The Witch Hunter's Tale

by Sam Thomas

  “Lock the doors and close the curtains,” I said. “If anyone knocks, do not answer. Nobody is here.”

  Hannah nodded. Her expression was no different than if I had asked her to dress a capon for dinner.

  “Heat some water, and take Elizabeth up to the garret,” I called after her. “You’ll have to mind her while Martha and I tend to—our guest.”

  I turned back to Stephen. Martha had stripped away all his clothes, which lay in a bloody pile on the floor. Martha was inspecting his torso, and I gasped at the sight, for he seemed to be more blood than skin. I joined in the examination, and while most of the wounds were of little consequence, several would require sewing. Without a word, Martha dashed from the room and returned with my sewing basket and an armful of linen.

  “We must vinegar the bandages before we apply them,” I said.

  “Aye. I bound more than a few of my brother’s wounds in our time together,” she replied. “If we add saffron, they heal all the quicker.” Saffron was indescribably dear, but I nodded in agreement.

  For the next hour or so, Martha and I worked our way from wound to wound, washing, sewing, and binding. In the distance I heard a knock on my door, but paid it no mind. By this time Martha and I were both covered in Stephen’s blood and in no position to explain ourselves, regardless of who had come. By the time we finished, we’d wrapped Stephen in linen nearly from his waist to his neck. Martha pulled a blanket up to his chin, and we took a step back.

  “Viewed from here, he could just be suffering from the ague,” she offered.

  “And that’s what we’ll tell the Town Watch if they should ask to search the house,” I replied. “They’d want to come this close but no closer. When he wakes, try giving him some caudle. If it’s good for a woman who’s bled overmuch, why not a man?”

  “I’ll make some now.” She paused. “What about Will and Tree? We should go to Helen Wright’s.”

  “That will have to wait,” I said. “I must stay here until the constables come, and I cannot let you wander the city alone, not until we know what has happened.”

  “You know I would be safe,” Martha replied.

  “You cannot hold off a squad of the Town Watch. And there has been enough blood spilt already.” I could only pray that none of the blood was Will’s or Tree’s. “Come, let us change our clothes. If we are going to say that Stephen suffers from the ague, we cannot answer the door covered in his blood.”

  We did not have long to wait for the constables. This time they did not knock, but pounded hard enough to shake the door in its frame. I looked at Martha and raised an eyebrow. She nodded in response. We were ready.

  I descended the stairs and threw open the front door. “What is the meaning of this?” I bellowed. The constable stood on my doorstep, his hand still raised for the knocking. His mouth hung open in surprise. “What is it?” I demanded. “If you are going to crash through my front door, you should have a reason.”

  After a few moments gibbering, the constable found his voice. “My lady, we are here for your nephew,” he said at last. Two beadles stood behind him, their eyes as wide as the constable’s.

  “I have two nephews,” I replied. “And neither is here.”

  I started to close the door, but he would not be so easily dissuaded.

  “I have been ordered to search your house, my lady. By the Lord Mayor.”

  I considered my choices. If I refused, it would simply draw more attention to my house, and he would surely return with more men to force the issue.

  “Very well,” I said. “But you must tell me why.”

  A look of relief crossed the constable’s face. “I do not know,” he replied. “I was sent to find your nephew William Hodgson. The town’s constables and beadles all have been called in to search for him.”

  “He is not in Ouse Bridge gaol?” I asked. At that moment I wished for nothing so much as Martha’s skill in dissembling, for I felt as false as new-clipped coin, my edges shiny, sharp, and impossible to miss.

  “Apparently not, or they wouldn’t have sent me here to find him, would they? I’m to look for him and a boy. I didn’t ask questions beyond that, and the Lord Mayor didn’t invite any.” My heart raced at the news, for it meant that both Will and Tree had escaped. I tried to hide my pleasure.

  “Then you must come in from the cold,” I said. “He is not here, but I’ll not keep you from your duty. Perhaps you should start with the stable.” The words died on my lips even as I spoke them. With all the morning’s trouble I’d entirely forgotten about the bag of clothes and money I’d left for Will. Was it still there? I’d find out soon enough.

  Keeping my face as still as possible, I led the constable and his men to the kitchen and let them into the courtyard behind my house. They crossed to the stable and went inside. I held my breath for an age before they emerged. My guts roiled and I swore to myself when I saw that the constable held the bag of clothes.

  “I have a question, my lady,” he called out as he crossed the courtyard.

  Chapter 19

  My head spun as I sought an explanation for the clothes that would satisfy the constable.

  “What is it?” Martha asked as she came into the kitchen. I nodded toward the constable, and she swore when she saw the bag in his hand.

  “I forgot we’d put that there,” she said. “What do we tell him?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied. I could see her mind working as the constable climbed the steps to the door and came into the kitchen. I prayed that she would think of something, because I still had not.

  “My lady,” he said. “I found this bag in your stable. It contains clothes for a man and a boy, as well as fifty shillings. What is going on?”

  “Sir, I put them there,” Martha announced. “Before he was arrested, Mr. Hodgson—the one you are seeking, not the Alderman—gave me the money and told me to pack it in a bag with the clothes.”

  “Martha!” My surprise was genuine, though not for the reason the constable thought.

  “Do not worry, my lady,” the constable said. “I cannot imagine you had any role in this. It is your maidservant who must explain herself.”

  “Yes, I should like to hear this as well,” I said. I thanked the Lord that the constable did not hear the smile that had crept into my voice.

  “When did he ask you to put the bag in the stable?” the constable demanded.

  “The day before he was arrested, sir.” Martha was the very picture of servile deference.

  “You must have known what he intended to do.” The constable’s voice had a new edge to it. “Why did you agree to it?”

  “Sir, I did not dare disobey. The Hodgsons are powerful men. You know what his brother is like. What else could I have done?”

  The constable’s eyes narrowed as he considered Martha’s story. “And when he was sent to gaol, you just left the bag out there? With over two pounds in silver coin?”

  “I did what he told me,” she replied, lowering her eyes. Who could fault a servant for unquestioning obedience?

  “Why did he want you to include the boy’s clothes?” the constable asked.

  “Sir, I do not know and I did not ask. Perhaps he planned on taking the boy with him. I did not think to question his will.”

  The constable grunted in response and handed me the purse of coins he’d found in the bag. “You should have these, my lady. I’ll have to tell Mr. Hodgson and the Lord Mayor what I found.”

  “I understand,” I replied. I took a deep breath before beginning the second and more dangerous act of our little play. “Would you like to see the rest of the house? Despite what you have found, I have nothing to hide.” I knew that he would want to search the entire house, and thought it better to offer before he asked.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he replied, and I led him upstairs. As we went from room to room, he glanced briefly into my chamber and Elizabeth’s before we came to the door of Stephen Daniels’s room. I paused.

  “The man
in here is very sick,” I said.

  “You said nothing about having a man here. Who is it?” the constable demanded. The tone he’d used with Martha had returned, and I knew that I’d aroused his suspicions.

  “You did not ask if anyone was here. You asked about Will, and this is not him,” I said. “He is my cousin from Hereford come of late to the city. The journey was a hard one, and he is suffering from the ague. I do not know how dangerous it might be, but you are welcome to enter.” I paused for a moment. “I do not think he is infectious.”

  The alarm on the constable’s face told me my words had the intended effect. I opened the door and gestured for him to enter. The constable peered into the room without crossing the threshold.

  “Your cousin, my lady?” he asked.

  “Aye,” I replied. “As you can see he looks nothing like my nephew.”

  The constable nodded and stepped back. “There are more rooms?” he asked.

  I took the constable through the rest of my house, including Martha and Hannah’s room in the garret. The constable found nothing else to raise his suspicions, of course, and I soon sent him on his way.

  “My God,” Martha breathed as the door closed behind him.

  “Aye,” I replied. “That was too close by half.”

  “Do you think our stories will hold?”

  “Not if anyone cares to study them too closely. I’m not sure how I’d explain my ‘cousin’s’ bandages. The ague does not usually cause such bleeding.”

  “Now we must find Will and Tree,” she said, “and get them out of the city.”

  * * *

  The problem, of course, was that we had no idea where to look for them. While Stephen Daniels was able to take some of Martha’s caudle and did not seem to be in any danger, neither did he wake long enough to tell us anything of use. Our best—and perhaps only—hope of finding Will and Tree lay with Helen Wright. Martha and I were preparing to depart when Hannah called to us from upstairs. I found her in Elizabeth’s chamber, which looked out over the street. Hannah stood at the window, peering toward Stonegate.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I noticed a man standing in that alley about an hour ago.”

  I looked in the direction she indicated, but all I saw was an empty street.

  “Just wait,” she said. “Every few minutes he’ll poke his head around the corner and look toward us. He’s not selling anything, not doing anything, just standing there watching.”

  I waited for a time, and just as Hannah had promised a figure appeared around the corner before withdrawing into the alley. I could not be sure, but for a moment I thought it might be Mark Preston. I went in search of Martha.

  “We’re being watched,” I said, and described the man in the alley. “If we leave, we’ll surely be followed.”

  “And we cannot be seen going to Helen Wright’s,” Martha said. “Is there anyone watching the alley behind the house?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d be foolish to assume that we can just leave by a different door.”

  I considered the problem before us. When the solution came to me, a smile spread across my face.

  “Dig through the closets and find two ragged coats,” I said. “The worse the better. Tear the seams if you must, but make sure we look like beggars. I’ll explain while we change.”

  * * *

  Martha and I slipped out the back door into the courtyard that lay between the house and the stable. The wall separating my yard from the neighbor’s stood about eight feet high, so together we rolled an empty barrel across the yard and Martha climbed on top. Without a moment’s hesitation, she scaled the wall and pulled me up after her. I heard fabric rip as I dropped into my neighbor George Chapman’s courtyard, but I paid it no mind for it only improved my disguise.

  We walked to the back door and I began to pound on it with all my might. Within moments Chapman appeared, his face already bright red with apoplexy. He’d been my neighbor, and thorn in my side, since my arrival in York. Even the most charitable soul would describe him as God’s own ape; I lacked such charity and instead called him the most base-witted man in all of York. He peered through the window at us, trying to figure out how two beggar-women had gotten into his garden.

  “Mr. Chapman, it is me, Lady Hodgson,” I called out. “Open the door!”

  He squinted at my face, utterly confused by this turn of events.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Martha sighed. She reached out and tried the doorknob. To Chapman’s surprise and consternation, the door swung open, and Martha and I slipped past him into his kitchen. Chapman sputtered and spat but found no words appropriate to the situation. One of his maidservants, a pale, thin-faced girl, stared at us in astonishment.

  “Good day, Betty,” Martha cried. “We must be going!”

  With Chapman close behind and still choking on his rage, Martha and I passed through the house toward his front door. We paused for a moment to wrap ourselves in our scarfs and then stepped into the street. From the corner of my eye I saw a figure emerge from the alley and stare at us intently. I turned to Chapman, who now stood in the doorway, utterly fuddled by our sudden appearance and immanent departure.

  “Thank you, sir,” I cried out. “The poor widows of St. Helen’s will be eternally grateful for your generosity!” Martha and I curtsied deeply and turned toward Stonegate. I affected a limp, dragging one leg behind me and Martha hunched over as if the entire world lay on her shoulders. Together we made an ancient and decrepit pair; at least that was our hope.

  Martha and I passed the alleyway, not daring to look anywhere except straight ahead. When we reached Stonegate, we turned left and slipped into a grocery. Now we would find out if the spy had recognized us. We peered through the window toward my street and after a moment breathed a sigh of relief; nobody had followed us.

  “Well done,” Martha said approvingly. “I wouldn’t have expected such sneakingness from a gentlewoman.”

  “I have a fine teacher in such things,” I responded. “Now let us go to Helen Wright’s.”

  The rest of the trip south was uneventful, at least until we reached Micklegate Bar. Even before the gate was in sight, we knew that something was amiss, as carts trying to leave the city were lined up for over fifty yards. We bypassed the carts and discovered the problem. Members of the Town Watch were searching every cart and questioning all the men as they tried to leave the city. Any doubt as to the reason disappeared when we saw a man and a young boy pulled down from their cart.

  “My name is John Harris,” the man insisted as we passed by. “And this is my son!”

  The watchman waved for his sergeant, who was closer to the gate. The sergeant peered at the man and shook his head. “Not him!” he shouted. “Let ’em go.”

  Martha and I wove through the jumble of carts, horses, and people, and out the gate with barely a second look from the guards. They were looking for Will and Tree not two ancient widows.

  As soon as we were past the gate, we hurried to Helen’s door. I knocked softly, not wanting to call attention from her prying neighbors or some meddlesome passerby. Helen’s maidservant answered.

  “What d’you want?” she asked. “If it’s bread, go around the back.”

  I pulled down my scarf to reveal my face. “I am Lady Bridget Hodgson. I am here to see Mrs. Wright.”

  The maidservant looked at me in shock before ushering us in. “I’m sorry, my lady,” she stammered. “It’s just that the clothes…”

  “Do not worry,” I replied with as much of a smile as I could manage. “I wore them so none would know me, so I cannot fault you.”

  When Helen joined us in the parlor, I could tell that she was no less worried than we were. “What has happened?” she asked. “Stephen never returned last night.”

  “He is safe at my house for now,” I replied. “He was wounded, but if he can avoid infection, he will be fine.”

  Helen’s entire body relaxed at the news, and I wondered if Stephen mi
ght be more to her than an ordinary manservant. If so, the risk she took by sending him after Will was far greater than I had realized, and I found myself filled with gratitude for her generosity.

  “Do you know what has happened to Will and Tree?” I asked. “The constables are searching for them, so we know they have not been captured, but beyond that—”

  “Both are safe and well,” Helen replied. “They are still in the city, but I have them hidden.”

  A sob escaped Martha’s lips, and I said a prayer of thanks. Why God had chosen that day to change His killing ways, I did not know. But I also would not believe that He had truly stayed His hand until Will and Tree were safely out of York.

  “How do you know they are safe?” I asked. “If Stephen is with me—”

  “Stephen took my man Ezra with him,” Helen said. “He came back last night without Stephen.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Things did not go as planned,” Helen said. “Stephen and Ezra went well armed, with pistols and knives. They thought the guards would recognize they were overmatched and surrender.”

  “And they didn’t,” Martha said.

  “No, and there were more of them than we expected. One drew his sword, and then the shooting began. After that all was chaos.”

  “At what price?” I asked. I knew did not want to hear the answer.

  “Two guards are dead. Two wounded. When the shooting stopped, Stephen told Ezra to take Will and the boy to my tenement as we had originally planned. Then they parted ways. Ezra hid Will and the boy, while Stephen found his way to you. Thank you for helping him.”

  I let the news wash over me, and my feeling of relief that Will and Tree were safe grappled with my horror at the price of their freedom. I realized I was going to be sick and dashed to the kitchen. I found a waste bucket and cast up all that I had eaten that day. When I had purged myself, I felt someone helping me to my feet. I turned to find Martha looking into my eyes with compassion so complete it overwhelmed me. I collapsed into her arms and began to sob.

  “Two men are dead,” I said, once I regained my breath. “Because of me, because of my decision, because of money I paid, two men are dead. They did nothing wrong, and I killed them.”