To Sleep No More

by Deryn Lake

  The fire burned low and Richard slept more deeply, dreaming that he was married to the Dark Lady, but loved another; another whose beauty was a dazzling combination of white-gold hair and eyes vivid as forest bluebells. In the dream Richard was running, speeding through the woods and dales of the magic valley, following the fleeting figure that ran before him. In his ears was the sound of an instrument like a lute and Richard found himself saying, ‘Curse the half-wit. Why is he always here?’ There was no response, the music continuing to play a bizarre accompaniment to the movement of his limbs, as Richard sped deeper into the wood to catch the object of his love.

  Before him lay a golden glade, full of sunshine and light bright trees, which seemed to be the only place into which the girl could have vanished. He hurried in after her. She stood there, smiling, her features half hidden by leafy shadows and Richard advanced towards her with his arms outstretched. ‘I love you,’ he said, and bent to kiss her. The face that looked up at his was Benjamin Mist’s and Richard started back in horror. The running girl and the carpenter had become one person. The dream had turned into a nightmare.

  With a groan, Richard woke up, dragging himself back to reality and seeing the dogs, which had been asleep at his feet, stirring, the hackles on their backs starting to rise. Richard moaned in despair. The chill and the reaction of the animals could mean only one thing. Somewhere in the quiet of that sleeping house the Dark Lady was walking.

  In sympathy with the yeoman’s jagged nerves his bladder shot him an urgent message and, opening the front door, he stepped outside to deal with it: Thus he was caught completely unawares when a man flew at him out of the darkness, knocking him to the ground even as his water continued to flow.

  ‘Whore’s pox!’ screamed Richard. ‘Who’s there?’

  For reply his assailant leapt on him, punching and kicking and being none too careful where he directed his blows. Doubled in agony Maynard shouted, ‘You bastard, Mist. I’ll kill you for this.’

  The answer was two savage kicks from which Maynard felt he would never recover. ‘You’re ... ruining ... me,’ he gasped.

  ‘Good,’ said a rough gruff voice and, as the moon peeped for a second, Richard saw that his attacker was unknown to him.

  ‘Who ... are ... you?’ he said, as consciousness drifted away.

  ‘No one you’ll ever meet again. I’m here on behalf of your wife, that’s all you have to remember.’

  Everything went black and the yeoman lay still as the sound of retreating hooves filled the night with echoes.

  *

  From the outside Maud’s cottage always reminded Tom May of a ship. It seemed to lean slightly, like a vessel coming into port, and with its wooden boarding painted white and its structure so untypically large, the illusion was complete for him. It lay back from the track, on the incline to the east of the village, only a slight distance from the walls of the palace itself, and he thought it far too pretty to house such a repellent old beldam.

  Though he could easily have walked there, this day Tom made the journey on horseback, tricked out very finely as befitted the Lord of the Manor’s son. He was amazed, therefore, when he arrived to find Maud, as if fighting fire with fire, grandly bedecked in bright clothes — which Tom recognised at once as cast-offs of his mother’s — and sporting an overpowering hat.

  ‘You look very festive,’ he said, in some astonishment. ‘What a magnificent chapeau.’

  ‘I wore that to Jenna’s wedding,’ she answered, simpering, ‘and to Debora’s too. That all seems so long ago now. How sad is the way of the world.’

  This gave Tom the very opening gambit he required and as, at her invitation, he sat down at her rough wooden table and took a draught of ale, he said, ‘Sad indeed that such rejoicings should have led to this — Debora dead and Jenna in gaol on such flimsy charges.’

  She took him up on his words at once, her eyes suddenly hard as pebbles. ‘Flimsy, Master Tom. Why say you that?’

  Praying that his speech defect would not spoil his burst of confidence, Tom answered roundly, ‘Because I do not believe Jenna started that fire. I believe it was started by a human agency and she is having to bear the blame for it.’

  ‘But she is a self-confessed witch.’

  ‘For using love potions? Why, if all the women who had secretly resorted to them were put on trial, I believe that half of Sussex would be in gaol.’

  Maud said, ‘It is a good thing your father cannot hear you say that.’

  ‘My father has a duty to do,’ Tom answered. ‘I am a poet and see things differently.’

  Maud did not reply and there was no sound except for the swigging of ale and the bark of a dog outside. Eventually she said, ‘It may be unguarded of me to tell you but I had a son once. He was born out of wedlock, and to most people I pretended the child was my nephew.’

  ‘Did he die?’

  ‘Yes, he was witched. It was Alice Casselowe who killed him. But, of course, I could prove nothing. She was already in Horsham Gaol by then, serving sentence. And by the time I was sure of her guilt and would have made complaint, she had perished in prison.’

  ‘So you are no lover of the Casselowes,’ said Tom reflectively. ‘Tell me, how did she bewitch him?’

  ‘I called her in to help me when he was sick and lay in his crib in the chimney corner. And though she gave him possets and said to him, “Ah, good child, how thou art burdened” — and did this three times, Master Tom, each time taking him by the hand — he died that night.’

  ‘I see,’ answered Tom. A strange certainty was coming to him and he stood up, leaning over Maud until their eyes were level. ‘Are you sure that it is not your grudge against Alice that has affected your judgement of her niece?’

  ‘No,’ the gossip answered vehemently. ‘I saw Benjamin Mist and Debora on the night Jenna was in labour. The witch’s niece killed Goody Maynard for revenge.’

  ‘You saw the couple making love? Is that it?’

  ‘No.’ Maud suddenly sounded less sure. ‘He was riding along with her.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tom again. He put his hands on her shoulders, very gently. ‘I am sorry for the death of your son but you should not let that cloud your judgement. It seems to me that all the evidence against Jenna is based on the hearsay of those who bear her ill will.’

  Maud’s face contorted. ‘Get out,’ she screamed, ‘get out of my house. You cannot speak to me like this, Master Tom. Though you may have seduced me with fine words in the past, you have now turned traitor...’

  And without further explanation she snatched up her broom and beat Tom May out of doors.

  Thirty-one

  The sun came up dripping with blood; no gentle rose or amber to soften the eastern sky, no first deep shards of nutmeg, no faint gleam of gold to banish the starshot night. Instead a furious eye, glaring down on the world with loathing, ready to scorch and hurt and wound those who dared fall beneath its violent and malevolent stare. Could any good, Benjamin thought, come on a day starting with so ill an omen? Shaking his head fearfully, he went inside.

  He had followed the cart that took Jenna — her hands manacled behind her, her long hair hiding her face — out of Maighfield and on her journey to Horsham. At first he had walked behind it, only a yard or two away from where his wife sat slumped, her head bowed forward, a stain forming on her bodice where her heavy breasts leaked out milk. But after a few miles the constable, who sat in the cart with his prisoner while his deputy drove the horse, started to shout at him.

  ‘Mist, be off with you. You must not follow like this. Go home or I’ll put you on a charge.’ Then, when he had looked at the carpenter’s dust-streaked, defiant face, he had said in a more moderate tone, ‘See reason, man. It will do neither of you any good if you are both in trouble.’

  Yet how could he ever leave her, now that at last he knew her for his soulmate? Knowing that he must appear to give in, Benjamin had turned round and headed back to Maighfield, realising that Jenna was too exha
usted even to raise her head and see him go. But as soon as he was safely within his cottage walls, he had collected together all their money and a few pathetic valuables and put everything he had into his saddle-bag. Then, praying he would meet no highway robbers, he had set off on the nag as night fell.

  He had been lucky, and had arrived at Horsham before dawn, going straight to the George Inn, which stood immediately opposite the gaol. The inn was the gaoler’s tap, the place where he bought drink which he subsequently supplied to prisoners at his own price. In fact all their needs were supplied by the gaoler in return for cash, and it was he who took charge of any money allotted for support of the felons, either by statute or charity. Benjamin thought bitterly that though some inmates lived on the brink of starvation, the gaoler’s purse was never empty.

  He had not slept after his ride, preferring to stand in front of the fire and dry his sodden clothes, before sitting in a chair and waiting until the moment when the evil red-eyed sun had risen in the heavens. When it had come at last, poor Benjamin had gone to the doorway and thought it the most cruel dawning he had ever seen. A shiver which seemed to rise from the depths of his soul had sent him scurrying back to the embers, praying for Jenna’s welfare.

  Immediately opposite the George, its grey walls deceptively rosy in the early light, stood the gaol, separated from the inn by Gaol Green and a track called Carfax, nicknamed the Scarefolks by the prisoners. The place had originally been built as a religious house but in 1539, after the dissolution of the monasteries, it had become the prison for both debtors and felons. Within that limited space were herded indiscriminately males and females, old and young, the dying and the newborn, the healthy and the sick. It was the common meeting ground for murderers and those whose only crime was penury; for pimps, whores and parsons; for gentlemen and vagabonds; for women, and men too, accused of consorting with Satan to achieve their heart’s desire.

  So it was with halting steps that Benjamin knocked on the door of the gaoler’s house, built on the northern corner of the Scarefolks, and asked to visit Jenna Mist, his hand holding out a purse of money as he spoke. Yet prepared as he was for the worst, he found it difficult to believe the sight that greeted his eyes.

  The communal cell in which his wife sat on the floor, her back turned away from him, was filthy, the only places for relief being a pile of straw and a pail shared between all the inmates. Needless to say very few bothered with such niceties, and the cell smelt like an open sewer. Not only that but it was overcrowded to the point of suffocation, and the air, foul with ordure and unclean bodies, was scarcely breathable.

  Some of the prisoners sat on the floor, their knees drawn to their chins to make more room, while others leant on the walls, pressed against the damp stones. In the middle of the area, regardless of the crowd around them and watched by a dirty, wide-eyed child, a couple were fornicating, as much to relieve themselves of boredom as for gratification.

  Benjamin was sickened to the heart; sickened that such degradation should be forced upon the innocent as well as the guilty, sickened that children should be forced to witness all that was worst in humanity’s nature, sickened that his wife should have been brought to the place where Alice Casselowe had suffered so much and now, in her turn, must follow suit.

  Kicking the jerking couple as he passed, Benjamin pushed his way over to Jenna. At the sound of footsteps she turned, her face lighting with a smile that made Benjamin feel he could weep.

  ‘You’ve come,’ she said. ‘I thought you would.’

  He took her in his arms and held her without speaking, staying like that for several minutes. It was she who finally broke the embrace, saying urgently, ‘Benjamin, I know I will never escape from here and I truly believe my life is drawing to a close. Promise me that our son will be cared for.’

  Her words filled him with dread, a dread made all the more acute because she had put into words what he had been denying to himself for several days.

  ‘There is no question of that,’ he answered, almost angrily. ‘You will be coming home to look after your son yourself. You will be acquitted of the charge. I know it.’

  She smiled, despairingly, but instead of answering him asked, ‘Have you brought any food? I have not eaten since I arrived here.’

  Cursing himself, Benjamin brought out a basket prepared for him at the George and containing a cooked chicken, a loaf of bread, cheese, apples and cakes, together with several jugs of ale. Jenna drank deeply and he saw the potent liquid take effect on her, empty as she was. Her colour heightened, her eyes sparkled, and her smile brightened.

  ‘I feel better,’ she said.

  Watching her, Benjamin was not surprised that those prisoners who could afford it spent most of their days in a state of total drunkenness.

  ‘Better enough for me to leave you?’

  Her face fell. ‘You are going home?’

  ‘No,’ said Benjamin. ‘I am going to see the Master of Glynde. Something has to be done to help you.’

  ‘But I am sure he was the father of Debora’s child, the child that died in the fire. Surely he’ll want to see me hang?’

  ‘Only if he believes you started it. Is he a sensible man?’

  Jenna drank again then answered, ‘He is something of a profligate but, for all that, no fool. I think you will like him.’

  ‘I would like the Devil himself if he could help you,’ answered Benjamin, then, realising what he had said, went white to the lips.

  *

  The bloodied sun had drained of colour and now soared high in the heavens as golden and fine as king’s plate. April was everywhere, smiling one minute, crying the next and Benjamin rode from Horsham to Glynde through showers that fell in sunshine, shattering the prisms and sending huge rainbows towering over the Downs like magic arches. The shades of the fields, fresh from the rain, were brilliant, the colours of flowers: pansy, columbine, golden brook and the dark sombre blue of monkshood were everywhere. At any other time Benjamin’s spirits would have lifted with the beauty of the sight, would have sung with the call of the cuckoo, but today he had no heart for splendour. Like an omen, as he entered the woods above Glynde, directly in his path a dead hawk silently swung from an oaktree’s branch, its wasted eye regarding him sorrowfully, its tail feathers starting to rot. With a muffled exclamation, Benjamin hurried the nag on towards the great house.

  Yet if the hawk had been a sign of ill luck its malevolence had not yet begun, for Benjamin just caught the Master of Glynde mounting his horse in the stable yard and obviously preparing to be away some days.

  ‘Yes?’ said Morley, rather crossly.

  ‘It’s about Jenna Mist,’ answered Benjamin with no pre-amble. ‘I am her husband. May I speak to you privately?’

  His desperation made him abrupt but he saw the Master’s eyes change as Robert said, ‘You’d better come in.’

  Benjamin shuffled his feet wretchedly. Standing in the beautiful library of Glynde Place he could still feel the stench of prison hanging about his clothes.

  He fought back his discomfort for Jenna’s sake. ‘You know what has happened, Master Morley? That Debora Maynard who worked here as your servant, has died in a fire in Maighfield?’ Benjamin omitted to mention the baby supposedly sired by the Master, and went on, ‘And that as a result my wife has been accused by Goodman Maynard of starting the fire through witchcraft and has been sent to Horsham Gaol pending trial?’

  At the mention of Richard’s name a curious expression crossed the Master’s face. ‘Aye, I know all that,’ he said.

  Benjamin at once guessed the connection between the attack on the yeoman by a mysterious assailant — an attack that had almost emasculated Richard, or so it was said — and Robert Morley. Chancing everything, he said, ‘I gather from your look that you do not like Maynard, Sir.’

  ‘Dislike is too strong a word,’ answered Robert, pouring out two glasses of Rhenish and handing one to Benjamin. ‘Despise describes my attitude to him more accurately.’
/>   ‘So you do not believe my wife started the fire in which Debora died?’

  Waving Benjamin to a chair, Robert sat down, crossing one leg over the knee of the other. ‘No,’ he answered slowly. ‘I do not believe that Jenna did that.’ He paused then added, ‘Though she is probably capable of it.’

  Benjamin stared angrily, half rising from his seat.

  ‘Sit down, Mist. I meant no harm. It is simply that I believe her to be ... powerful.’

  Controlling his annoyance, Benjamin said, ‘Can you help her, Master Morley? The case against her is very strong. I believe Richard Maynard wants to see her dead.’

  Robert looked thoughtful. ‘They have a great deal of evidence against her. They say the motive was jealousy and that she had already practised the black arts on you.’

  Despite the terrible circumstances and the grim nature of the conversation, Benjamin felt his cheeks grow hot. ‘Yes ... well. I believe she once gave me a harmless concoction.’

  Morley raised his brows.

  ‘... but a spell of unlawful love only means imprisonment. What am I saying? If Jenna was sentenced to a year in that stinking hole, it would surely kill her, just as it did her great aunt.’

  ‘But that sentence would be better than the death penalty, Mist.’

  ‘Yes it would. Master Morley, is it possible that she will be found not guilty of the other charge?’

  Robert fingered his chin thoughtfully, saying nothing. It was not the reaction Benjamin had been looking for and he stood up impatiently.

  ‘Well, I shall continue to fight for her.’

  Master Morley stood up also, signifying that the interview was at an end. ‘I will do all that I can, Mist. Be assured of that.’

  ‘Do you have a plan, Sir?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. The most I can do is to give assurances that she and her father were model tenants. But mud sticks. The name Casselowe will always be associated with witchcraft in the minds of many.’ His voice changed. ‘And now I must hurry you. Go to the kitchens on your way out and my steward will see that you are given food for Jenna. Farewell, Mist.’