'Have you a room for the night?' he asked the maid who appeared to attend him.
'Certainly,' she replied. 'I will fetch Mistress Perkins.'
She whisked away and in a very short time Agnes entered the room. She smiled majestically at Gavin.
'You wish for a room, sir?'
'Yes, if 'tis convenient,' he answered. 'Just for tonight.'
'Certainly. Mab, prepare the Green Room.'
The maid smiled, bobbed a curtsey, and went off.
'Are you busy?' Gavin asked.
'Not at this time of year,' Agnes replied. 'It is hard going, travelling now.'
'You are right in that,' Gavin answered, smiling ruefully. 'I am covered in mud. The roads from Chelmsford are in the most shocking state.'
'Are you going far?'
'No. Will you drink some wine with me?'
Agnes graciously inclined her head, called to give the order, then sat at a table while Gavin stood before the fire.
'I come to stay with my kinsman, Sir Humphrey Anstey,' he volunteered, 'but I thought it better, since he lives so secluded a life, not to intrude upon him earlier than he expects me, which is tomorrow. I decided to put up here for the night.'
Agnes smiled slightly. 'He has few servants nowadays. I doubt if he has been outside the manor grounds for ten years past. But I have not seen you in the district before?'
'I paid a very brief visit when I stayed at Delmead a while since,' Gavin answered. 'You know it? Other cousins live there.'
'Ah, yes, Mistress Francis.'
'I stayed with them and called on Sir Humphrey on that occasion. This time I have business with him and must stay at the Manor.'
Agnes was obviously curious, though she tried to disguise it under a severe manner, but Gavin did not elaborate. Instead he went on to talk about the inn.
'It is many years since I was in the Black Goat. I was but a small boy when my father brought me here while visiting Sir Humphrey. I recall a big, quiet man. Your husband?'
Agnes nodded. 'He died a few years back.'
Gavin murmured a few words of sympathy. 'You run the inn alone?' he asked in apparent surprise.
'Why yes. Do you think it work a woman is unfitted for?'
'By no means,' Gavin assured her. 'If the Black Goat is a fair sample, women make better innkeepers than men. I have heard many good reports along the way. The fame of your inn is widespread, and I judge deservedly so.
Agnes preened. 'You are kind, sir, but I have standards which I try to maintain, though 'tis difficult with servants so unruly in these times.'
Gavin nodded sympathetically. 'You say there is not much custom at this time of year?'
'Not many travellers,' Agnes agreed, 'but then there are less now than before these troubles started. We have a few people each week, passing through Brookley, but most of our business is done with the locals. In summer 'tis much busier.'
'Did a Thomas Porter come this way some weeks ago?' Gavin asked casually. 'A tall, fair man, dressed somewhat flamboyantly.'
Agnes shook her head. 'I do not remember such, and I have a good memory for our visitors. We had very few in December, and none such as you describe. Mayhap he went the other way to Burnham.'
They chatted casually for some time longer, and then Agnes excused herself.
'Even though we have few visitors, there is much to attend to. I pray you excuse me. I will send Mab to show you to your room. When will you take supper?'
'Would seven o'clock be convenient?'
'Any time, sir. Will you have it in your room?'
*
Gavin nodded and Agnes, with a slight bow, left him. Later he was served with an excellent meal, and afterwards he descended to the common room and chatted with the locals who were drinking there. All the time he was watching for signs that might lead him to the place where the King's messengers had been betrayed. His only hint so far was that when he had enquired after Mr Porter Agnes had mentioned December and his going to Burnham, whereas Gavin had not specified the exact time or destination. This he thought significant, but he could not question the villagers closely, and had to rely on general conversation so as not to draw attention to himself.
On the following day he went to Anstey Manor and remained there, riding about the village and the surrounding countryside in the daytime, trying to discover some lead for his search. He was unsuccessful, but the King's messenger, Henry Carstairs, came to him on the appointed day. He too had put up at the Black Goat, and had immediately come to the Manor to report to Gavin.
'Have you discovered aught?' he asked, when they were comfortably ensconced in a parlour.
'One fact only. I mentioned Thomas Porter as a friend of mine, and described him. The innkeeper, Agnes Perkins, was very quick to deny he had been there in December, yet I had not said when he might have stayed there.'
'This fits with what I know,' Carstairs said, some excitement in his voice. 'I followed the normal route, and I stayed at the Bear in Chelmsford. Porter was certainly seen there.'
'What are your instructions now?'
'To take the utmost care, and make further enquiries at Burnham. We do not stay in the same place each time, but I am following the route Porter was supposed to take. He was planning to stay at the Black Goat and go direct to the ship the next morning, so if he stayed there, despite Mistress Perkins' denial, it points to the Goat as having some connection with the affair.'
'Aye. He did not reach Burnham, that we know. Let us hope we have narrowed the possibilities. When do you leave Brookley?'
'I must go tomorrow. I am supposed merely to pass through. I cannot prolong my stay, but tonight I shall take care to let fall that I carry letters, and I have already established I am careless with my belongings. Mayhap the trap is too obvious, and they will not fall into it, but if my letters – innocent ones, I assure you – are tampered with, then we shall have definite evidence.'
'What of yourself? Messengers have disappeared, like Porter.'
'We think that only happened when they discovered someone rifling their baggage. Most of them get through, though what they carry does not, many times, when they swear they have been most careful. Money has been taken, sometimes letters. At other times letters have been copied, for the information has certainly been obtained by Parliament though the letters themselves were safely delivered. But do not fear for me. I shall stay awake with my pistols ready tonight, though I shall not protest if thieves break in on me, so long as they leave me alone!'
'Good fortune! And tomorrow?'
'I shall leave at daybreak. Can you be waiting a mile or so further along the road? Lie hidden and see if anyone follows me, then follow yourself at a safe distance. After a few miles you can catch up with me, and I can tell you if aught happened, and then you can report to the King.'
'And you continue a useless journey?'
'Not entirely,' Carstairs replied. 'The message I carry goes in my head. The King has not entrusted it to paper.'
'Then you must certainly get through. I will meet you.'
'Good. Now I must return to the Goat.'
*
All went as planned, and when Gavin finally joined Carstairs he learned that during the night his letters had been abstracted from the wallet he kept them in, which he had left lying conveniently on a chest in his room.
'They were taken away for about an hour, and then replaced. 'Tis obvious they were copied.'
'Who was it?' Gavin asked.
'I could see but imperfectly, but methinks 'twas Mistress Perkins. 'Twas a woman, as tall as she is, but she was working by a thread of moonlight coming through a crack in the shutters, and I could see very little. But 'tis something certain at last.'
'Aye. The messengers must avoid the Goat in future, but we do not know what their organisation is. The information has to be passed on.'
'There are many ways she could send information out of the inn. I think we must be satisfied with what we have discovered. If we avoid the Goat and our
messengers are safe, then all will be well. If not, we must make further investigations.'
They parted, and the following day Gavin bade farewell to Sir Humphrey, who had scarcely noticed his presence at the Manor, and rode off for Oxford and the summer campaign.
*
Chapter 7
The little black kitten, which was about three months old, soon recovered from its fright, and Lucy enjoyed its companionship enormously. She made few attempts to win the friendship of the villagers, only when she met them in the ordinary business of life. Mistress Smith was still friendly when they met, though she did not visit the cottage as frequently as before. Lucy hoped this was simply because Mistress Smith had been a particular friend of her grandmother's, and not because of the suspicions of the rest of the villagers.
None of these had appeared at the cottage to collect the small bequests Mistress Dean had made them, and about three weeks after the rescue of the kitten, Lucy decided to make another attempt at friendliness, and deliver some of these items herself. Looking at the list of people involved, she decided she would make her first essay with Mistress Swallow, who had frequently visited Mistress Dean during her illness, and been friendly towards Lucy in a quiet, unassuming way.
The gift left to her was a large pewter jug, and one fine morning when the spring sun was shining brightly, Lucy put on her cloak and set off for Mistress Swallow's cottage, which was near the smithy. As she went, the few villagers she saw ignored her, and after greeting a couple and receiving no reply, Lucy shrugged and passed them in silence. She reached Mistress Swallow's cottage, and seeing her approach, a couple of children playing in the road in front disappeared quickly behind the cottage.
Lucy walked up to the front door and knocked. Very soon the door was opened, and Mistress Swallow looked out. When she saw Lucy she stepped back, a look of fright on her face. Instinctively she put up her hand as though to ward Lucy off. She spoke no word.
'I have brought you my grandmother's gift,' Lucy said. 'She left you this jug, and since you have not collected it, I thought I would bring it to you myself.'
Hesitantly she held out the jug. Mistress Swallow took another step back and shook her head vehemently. Still she said nothing.
'It is a memento of my grandmother. You were a good friend to her, she has remembered her friends in her will. Please will you take it?'
Mistress Swallow continued to shake her head.
'I cannot!'Tis yours, not the old woman's! A gift from you would bring harm to all my family. No, I cannot. 'Tis bewitched! I dare not!'
Growing more and more agitated, shaking her head between every word, she suddenly put out her hand with a jerky movement, and slammed the door in Lucy's face.
Lucy stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned away and walked slowly back to her cottage. She was very tempted to give up, but determined to make another attempt in the hope that Mistress Swallow's reaction was in isolated one. This time she took some pillow beres, finely embroidered by her grandmother, and set off for Mistress Tanner's cottage.
This time when the door was opened to her knock it was not a frightened woman who faced her. Mistress Tanner looked at her in surprise for a moment, and then inclined her head to one side, placed her hands on her hips and stood staring at Lucy, animosity plain in her face.
'What do you want with me?'
'I have brought the things my grandmother wished you to have,' Lucy answered, holding out the pillow beres.
Mistress Tanner did not even glance at them.
'I will take nought from you!'
'It is not from me,' Lucy said urgently. 'This is something my grandmother wished you to have. You have been good to her, and she wished to leave you a small remembrance. Please take them, for her sake.'
'For her sake, poor woman? You dare to pretend you are carrying out her wishes when we all know you killed her to obtain her cottage.'
'What is that you say?' Lucy asked in astonishment.
'You heard! Oh, yes, you pretended to be so loving and kind. Some of us were taken in for a time, but there was nought wrong with your grandmother she would not have recovered from if you had not been there, using your wicked charms upon her.'
'Why does everyone believe such evil of me? 'Tis not true!' Lucy said angrily. 'I am no witch! I know not what you thought of my mother, but I was brought up by people who were no kin of mine since the day I was born. How can you think she taught me to be a witch, as you seem to think?'
'It is enough for your mother to have been a witch for you to be one.'
'I do not understand. I have no wish to harm you. I did not harm my grandmother! What you are saying is wicked!'
'So? Your tune changes, does it not! First you come all pleasant, cozening us with gifts, but we are not to be taken in. Your true nature is shown well enough. Now be off, and do not dare come near this cottage again. Witches are none so powerful these days when good people like Mr Hopkins know how to deal with them, so beware, Lucy Dean!'
*
Lucy looked silently at the woman for a long moment, then turned away and walked from the cottage, resisting a desire to look back, for she knew Mistress Tanner was still standing on the doorstep regarding her malevolently.
There seemed no point in trying to hand out the other gifts her grandmother had intended. She determined to ask Mistress Smith, who was still friendly, about her mother. Constant references, with no one willing to tell her more or answer the questions she asked, had given Lucy a strong desire to find out as much as she could about her mother.
She went to visit Mistress Smith who welcomed her.
'Come in, Lucy child. Why do you look so distressed?'
'You remember that my grandmother left certain items in her will, and after the funeral I told people of these, and asked them to call and collect them? No one has been, so today I tried to take them. Mistress Swallow was obviously afraid of me, said she would not accept a gift from me. She slammed the door in my face.'
'My poor dear!'
'I then tried Mistress Tanner, and she accused me of killing my grandmother – ' Lucy's voice broke on this most hurtful suggestion, but she continued with a rush, 'You do not believe that? You do not believe I am a witch?'
'Do not concern yourself,' Mistress Smith answered comfortingly. 'They do not really believe it, but they are urged on by the spite of Agnes Perkins.'
'I can understand she was jealous if she thought her husband loved my mother, but why does she have to carry on her spite against me?' Lucy asked in puzzlement. 'It is long ago now. My mother died in giving birth to me, which if she had done wrong, was surely punishment enough! And Mr Perkins is dead now too. Why does Agnes dislike me so?'
'Mayhap 'tis because of Jem.'
'Jem? You mean she is jealous of his friendship for me?'
'It is common with many mothers,' Mistress Smith answered. 'They do not like the thought they may be losing their sons.'
'Has Jem paid court to no other girl?'
'Oh, aye, he was one of the favourite lads in the village, and many's the time we have thought to see him wed one of the girls, but it has never happened. Some of us think 'tis the influence of Agnes.'
'But I do not wish to marry Jem, I have told him so. If that is all that causes Agnes' spite could you not tell her?'
'She would not regard what you wish,' Mistress Smith said gently. 'It is what Jem wishes, and he has made it plain he prefers you. Agnes may be frightened because you are different from the village girls. She managed to dissuade Jem from marrying them, but she may feel that in your case she could not prevail on him.'
'But I will not marry him. Could you not tell her?'
Mistress Smith shook her head. 'An I did, she would not believe me.'
Lucy sighed, and they sat for a few minutes in silence.
'Tell me about my mother,' Lucy asked after a while. 'What was she like? Why was she thought to be a witch?'
'She was young, merry, pretty like you. She had many swains,
and was popular, but Agnes began to suspect her husband.'
'Was there truth in it?' Lucy asked.
'I think not. Your mother would not have allowed a married man to court her.'
'But Agnes accused her of being a witch?'
'Aye.'
'What happened?'
'Oh, 'tis long ago,' Mistress Smith replied evasively. 'I cannot remember.'
'Surely you must remember something so unusual?'
'I do not wish to remember. There is no good in that. 'Tis best to forget, and for you not to know.'
*
Despite Lucy's further questioning, Mistress Smith would give her no further information. She persisted in denying detailed knowledge, and would talk no more about it. Lucy could not even discover whether her mother had been indicted. Eventually, realising that she would not learn any more, Lucy bade Mistress Smith goodnight, and went off to her own cottage, more puzzled than ever and determined to discover what she could.
It seemed impossible to discover more, as all the people in the village apart from Jem and Mistress Smith refused to talk with her. Those who had first been friendly had gradually turned away from her, and Mistress Smith would not answer questions. Lucy tried several times to get information from Jem, but he either did not know much about the events, which was likely as he had been but a few years old when Lucy was born, or he was determined not to tell Lucy anything he knew.
He continued his visits to the cottage, bringing game and rabbits, and the trinkets for Lucy, but instead of looking forward to his visits, Lucy was beginning to enjoy them less and less. He appeared to take it for granted after his first two kisses that she would now accept warmer embraces. Lucy tried at first to evade them simply by keeping out of reach but, determined, he would come over to her and she had to tell him plainly they were unwelcome to her.
'No, Jem, you must not,' she told him when it was obvious he expected her complaisance.
'Must not? Why? What is wrong with a little bussing?'
Charms of a Witch Page 6