Cauldron of Fear Page 11

  Harriet snorted and shook her head. 'Pay no heed to such nonsense, Toby,' she spat. 'Matilda is no more a witch than I am, and I'm nothing to fear, am I?' Toby looked a little more than uneasy and shuffled his feet awkwardly. 'Toby?' she probed. 'You're not afraid of me, are you? Is there something I should know?' For several seconds, the youth looked as if he was about to turn and run, but Anne stepped forward and seized him firmly by the shoulder, shaking him with surprising roughness.

  'Cat got your tongue, Toby Blaine?' she demanded. 'Don't you try foolin' with me, either. Something's going on in that head of yours, or I'm not a mother of two boys myself! You answer Miss Harriet's question, my lad.'

  'Well,' he began hesitantly, 'it's nothing, not really - just that I also heard someone sayin' as how word is that you, Miss Harriet, that you was also maybe a witch and as how the Crawley cove was maybe goin' to come after you next!' He looked almost as sheepish as he did worried. 'Not that you bein' a witch would worry me, miss,' he added hastily. 'My gran always told us there were more good witches than bad 'uns anyway!'

  Even in the darkness Matilda recognised the burly forms of Crawley's henchmen, but they were not working alone and, as she peered out through the eye slits in the leather hood, she was able to identify most of the half dozen or so other men who were bringing armfuls of wood to the steadily growing mound.

  She shivered, cringing against the stake, recalling the images she had seen in the books in her uncle's house, of women condemned as witches being burned alive. True, even Matthew Hopkins had not burned his victims, for the burning of witches in England had ceased hundreds of years since, but then this man Crawley seemed capable of making his own laws.

  However, instead of piling the kindling about Matilda's feet, the shadowy figures seemed quite content to stack it in a pile some ten or more paces away, and to stack it in a fashion that suggested they had no intention of moving it again. The reason was not long in being revealed.

  'Set the fire!' The harsh voice scythed through the darkness and Matilda felt her stomach lurch as she recognised Crawley's harsh tone. The men grouped around and she heard the sound of flints being struck, sparks lighting up the night, before at last a small flame was kindled. One man stepped forward, a pitcher in his hands and bent over the flickering light. Seconds later the spluttering little fire leapt into renewed life, as the oil caught and then the dry twigs succumbed in their turn.

  'Turn the devil's spawn whore!' Crawley commanded. 'Let the light see her back.' The man Matilda recognised as Jed stepped forward, his original companion, Silas Grout, but half a pace behind him. They moved behind her and she felt their hands upon her as they unlocked the chains that held her, but the respite was short-lived.

  Unceremoniously they spun her about so she faced the stake, hauling her arms around it and chaining them again, except that this time they attached a length of rope to her bonds and hauled her wrists high above her head before tying it off, so that now she was stretched fully, the weighted boots preventing her from even standing upon tiptoe in order to relieve the strain.

  Meanwhile the flames were beginning to grow higher, throwing the scene into a dreadful blood-red light and, at the same time, dark figures began to approach from all sides of the green. It was, Matilda realised, a gathering of ghoulish fascination: men especially, but some women too, who had not wanted even to approach as far as the iron ring perimeter during the hours of daylight, now used the cloak of darkness to embolden them into watching the impending spectacle.

  Straining to turn her head from side to side, Matilda peered into the shadows, trying to identify Simon Wickstanner, certain that he would not miss the chance to witness her further pain and degradation, but most of the faces were remaining just far enough back so that they were not illuminated by the fire sufficiently for her to recognise them.

  The crowd was growing more quickly, the less adventurous of the villagers taking their lead from the early comers, and even through the leather hood and above the crackling of burning timber Matilda could hear the ambient buzz of whispered conversations increasing by the minute. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength, knowing that the moment could not be far away now...

  Chapter 8

  Adam finally left the two girls alone in a bare timber-walled store to rest, bringing in two blankets, which he threw over a heap of straw.

  'We'll wash you again and dress you properly before this evening,' he said, turning in the doorway. 'Our visitor likes to have his ladies elegantly attired in the French style, so I'm told, so we've got you your own personal maids in attendance later.' He chuckled again and stepped outside, banging the door shut, and they heard the sound of the wooden locking bar being dropped into place.

  'I'm sorry, Sarah,' Kitty sighed, lying back across her half of the rustic pallet. Sarah, her eyes already closed, sighed in turn.

  'Don't be,' she said, wriggling to make herself as comfortable as possible, though the fact that Adam had left them both in their leather harnesses, with their wrists still cuffed at their waists, did not make this an easy matter. 'You did what you had to do, that's all.'

  'Maybe I did more than just that,' Kitty murmured.

  Sarah opened one eye and turned her head to where her recent 'lover' lay. 'Oh?' she said quizzically. 'And how was that?'

  'I should be shamed to tell you, but I think I ought.'

  'Tell me what?'

  With an effort, Kitty struggled back into a sitting position. 'I think I should tell you fair,' she said, 'seein' as how we'll be expected to do the same again this evening, by all sound of it.' She pursed her lips and half lowered her eyelids. 'An' the fact is,' she continued, 'that I for one am lookin' forward to it.'

  'You are?' Now Sarah's eyes were wide open. 'But surely—?'

  'Surely I can't be?' Kitty cut her short. 'Well, that's where you're wrong, my pretty Sarah. I'd dip my lips to your sweet honeypot anytime, any day and without no threat of the whip to urge me on.'

  Sarah hesitated, unsure of what she should say.

  'Yes, because I prefer the soft feel of another woman to the brute coarseness of most men, though I confess I'm not completely averse to a good tuppin' now and then.' Kitty grinned, almost shamefacedly, though not quite, Sarah thought.

  'But why do you feel the need to confess this to me now?' she asked. 'Whatever is planned for this night will happen one way or the other, for neither of us would much relish the thought of being whipped. Almost anything would have to be preferable to that. Even what that swine Ross did with me earlier, though I never thought I'd ever hear myself admitting to such a thing.'

  Sarah laid still for several seconds, studying Kitty's naked body, her eyes drawn to her incredible breasts and their still swollen nipples. 'Do you think I shall be expected to do the same to you tonight?' she asked quietly.

  Kitty shrugged her shoulders. 'I shouldn't wonder at it. Does it worry you greatly, then?'

  Sarah felt her cheeks slowly beginning to burn and she averted her eyes again, staring up at the ceiling beams instead. 'Well,' she said hesitantly, 'I've never done any such thing before, and I assumed you had not, either. Have you done it often?' She heard Kitty give a barely stifled laugh.

  'Often enough, or not, depending upon your point of view, I suppose,' she said. 'And had the favour returned, too. My first time was with a friend, before I was taken the first time.'

  'First time?' Sarah said, turning to look at her companion once again. 'How do you mean?'

  'Well, I was taken by men while I was walking along the shore, near where I lived,' Kitty said. 'It was early in the morning and I was collecting driftwood for the fire in our cottage. My brother usually came with me, but this morning he was stricken with an ague. I saw the boat drawn up in the shallows, but thought little enough of it for there were always fishing boats offshore. One of the men called out to me and I went closer, thinking he was asking me for the name of our village, for there had been some high winds the night before and, for all I knew, they had
been blown off course.

  'But then, as I came close by, two of them sprang from the boat, bore me to the ground and bound me with ropes. I was thrown into the boat and they set the sail and drew away from the beach with all speed. I quickly discovered that most of them were French or Dutch, only the one who had hailed me was English.

  'They were mostly navy deserters, pillaging on both sides of the water, wherever they could steal - goods, money, or people, it was all the same to them. A week later we had sailed south, so the English one told me, and were heading close in shore to Spain, where I was to be sold to Moorish traders, probably to end up in some wealthy Arab's harem, they said.'

  'You poor thing!' Sarah gasped, her voice no more than an awed whisper.

  Kitty smiled thinly. 'By then I was half past caring. The crew numbered some nine or ten and each of them had his way with me several times, despite the fact I was often half dead with exhaustion. The thought of being only one woman of several and only one man to worry about, that came as a blessed relief, believe me.'

  'But you didn't get to a harem, I presume?' Sarah said. 'Otherwise, even I know you would never have come back here.'

  'No, more's the pity,' Kitty said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. 'All those other women,' she continued, a wistful look in her eyes.

  'So, what happened?'

  'The crew were betrayed by a Spaniard they'd hired to negotiate for them,' Kitty continued. 'We were all taken to this great warehouse by a trading dock and there more Spaniards fired upon them, cutting them down before they could defend themselves. At first, once I'd finished being terrified out of my wits by the musket fire, I thought I'd been rescued, but I was soon put to rights on that, believe me. The Spanish leader - he spoke quite good English - told me I'd be added to a group of women being sent north again, into France, again on the coast. From there, he said, I'd probably be sent to the east.

  'For a few days I thought again I should end up in some harem, but again it was not to be. Twenty of us were taken to a house just outside of a French port and there they held an auction. Four of us were purchased by one man, apparently acting as an agent for a French nobleman in the north, for that's where we were next taken.

  'There was a big house - a chateau, I was told they called it - and we were locked in a cellar room, but then we were all brought up again and handed over to this Englishman. Apparently, he had won us from our supposed new owner.'

  'Won you?' Sarah demanded uncomprehendingly. 'How was that?'

  'On the turn of a card, so we heard,' Kitty retorted. 'Why we were given as the stake, I didn't know, nor do I now, but the outcome was that we finally travelled all the way back to England, landed by night in some deserted cove and then, a few days later, ended up here.'

  'What a terrible tale,' Sarah said softly. She wriggled herself closer, so that her head was level with Kitty's bare knee. 'How you must miss your home and family.'

  'Huh!' Kitty tossed her head back, her hair swirling about her shoulders. 'What is there to miss? My mother and father died when we were both small and we lived with a man who said he was our uncle, though I doubt he ever was by blood.'

  'He treated you both badly?'

  'Both?' Kitty laughed harshly. 'He treated my brother well enough, took him for the son he never had, but I was nothing more than a burden to him. Well, apart from being used as a bed-warmer and more, once I was old enough. Even my brother turned against me as we grew, though the good Lord knows I never gave him cause.

  'No, Sarah, I was well enough rid of all of them and would have gladly found myself in some harem, believe me.'

  'Well,' Sarah whispered, looking up into her eyes, 'perhaps you someday still may.' She continued to stare into Kitty's face, quite unsure of the palpitations overcoming her entire body. The big breasted girl stared back for several seconds and then, as if understanding, turned slightly, moving her knees further apart, revealing the mouth of her sex.

  'There's no need,' she whispered hoarsely. 'Not yet, anyway.'

  Sarah smiled. 'Maybe there is,' she whispered, inching closer. 'Maybe there is, at that.'

  From the corner of one eye Matilda saw Crawley as he approached her, carrying a wicked cat-o'-nine-tails. Instantly the murmuring in the crowd fell away and she could sense, rather than hear, several of their number moving slightly closer.

  'This woman stands accused of heresy and witchcraft,' Crawley began, his voice carrying on the still night air like a scythe through ripe corn. 'I have examined the facts and testimony carefully and find her, by the powers vested in me by the Holy Church, guilty as charged, and have since spent many hours in meditation and prayer seeking the guidance of Our Lord and Saviour.

  'God is merciful!' He cried, raising his voice higher still, and there was a generally ragged chorus of muttered 'amens' from the darkness. 'God is a merciful god,' he said, speaking more quietly again, 'and he sees fit to spare the life of this whore of Satan, if she will once recant her sins and save her soul.'

  Suddenly Matilda felt hands about her head and heard the rasping of metal upon metal. A few moments later, to her relief, she felt the awful iron bridle being lifted from her, though no attempt followed to remove the leather hood.

  'Speak, Matilda Pennywise,' Crawley ordered. 'Speak now and repent ye of your sins and your penance will be a merciful one.'

  'Go to hell!' Matilda hissed through clenched teeth. 'I'll not dignify your ignorant barbarity with a single word. Listen well, all of you!' she shouted, her voice sounding cracked and harsh. 'Listen well, for this man is no servant of God, rather he serves his own lusts and his own purse!'

  'Silence!' Crawley roared and at the same instant, Matilda heard the dreadful hissing as the nine leather thongs cut through the air. A moment later the night was torn asunder by her scream as the braids seared into the unprotected flesh of her back.

  'Repent!' Crawley barked and again the lashes found their mark. Matilda screeched again and bucked and writhed. Through a buzzing haze of agony she was vaguely aware that Crawley was once again addressing the assembled villagers.

  'The whore will repent, good people, of that I can assure you,' he cackled. 'And in her repentance and by her blood, so shall her wickedness be purged from her soul forever.' He paused, turning slowly, peering into the darkness as if he were searching for someone in particular. Gasping, Matilda realised who it was he was expecting to see, but knew her grandmother would not be there without coming forward to try to intervene.

  Without warning Crawley swung the whip again, this time twice in rapid succession, and Matilda danced and screamed in her agony, so that even in her near delirious state she knew that the sound of her suffering would carry easily to their cottage.

  'Repent!' he growled, coming closer yet again. 'Repent, or suffer as you please.'

  Matilda, her weight slumping so that she hung almost entirely by her wrists, peered out from the mask through a curtain of tears. 'Repent of what, you animal,' she gasped. 'I have done nothing to repent of, as God is my witness and my judge!'

  'Wrong, devil whore,' Crawley sneered. 'We have the testimony of your witness and the Lord has appointed me to be your judge, or would you rather swing from a gibbet tomorrow noon?'

  'I doubt that would serve your purposes, Master Crawley,' Matilda muttered, 'nor the purposes of that slug, Wickstanner. Calls himself a man of the cloth, yet I see he is not here to witness the results of his foul plotting.'

  'Very well, Matilda Pennywise,' Crawley said, stepping away again, 'if that is your choice then so be it. My men can erect a gallows soon enough, but you shall certainly go to the next life with your body purged, if not your soul.'

  Again the terrible hissing, followed by the excruciating firebrands, but this time, as if by some merciful intervention, Matilda scarcely felt them, as she passed away into a dead faint.

  Although outside the day itself had been no more than warm, inside the cramped hut the heat had risen to an almost unbearable level. James had early on divested himself
of his torn and muddy jacket and quickly followed that expedient by unbuttoning the front of his shirt, but the stifling humidity continued unabated and, by the time darkness began to fall outside, bringing with it a welcome but slow decrease in the interior temperature, he realised he'd all but finished the water supply his unknown captors had left behind.

  He prayed they would return soon, for he knew that another day like this would be more than he could face with only the meagre dregs of liquid that now remained. Moreover, the hours of enforced activity were beginning to take their toll.

  Over and over he tried to find a reason for his abduction, other than the most obvious one that his assailants would approach his father with a ransom demand. That, he knew, made sense, yet throughout the day, as he lay sweating in the straw, he could not escape the nagging thought that it might just be something more than that...

  Adam returned for the girls accompanied by yet another handler, this one being a little older than the majority of the younger grooms, together with a woman who was clearly fast approaching middle age, though her fine-boned features still bore more than just traces of her former youthful beauty.

  'This is Master Robin,' Adam announced, after stirring the two dozing female forms with the toe of his boot. 'And this lady is Miss Prudence. She will prepare you for your evening performance and you will obey her, as you would obey me, or I'll have the skin off your pert little bottoms before the sun rises again.'

  As Sarah and Kitty scrambled to their feet, they realised that Miss Prudence was abnormally tall for a woman, standing equally as tall as Robin and only an inch or so less than Adam. Although not heavily built, she was certainly well boned and muscled and probably, Sarah thought, quite capable of dealing with an average female without any male assistance.

  In addition, she wore a pair of men's breeches and what was almost certainly a man's shirt, though the front of it bulged considerably, thanks to a generous bosom. Her long neck was tanned and bare, with her brown hair pinned up clear of it, and she had brown eyes that hardly seemed to blink at all.