Cauldron of Fear

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  'Small titties are so pretty, don't you think?' she whispered, staring straight into Sarah's startled eyes. 'Wouldn't you just love to take my teats into your pretty mouth and suck on them?' Suddenly she broke the contact and stepped back, pulling the front of her shirt loosely together again.

  'First, though,' she said, 'I think we should wash your face and make it pretty again.'

  Unlike the hapless Sarah, Kitty had survived their joint encounter whilst retaining most of her senses, though when the time finally came for Prudence to release her from the fiendish horse contraption, her legs did feel very weak and unsteady. As she stood meekly, while her wrists were strapped behind her back, she looked down at the unconscious figure still on the second horse and wondered which of them was better off.

  Prudence had made them both some thinly veiled promises as she supervised their earlier preparation, but it was perfectly clear, at this moment, that Sarah was in no fit condition to carry on with anything. The prolonged excesses visited upon them had taken a heavy toll of her lesser experience and she would be of absolutely no use for anything the older woman might have in mind.

  Roderick Grayling stooped over the motionless form, bending further to look at her face and shook his head. Turning to the two black girls he clapped his hands and made a series of signals, which they seemed to understand, for they immediately began unstrapping and unlocking Sarah's bonds and, as soon as they had freed her, lifted her easily between them and carried her towards the door.

  No such reprieve was forthcoming for Kitty however, although at least, she realised, any chance of the despicable Lord Soberton being given the freedom of her body had been averted, if indeed it had ever existed. Instead, after a hurried and whispered conversation between Grayling and Prudence, the latter turned back to Kitty and pointed in the direction the two girls had just taken Sarah.

  'Come along, my big-titted little cherub,' she leered, 'let's get you tidied up some and then I have a few more little surprises for you. I had hoped to entertain the both of you, but now you'll just have to work twice as hard, won't you?'

  Looking at Ellen Grayling, especially from the perspective of the extra height her heels gave her, Sarah began to wonder if she might not be able to overpower the girl, for she looked to be several pounds lighter and had clearly been drinking. However, hardly had the thought entered Sarah's head than the younger girl seemed to read her mind. Tossing her jacket across the end of the bed she turned, folded her arms across her chest and planted her bare feet firmly.

  'You can try it, if you like,' she said softly. 'You wouldn't be the first and neither would you be the first to end up flat on your back. I may look small, but I am very strong and I have been taught well in the arts of unarmed fighting. I have always believed that just because one is born female, one need not assume the sweet little girl role that men seem to take for granted.'

  'I expect, then,' Sarah said, 'that you fight like street urchin.' For a few seconds the two of them stood confronting each other, and then Ellen burst out laughing.

  'Aye, that I do, pretty girl,' she said. 'Only I'd give any of the village urchins more than a run for what little money they have. So, I can assume you will be sensible then? Otherwise I'll ring for a couple of footmen and have them truss you like a chicken first.'

  'First?' Sarah echoed. 'And what then?'

  Ellen grinned impishly and threw herself back to loll on the bed, crossing her legs and leaning back on her elbows. 'Well then, pretty,' she giggled, 'I should have to thrash that splendid little bottom of yours, after which you would be begging me to let you do the very thing I want you to do now anyway, do you understand?'

  'Yes,' Sarah said simply. Yes, she did understand. Whatever the older Prudence had intended to do with her once Roderick Grayling was through, his young sister clearly intended to do instead. Ellen's eyes had not left Sarah's near naked body since she entered, and now they seemed actually to be devouring her.

  'Furthermore,' Ellen continued, her lips suddenly forming a grimly set line, 'if you are wilful and disobedient, or if you displease me in any way whatsoever, I shall have the grooms hang you from one of the garden oaks by your pretty little ankles and whip you until you think you have gone to hell itself.

  'On the other hand, if you please me well, I may decide to ask my brother to let me keep you as my personal bed slave. You are certainly pretty enough for my tastes.'

  'Your slave?' Sarah gasped. 'I am no slave, whatever you people may like to think - not in the eyes of the law, at least.'

  Ellen studied Sarah's indignant expression and then gave a derisive snort. 'Let me tell you something,' she said, her voice dropping so that Sarah could barely hear her words, 'and it would be the better for you if you learn from it - and quickly. This estate is very large - the grounds stretch for miles in all directions - and there are keepers with dogs patrolling to keep away unwanted interference from the local people. As for anyone else, my father is a powerful man and my brother now likewise.

  'This is not the only place in England where you will find slaves, and there are plenty of other rich and powerful people who will ensure that always remains so, despite the worst efforts of those drab Puritan oafs in London.

  'So you - Sarah, isn't it? - had better get this into that pretty head. Here you are a slave and here you will remain, with me, for as long as it pleases me. Either that, or you will find yourself aboard a ship bound either for the Indies or for the east. Whichever it is, I would not envy you, for a slave girl in either place would not expect an easy life, nor would she expect a long one, understand?'

  Sarah lowered her eyes and nodded. She knew enough to accept that what she said was largely true. Parliament may well have dethroned and executed a king and even humbled many of his former supporters, but wealth still remained in the hands of the privileged minority and wealth had always bought power and influence.

  On the surface, no doubt, the pampered aristocracy would appear to be conforming, but underneath, away from the public eye, in places like this, the old ways would die hard - if at all.

  'Good,' Ellen said. 'Now, come over here and remove my shirt and breeches and then you can use that sweet little tongue to help me relax for a little while. Later, perhaps, we may go riding, though we shall have to find you something a deal more suitable than what you are wearing now, delightful though it looks on you.'

  'They wouldn't dare!' James Calthorpe expostulated, still struggling to unfetter himself with the rather crude key Hannah had taken from the dead man's pocket. 'Would they?' He looked up at her, his features strained with doubt. Hannah, her eyes narrowed, looked deathly pale in the flickering lamplight.

  'I reckon they would,' she replied quietly. 'That bastard Crawley holds all the proper warrants. Wickstanner may be lower than a cockroach, but he'd not dare try anything like this, not unless everything was all legal.'

  'But all that witchcraft nonsense was ended six or seven years ago,' James protested. 'After that maniac Hopkins disappeared Parliament passed a law.'

  'Which half the Church doesn't recognise still,' Hannah said. 'And besides, laws are only good when there are people around to see them upheld. From what I saw back in Fetworth, there ain't a body dares to raise a voice against this wicked stupidity.'

  'What about my father?' James demanded. 'Or Thomas Handiwell?'

  'Your father has neither said nor done diddly-squat,' Hannah said scornfully. 'And I know for a fact that he was there, on the green, standing in the crowd, goggling along with all the rest of them stupid fools, while Crawley flogged my poor Matilda.'

  'Handiwell, then?' James persisted.

  Hannah shook her head. 'Master Handiwell apparently had urgent business elsewhere.' Briefly, Hannah summarised what she had learned of the coach robbery and Sarah Merridew's abduction. 'So, he went a-tearin' off down to Portsmouth before anyone really knew what was happening with Matilda.'

  'But he'll be back, surely?'

  'Aye, he'll be back, boy,' Hannah agre
ed, 'but with more on his plate than just our troubles to concern himself with.'

  'Then I must talk with my father, get him to talk to some of the other men in the village. This cannot be allowed to continue.'

  'That it can't,' Hannah agreed. 'But it'll not be as simple as you seem to think, my lad. Your father's money has bought you a good education and you know a thing or two about the world, same as I do, though my learnin's been of a different school.

  'Those fools back in the village are a different kettle, James Calthorpe, a different kettle of fish altogether. Wickstanner is a cretin, a spineless little weasel and worse, but to them he's still the Church and they'd not dare to raise a finger against him. And Crawley - well, the same goes for him.' She looked down at the corpse at her feet.

  'The Church rules by a creeping terror,' she said. 'The likes of Wickstanner frighten people with tales of what damnation awaits their souls, if'n they turn against the teachings and rule of the Church. Crawley's kind terrorises differently; they shows people just what hell on earth is like.' She prodded the dead man with the toe of her boot.

  'At least,' she growled, 'he's got one less hell spawn bastard to help him now. But,' she added darkly, 'he now has an entire village to do his bidding, so the loss of this swine will hardly weaken his hold.'

  Chapter 14

  Ellen lay back across the edge of the bed, her legs wide apart, the pink mouth of her sex inviting from beneath a carefully tonsured triangle of pale pubic hair. Sarah knew exactly what was expected of her. Stiffly, she began to kneel on the floor; as she did so Ellen stretched out her two hands, entwining them in Sarah's elaborate hairstyle, gripping with astonishing power.

  'Lick gently, my little kitten,' she whispered hoarsely, lifting her legs so that she could lower them again and rest them on Sarah's bare shoulders. 'Kitty lap some milk,' she cooed, with a scarcely stifled giggle. Obediently, and guided by Ellen's insistent pressure, Sarah brought her mouth to the waiting orifice, first pressing her lips gently against the outer labia, then slowly sliding her tongue into the moist warmth within.

  Above her she heard Ellen groan and gasp and then, as her tongue located the hard bud of the girl's clitoris, she felt her entire body stiffen and arch.

  'Oh, yes - yes!' Ellen's fingers gripped tighter still, her nails digging into Sarah's scalp and Sarah winced, but knew she dared not stop nor complain. Closing her eyes tightly she began to lap and suck, tasting the curiously bittersweet juices that were now flowing so copiously that she was forced to swallow them.

  'Beautiful, kitten!' Ellen sighed, and began to gently rock to and fro on her buttocks, thrusting against Sarah's face so that her nose was buried in the neatly trimmed bush, and then withdrawing slightly before thrusting yet again. Quickly she began to build up a rhythm, all the while mewling and groaning so that Sarah was certain she must reach her climax without further ado, but then, just when she seemed on the verge, she stopped, pushing Sarah's head away and sitting upright, brushing a few rogue strands of hair from her very flushed face.

  'Sit back,' she ordered hoarsely. Sarah looked up at her uncomprehendingly, and Ellen seized her shoulders, thrusting her further away until she was, indeed, squatting back on her haunches. Ellen gave her a curious little smile and slipped forward, lowering her bare feet so they were one either side of Sarah's stocking-clad thighs and her crotch poised a few inches above Sarah's upraised face.

  'Diddle yourself, pretty,' she said, and once again Sarah looked blank. Ellen grinned again and placed the middle finger of her own right hand inside her sex, gently rubbing it against her swollen bud. 'Like this, silly,' she said, and Sarah felt her cheeks beginning to burn even more. After all she had been put through in such a short space of time, this was, unbelievably, the worst humiliation of all. To kneel, dressed like a cheap court harlot before this chit of a girl and to be told to do... that... to herself. She shook her head and tried to protest, but all that came from her mouth was a whimper, and suddenly everything seemed to explode before her eyes and her ears rang and resonated. As the tears cleared and the sounds began to subside, the burning pain in her left cheek became almost unbearable.

  'You want me to slap you some more?' Ellen hissed, and blinking to clear her vision, Sarah saw that the girl was already holding her hand with open palm.

  'No,' she croaked. 'No, please.'

  'Please, mistress,' Ellen said, deliberately.

  'Mistress,' Sarah repeated dutifully, and Ellen lowered her hand.

  'That's better,' she whispered. 'Now, get your fingers down there and start diddling. I want to see you make yourself come, understand?' Miserably, Sarah nodded again.

  'And when I see you are growing close,' Ellen continued, thrusting her crotch forward obscenely so that it brushed against the tip of Sarah's nose, 'I'm going to squat my pussy right over your open mouth and you're going to drink everything I give you from it, like the good little slave girl you're now becoming.'

  'Never mind postponing it,' Simon Wickstanner said, 'I should rather you cancelled the idea altogether, Master Crawley. It was never in my mind that you would actually hang the wench.'

  'I dare say it was not,' Jacob Crawley replied, testily, 'but then you, priest, take only the narrow view, don't you?' He paced slowly across the floor of Wickstanner's study and stopped before the window. 'If I show even the slightest sign of weakness in these matters,' he continued, without turning round, 'then what do you think would happen with the next heretic or witch?

  'There'd be almost no recanting, no absolution tithes paid, nothing, that's what! Oh yes, there'd be a few creatures would confess and beg forgiveness under the lash, I know, but let us be brutally honest here, priest. This goes beyond the saving of souls for both of us, does it not? The Lord shall provide, for it says so in the good book, doesn't it?' he turned back to face into the room again, his silhouette dark against the window and the early morning sun beyond it. 'But it also says that the Lord moves in mysterious ways, and who is to say what those ways might be?

  'So, if the Lord chooses to provide for me by placing sinners in my way, I cannot but accept that manna that he bestows upon me, can I?'

  'I am still not at all easy with the idea of taking another human life,' Wickstanner said, shifting uneasily and averting his gaze. 'We have the one testimony, it's true, but Matilda has not yet confessed to her guilt, despite your best efforts.'

  'And what if I were to tell you that she has, eh?' Crawley snapped. 'To me, in the privacy of the church building itself - what then?'

  'And has she?'

  Crawley grimaced and turned back to the window once again. 'I'm sure my word and the oaths of my two men would suffice to satisfy anyone who queried the matter, wouldn't you agree?' he said smoothly.

  Wickstanner stared at him, his jaw slack. 'You would lie, on oath?' he all but shrieked.

  Crawley regarded him from the corner of his eye. 'No,' he replied quietly, 'I would not lie on oath. Not at all.' A low chuckle escaped his lips, which twitched with what Wickstanner realised was purely evil amusement. 'Would you, Master Wickstanner?'

  The witchfinder's features suddenly became totally immobile, only the slightest movement of his eyes indicating that his face was anything but an inanimate mask. Wickstanner opened his mouth to reply, to deny that he would ever commit such a damnable sin, but found no words would come.

  'Anyway,' Crawley said, relaxing again, 'with any luck and the Lord's blessing, there will be no need for us to hang Matilda Pennywise. I received a messenger an hour since, offering me two guineas to stay the execution and with the promise of paying the full amount by nightfall.'

  'This messenger,' Wickstanner said, 'was he from Hannah Pennywise?'

  'He didn't say he was, nor did he say he was not,' Crawley replied. 'It matters not to me, either way. I can tell you this, however: I do not think he was from the village, not the village itself, anyways. I had never set eyes on him before, and his clothing was just a little more refined than most to be found around t
his backwater.'

  'Perhaps Mother Pennywise has found a benefactor?' Wickstanner suggested.

  'More likely the granddaughter has,' said Crawley. 'After all, she was quite an attractive wench, particularly when she had hair.' He chuckled harshly. 'And she will be again,' he added, 'just so long as the tithe is paid by tonight.

  'But don't worry yourself, priest,' he went on. 'The two guineas will ensure she gets a painless enough death, should it come to it. My men are very good with the rope, you know. They learned a few little tricks from an Italian traveller we met in Norfolk some years ago, and now their victims only dance if they want them to.'

  'I still say you should let me take the money in your stead,' Thomas Handiwell urged Harriet. 'It is madness for you to go yourself, let alone unaccompanied.'

  The pair stood outside the back door of the house at Barten Meade. Upstairs, Harriet's father still lay in his bed, the latest fever abating, but still far too weak and vague even to realise what was going on. With him now was Lizzie, from the inn, whom Thomas had brought to tend the former soldier, while the Merridew's young general maid, Biddy Lathwell, took a well-earned break after an unbroken nursing stint nearing twenty-four hours.

  'You read the note, Master Handiwell.' Harriet remained adamant. 'If I do not take the money myself, alone, they threatened to kill my poor cousin.'

  'And what if they then take you, as well? What then? They will have the money, your cousin and you.'

  'I cannot see that two women will be of much use to them,' Harriet retorted. 'Who will be left to pay a further ransom then?'

  'Yes, who indeed.' It was not a question. Thomas could see that nothing he could say would dissuade Harriet from her purpose and that his only option now was to reduce the element of risk as far as possible. To that end, Harriet herself, together with young Toby Blaine, had already concocted a rough plan, but it was still dangerous and relied too much on an element of chance, for Thomas's liking.