The Sisterhood:: Curse of Abbot Hewitt

by Annette Siketa

  “Scarcely in condition for the saddle.”

  “Where is he?” asked Roger.

  Nicholas gestured towards the door. “In the library with several bottles of good wine.” He indicated his backside. “I believe he is making himself as comfortable as circumstances permit.”

  Roger winced in pain as he stood up. “I will go to him if you will show me the way.”

  “Master Knowles,” said Alice in a warning tone, “take care what you say to him. The agreement is strictly between ourselves, and once revealed cannot be retracted.”

  Heaving a sigh of relief and without exchanging a word with Nicholas, Roger entered the library. It was a small room panelled in black oak. Twissleton was seated at a table, a goblet, two bottles, and the remnants of food before him. He excused himself for not rising.

  Roger waived a hand dismissively. “I suggest you make yourself as comfortable as possible. We might not be leaving the manor for some time.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” replied Twissleton, adjusting the cushions on his chair.

  “No, you don’t understand. It might be days, possibly weeks.”

  Twissleton yelped as he sat bolt upright. “What? Stay in this accursed house for a week? Sir, with every respect, have you lost your senses?”

  “I have a grave matter to consider.”

  The solicitor was suddenly wary. “What matter?”

  “One that cannot be rushed,” said Roger fiercely, venting a little of his impotent rage.

  “She has bewitched you,” said Twissleton confidently. “You have been closeted with her for the past hour and she has done something to you, something that…”

  Roger rounded on him. “Enough! This is all your fault. We set out this morning to settle a trivial dispute and you turn it into a witch-hunt. May all my ills alight on your head!”

  “How dare you!” The solicitor was practically screaming. “You were just as eager to capture and punish the bitches.”

  “I want no more to do with you! I wish I had never seen your ugly face!”

  “You are bewitched! You would never behave like this to your best friend. My excellent sir, I beseech you to calm down and listen to me. If you have made an arrangement with Mistress Nash, it is neither morally nor legally binding. Wait!” Twissleton put his hands on the table and leaned forward, his voice low and suspicious. “Have you signed anything?”

  Roger sighed and poured a goblet of wine. “No,” he said dully.

  “And did you make any form of promise?”

  Roger rubbed his eyes. “I beg you do not question me further,” he said in a weary voice, but the solicitor’s imagination had already taken flight.

  “It is evident that some dastardly plot is in play, otherwise we would not be held captive in this vile prison.”

  “You regard the manor as vile?” said a voice from the doorway. Once again argument had led to distraction, and neither man had heard the door open and Alice enter the room. She pointedly looked at the furnishings. “I doubt, Master Twissleton, that you’d get comfortable chairs and bottles of wine in prison.”

  “Which is precisely where you belong,” he retorted. “I demand that you release us this instant.”

  “You are both injured and require attention. Besides, it is growing dark. Please consider yourselves my guests.”

  Twissleton retreated into stateliness. “Duty calls me forthwith. Hence I must therefore decline your hospitality.”

  His dignity was torn to shreds when Alice waved a hand. Twissleton fell back as if pushed. His howl of pain as his tender backside made hard contact with the chair, could be heard in the courtyard.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kidnapped

  Erasmus Pope had not slept well. Not even the prospect of a hearty breakfast, which was usually his main meal till supper, could rouse his restless spirit. He had been plagued by satanic dreams all night. Master Twissleton was being roasted alive. A rod had been shoved up his arse and pushed through his body, so that the other end protruded from his mouth. Roger was standing between two stakes, hands bound and completely naked. Alice Nash, with the aid of a short silver knife, was slicing strips of flesh from his body, and on the same fire burning beneath the solicitor, was frying them in a pan and eating them. At intervals, she would drop to her knees and greedily suck his member, so that he had no choice but to spill his seed, which she devoured with the voracity of a starving dog.

  It was the latter that had awakened Pope, and as he removed his wet and stained nightshirt, he knew what he must do. After making several pre-arranged calls, he would ride to Holton Abbey and seek an urgent audience with Sir Howarth Faulkner.

  Satisfied with the plan, Erasmus ate his breakfast and then mounted his horse. The sky was even more threatening than the day before, and he had little doubt that by the time he reached Holton, the heavens would have opened in earnest. Still, he was on a mission of mercy, and it was not for him to grumble at the Lord’s choice of weather.

  ***

  Lavinia and Richard were also examining the sky. They had decided to venture outside the manner, and Nicholas, knowing they would prefer to be alone, walked with them as far as the gate.

  “Don’t be long,” he shouted after them, laughing to himself and wondering how it would end.

  Richard raised an arm in acknowledgement and then took Lavinia’s hand. “For all its bad reputation, one could be very happy here.”

  Lavinia forced a smile. “Even with you, I do not think I could be happy here. Naturally I do not remember it in my infancy, and yet when I arrived yesterday, it was unaccountably familiar. I knew the entrance hall and the huge arched fireplace. I knew the tapestries on the walls, the oak staircase and the room to which my mother led me. I even recognised a portrait of my father. There is nothing to suggest that there is anything sinister here, and yet the manor fills me with dread.”

  “Do you think your mother could have placed those memories in your head?”

  “For what purpose? She stated from the outset that she would bring me here, so if I was going to see it anyway, what would be the point?”

  “Then some warning voice inside you is telling you to quit the place, which I also urge you to do.”

  “I’ve told you, I won’t dessert her.”

  “Well, even if she banishes me from the house, I will come again. Yonder thicket is an excellent hiding place, and the ditch, which is obviously a fire-break, is easily crossed.”

  “No, Richard, no secrets, we… who’s that?” A small head had popped up from behind a bush. Lavinia gasped. “Catherine!”

  “Hello… dear sister,” she said contemptuously.

  Richard’s face darkened. “Speak civilly or I’ll box your ears.”

  Catherine shrugged. “I have a message for ye, Lavinia, a private message.”

  “Who from?”

  Catherine jerked a thumb at Richard. “Not in front of him.”

  Richard sighed and started to walk away. “Very well.”

  “No, stay where you are,” said Lavinia. “She can have nothing to say which you may not hear.”

  Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?” she challenged.

  Prompted by curiosity, Lavinia followed her to the thicket on the other side of the ditch. Richard watched them ascend the opposite bank. Then, just before they disappeared from view, he thought he saw another figure. A moment later there was a terrified scream. Richard was across the ditch in an instant, but when he reached the spot where he’d last seen Lavinia, there was nobody in sight.

  ***

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” screamed Alice, who along with Nicholas, was standing on the front steps of the manor.

  “I… I…” Panting and sweating and consumed by panic, Richard managed to get the story out. Alice then let fly a barrage of questions.

  “Who can have done this?” she posed, wringing her hands. “The figure you saw, man or woman?”

  “I don’t know,” said Richard, who was now
being supported by Nicholas. “I had the impression that it was a woman, but I could not swear to it.”

  “A woman? If Catherine was involved, then it must have been Margaret Dymock, though for what purpose I cannot conceive.”

  “We must go after them,” said Nicholas sternly.

  “No! Wait!” Alice looked from one young man to the other. Her next decision could cost one of them his life. Whom to choose? The brash Nicholas or the love-struck Richard? A hitherto suppressed emotion stirred in Alice’s heart – compassion. “Nicholas, please see to our guests. Richard, you come with me.”

  Alice led him to a small room near her own chamber. “You will need protection,” she said, unlocking a small chest.

  “I will not engage in witchcraft!”

  Alice glared at him. “Then Lavinia is lost. Dymock will force her to become a witch, or worse, sacrifice her. Is that what you want? If you’re too much of a coward then I’ll go to Wolfdene myself.”

  “Wolfdene?”

  “Of course. Where else would the hag take her? Now, do you want my help or not?”

  Richard tried to fight his revulsion of being directly connected with witchcraft, but his deep affection for Lavinia rendered it a hopeless quest. He nodded. Alice withdrew a medallion on a gold chain from the chest. Richard turned it over in his hand. Both sides were blank.

  “There’s nothing on it.”

  “It’s impregnated with virtue. Put it on and no witchcraft can harm you. But, be warned. No matter what happens, do not take it off.”

  Richard slipped the chain over his head. The moment the medallion rested on his heart, something warm and pleasant seemed to flow through his veins. “How do I get in? From what I’ve heard, it’s virtually impregnable.”

  Alice pointed to the medallion. “Once you’re close to Wolfdene, she will ‘sense’ you and know that you have a charm against spells. She will be very curious and watch you, perhaps from the upper door. It is up to you to convince her to open it. Be mightily on your guard though, for she will send her familiar to spy on you, possibly intercept you.”

  “Her what?”

  “Her familiar. It’s a sort of personal servant who, amongst other things, can imitate people. I…” Alice broke off. How to describe Einyon? He was certainly her helper, but he was definitely not a servant. Indeed, such was the mystery of her own birth, that she sometimes suspected he might be her own father.

  “Aunt Alice?”

  “I do not have a familiar,” she finished. “Now, if Margaret refuses entry, take ten steps to the left and examine the masonry at the foot of the tower. One of the stones has an iron knob at the base. Turn it carefully lest it should make a noise, and the stone will swing open. Beyond that, I know not. Contrary to current opinion, I have never set foot in Wolfdene.”

  “I understand.” He was about to leave when Alice suddenly embraced him.

  “For God’s sake, Richard, be careful. She is capable of anything.”

  Richard stared at her as though he had never seen her before. She had actually said ‘god’, and to the best of his knowledge, witches were incapable of uttering it. He did not know that Alice had felt another wave of compassion. This time however, it had been enhanced by another strong emotion – sympathy.

  ***

  Alice watched him ride away and then hurried to her room. The air inside was unusually heavy and repressive. It was like trying to breathe in thick fog. She opened a window and took in great gulps of air. Something was happening to her that she could not define. She went to the wardrobe and rapped on the door, unaware that a raven had landed on the windowsill.

  “Einyon?” she said. “Einyon, appear this instant.”

  A minute later, the door opened and his imposing figure stepped out. “I’m busy,” he growled, adjusting his hose. “What do you want?”

  “Lavinia has been kidnapped.”

  “So?”

  “So I need your help to recover her.”

  “Why?” He sneered at her. “Does her cunni taste sweet? Does your tongue long to lap her virginal juices?”

  “You filthy pig!” Alice raised a hand to strike but Einyon was much quicker. The blow sent her sprawling across the floor.

  “I was coming to see you anyway,” he said, unperturbed by the blood now trickling from the corner of her mouth.

  “What for?” she asked, rising to her feet and dabbing her mouth with a kerchief.

  “Nothing escapes the Master’s attention, and he is perfectly aware of the change that is taking place in you. He wishes to remind you that he has scrupulously adhered to his part of the contract, and that he has no intention of abandoning his claim on you. I need hardly remind you that your term draws to a close. However, he will forgive your disloyalty if you beg for forgiveness and further commit to his service.”

  Later, Alice could not fully explain why she said what she did. All she knew was that she had never been more aware of her conscience. “Unless Lavinia is restored this instant, I will do no such thing.”

  Einyon laughed. “You think to out-wit the Master? You forget, madam, that your daughter is in the hands of a faithful servant whose time is also nigh. She will not hesitate to reap the benefit of sacrifice.”

  “She wouldn’t dare!”

  “Oh yes she would.”

  Alice summoned what little remained of her boldness. “I command thee to bring Lavinia hither at once.”

  Einyon shook his head, his piercing eyes shining with malice. “You should have read your contract more thoroughly. The moment you experienced remorse, your powers were suspended.” He chuckled. “Go on, try casting a spell. You’re now as impotent as a poxed dick.”

  Alice spied the raven on the windowsill and waved a hand. The bird blinked its black beady eyes imperiously but that was all. Shock and anger gave way to realisation, and little by little, her sinfulness, her loneliness, the incomprehensible futility of her life, began to flash through her mind.

  Alice closed her eyes to try and blot out the disturbing picture. “Fool that I was to trust one who, from the very beginning, has been a deceiver.”

  “You have a short memory, madam. The Master favoured you from the start. Allow me to remind you.”

  Einyon waved his hands towards the hearth. The figures of a man and young woman appeared. Both were naked, the woman with her legs wide open. Einyon waved his hand again and the couple vanished, replaced by a man whose eyes were burning with infernal fire. He pointed to the flagstone, where the word ‘murderess’ was written in blood.

  “You caught him in the act,” said Einyon. “That pack of lies you told Lavinia was just a blind. It was you who was insanely jealous, not Edward Nash. Why do you think Andrew Stoddard abandoned you? Yes he bedded Elizabeth Ashmore, and yes he was the father of her murdered child, but he loved you, genuinely loved you, but…”

  Alice covered her ears. “Stop it!”

  Einyon waved his hand and the apparition vanished. “The Master removed your pain and gave you terrific powers. Are they now to be cast aside like dung?”

  “He is an arch deceiver,” rejoined Alice. “His promises are worthless.”

  “What did you expect? Flowers and sweetmeats? It is far too late to change your mind.”

  “Perhaps not,” she said thoughtfully. “There is an alternative.” She paused and then said reflectively, “There has always been an alternative.”

  Einyon stepped back, his eyes fearful and his voice a threatening hiss. “Do not speak of redemption in my presence or I will tear your worthless body apart.”

  Alice ignored him. Slowly but surely, piety was superseding evil. “Show me a witch who has profited by him. Does he ever help his servants when in dire need? Dymock and Craddock have committed all manner of atrocities, but look at the result of their long and devoted service. Are they rich? Are they in possession of unfading youth and beauty? Are they splendidly housed? Have they all they desire? No. One lives in an ancient tower and the other a wretched hovel. Both are lit
tle better than animals, surviving on threats imposed on hapless peasants, and capable of no other gratification than malice.”

  “Utter shite. If they wanted those things, they could have them in an instant. It is the power they exalt, the ability to hypnotise by glance or gesture, to inflict maladies by word or curse. They know they are privileged and enjoy it.”

  “Yes, but to what end? Would they still consider themselves fortunate if they knew that their ultimate fate would be the flames of perdition?”

  Einyon laughed as if he’d just heard a good joke. “Very true. Such will be their fate, but what of it? The hags will have enjoyed an exceptionally long life, perhaps longer than nature intended. No doubt this is why Dymock has taken Lavinia. There is nothing the Master likes better than a sweet juicy virgin, and as Margaret’s term expires an hour after midnight tonight, she will seek to extend it with a blood sacrifice.”

  “Liar! My daughter can never be offered. None of the sisterhood can harm her. Her innocence will protect her like armour. If he must have a sacrifice then let it be me, but Lavinia – never!”

  Einyon looked at her pityingly. “You poor deluded woman. Go to Wolfdene at midnight and see for yourself. You know I speak the truth.”

  Alice could not take any more. “Get out! I never want to see you again!”

  Einyon narrowed his eyes. “Be very sure of that. Once dismissed I cannot be recalled.”

  “I care not. Begone!”

  “Very well. Do not say you weren’t warned.”

  Einyon stepped into the wardrobe and slammed the door. The ensuing silence was deafening, broken only when Alice burst into tears. Without her powers, she had no chance of battling Margaret Dymock, especially if the renewal of a compact was involved. In the world of evil to which they both belonged, the blood of a pious virgin was arguably the most valuable trading commodity.

  ***

  Alice lay on the bed and closed her eyes, her thoughts racked by remorse. There was seemingly no escape. Indeed, now that she had rejected her ‘master’, would hell, with its unquenchable fires and unimaginable horrors, be waiting to receive her?