Cauldron of Fear

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  'I have to tell you,' he said easily, 'that my men are hidden just back in the trees, with muskets trained on you. At the first sign of any treachery they will open fire on you and they are both first rate shots.'

  'Is that so, Master Crawley?' the woman chuckled. 'I made it one man only, over there, to the right, unless I am mistaken.' She raised her arm, pointing in the direction where Silas Grout had hidden himself just two minutes earlier. 'The range would be what - seventy paces? I doubt your man could hit a barn door from there, but no matter, there is no treachery here.

  'However,' she continued, lowering her arm again, 'there is great treachery in this village, as you well know. Treachery, heresy and witchcraft.'

  'Indeed there is,' Crawley agreed. 'Is that what you wish to speak with me about, mistress?'

  'It is, Master Crawley,' she confirmed. 'The witch, Matilda Pennywise?'

  'What of her?'

  'You will hang her?'

  'Yes. The absolution tithe has not been paid. The hour specified has now passed. Although, God in his wisdom may yet guide me to be merciful.'

  'It has not yet been paid, nor will it be,' the woman said. 'The old witch never did have any money.'

  'And the miller's boy?'

  'His father would not let him have the money.'

  'Then the wench shall hang in the morning.'

  'Why not hang her this night and be done with it?'

  'What is it to you, mistress?' Crawley smiled to himself in the darkness, sensing that there was far more to this than even he had suspected, for he had anticipated someone might wish to make another accusation, or even, perhaps, to try to buy Matilda's life, for there was still the unresolved matter of who had paid the first two guineas.

  'Matilda Pennywise has placed a hex upon a member of my family,' the woman replied, carefully. 'I cannot give you details, nor can I reveal my identity to you, but I am willing to pay you and pay you well for her speedy execution, for all the while there is breath remaining in her body, her powers are surely killing one who is dear to me.'

  'I see,' Crawley said thoughtfully. His smile flickered again. 'And you have proof of this?'

  'None that I can show you,' the woman said, 'but I was under the impression that you had all the evidence and proof you needed against the witch.'

  'Aye, that I do, mistress,' Crawley agreed, 'but the sentence is to be carried out in the morning, nonetheless.'

  'I was under the impression that you had the authority to decide the hour of her execution.' The woman reached inside her cloak and Crawley instinctively stiffened, but when she withdrew her hand there was no weapon in it, only a small dark and almost shapeless object, which she held out and shook. Crawley heard the unmistakable chinking of heavy coins.

  'I have here fifty golden guineas,' she continued. 'These I will give to you now.' Her arm whirled and there was a blur as the little bag flew through the air, landing just in front of Crawley's feet with a jingling sound. His immediate instinct was to bend and pick up the bag, but he forced himself to remain unmoving, his gaze set firmly upon her outline.

  'You don't want to count it, then?' she asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

  Crawley shook his head. 'I am sure there will be fifty guinea coins in there, as you said,' he replied. 'There would be little point in it being otherwise.' He stepped forward and reached out with the toe of one boot, prodding the bag as if he expected it might at any moment spring to life.

  'There will be another fifty guineas for you as soon as you have executed the Pennywise witch,' the woman said. 'I shall have the sum delivered to you before dawn's first light.'

  'I see,' Crawley said. 'That is indeed a large sum of money, mistress.'

  'The same amount, I hear said, that you demanded for her reprieve and absolution.'

  'I shan't deny that,' Crawley chuckled mirthlessly. 'You appear well informed.'

  'Aye, Master Crawley, that I am,' she said, and he heard a low laugh from within the cowl. 'Well informed enough to know that this is the only way you'll get your money now, and you have to hang the bitch anyway.'

  'Aye, that I do,' Crawley said. Slowly, he stooped and picked up the bag, hefting its comforting weight in the palm of his hand.

  'Do we have ourselves a bargain then, Master Crawley?'

  He let out a deep breath, looked down at the bag, and nodded. 'Aye, mistress,' he growled. 'We have ourselves a bargain. I shall hang the witch at midnight before three witnesses, as the law demands.'

  James had found two sheepskins, which he placed in the back of his father's cart and laid Matilda carefully upon them, and drew a thick woollen blanket over her. While he had been gone, Hannah had bathed her granddaughter's raw flesh and helped her into a soft shift, but even so, the pressure upon her back drew a pained groan from her.

  'Have courage, my pet,' Hannah urged, as James helped her up to sit alongside Matilda. 'Here, drink some more of this.' She lifted Matilda's head and raised the bottle to her lips. 'It will start to take effect soon, little one,' she whispered soothingly. 'And we are taking you somewhere they shan't find you.'

  'Crawley?' Matilda croaked. Her eyes were open, but they were not focussing. 'Crawley... he's...' Hannah lowered the bottle again and allowed Matilda's head to fall gently back onto the soft fleece.

  'You don't need to worry yourself about him no more,' she said firmly. Instinctively her hand went behind her, seeking the reassuring lump where she had hidden the old pistol beneath the makeshift bedding. 'That animal won't lay a finger on you ever again, I swear.

  'Now drive, James Calthorpe,' she said, looking up to where James had taken his position on the driver's seat in front of them. 'Drive on and let's get her away from here. I don't know what's happening, but there's little point in staying around to find out. Whoever brought the poor child here, I'm willing to bet everything I have in this box that it weren't Crawley and, when he finds her gone, this is the first place he'll come looking.'

  Despite her nakedness, Harriet found herself sweating heavily, the tightly laced leather hood stifling her and the weight of the awful iron cage bearing down agonisingly on her neck muscles. The vicious spike raked her tongue whenever she tried to move it, despite the numbing effect of the potion Jane had forced upon her, and her buttocks and thighs were cramping from the pressure of the cold stone beneath them.

  In the darkness she began to picture all manner of horrors: every slightest noise, real or imagined, had her stiffening in terror, her ears straining through the thick leather, her mind racing in time with her pulse. She tried to pray, but all the words kept tumbling over each other inside her head and finally, with tears stinging her eyes, she gave up.

  It seemed impossible that this was happening to her, but the reality was too stark to deny and she found herself seized in the grip of a paralysing horror. Until now, more concerned with the fate of her cousin than with the other drama unfolding in the village, she had paid the events concerning Matilda Pennywise and Jacob Crawley little attention, convinced that someone would soon enough bring the village to its collective senses, but now, alone, helpless, naked, she began to understand how truly desperate her position was.

  Insane as it had first seemed, Harriet now saw how diabolically cunning Jane's plan truly was. The leather hood hid her true identity effectively enough, the barbaric bridle and the drugged potion combined to prevent her being able to tell Crawley otherwise, and the welts across her back, buttocks and thighs were close enough to the marks she had seen on Matilda's body not to give the witchfinder any cause for suspicion.

  Shortly now, if Jane was to be believed, Crawley would return for her, convinced that she was Matilda and again, if Jane was right in her assumption, the foul man would have her, beat her and then, worst of all, take her out onto the green and hang her and, by the time the truth was discovered, it would be far too late.

  For the first time Harriet began to understand the nature of true wickedness. Jane Handiwell would be rid of two threats - one real, th
e one from Harriet herself only imagined - at a single stroke. She would be dead and Crawley, together with Wickstanner, would be driven from Fetworth and probably from the county itself, but only after they had unknowingly done Jane Handiwell's evil work for her.

  Harriet's head slumped forward and she began to sob, tears soaking the leather, her naked breasts heaving as she gulped in air, the pains and discomforts now melding into one overall feeling of helplessness such as she would never have believed possible.

  And then, through the haze of despair and frustration, she heard the sound of heavy boots scraping on the stone floor of the passageway beyond the door and the blood seemed to freeze in her veins...

  Chapter 23

  Jacob Crawley reined his horse to a halt and swung slowly from the saddle. Behind him, Silas Grout dismounted likewise and moved forward to take the reins of his master's horse.

  'Human nature is a curious thing, Silas,' Crawley mused, looking up at the darkened silhouette of the church. 'Greed, suspicion, superstition - the Devil sows them all in equal amounts, I tell you.'

  'Do you know who the woman was then, Master Crawley?' Silas asked.

  'Does it matter?' he replied. 'We could doubtless enquire and probably find out, eventually, but why waste time?' His hand went to the money pouch at his belt, hefting the comforting weight. 'The important thing is that she has helped us salvage something from what was in danger of becoming a totally lost cause. Why the old woman was so stubborn I have no idea, but some people behave strangely and these villages breed some curious sorts.'

  'So what now, Master Crawley? Shall we hang the wench and have done with it?'

  'We'll hang her right enough, Silas,' Crawley said. 'This fifty guineas and the promise of another fifty ensures that, but the thing must be seen to be done properly. You take your horse around to the barn and then go down and see to the girl. I'm sure you can find something to amuse yourself for a short while, eh? But check your scaffold first, in case anyone has sought to interfere with its workings.

  'Meantime, I shall ride across to the inn and select three suitable witnesses to observe the execution. It's quite likely there will be more come to see the spectacle, if I'm any judge.'

  'What if the old woman turns up with her money?' Silas asked. 'She still might, even though it is well past your deadline.'

  'Aye, she might at that,' Crawley said, but his tone indicated that he did not think it likely. 'If she does, then lock her in one of the rooms down there. Whatever's happened to Jed, I'll wager she's responsible and I reckon he must be dead, or we'd have seen something of him by now. So if she does show her face, tomorrow, at first light, we'll go and have a look in the woods and, if we find a corpse, well then, you shall have the pleasure of hanging her too, before we finally take our leave of this place.'

  'None of what she's saying is making any sense,' James said. He and Hannah were sitting on a fallen tree trunk that lay just outside the small woodsman's hut where they had brought Matilda. It was only two miles or so from Hannah's cottage, but she assured James that they would be safe enough, for the time being, at least.

  'That Crawley don't strike me as being a country fellow,' she said, 'and Wickstanner would have trouble finding his way from one end of the village to the other. No one's used this place these past ten years, except me. I come out here from time to time, when I feels the need of me own company.'

  Only partially reassured by this, James nevertheless carried Matilda carefully inside, where he found a clean and comfortable bed, upon which he laid her. A small stove stood in a stone ingle, already laid with kindling and this Hannah soon had crackling away.

  'We'll have to damp it down before first light,' she warned, 'otherwise someone might see the smoke, but it'll be all right till then. I'll get some broth going for Matilda, you go move that cart up behind the next lot of bushes and take the horses out of the way. If you go straight past that gnarled old sycamore, you'll find a small clearing where they can graze for a bit.'

  By the time James had carried out these instructions Hannah was simmering a small pot on the stove and, while he then walked back along the track, just to make sure there was no sign of their having been followed, the old woman coaxed some of the broth into Matilda. By the time he returned for a second time Matilda was at least partially conscious, though she seemed dazed and her speech was largely incoherent.

  Tears sprang to James's eyes as he stared at her shaven head and at the welts that were still visible above the neckline of her shift, and he had to go outside again, not wishing to display his anguish at seeing her in such a condition. Walking back to the cart he reached under the various skins and blankets and retrieved the small case he had placed there just after he first hitched up the horses back at the mill.

  Laying it on the tailboard, he opened it carefully and stared down at the two pistols within. There was also a small compartment that held an ornamental powder horn, plus a small wash bag containing several lead balls. Hands trembling, James began painstakingly to load the two weapons and tucked them into his belt, transferring the powder and shot to opposite pockets of his jacket.

  'They'll not harm you again, Matilda,' he whispered. 'I'll kill the first man who tries, I swear it.'

  Back inside the hut for a third time, James saw that Matilda was now resting much easier, thanks largely, he guessed, to her grandmother's potions. She saw James and seemed to recognise him properly for the first time, managing a watery smile and then trying to tell him something, though little of it made any real sense. Eventually she fell back again, closed her eyes and was soon breathing the shallow, regular breath of the sleeper.

  'She'll not wake again for a few hours,' Hannah said, standing up and moving to the small window. She pulled the rough sacking curtain to one side and peered out into the darkness. 'And I don't think we're likely to be disturbed here, either.' She turned back into the room and nodded in the direction of the door. 'Talk outside,' she whispered. 'Leave Matilda in peace for a bit, eh?' They moved quietly outside and settled on the fallen tree trunk.

  'Well, she seems a bit confused,' Hannah admitted, when James made his observation, 'but that's only to be expected, seein' as all she's been through.'

  'I couldn't really understand anything of what she was trying to say,' James said. 'All that about another girl and the graveyard - I think her mind was wandering.'

  'Maybe so,' Hannah conceded, 'but then again, maybe not. Some of it did make a sort of sense, if you picked your way through careful, like. One thing's for sure, she never got out of that church crypt by herself, not in the state she's in.'

  'But who helped her?' James demanded. 'And what was all that about another girl and going through a place full of bodies?'

  Hannah smiled grimly. 'My guess is that she was talkin' about the Grayling mausoleum. Not many people would know it, but I happen to know for certain that it used to be connected to the church crypt by a tunnel. Whoever brought Matilda out, they brought her that way, I reckon.

  'Not only that,' she continued, 'but I reckon they've left someone else in Matilda's place, maybe so Crawley won't realise she's gone straightaway. That's what she was on about when she was trying to say about the other girl.'

  'Yes, but why?' James asked. 'Why bother to rescue her in the first place, too? Who would care for Matilda enough to do that?'

  'Well, that's a good question, young James,' Hannah replied slowly, 'but it might not be the right one to ask. I'm not so sure that whoever is behind all this did it for Matilda's sake.'

  'Oh? Well, if not for Matilda's sake, then whose?'

  Hannah shrugged and looked up at the stars. 'That, my lad,' she answered quietly, 'is a damned good question.'

  Jane Handiwell slipped out of the private entrance at the rear of the Black Drum, paused in the shadow of the building, her eyes accustoming to the gloom once more and then, satisfied that there was no one to observe her, she quickly crossed the yard towards the stable buildings and made her way directly to the sm
aller structure.

  Inside a single lantern burned in the concourse between the two rows of stalls, and two horses looked out over the lower halves of their doors, turning their heads towards her expectantly as she walked towards them. She patted each of their muzzles as she passed, but did not stop until she reached the final stall on the right, the door of which stood wide open.

  As Jane turned into it the shadowy figure rose from the straw and came towards her, and the two women embraced in the darkness without speaking for several seconds.

  'Is it done?' Ellen Grayling said, at last.

  Jane nodded. 'Yes, the bitch is safely in the crypt. You saw Crawley?'

  'Yes, a little while back, at the hour you said. He accepted the money.'

  'Of course he did.' Jane's white teeth glinted in the near darkness. 'And of course, he agreed. I've just heard him inside, in the taproom, recruiting his witnesses. No shortage of volunteers.'

  'What happens if he removes that mask before he hangs her?'

  'I doubt he'll bother,' Jane replied. 'I twisted the knots in such a way that he'll have to cut the laces to get them undone, but even if he does, one bald woman looks much like another in the dark. Crawley's like any other man - he won't see much further than her tits and neither will the rest of those oafs. The only one who'll realise will be my dear father. He so moons after her, it's sickening.'

  'And your father?' Ellen said. 'He's not likely to interfere?'

  'He probably would, if he were here,' Jane retorted sourly, 'but he and that foppish captain have ridden off to Portsmouth. He's still more interested in looking for Harriet in your woods. I can't wait to see his face on the morrow when he sees his dearly beloved, precious Harriet Merridew dangling from that tree with her pretty little neck snapped in two.'

  'The shock may be more than he can bear,' Ellen said quietly.