The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1)

by Mark G Heath

  “ Not a chance,”replied Thaindire and he made for the door, leaving Thorne to shrug and watch his departing back.

  Thaindire slipped his blade back in his belt as she stood for a moment on the roadway. Thorne had proclaimed herself to be a dryad, a forest spirit. He was not familiar with such a term but knew that she was clearly a sorceress, given her plethora of concoctions and her attempt to enchant him in the glade. He had little doubt that she would burn in due course as punishment for her aberrant behaviour. Two villagers ran past Thaindire in the direction of the main square, one carrying a lit lantern. He noticed that the baker and his wife emerged from their property diagonally opposite all a fluster, the baker carrying an unlit torch and they too made with haste towards the square. Thaindire heard shouting and set off towards the source of the noise as more villagers appeared and poured westwards.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Orange torch and lantern light lit up the square in front of the row of stores. A group of villagers congregated about the middle store, which belonged to the tanner. More villagers crossed the square to join those already thronged about the house. Thaindire strode along the square curious as to what had caused this sudden assembly. Somebody was shouting and also there was the dull thud of something hammering against wood, such as the pommel of a sword or the base of a mace. Thaindire neared the crowd as he heard the sound of hooves on the cobbles and turned his gaze away to the west. Two horse riders appeared from out of the dusk, galloping from the western side of the square to join the crowd. Thaindire observed that both riders wore armour, banded metal and chain mail and swords dangled at their sides. They pulled at the reins to their horses, the mounts whinnying in protest, hooves skidding slightly on the cobbles as they slowed down. The crowd parted allowing the duo to trot forward. As they entered the arc of the lantern light, Thaindire could see both riders were men. One had short-cropped brown hair, his skin a certain swarthiness about it, his full brown eyes drinking in the villagers thronged about him. The second rider had pale skin, his hair was slightly longer than the first, being bright auburn in colour. He too carefully surveyed the scene his blue eyes sweeping over the crowd. Their horses slowly trotted forward, the villagers moving aside without instruction or order, until the riders were positioned in front of the tanner’s dwelling. The thudding noise came again and Thaindire was able to see two cassocked figures stood in front of the door. The taller one was clearly the priest, Campion and beside him, although he could not see clearly through the crowd, Thaindire assumed it must be the verger.

  “ Isabel Coffyn, show yourself!” yelled Campion. Gone was the unctuous charm that Thaindire had seen in evidence at church earlier that day, instead, the order was barked harshly. There then followed the thudding again at the door and Thaindire could see that Campion’s companion was using some kind of staff to drum against the door. Someone jostled Thaindire as more villagers arrived to witness the scene. Fortunately, he was taller than most and able to see over their heads. Whispers rose from the crowd and there was the low hiss of burning torches.

  “ Isabel Coffyn!” cried Campion once again, “ Open this door or I shall have it broken down,” he declared. The first rider’s horse stirred and he issued a calming word jerking on the reins.

  Slowly the door to the tanner’s opened. The lantern light merged with the firelight from within as stood in the doorway was the young woman who Thaindire had witnessed attending on the church the previous day and who Campion had lingered over in the exiting line this very day. Her green eyes, which had been filled with desire when she embraced Campion on the steps of the church, were now round in terror. She edged forward, the torchlight flickering across her short blonde locks. Two figures were stood behind here and Thaindire thought he could make out the tanner. The girl had her hands placed protectively on her stomach and Thaindire could make out the swollen belly beneath her dress.

  “ Isabel Coffyn, you are charged with engaging in unholy congress with the dark Fallen Lord and succumbing to his most unnatural advances.” The girl began to shake her head.

  “ Further,” continued Campion, his voice booming across the square, “ you are charged with receiving the dark Fallen Lord’s foul craft in order to further his aims.”

  The crowd moved forward peering at the isolated girl.

  “ And finally, you are charged with lying with the dark Fallen Lord in order to bring forth his demon spawn!” yelled Campion pointing a judgemental finger at her stomach.

  “ No, no, no!” screamed Coffyn, her hands rising to claw at her hair.

  “ Seize her,” declared the second rider motioning for some of the villagers to make their move. Thaindire watched as a trio of villagers gathered about Coffyn and with a rope, tied her wrists, ankles before binding the rope about her middle and running it over her shoulder. Coffyn tried to push them off but she was no match for the burly villagers.

  “ You shall be tried by the holy waters of the River Centopani,” declared Campion turning so that the entourage of torches lighted up his features.

  “ No father, please, no, I am innocent,” screamed Coffyn.

  “ Bear her up,” ordered the second rider and a group of male villagers hoisted Coffyn onto their shoulders, her eyes swivelled looking to those assembled for some kind of help. Trussed up, her hands bound clasped in prayer, Coffyn began to be carried away from the tanner’s house, where the front door closed without incident or protestation. Campion and the verger stood before the carrying villagers and then began to walk towards the bridge, the other villagers stepping to one side to allow them to pass. The two horse riders wheeled around, their armour clanking as they got in line behind the villagers carrying Coffyn whose screams rent apart the frozen dusk air.

  The rest of the villagers filed in behind the riders, forming a procession of lanterns and torchlight. Thaindire joined the line, perplexed by what he was witnessing.

  “ Father oh father, it is your child, a good child,” cried Coffyn, “ I am innocent of all save loving you with a full and kind heart as you have taught me!”

  A collective gasp rose from the processing villagers at her protestation.

  “ Hark, listen how the witch slanders further the name of the One True God with her foul assertions! Truly the foul one speaks through her,” bellowed Campion.

  “ But you took me in, to the church, the child is yours!” screamed Coffyn, writhing in her bindings.

  “ Let the One True God quell her vicious tongue and the holy waters bring forth the judgement of the almighty, for it is by His judgement alone that we live,” continued Campion to intone, his baritone drifting across the air. The villagers walked along silently, none of them questioning the authority of Campion, which seemed to be backed by force by these two riders who had appeared.

  Coffyn was now sobbing and in between her crying, Thaindire could hear her muttering a prayer seeking salvation and protection, her soft voice just audible above the sound of feet walking and the horse’s hooves on the cobbles. Thaindire became aware of a figure next to him and turned to see Reznik walking beside him.

  “ Looks like she’s fucked,” whispered the soldier, “ literally.” he stifled a low laugh.

  “ She’s no witch,” muttered Thaindire glancing about himself, “ she’s a foolish girl.”

  “ How would you be so sure eh?” challenged Reznik, “ know something we don’t?”

  “ I saw her consorting with Campion yesterday, at the church,” hissed Thaindire, “ He has been taking advantage of her. The gravedigger more or less admitted it to me.”

  “ Is that so?” smiled Reznik wanly, “ then you had better speak up for her hadn’t you, rather than her be judged.” Reznik let his sceptical words settle on Thaindire.

  “ Who are the riders?” asked Thaindire as they approached the bridge.

  “Sir Simon Pennant and his brother, Sir Joshua Pennant,” explained Reznik.

  “ Who are they?” pressed Thaindire.

  “ You’ll see,” re
sponded Reznik before accelerating away from Thaindire as he sought out the head of the procession.

  The assembly halted on the bridge. Coffyn continued to sob and feebly struggle, as she remained held aloft by her captors. The rest of the villagers walked in silence, fanning out on the bridge so they were either side of Coffyn and the two knights. Thaindire pushed his way through the collected throng until he was at the front, near to the wall.

  Campion held a hand aloft and then spoke,

  “ Fair people of Aftlain, the dark Fallen Lord has sought to move amidst us and in doing so has corrupted Isabel Coffyn. His evil words have overtaken her reason to cause her to submit to witchcraft and enable him to plant his foul seed deep within her womb and thus bring forth a demon into our world. In accordance with the Lessons on Cleansing we must first let her be consumed by the holy water of the River Centopani in our earnest hope that it will purify her, cleanse her and drive out the evil that has sought to manifest within her. Should the holy waters do so, then with great gladness we shall welcome her back to our fold and give glorious thanks for her purging. Should the darkness however be so manifest within her that the evil cannot be supplanted then in accordance with the Lessons on Judgement, she will be buried alive.”

  “ Prepare the winch,” ordered one of the knights. Thaindire watched as a couple of villagers advanced and placed a rudimentary winch on the edge of the bridge and fed the rope leading to Coffyn through it. Four other villagers came forward, their features set grim in the torchlight and took hold of the rope, their feet firmly planted on the ground.

  “ By the One True God’s decree let the waters judge her!” cried Campion.

  The men bearing Coffyn walked forward as she squirmed furiously.

  “ No, no, have mercy on me, I swear I have done no wrong,” screamed Coffyn. The crowd suddenly broke its silence and a great shouting and cheering rose up, Coffyn’s scream heightened as the men carrying her surged forward and hurled her off the side of the bridge. Her cry trailed behind her as the rope spooled out and the four villagers grunted as they prepared to take the slack. An audible splash floated up from below and then the villagers began to keep the rope taunt. Campion dashed to the side of the bridge and looked down into the darkness below. Villagers also moved towards the wall of the bridge. Thaindire watched, unable to get to the edge of the bridge given the number of villagers in the way but he could see Campion counting.

  “ Bring her up!” he commanded and the four rope bearers began to haul on the rope, as they heaved hard. The rope slowly passed through the winch as Thaindire shoved a villager to one side and pushed his way to the edge of the wall. Torches were held over the side illuminating the side of the bridge and the water below. There below him was Coffyn, her arms still bound, being slowly hauled upwards, water spilling from her soaked clothing. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open and he could not see from this distance whether she breathed. Suddenly her eyes snapped open, wide and distressed.

  “ She’s alive,” said Thaindire, surprised at this outcome given her submergence in the waters beneath.

  There came a snapping sound and the four men pulling on the rope all fell backwards, landing in a heap beneath the gaze of the two knights. The snapped rope lashed through the air and through the winch as another cry came from Coffyn. Thaindire looked back over the side as her body dropped and plunged into the river. He watched as it sank beneath the foaming water, until it disappeared in the darkness beyond the illumination of the torches and lanterns. A cry of disappointment went up from the villagers and Thaindire spun round frowning at this, he felt his temper rising within. The villagers continued to shout out in delight at the claiming of Coffyn’s life by the water. Thaindire looked across and his eyes fell upon Melissent Priestcote, the assistant seamstress. Unlike those around her, she was stood completely still and was silent. Her eyes held the gaze of Thaindire as she slowly shook her head as if in warning. Thaindire returned a confused look to her whilst the celebrating villagers jostled him. She shook her head again and raised a finger to her lips.

  “ The One True God has given His judgement and the waters have claimed her. It is His will!” shouted Campion holding a hand aloft.

  “ His will,” replied the crowd of villagers who stood, uncertain of what to do following the clearly unexpected snapped rope and subsequent plunge of Coffyn into the river. Thaindire briefly considered running to the mill house in the hope of extracting the girl from the river but he cast the thought aside as he realised that her corpse would be way down river before he would arrive at the miller’s. He looked away from the throng of villagers to seek out Priestcote and approach her but she was no longer stood in the same place. He anxiously looked around the bridge but could not see her face amidst those of the Aftlainers.

  Some of the villagers began to drift away back to the village, clearly having concluded that the spectacle was over. Thaindire noticed Reznik leaning against the wall of the bridge, his pipe clenched between his teeth as he cast a laconic eye over the group of villagers. Priest Campion and the verger talked in a conspiratorial huddle, the knights towered above them, whilst villagers edged past Thaindire. Campion turned in the direction of the church and slowly began to walk away, the verger paced besides him. Reznik remained unmoved as the two knights wheeled their mounts around to make as to follow Campion and his acolyte towards the church.

  “ Excuse me,” called out Thaindire to the two knights as he strode across the cobbles of the bridge to engage the duo. The knights halted and waited for Thaindire to walk in front of them, preferring not to turn their steeds towards the village. Campion and Stafford halted their retreat from the bridge and turned back. One of the knights, the one with the red hair, leant forward in his saddle, his armour shifted as he peered down at Thaindire.

  “ Who are you?” he asked in a voice, which was distinct from the accent of the villagers. Before Thaindire could answer he realised that Campion had drawn alongside him.

  “ This is Master Thaindire, a cartographer from Lancester who is a guest in our village following an unfortunate encounter with the wolves of the forest,” explained Campion, his tone ingratiated and subservient. Thaindire was surprised that he had not bowed as well.

  “ Master Thaindire, allow me to present Sir Joshua Pennant,” Campion indicated with an outstretched hand towards the red-headed knight, “ And this is his brother Sir Simon Pennant,” he added with a gesticulation towards the darker-haired knight.

  Thaindire noted that both wore armour, which was clearly expensive, the chain mail and banded metal apparent beneath their thick cloaks, which were both coloured blood red. Joshua Pennant had both long sword and a morning star hanging from his belt, the sword bearing a garnet or ruby in its pommel, the light from Campion’s lantern flashing across the jewel. Reznik slowly, like a cat unfurling itself from a ball of sleep, moved into view taking up a closer position from which he was able to hear the conversation.

  “ Wolves eh?” commented Sir Joshua, “ Were you badly hurt?”

  “ Reasonably so yes, but I am much recovered,” replied Thaindire. Sir Simon Pennant regarded him with his deep brown eyes; their gaze unwavered as he edged his horse forward slightly.

  “ Well may I wish you a speedy recovery from your ordeal,” assured Sir Joshua smoothly.

  “ We are doing our best to hunt down the wolves before they cause the village real problems with the onset of winter,” he explained.

  “ A laudable sentiment indeed,” answered Thaindire, “ Are you overseers of the village, for I did not know that the village was subject to such warden ship.”

  “ Did you not?” responded Sir Joshua, his eyes narrowed slightly, “ Why would you know? You are from Lancester, yes?”

  “ Indeed I am and in the employ of the Duke De Rainault. I was unaware that he had his stewards at this village,” pressed Thaindire as he sought to establish on whose authority the capable looking knights acted.

  “ Ah well I would suggest that it is not
your concern.”

  Sir Joshua sat up and was about to tug on his reins to advance his horse when Thaindire put a hand up to the horse’s head as if to restrain it and spoke further.

  “ But where is your seat?”

  Sir Simon Pennant spoke this time.

  “ Master Thaindire, do not presume to know my brother and me. Nor would I suggest you seek to impede his horse unless you wish to be arrested. We are overseers of Aftlain and its environs within Centopani. The matter of our seat is not one, which you need be concerned with, even if you are a mapmaker,” he said, his voice steely and low.

  “ Forgive me, Sir Simon, only I had not happened upon your seat and given your appearance this evening I was merely curious as to its whereabouts.”

  “ We have only been occasioned to meet with you this evening, Master Thaindire, but you do not find us troubled with the provenance of your lodgings, do you?” remarked Sir Simon menacingly.

  “ No, no, I meant nothing by it, I assure you,” replied Thaindire.

  “ Master Thaindire is unaccustomed to Aftlain and its er tolerances,” interjected Campion. Thaindire cast him a sour look.

  “ So it is by the Duke’s authority that you presided over this evening’s…..judgement?”

  “ No,”responded Sir Joshua, “ It was with the One True God’s authority that we acted this evening as we aided Priest Campion in identifying and judging a witch. Do you cast doubt on that?” he challenged. Thaindire saw Reznik stand up straight and his hand strayed to the hilt of his sabre. Thaindire cursed inwardly. He doubted entirely the pronouncement that Coffyn was a witch; rather it seemed to him that she was the victim of a lynching and a weak rope, yet he was outnumbered and unsure of the authority of these two knights.

  “ No, no I do not doubt it,” he conceded. “ It is the One True God’s will and judgement.”

  Sir Joshua nodded firmly.

  “ Good, well you must excuse us Master Thaindire, we must discourse with Priest Campion. Hunting down the work of the dark Fallen Lord is unrelenting.”