Alice spun around. “What the…”
“It’s only me,” cried Dorothy.
“For goodness sake, child, don’t frighten us like that.”
Dorothy could only see the funny side. “Did you think I was a ghost?”
“You’re dressed in white,” said Alice pointedly. She too had been startled by the supposed apparition.
“So I am,” said Dorothy in mild surprise, as if she’d only just noticed. “Sorry.”
“Where’s your husband?”
“Drunk in a stable. He’ll have a king-sized headache in the morning. I do wish he wouldn’t drink so heavily.” Then, realising she’d spoken indelicately, Dorothy changed the subject. “I’ll bring the night attire for Lavinia,” and so saying, opened the door next to Alice’s room.
Being a marital chamber, it was twice as big as the room next door, and apart from the wardrobe, which was plain and conventional, had the same type of original furniture. Unbeknownst to Dorothy and Nicholas, the carved oak bed with its dusky hangings, had once been the repose of Abbot Hewitt.
Dorothy undressed, donned a cloak of deep purple trimmed with ermine, and began rummaging through her chests. “Now, where did I put it?” Unable to find the garment she was seeking, she pushed aside a tapestry and entered a small adjacent closet. Her face turned white as a sheet. Standing against the far wall, his features soft and benign, was a monk in a rough brown habit.
“Don’t scream,” he intoned, holding up his hands palms outwards. “I will not harm you. On the contrary, my mission is one of the upmost peace.”
“Who… who are you?”
“You would not believe me if I told you.”
He did indeed seem harmless, and some of Dorothy’s courage returned. “What do you want?”
“Your help.”
“If it’s alms you want, I have a little money in a chest.”
Father Hewitt smiled reassuringly. “No, not money. Tell me, the young girl with Alice Nash, do you care about her?”
“Yes, very much.”
“It is she who needs your help. Go to her, find any excuse you can, but do not leave her alone tonight.”
“Why? She is perfectly safe with Aunt Alice.”
“Please, just do as I ask. If the attempt fails, return here and we will speak again. Now, hurry, my child, time is short.”
There had been a sense of urgency in his voice that bespoke of truth. Dorothy grabbed several garments and hurried next door. She was about to knock when it occurred to her that they might have retired already. She put an ear to the door. All was silent. She turned the handle and stepped inside. Lavinia was still fully dressed and asleep in a chair by the fire. The bed however, was empty.
Advancing on tiptoe, she went across and tried to wake Lavinia. There was no response, nor was there anything natural about her posture. Instead of relaxed and supple, her body was straight-backed with head erect, and there was a sickly sweet aroma lingering about her head. Dorothy put her nose close to Lavinia’s lips and sniffed. Common sense rather than certain knowledge told her what it was.
“Drugged,” she whispered in astonishment…and then almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a noise inside the water closet. Instinct warned her to hide, but where? The wardrobe was closer than the door. Dorothy darted across and slipped inside just as Alice entered the room.
Alice stood in front of Lavinia, who had not moved a muscle. “I’m sorry my love, but it was necessary for your protection.”
She went to the bed and extracted a small black box from under the mattress. The box had no apparent lock, but when she waved a hand over the lid, it rose of its own accord. Two glass vessels lay on a cushion of black velvet. The first vessel contained a silvery liquid and the second a bright green unguent.
Alice dabbed some of the liquid onto her lips and then rubbed the unguent into her hands. She took a deep breath and clicked her fingers. “To the master!”
Dorothy stifled a gasp. Alice was no longer in view. She waited several minutes, and after looking about as far as her limited range would allow, crept out of the wardrobe. She flew across to Lavinia and tried to rouse her, but once again there was no reaction.
Though puzzled and not a little frightened, Dorothy’s eye was drawn to the open box on the bed. Curiosity got the better of her, and copying Alice, dabbed some of the silver liquid on her lips.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and then without warning, Dorothy felt a rush of exquisite excitement. Every inhibition lifted from her shoulders. She had never felt so happy nor reckless in her life.
She suddenly had a savage desire to make love to her husband. She must find him, and what’s more, Lavinia had to watch. After all, so Dorothy reasoned in her befuddled brain, she was a married woman, and it was incumbent on her to teach her friend the secrets of the bedroom.
She dabbed some of the liquid onto Lavinia’s lips, who immediately opened her eyes and began to giggle. “Did you know your brother has wonderful shapely legs?” she said, speaking as though she was in the middle of a conversation. “Oh, Dorothy, how I long to see him without hose.”
Dorothy put a finger to her lips and said ‘shush’ as though drunk. “I feel so free!” She spread her arms and whirled around the room, her prior admonishment seemingly forgotten. “Let’s go back to the ball, or better yet, find Nicholas and strip him naked.”
“No, let’s go outside,” said Lavinia. An irresistible urge was driving her to leave the room.
“Yes! To the moon, to the stars, perhaps heaven itself!” Dorothy grabbed Lavinia’s hand. “Hold tight!” She clicked her fingers. “To the master!”
***
Every door, every window, every wall, seemed to melt away, and descending a secret staircase known only to a few since the days of Abbot Hewitt, the women entered the garden. They glided in the moonlight like winged spirits, not caring that they were being drawn to the ruined chapel, or that there was a strange dense mist hovering over it. It was not until Lavinia pushed through the curtain of ivy that a semblance of consciousness returned.
Undefined and extraordinary shapes were flying around with whoops and piercing cries, some riding a black, monstrous steed. The ground seemed to heave as if trying to disgorge the dead, while the sounds made by croaking toads and cawing ravens, competed with moans and unearthly laughter.
Appalled and yet fascinated, Lavinia moved towards the end of the chapel, using the noises and shadows for cover. She kept tight hold of Dorothy’s hand, whose eyes were now glazed and dreamy.
A fire was burning under a huge bubbling cauldron, the glow illuminating a large group of people sitting in a circle. Many were chatting and toying with an object, while others were kissing and fondling each other. Then, as if a signal had been given, they all fell silent.
There was a sense of excitement as an attractive woman in her early 30’s, stood up and tipped the contents of a box into the cauldron. She waved her hands in the air and recited, “Head of monkey, brain of cat, eye of weasel, tail of rat. The accursed dog of Frederick Reynolds, I command thee to drop dead.”
“Well versed, Mistress Remick,” said a man in his late 50’s with a thick silver-grey beard, “but I think I can do better,” and he too approached the cauldron. His eyes were wide and slightly mad as he chanted, “Foam and spit from a mad dog's lips, killed beneath the moon's eclipse. Blended with ashes of a dead man’s dick, the vicar of Appleby to remain without wit.” He then threw a decapitated rabbit into the pot, which produced a flash of bright orange light.
There was a round of applause as he sat down again. A red-haired woman with a prominent nose took her place beside the cauldron. Her offering was a loaf of very mouldy bread. “Slugs and newts from near the river, bones of toad and dead cat liver. Flesh of swine fattened on one of her brood, the family of Mary Uxbridge to be devoid of food.”
Next came Nancy Redfern with a small clay representation of Horace Twissleton. “In his likeness it is moulded, and with pins
I have enfolded. In his guts and in his heart, may cramps attack him so he ne’er can fart.”
Another witch sang out, “Over mountain, over dale, on faithful broomsticks we come to regale, for who this night hath greatest need, to fill new concubine with flaming seed.”
There was a wild burst of laughter as a man stood up and responded, “She’ll kiss my lips and stroke my cock, perchance she’ll confuse ‘em and never stop.”
Fanny Craddock, dish in hand, now approached. “Feathers from the horny owl, a beak from a cockerel and other fatal fowl. A horse’s tooth pulled at the height of the moon, Rosie May’s babe to die before noon.”
“Keep you awake did she?” yelled the grey- bearded man.
Fanny snorted. “Denied me a sack of spuds. I told her she’d pay for it.” There was a brief pause in which the air seemed to crackle. Then, nodding in satisfaction, Fanny went on, “Monk and brethren young and old, who sleep beneath a ground of mould, by thy lust and power thy were undone, I bid thee rise thy reward to come.”
The ground under the chapel shook for a moment, and then a procession of ghost-like monks glided up the aisle and gathered around what was once the altar. A nearby flagstone opened as if on a hinge, and a nun in a glowing white habit emerged. Unseen, Father Hewitt stood in the shadows and cried as the nun disrobed and lay naked on a flat-topped tomb. Perversely, she was still wearing her wimple as, one-by-one, the monks came forward to take her, their hips gyrating with pent-up passion.
With the exception of several older women, including Fanny, the ‘human’ rutting began in earnest. Somewhat surprisingly, apart from low moans of ecstasy, there was very little noise.
The orgy complete, Fanny waved a hand, and with the exception of Father Hewitt, who retreated even further into the background, all the monks and the nun returned from whence they came.
A dark-haired woman who had been watching from the shadows now came forward. Dressed in a blood-red cloak embroidered with mystical characters, Alice’s expression was imperious as she was saluted by the others, who prostrated themselves as she sat on the tomb so licentiously used by the nun.
“Mistress Craddock, I command thee to bring the sacrifice.” The old woman hobbled away. There was absolute silence. Everyone could hear her shuffling steps, and when she returned to the cauldron a minute or so later, she was carrying a bundle as if it was a babe.
Lavinia was seized by terror, and though scarcely able to breathe, mustered her courage to save the child. She was about to rush forward when Alice snatched and unwrapped the bundle. It was a live dove tied at the feet.
Conjecturing what was to happen next, Lavinia averted her eyes, and when she looked back again, the bird was dead, its beautiful plumage soaked in blood. Sick and faint, she gripped Dorothy’s hand even tighter. There was still a glazed look in her eyes, and she seemed totally unaware of what was taking place.
As Alice tossed the now headless bird into the cauldron, two more figures stepped out of the shadows - Einyon and Catherine. They were followed by Nex, who now resembled a panther rather than a cat.
“No!” Elizabeth Ashmore ran forward from the extremity of the circle. She would have seized her daughter if Einyon had not pushed her away.
“The Master wants a new novitiate,” he said, glancing meaningfully at Catherine, who had made no attempt to join her mother.
“No,” Elizabeth repeated. “She cannot be baptised without my permission and I do not give it. I don’t want her to become a witch, at least not yet. Catherine, go home at once and stay there.”
“I will not! I want to be a witch. I want to be like granny Dymock.”
“You stupid, stupid child. I forbid it.” Elizabeth turned to Alice. “It was you! You stole her from the Ball.”
“No more than you stole my child all those years ago. Did you really think you could get away with it? I cannot even begin to fathom your motive, not that it matters now. She wants to become a witch and I am more than happy to help her.”
“This is revenge,” cried Elizabeth, a note of desperation in her voice.
“Of course it is,” said Alice with vindictive pleasure. She looked at Einyon meaningfully. “And I hope for your sake she’s still a virgin.”
Elizabeth interrupted. The alter of hymen was a valuable commodity, and she was not about to waste it for the sake of petty revenge. “She is too young and too foolish and cannot be trusted.”
Alice shrugged. “Age does not matter, and whoever is chosen as her familiar will teach her obedience.”
“What must I do?” asked Catherine, impatient at the bickering.
“You must renounce God and worship only Satan,” replied Alice. “You will be baptised with blood, and afterwards, given the power to inflict ailments on people and livestock, and once you’ve made your first human kill, you will be initiated into the pleasures of the flesh, which can never be refused. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I so want to punish those who have jeered and laughed at me, that I will do anything, and as for pleasures of the flesh…’” she giggled seductively, “…my first conquest is already waiting.”
“Catherine! No!” Lavinia, blind to the danger, rushed into the circle and tried to grab her former sister. There was an outbreak of murmuring. Many in the covenant hid their face, whilst others hissed in disapproval.
Alice’s face turned white. How much had the child seen? “Lavinia, what are you doing here? How did you break the bond of slumber? Oh, never mind. Get out of here at once. Catherine is beyond redemption and you cannot help her. Go!”
But Lavinia did not move. “Not without Catherine,” she said stubbornly.
Elizabeth burst into hysterical laughter. “What a pity her father isn’t here to witness this. I’m sure he would approve.”
Even under the circumstances it was an odd remark to make. Alice could only conclude that it was borne from spite. “If you think to shock Lavinia then think again. I have already told her about Andrew Stoddard.”
“And did you tell her everything? Did you tell her that you killed the father of your child… and mine?”
In the ensuing silence, Alice’s voice sounded unnaturally restrained. “What are you talking about?”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed in triumph as she said in a rush, “Where do you think he was on those occasions when you were out with Edward pretending to be the dutiful wife? In my bed! I loved him and I wanted him. You know how brutal John was. But no, Andrew only had eyes for you. And then one night, John stood idly by as your husband raped me. Do you hear me? Your husband! And so I took my revenge on all of you. I told Edward about your affair with Andrew, little knowing that, like you, I was carrying his child.”
“You’re lying,” said Alice vehemently, but deep in her heart she knew it was true.
Elizabeth now turned her eyes on Lavinia. Her tone was surprisingly soft as she said, “That’s why I took you, to remind me of the only man I ever loved. As a babe you resembled Andrew. But as you grew older your features changed, and you began to look as beautiful as Alice was at the time.”
“Enough!” Einyon stepped forward, and in the light from the fire, his scarred face looked even more fearful. He made to move towards Lavinia but Alice blocked his path.
“Please, Einyon, I beg of you, do not corrupt her innocence. Give her your protection instead, at least until she understands.”
“Protection?” His eyes narrowed. “When we made our arrangement earlier to bring Catherine here tonight, you thought to offer her as the new novitiate. But the Master did not approve. So now you must choose another.” His voice became hard. “Right now!”
There was a long pause in which, somewhat to her surprise, Alice felt tears behind her eyes. Previously, no man or woman had touched her frigid heart in years. Now however, with her own child, her own flesh & blood, in peril, long dormant emotions were beginning to stir. It was therefore with unfamiliar despair that she asked, “Is there nothing that can be done?”
“The Master expe
cts fulfilment. Thy daughter or another but not Catherine.” Einyon bent his head so that only Alice could hear him. “She is being saved for another purpose.”
Alice nodded, stood up, and pointed in the direction of the main residence. “Dorothy Faulkner, come hither!” There was a prolonged silence. The minutes ticked past. Alice tried again but still Dorothy did not appear. Sensing duplicity, Alice rounded on Einyon. “What trickery is this? You are interfering with my power for your own purpose.”
He slapped her face. “Foolish bitch! She is already here,” and with a mere crook of his finger, Dorothy came forward.
“Aunt Alice,” she sang-out merrily, “I was very naughty and drank your potion.”
Alice now acted, not out of selfishness, but preservation, though who she was trying to save at that moment she could not have said. “Ah, so that explains it. Good, you are in no state to offer resistance. Dorothy, would you like to be a witch? You could stop Nicholas from drinking too much.”
“Nicholas? Oh, you mean my husband.” Laughing as though she’d said something funny, Dorothy’s glazed eyes took in the assembled company. “You have some strange friends, Aunty.”
“Do I?” Alice waved a hand and muttered under her breath. “What do you see now?”
Dorothy let out a gasp of delight. “Oh, Aunt Alice, I can see fairies and nymphs. They have garlands in their hair and they’re dancing. How gracefully and lightly they move. Look how gentle they are when they touch and kiss each other.” She giggled. “I can see their bosoms. They have little nipples like cherry stones.” She started to sway as though hearing music. “I want to dance too. Can I play with them?”
“Not until you agree to marry the Prince.”
“A real prince? Oh, Aunt Alice, I…”
“Stop!” Lavinia took hold of Dorothy’s shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. “Wake up! It’s not real! You don’t know what you’re saying.” Lavinia started to cry. “Oh, Dorothy, wake up, wake up.” She turned beseeching eyes on Alice. “You must stop this. You…” but her words were drowned by Einyon’s thunderous voice.
The Sisterhood:: Curse of Abbot Hewitt Page 11