Cauldron of Fear

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  Artie passed Nathan a large pair of shears and, after satisfying himself that the blades were properly sharpened, the older man grasped a handful of Harriet's hair and cut it away at a single stroke. Harriet tried to duck away to avoid his next grab, but only succeeded in reminding herself of the size of the silent invader within her and, as she gasped and groaned, another thick lock joined the first one beneath her feet.

  Chapter 21

  Hannah led James deep into the woods behind her cottage, first following a footpath that was so overgrown as to be barely visible and then turning away even from that spartan trail, weaving her way between trees and around patches of unruly undergrowth, so that before long James knew that without her it would take him many hours to find his way back to where they had started.

  At last the old woman came to a halt and leaned heavily against her staff. She turned, looked up at James, and sighed. 'Perhaps I should have done this earlier,' she said. 'The money would all have been Matilda's anyway, once I am gone. Whatever was I thinking about, lad?'

  'As you said, Mother Pennywise,' James replied softly, 'to give in to such extortion would only open the way for these fiends to pressure other innocents in the same way.'

  'Aye, but Matilda should have been my first concern - my only concern, in truth, for these blackguards will wreak their own foul hell on earth regardless and now the entire village has seen what they're capable of doing.'

  Gently, James laid a hand on her bony shoulder. 'Don't blame yourself for the wickedness of others,' he said soothingly. 'Let's just do what needs to be done now and what is past let remain so.' He gripped the shovel in his free hand. 'Is this the place?' Hannah nodded and pointed towards a strangely twisted oak tree that stood on its own, even the undergrowth keeping a respectful distance.

  'Down there,' she said, 'between the largest of the two roots on this side. You will need to dig quite deep, though the soil should be quite soft.'

  The earth between the roots was indeed quite loose, despite the covering of grass and moss and James realised, as he began to dig, that it could not have been so long since it had last been disturbed. Hannah, presumably, made frequent pilgrimages to the tree to add to her little hoard. After ten minutes, however, James began to form a new respect for the old woman, for even with his jacket discarded the sweat was pouring from him.

  At last, when the pit had reached a depth approaching three feet, the blade of the shovel clanked against something hard, something metallic itself. Crouching awkwardly, James began to clear away the soil from either side and, after another five minutes, was able to climb out of the hole, kneel by the side of it and reach down to withdraw the small iron box, its coating of rust evidence enough of the years it had spent going in and out of the ground.

  'Fill the hole, James,' Hannah instructed. 'I'll not be needing it again.' She stepped forward and took the heavy casket from his, cradling it in her arms. 'There are those who think of me as wise,' she said, 'among other things, of course. Well, I have today learned a new wisdom.' She looked down at the box and smiled, sadly. 'In this casket, James Calthorpe,' she said huskily, 'is gold to the value of more than one thousand guineas.' James stared at her in disbelief. 'Oh yes,' she continued, seeing his look of incredulity, 'it's a small fortune, I know.'

  'A large fortune, more like,' James said, aghast.

  Hannah nodded and the thin smile evaporated. 'A fortune, anyway,' she said levelly, 'and yet what good has it ever done anybody, buried deep in the ground? Will it sprout and grow? Will it bring forth green leaves, fragrant blossom or fruit? No, none of those, as we both know only too well.

  'And what, pray, if something had happened to me before now, eh? I'll tell you what, James - this little trove would have remained buried where it was until the last tree in these woods had withered and died and probably long after that, useless and forgotten, as most of us shall be in time.

  'Come, lad, leave the hole anyway. Nature will attend to her own in time. We have far more pressing business, for the sun is beginning to sink faster even as we stand here rueing my folly.'

  'Well, I see they've done an excellent job in preparing you, my dear.' Jane Handiwell stood in the open doorway of the stall, a malicious grin on her face. Harriet, who had been left mounted on the abominable trestle, trying to ease the aching in her hips without causing too much friction from the dildo that filled her, raised her head, her cheeks burning with shame and hatred.

  Nathan had finished hacking away her hair quite quickly and then, not satisfied with that, had lathered the remaining stubble and proceeded to use the razor again, so that when he finished Harriet's skull was as smooth as ivory, the cool draught tickling the naked flesh in seemingly mocking fashion.

  'Why are you doing this to me?' Harriet whispered. 'I know you cannot face the fact that your father has feelings towards me, but surely you realise I am no threat in that direction, nor ever was?

  'Thomas is a fine man, an honourable man,' she continued, 'and a good and trustworthy friend, but that is all and I have repeatedly made my position clear to him.'

  'Which will never stop him persisting in his folly,' Jane sneered. She stepped into the chamber and looked down at Harriet's spread thighs. 'He'd give everything he owns to have his cock where that shaft now is,' she leered, 'but I intend to make sure that never happens.'

  'It shall not, in any case,' Harriet retorted. 'But I see there is no reasoning with you, not now, nor ever in the past. It is a great pity, Jane, for we could have become friends, I'm sure.'

  'That I doubt,' Jane snapped, 'for I know your sort. Sweet and blushing and always so neatly pretty. Butter'd not melt in your mouth, nor even between your thighs.' Her long thin face contorted into a grimace so fearsome that Harriet let out a frightened whimper. 'Well, you ain't so damned pretty now, are you Harriet Merridew? Oh, how I wish there were time to have a picture painted of you just as you now are. I'd make sure that my dear, foolish, gullible pater received it in a gilded frame and be there to see his face when first he set eyes upon it! However, there is no time for that, sadly.

  'I have a better purpose for you, my sweet little English rose. Tonight we kill two birds with the one stone - perhaps even three. Nathan!' She turned and called towards the doorway. 'Nathan, bring in that harness I left on the bench out there. Might as well get her as ready as possible here and save ourselves some time later!'

  By the time the grooms finally lifted her from the saddle, Sarah had lost all sense of reality and it was some time before she could even begin to take stock of her surroundings again. When she did recover sufficiently to regain some perception, it was to find herself sitting against a fencepost, a little way away from the large barn structure, with her legs stretched straight out before her and a set of manacles locked about her ankles, connected with a short chain.

  Several horses stood grazing disinterestedly on the grass nearby, among them Ellen's and the animal on which she, herself, had been mounted, the thick dildo still projecting up from its saddle. Seeing this, Sarah lowered her eyes, a wave of shame engulfing her, but she was not left alone with her thoughts for much longer.

  'Well, pretty,' Ellen exclaimed, emerging from the barn, 'that was lots of fun, wasn't it? And how like you your dear cousin is. I hadn't realised, not until I saw the two of you together. How I wish there was more time, for I'm sure we could have had so much enjoyment together, the three of us.'

  'My cousin?' Sarah tried to concentrate, grasping at fragmented images. 'Oh, yes,' she said, remembering vaguely that there had been someone else there, somewhere back there, in the woods. 'Yes, my cousin Harriet. Where is she? What have you done with her?'

  'Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about Harriet,' Ellen giggled. 'She's in very good hands, I can assure you, and she'll be well taken care of.

  'Well taken care of indeed,' she added, with another sniggering laugh.

  The harness, Harriet realised, was the same design as the one she had briefly glimpsed on the unfortunate Ma
tilda the previous day. It was simple, but very effective, the broad waist belt cinching tightly and the two straps at either side rendering her wrists immobile and her arms and hands useless.

  Only when the two men had finished fitting it did they finally lift her from the trestle, and she closed her eyes in shame as she saw that the leather covered phallus now glistened with her intimate juices.

  'Take her into the main chamber,' Jane instructed Nathan. 'Put a collar on her and fasten her to one of the posts, facing it. Then I want you to fetch me a length of thin sheeting, soaked in water.'

  Very soon, Harriet found herself arranged as per Jane's orders, a wide collar about her throat, a ring at the front of it tied to one of several posts that were set in the ground of the larger room into which they had taken her. As Artie finished the knot, Nathan reappeared, carrying a crumpled piece of greying fabric, from which water dripped steadily.

  'Wring it out,' Jane instructed, on seeing this. 'I want it damp, not sodden, man!' It was quickly done and Jane took the sheet from him and placed it carefully over Harriet's shoulders and back, tying two corners about her neck so that it formed a crude cape.

  'Not perfect,' she whispered, as she leaned close to Harriet, 'but it will do for my purposes. You see,' she explained, 'I'm now going to whip you and this wet cloth will make the stripes appear less fresh, though I'm afraid they won't lessen your pain.'

  'You wicked woman!' Harriet gasped. 'Haven't you done enough to me already? Have you no pity, no conscience?'

  Jane stepped back and Nathan handed her a long, whippy looking crop. 'Conscience,' she said smoothly, 'is a luxury I long ago decided I could not afford. I'll take my chances in the next world, if indeed there is one, which I doubt. Now, Nathan, I shall give you a demonstration of the real way to whip a slave and then you and young Arthur can have your way with her, provided you are quick about it.'

  With careful deliberation Jane stepped to one side, adjusted her grip on the crop and raised it, drawing it around to the height of her shoulder. Harriet tried to look back at her, but the collar and tight leash prevented her from turning her head more than a fraction, so that the first warning she had was when she heard the low whistle of the braided leather as it scythed through the air.

  In almost the same instant a bolt of agonising fire seared across her shoulders and a scream tore from her throat as she writhed helplessly against the post.

  'About a dozen in all,' she dimly heard Jane say. 'From what I saw earlier that should look about right.' Vaguely, Harriet found herself wondering what on earth the girl was talking about, but then, as the crop slashed home again, such luxuries as thinking were banished in a second, ear-splitting shriek of agony.

  The iron box was very heavy and James had to pause several times on their way back to the cottage, in order to put it down and relieve the strain on both his arms and his hands. Despite her evident desire for haste, Hannah leaned patiently on her staff each time and waited until James felt able to continue once again.

  'Gold is more damned trouble than it's worth,' she muttered as they finally reached her gate. 'I think, when this is over, I shall use whatever is left and take Matilda far away from this accursed village.'

  'I hope you will permit me to come with you both,' James said, between panting breaths. 'After this I could not bear to let your granddaughter out of my sight.'

  'After this,' Hannah growled, pushing open her front door, 'my poor Matilda may not be able to stomach the sight of a man ever again.'

  'I hope...' James began, but the words died in his mouth as he saw the figure slumped in the chair by the hearth. 'Dear God!' he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave. 'Dear God, but it can't be!' He stood frozen, staring in disbelief, but Hannah pushed past him, dropping her staff on the floor and knelt stiffly beside the motionless form.

  'The bastards!' she hissed through clenched teeth. 'Oh, the bastards! What have they done to you, my sweet? How could I have even thought to let things come so far?' She turned and raised her eyes to James, who still had not moved since first seeing Matilda.

  'Go to the cupboard in the kitchen, man!' she cried. 'There's a bottle on the top shelf, bring it to me - quickly! Don't just stand there! Can't you see how badly she's fared?'

  As James finally stirred from his frozen shock, Hannah turned again to Matilda, one bony hand stroking her hairless skull, the other clasping her naked arm. Matilda gave a whimpering moan and struggled to open her eyes.

  'Grandma,' she croaked. 'Is it really you? Is it over now?'

  Hannah's own eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to smile back at the semi-conscious girl. 'Yes, my pet,' she crooned. 'Yes, it's over now. They'll not lay another finger on you now, I swear it.'

  Chapter 22

  Harriet stared up through the narrow slits in the leather hood. The two men had now gone, half dragging, half carrying the naked form of Matilda Pennywise, who was still strapped into the leather harness which was the twin of the one that had been put onto Harriet back in the barn.

  'You must be mad!' Harriet croaked, fighting to stop her body from trembling. 'Crawley will know I'm not Matilda!'

  Jane smiled, her features taking on a spectral look in the flickering lamplight. 'I think not,' she retorted. 'You're about the same build and those stripes on your back and legs now look much like the ones he put on her - like enough to fool him, anyway, for I doubt he'll be looking that closely, not at those parts of you, anyway.' She crouched down, so that her face was level with Harriet's.

  'He'll doubtless give you one last fucking, though,' she sneered. 'He's a man, after all. And I find that prospect almost poetic; the first flesh and blood cock inside you will belong to the man who will then take you out and hang you.'

  Harriet shook her head. 'He'll know, I'm sure of it,' she said, but with more conviction than she felt. 'The whip marks on me are still too fresh. They might fool him in here, where it's almost dark, but in daylight, in the morning—'

  'Except that there won't be any morning for you,' Jane interrupted her. Harriet looked at her in astonishment. 'You see,' Jane continued, 'Master Crawley is going to take you out and hang you at midnight, with three witnesses, as per the law. I might even volunteer myself to be one of them.

  'The great shame of it is, though,' she said, 'that as I understand it you won't feel a thing. Crawley's fellows have this quite unique gallows, from which they drop you and the rope then snaps your neck. Quite painless, they say, but never mind; at least you'll be dead and out of my way.

  'And then, afterwards, when they remove this hood to bury you, that's when the people of the village will realise that a great mistake has been made. Crawley will protest his innocence, of course, but it'll do him no good. I doubt whether they'll actually do anything to him, but he won't be able to show his face around here again.

  'And the same will hold for that greasy little oik Wickstanner. He'll be considered guilty by association and his damned church will have to replace him here. That'll be one more meddlesome bastard out of the way. Now, I have something for you to drink, before I leave you.'

  She held up a small vial and removed the cork from it. Harriet drew back, shaking her head violently, clamping her jaws firmly shut.

  'Don't be afraid,' Jane said, her voice sounding like a cat purring over the cream. 'It won't harm you, I can assure you. After all, why would I seek to poison you when Crawley will be hanging you in less than two hours, eh? He's already at the Drum, rounding up his witnesses.

  'No, this is simply a potion that will relax you, perhaps make you feel a bit groggy.' She leaned forward and seized Harriet's lower jaw through the leather, her thumb and fingers biting cruelly. Harriet let out a muffled squeal and tried to pull back further, but Jane twisted her grip viciously and the sudden pain overwhelmed her resolve.

  In an instant Jane had forced the open end of the bottle between her lips, tipping its contents in one go and holding Harriet's head back so that, despite her staunchest efforts, when Jane dropped the vi
al and gripped her nostril closed with the newly freed hand, Harriet was forced to swallow the liquid, or suffocate.

  'There now,' Jane said, releasing her grip and sitting back, picking up bottle and cork and tucking them away inside her jacket. 'That wasn't so bad, was it?' She turned away and, when she turned back again, Harriet saw she was holding the rusting scold's bridle.

  'I think I shall put this delightful piece of antiquity on you before I go,' she said lightly. 'If my estimate of Crawley is right he won't bother removing it before you hang, but even if he does, it won't matter. Do you feel your tongue beginning to grow thick yet, mm?'

  Hannah gaped at her, for indeed, almost as soon as she had swallowed the potion a curious tickling sensation had begun at the back of her throat and was spreading along the length of her tongue.

  'It's a little concoction of my own invention,' she continued. 'I shan't bother you with the details, but I can assure you that it is most effective, especially when used on slaves we don't want to openly gag.

  'As I said, it will also make you feel a little groggy, which may, in fact, make what is still to come easier to bear, but its main purpose is that it affects the tongue, deadening it so that it is impossible to utter intelligible speech for three or four hours after it is administered.

  'So, even if Crawley does decide to remove this, you won't be able to tell him you're not Matilda, will you? Now, open wide and let's put this wonderful old contraption on you, eh?'

  'That's close enough, Master Crawley!' The figure on the far side of the bridge was shrouded in a long cape and cowl, which in the darkness masked its identity totally, but the voice, despite her attempts to deepen it, was most certainly female. Jacob Crawley paused, two paces onto his side of the bridge and leaned casually against the stone parapet.