into the dungeon. Roger, however, knew that he had arrived on April 16th, so they made a calendar on which to tick off the days.

  Those that followed varied little from the first after Roger had joined Charles, except that the witch did not come to the manhole again, and Jemima only did so now and then, having found that Charles continued to be unresponsive to her blandishments. The food sent down to them was plain and consisted only of such items as could be procured locally, but it was reasonably good and Charles said that Jemima had apologised for there being only water to drink, but the cellars of the Castle were empty and they could not send anyone in to Dublin to buy wine. Rats, feasting on such food as they left, troubled them at times, but did not attack them. Their prison was ventilated only by the hole in the floor. Although chilly, it was not uncomfortably cold and, from time to time, they warmed themselves up by flailing their arms or doing exercises.

  A simple calculation showed it to be most unlikely that Georgina would be sufficiently disturbed to come to Ireland before the 23rd. So, for their first week together Roger and Charles settled down philosophically to pass the time as well as they could.

  But after the 23rd they both admitted that they had been subconsciously counting on Georgina arriving with troops to rescue them and, from then on, they found themselves constantly listening for sounds of strife above. As books could no longer hold their attention, Roger suggested that they should try to make a set of chessmen out of such oddments as they could gather together, and Charles promptly produced adequate, if unusual materials.

  Reaching under one of the wooden forms, he pulled out a handful of bones, and said, ‘Centuries ago captives for whom the Luggalas had no further use were not, I think, put down the shute but just dropped through the manhole and, poor wretches, left with broken bones to starve to death here. When I was first sent down candles to light this place, I found half a dozen bundles of rags scattered about, and each contained a skeleton. Not liking such company, I gathered them up and pushed them out of sight under these bed platforms, evidently furnished for prisoners of a later date, who were to be fed and kept alive.

  It took them several hours to sort out from among the remains of the long-dead prisoners enough teeth, backbone discs, knuckle, toe and other suitable bones to represent the pieces of a chess set, and make the equivalent of a board. This they did, with alternate squares of printed and plain paper torn from some of the old books that Jemima had sent down. But when they had done, concentrating on moves of these macabre relics of mediaeval brutality did take their minds off their anxieties for considerable periods.

  Nevertheless, there were times, and particularly at night, while they were trying to get to sleep, when they could not rid themselves of their speculation about a future that looked black with menace. Inexorably the days wore on. With the passing of each there was a stronger possibility that Georgina, worried out of her wits by the disappearance of the two of them, would come to Ireland. As a Duchess and a famous society beauty, she would have no difficulty in obtaining the Viceroy’s assistance in her search for them. Police agents would make enquiries at hostelries and livery stables, and troops be sent out to scour the country for many miles round. Maureen Luggala would be interrogated and, if at first she stubbornly refused to reveal the place where Charles and Roger were, although Georgina had no means of threatening her she was very rich and, as Maureen was very poorly off, Georgina should be able to buy the information.

  Every morning the two prisoners woke, hoping that this would be the day when either the negro, with a musket at his back, would lead the rescuers to the manhole, or they would hear searchers of the ruin up in the corridor above shouting their names. Yet each night brought more bitter disappointment.

  At length the long-dreaded last day of April came. Soon after their food for the day had been lowered to them the face of the witch appeared at the manhole and she called down to Charles:

  ‘How does my young lordling feel upon his wedding morn? If need be I can have him dragged to the altar, but I hope that will not be necessary. What answer am I to take to Jemima?’

  As Charles remained silent, she went on, ‘Come now, be sensible. For this past month she has scarce been able to contain her itch for you, and as pretty a baggage as you could find in all Dublin she is. Ah, and well tutored in all lascivious arts by myself. Play your part willingly in tonight’s ceremony and you will experience such pleasure in her arms as will drive from your mind all thought of that sulky wench, Susan. But do you continue to defy me I’ll have to force you into marrying her by a red-hot iron applied to your arse. ’Tis dearly I’ll make you suffer for it afterwards too. I’ll have Aboe make a eunuch of you. I’ll not stop either at inflicting only physical pain. Since this passion for Susan you have, you shall see her stripped, whipped, then violated in turn by Father Damien, Aboe and my two Irish morons.’

  Roger closed his eyes and clenched his fists until his nails bit into the palms of his hands. Charles looked up and gulped out. ‘If … if I agree, will you free Susan and Mr. Brook, without harming them?’

  ‘It is me they would have harmed if they could,’ replied the witch, ‘but for Jemima’s sake I’ll forgo the punishment I intended to inflict on them. That you should put the past behind you and co-operate willingly, instead of being forced to it, means a great deal to her.’

  ‘Do you swear to God that you will keep your promise?’

  ‘Yes, I swear to God they shall remain unharmed and be freed.’

  ‘Very well, then,’ Charles sighed. ‘Tonight I will do all that you require of me.’

  The witch gave a pleased laugh and closed the manhole.

  Charles and Roger sat down side by side and, for some minutes, remained silent, then the latter said, ‘Participation in this Black Mass tonight will prove a revolting business for you. But try all the time to bear in mind that you have been forced to it in order to save Susan from appalling degradation and that, like a betrayal that has been extracted from you by torture, it will not be held against your spiritual integrity.’

  ‘You are right in that,’ Charles conceded miserably. ‘But it means that I’ll have lost Susan for ever.’

  ‘Not necessaril
y. When this is over, no-one can force you to continue living with Jemima. And if Susan truly loves you, as I believe she does, she would agree to become your mistress.’

  ‘I think she would, but I’d not ask it of her. Did we live together openly she would be ostracised by society, and a hole-in-the-corner affair would be a poor outlook for us both. She would not feel free to marry another, and we would be unable to share a home. But there are still many hours to go. My mother may yet arrive in time to save us. I intend to spend the day in prayer that may come about.’

  ‘God grant, then, that your prayers may be answered,’ Roger replied quietly. He refrained from adding that, although he believed that at times prayers are answered, they seldom were, as he well knew from the tens of thousands of men who had prayed that they might live through Napoleon’s battles, yet had died on the field or been frozen to death in the snows of Russia during the terrible retreat from Moscow.

  Hour after hour crept by. Charles spent a great part of them on his knees. Roger sat silent, racking his wits for some means by which, when they were brought up from the dungeon, they might trick their enemies; but he thought in vain.

  At last the long day was past. Charles refused to eat anything, but Roger, as had long been his habit when about to face a crisis, fortified himself with a good meal then lay down to doze during such time as remained to them.

  He was roused by the sound of the manhole being opened, and Aboe lowering the rope from the hook of which now dangled a stout leather belt. The big negro then called down that one of them should buckle it round him, lest he lose his grip on the rope while climbing up.

  Without consulting Charles Roger buckled on the belt and, hand over hand, hauled himself up the thick rope. His only hope now was that, as he come up through the hole, he would be able to get his hands round Aboe’s throat. But he could not let go of the rope until he was through the hole, and the negro had taken a precaution against being attacked. The moment Roger’s head emerged through the hole, Aboe slipped a noose of cord over it and jerked it tight round his neck. Half strangled, he was pulled out and immediately seized by Gog and Magog, who bound first his hands securely behind his back, then his ankles with the ends of a yard-long cord; so that he could walk, but could not kick out or run. Five minutes later Charles, having been rendered incapable of resistance in a similar manner, stood beside him.