“Elizabeth?”
“Yes. I told you I would come. You knew I wouldn’t leave you to him, didn’t you? He has had you bewitched, Tegan. You have suffered…”
“I was in a dark house,” she said suddenly, the memory of it sending a flash of pain across her face. “I didn’t like it there. I couldn’t get out.” She shook her head. “No! He will not let me go. He said he would never let me go!”
“But Tegan…” I started toward her but shouts from outside stopped me. I could hear Erasmus’s voice raised in warning. I could also hear a second voice which filled me with alarm, and sent poor Tegan into a panic.
“He has come for me!” she cried, and yet she did not try to hide, but ran to the door and was outside before I could catch her.
14
Dawn was beginning to lighten the darkness, so that I could clearly see Gideon standing face to face with Erasmus. They were of similar height and build, but from each emanated an entirely different manner of strength. Erasmus exuded restless energy, a swiftness of body and spirit, and a contrasting stalwart, noble steadfastness. From Gideon came a formidable magic force, the sense of a dislocated soul, and a fearsome, barely contained rage.
When Tegan saw him she stopped running. She was trembling again now, and appeared to be torn between rushing toward him or fleeing in the opposite direction. It seemed I had only been partially successful in lifting Gideon’s spell, and now that he was here, so very close to her, he was able to reinforce his will over her own.
“Tegan, you must stay here, stay with me,” I told her firmly. She was more present, more clearly herself than she had been when we took her from the townhouse, but still Gideon’s magic lingered within her. He would not let her go so easily. “You must resist him,” I said again. “Draw on your own strength. Remember what you have learned and use your own magic!”
Gideon laughed loudly. “Bess Hawksmith, will you never recognize your limitations? You cannot take what is mine.”
“Tegan is not yours! She is free of your control.”
“Now, you know that isn’t true. Look at her. The poor girl is tormented. Why must you always interfere, Bess? Could you not leave well alone, just this once?”
I reached out to take hold of Tegan but before I had touched her I felt a searing pain through my body. Gideon had flung a spell at me so quickly I had not even sensed he was building up to it. It threw me off balance, so that I fell awkwardly to the ground. The sensation was one of burning, and was so intense I feared it would overcome me. At that moment I remembered Keanes’s gift. I grabbed the foal’s bread from my pocket and clutched it tight against my heart, offering a silent prayer asking for its magical protection. At once the heat of Gideon’s spell subsided. It did not cease altogether, but was reduced to a tolerable level.
Erasmus leapt at Gideon. Whatever the warlock had expected of the Time Stepper it was not this startlingly quick physical attack. For a moment the two of them struggled on the forest floor and I saw a dull glimmer of the dawn light gleam from the blade of Erasmus’s knife. But even his speed of action was no match for his opponent. With a curse, Gideon used the dark energy that was forever at his fingertips and sent Erasmus flying backward. He traveled twenty yards or more before he crashed to the ground, his back connecting with the unyielding tree stumps that were hidden beneath the tangle of ivy and brambles. He lay groaning, stunned and in pain.
At that same moment, Tegan made her decision, turned and ran. She was still weak from the spell and slowed by its influence, so that she stumbled and gasped as she blundered through the woods. Her progress was slow and painful, but at least she was running away from and not toward Gideon.
I knew I had to seize the moment. I picked myself up and summoned my own magic. If nothing else I had to give Tegan time to get away. I drew up the loose earth on the forest floor, stirring it into a whirlwind, which gathered speed and force, so that it soon sticks and stones raised up with it, and then heavier boughs and rocks. The maelstrom lifted up, spinning with increasing velocity until I sent it hurtling toward Gideon. He deflected it, but was not entirely able to alter its trajectory, so that the edge of its whipping winds knocked him off balance, causing him to stagger backward. I stood panting from the effort of what I had done and watched in horror as Gideon merely brushed off the effects of the vortex and began striding toward me.
Neither of us saw Erasmus’s knife cut through the air, but we both heard the fleeting sound it made as it traveled, followed by the sickening noise of it entering with Gideon’s flesh. He screamed with fury and pain, clutching at his upper arm where the blade had sliced through his coat and impaled itself deep into the muscle.
Erasmus was on his feet again. “Elizabeth, go after Tegan,” he shouted. “Go!”
I was reluctant to leave him to face Gideon alone. He might have injured the warlock, but still it was far from an even match. But I knew this was my chance to catch up with Tegan before she ran heavens knew where, and while Gideon could not come after us. I jammed the hippomane back into my pocket, hitched up my skirts and fled in the direction the girl had gone. Day had properly broken now, so that even in the gloom of the forest I could see where I was going. I could also track the trampled plants, broken twigs and scuffed earth Tegan had left in the wake of her unsteady progress through the woods. At last I glimpsed her, just as she left the shelter of the trees and reached the open meadow. I strove to quicken my pace, cursing my heavy skirts and aged limbs as I scrambled after the much younger, faster woman. Had she not been debilitated by the spell I would have stood no chance of closing the gap between us.
“Tegan! Tegan wait, please!” I called after her, but she gave no sign of having heard me.
I emerged from the woods to step onto the track that bordered the field only to be almost run down by a galloping horse that was pelting over the stony ground. Its rider hauled on the reins so violently in an effort to avoid trampling me that the animal reared up. I threw my arms over my head in an instinctive action to protect myself, but the horse’s hooves landed harmlessly clear of me, the rider uttering oaths as they did so. I looked up, panting both from running and from shock.
“Keanes! What are you doing? You nearly ran me down.”
“Forgive me, mistress,” he fought to steady the horse which I now saw was wet with sweat, its mouth foaming, its flanks heaving, having evidently been ridden at desperate speed. “I came looking for you. When you were not at the mill I thought to go to your old home, but on the way I saw the warlock enter the woods. I rode as fast as I could to cover the distance, and when I saw the girl running, I knew you would be close by.”
“But, I don’t understand, how did you know, about Master Grimsteeds, I mean, Mister Masters?”
“There is no time to explain now, mistress. I’ve come for Sir William. “’Tis him as needs you now.”
“What has happened?”
“They have taken him from the cellar. A letter arrived. The charge of treason is confirmed. You must come back to the Hall with me now.”
“What? But I cannot leave Tegan … I must…”
“He is to hang, mistress, make no mistake.”
“You mean, they are taking him to Oxford? To the jail there and the assizes?”
“There will be no trial. No justice. He is condemned. They mean to hang him now, this very morning, at six of the clock. We have but minutes.”
“No!”
“You must help him, mistress. There is none other as can save him,” he insisted, holding out his hand to me.
My mind was in turmoil, my heart aching with the cruelty of it all. If I did not go after Tegan now she might be lost. Or worse, Gideon might get to her before I did, for I could not be certain Erasmus would be able to stop him. But if I did not go to William at that very moment, he would certainly die. His need, I decided, was more urgent. Sending a silent plea to the Goddess to watch over Tegan and strengthen Erasmus’s arm, I took Keanes’s hand and sprang up onto the saddle behind him. I
scarcely had time to catch my breath before he wheeled the plunging horse about and we were galloping across the meadow back toward Batchcombe Hall.
Keanes might have been bent and slow when on his feet, but he was still a strong and skillful horseman. We covered the ground with impressive speed, and my thoughts raced nearly as fast. I was fortunate indeed that he remembered my mother so fondly, else I would not have his trust now. It was her kindness I had to thank for the fact that I might have a chance to save William from the noose. But what was I to do? Keanes and I could not effect a dramatic rescue, and there was no reason Colonel Gilchrist would take my wishes into consideration. And in any case, what connection could I profess to have with William that would allow me to plead his case at all? I frantically cast about for some way I could persuade him to wait, to at least see that William received a trial, but I could think of nothing that would sway him. My only alternative was to use my magic, but I could not do so against an entire regiment of soldiers! It seemed an impossible hope that I could do anything to stop the execution going ahead. I was a lone woman, without money or influence, and as such I had no power. Which brought me back to my magic, for that was surely a power Colonel Gilchrist would have to acknowledge. By the time we came in sight of the great house I had formulated a plan.
I had Keanes set me down out of sight of the soldiers. He had risked a great deal by taking the horse from the stables. By now all of William’s goods and livestock would have been commandeered, and horse thieves were summarily hanged in these terrible times. There was no time to thank him, and we both knew that. He dismounted and led the horse away, and I ran into the Hall through a little-used door on the west side. I tore through the rooms and passageways, exiting through the front door as if I had been in the house all night. My legs ached from so much running and I found I was dizzy from lack of rest or food, but there was not a moment to be lost. I could see William being led toward the huge cedar tree by the walled garden. A rope already hung from a high branch. Beneath it a cart was positioned, with an old grey mare in the shafts. William’s hands were bound and a guard held each arm, marching him forward. Colonel Gilchrist and Captain Anderson sat at a table that had been brought out from the house. There was a hangman wearing a hood, and a priest had been found from somewhere. He read from his good book, his words lost to me as I could make out nothing but the pounding of my heartbeats and my own, exhausted, ragged breathing.
“Stop!” I cried out. “Please, I beg of you, do not continue with this injustice!” I all but fell at the colonel’s feet, leaning heavily against the table to support myself, fighting to regain my breath and my composure.
“Elizabeth!” William could not help using my name. He struggled against his guards who momentarily halted, unsure if they should continue regardless of the interruption and clearly waiting for instructions from their commanding officers.
Captain Anderson got to his feet. The colonel remained seated and regarded me with impatience.
“Widow Carmichael, you are in something of a state, I see.”
“Forgive me, Colonel. I have only just heard … I made haste to get here in time. Sir William is no traitor.”
He waved a piece of paper at me. “I have an order here that tells me otherwise,” he said. “It seems his family have long been known as Royalists active against us. His brother fought beneath this misplaced loyalty.”
“And died for it, sir. Sir William does not share his brother’s conviction. He is a man of peace.”
“Indeed, which is why his servant sought to kill me the instant he set eyes upon me?”
“Another who had suffered great loss in the war, Colonel. He acted out of grief.”
“And might not Sir William wish to avenge his own brother? You cannot have it all ways, mistress. Besides, the matter is settled.” He gestured at the guards to continue.
“Please, I beg of you, do not do this!” I knelt in front of him now, prepared to beg if beg I must. “Have I not been of assistance to your cause, Colonel? Could you not grant me this one thing. I understand you have your orders, but surely, to kill a man without a fair trial … is this the new world we have been hoping for? When a man can be dragged from his home on hearsay without the opportunity to speak for himself, without the chance to prove his innocence?”
The colonel raised his eyebrows. “You speak with passion for someone scarce acquainted with the man, mistress. Why would you concern yourself so with a king’s man? Unless of course, that is where in truth your own loyalties lie after all?”
“It is not, sir, I swear it. But Sir William is a man I have known all my life, and I cannot stand by and see him treated so, see him die for want of justice.”
“What a noble sentiment, though I fancy I detect something else. To be a widow in these times is a lonely thing, I’ll wager. Might it be that your passion is not for justice but for the man himself, eh?” Colonel Gilchrist smiled at the thought, amused at the idea of an illicit love affair, and pleased with himself for having uncovered what he believed to be our secret.
I was never a person given to weeping, but I knew the sincerity a woman’s tears could sometimes be thought to give to her words. I sobbed then, drawing on my exhaustion, my fear for Tegan, my concern for Erasmus, my hatred of Gideon, my desperation for William, so that the tears I shed were indeed sincerely meant.
“Please, Colonel, I implore you. I will work on to treat your wounded, I will travel with your regiment when you are called to move on if that is what you wish, but please grant this man a little time to persuade those who stand in judgment of him of his innocence.”
I waited. The guards waited. The executioner folded his arms. The priest came to the end of his reading. Among the smaller branches of the cedar tree, high above this woeful scene, a robin sang out, bright and cheerful.
At last the colonel spoke. “I am sorry, mistress, but I have my orders. The man must hang. There it is.” He nodded at the guards once more and they manhandled William forward to the improvised gallows, lifting him onto the back of the cart.
I got unsteadily to my feet. I forced myself to keep looking at William. What I was about to do was laden with risk, so that I must do what I could to avert suspicion. I muttered beneath my breath. If anyone standing close heard me, they would in all probability think me praying.
A small cloud passed in front of the low sun, casting a shadow and a chill.
The robin fell silent.
I closed my eyes and let out a long, long breath.
Behind me the colonel uttered first a gasp, then a cry. He leapt to his feet, clutching his stomach. Captain Anderson put out a hand to steady his commanding officer, but the older man fell, writhing, to the ground. The guards hesitated. All eyes were on the colonel, who was by now shrieking as if he were being eviscerated.
“Sir!” Captain Anderson was horrified. “What is it, sir. What ever is the matter?”
“Dear Lord! My innards will burst from me. Argh! Such pain!” His face was contorted with it, his legs curled up under him, his groans increasing in volume and frequency.
“Are you wounded, Colonel?” The captain was at a loss to understand how the man came to be in such agony without apparent cause.
“You fool!” cried the colonel through clenched teeth. “This is some malady. Argh, it will kill me for certain if it is not stopped!” He spluttered, straining to see me, though his eyes were blurred with tears of his own now. Men’s tears. Which might have moved some, but stirred little in me. “Widow Carmichael! Help me, woman. For the love of God, help me!”
I knelt beside him again, only this time he was the one in despair, and I was the one with the power. How quickly things could change.
“Why, Colonel,” I said, “you appear to have been taken sorely ill indeed.”
“What is it, d’you suppose?” he gasped. “What can cause such terrible pain?”
I placed my hand upon his sweating brow, and then peered into his bleary eyes, and made something of a show of lo
wering my head to his chest to listen, though I cannot imagine what it was those present thought I listened for. At last I straightened up, my face grim.
“I fear an obstruction in his gut,” I told them. “If it is not attended to it may rupture.”
The colonel uttered another cry of agony.
I explained further. “His body has most likely weakened through years of the exertions of battle, poor quality of food, and a surfeit of cheap wine. These things have taken their toll, and now there is a failure to function…”
The colonel’s only comment on this diagnosis was a long scream.
Captain Anderson whispered urgently in my ear, “Mistress, what is to be done? Can he be saved?”
I responded only after a moment’s thought. A moment which passed more slowly for the colonel than for the rest of us, I believe.
“The putrid piece or blockage must be removed, and quickly.”
The captain looked horrified. “Have you ever performed such a task yourself?” he asked.
“More than once,” I told him.
“And was it successful?” he wanted to know.
I looked the colonel in the eye as I replied, “More than once.”
“Then get to it woman, for pity’s sake. Do what you must, and do it quickly!”
The captain barked orders for a stretcher to be brought, for a space to be made ready in the house, for whatever I needed to be given me, and every assistance made available. I stood quite still while all this activity swirled about me. It was only as the colonel was lifted onto a hastily fetched stretcher that I spoke again.
“I am sorry, Colonel Gilchrist, but I cannot help you.”
“What?” All color had by now drained from his face, the relentless pain leaving him increasingly breathless. “What’s that you say?”
“My place is here. With Sir William.”
“God damn it, woman, you will do as I instruct you! Captain Anderson, bring her along!”
I held up my hand to stop the captain taking hold of me. “You may drag me to your sickbed, sir, and you might hold a musket to my head or a knife to my throat, but would you truly wish to have a reluctant surgeon open your belly?” I let this thought settle and then continued. “How much better to be in the care of someone grateful. Someone who believes you a just and fair man. Someone who, perhaps, is in some way in your debt?”
The Return of the Witch Page 16