“Release her at once or you’ll be punished where you stand!”
Still clutching Dorothy, Lavinia turned hate-filled eyes on the warlock. “Damn you and damn your punishment!” She looked at Alice. “May God forgive you for what you’ve done.”
As the last words were uttered, there was a storm-like gust of wind. Those who were seated jumped to their feet, their faces stricken with terror. They scattered like ants in the increasing wind, and in the ensuing chaos, Father Hewitt ran to Lavinia and placed a hand upon her head. He muttered quickly under his breath, and was about to bestow the same protection on Dorothy, temporary though it was, when an unseen hand with the strength of ten men, hurled him against a wall. Knowing the source and the force it commanded, he had no choice but to retreat.
And then, silence. Time seemed to stop. The covenant had fled, every bird and owl had taken flight, the cauldron had sunk beneath the ground, and the dense mist above the chapel had dissipated. Lavinia stood in the impenetrable darkness, shock and confusion making thought impossible. And then there was light, voices, and the sound of running feet.
“They’re here!” cried a male voice. Two guards ran up the transept, quickly followed by a breathless Alice Nash.
“Lavinia! Dorothy!” Alice ran to the befuddled girls, arms outstretched. “What in the world were you thinking of? Sneaking out like that, you should be ashamed of yourselves. I had a terrible dream. It woke me up and when I looked around, you were gone. But, I didn’t realise Dorothy was with you. What’s the matter with her?”
Dorothy looked around wildly. “Where are the fairies? I wanted to play with them.”
“She’s drunk,” said a guard. “We should put her with her husband in the stable.”
“Nonsense,” said Alice tersely. “Help me get her back to the abbey, and mind you keep your hands to yourself or I’ll scratch your eyes out.”
The order was obeyed. Then, as they were crossing the lawn, Dorothy pointed to Lavinia and exclaimed, “She bewitched me!”
“She is quite obviously ill,” said Alice to the guard, who looked like he would throw the girl to the ground and run for his life, and it was only by chance that Richard was partaking of fresh air when the party approached the residence.
”What’s going on?” he demanded. “I thought you’d retired.”
“We had,” said Alice, her voice calm and collected, “but it seems your sister and Lavinia had not finished gallivanting for the night.”
Richard dismissed the guards, who looked very relieved, and supported his sister as she walked. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, taking in her unnaturally pale face. But before anyone could answer, Dorothy was violently ill in a flowerbed.
“I think that answers your question,” said Alice, and scrutinised Lavinia’s face. “Do you also feel ill?”
Lavinia was in a state of utter confusion. “I don’t know…yes…my head is throbbing and my stomach feels strange.”
“Food poisoning,” said Alice stoutly, as if there was no other explanation. “Obviously you both ate something that affected the balance of the humors. You both need to be purged and then spend the next few days in bed. Richard, will you assist me? It will be rather messy.”
“Of course,” he answered, and as they entered the main residence and closed the door, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Father Hewitt kneeled in front of the stone cross that marked his own grave and prayed for forgiveness. He then looked at his hands under the twinkling stars, the same hands that only minutes earlier had altered the memory of a young girl. He could only hope that Dorothy’s recollections, should there be any, would be attributed to delirium caused by the alleged food poisoning.
Alice Nash had certainly been quick with a plausible explanation, but it was her protection of Lavinia that puzzled him, especially when she’d had no qualms about offering up Dorothy. Was Alice biding her time, and like a lioness, teaching her cub how to stalk and kill, or had her hitherto suppress motherly instinct, which was surely the most natural and powerful of all womankind, supplanting her desire for witchcraft?
If the latter was the case, then a day would come when she would face a tremendous dilemma – either return to the heavenly arms of God, or succumb to the machinations of the Prince of Darkness. In the interim, all he, John Hewitt, could do, was watch & wait and pray for her soul.
Part II
Thornley and Beyond
Chapter Ten
An Unexpected Guest
Richard threw a bucket of water over his cousin. “Wake up you drunken fool.”
Nicholas groaned as he tried to move his head. Moreover, the sacking on which he’d been laid in an old stable the night before, and which had felt like the softest feather bed at the time, was now exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Is my head still on?”
“It had better be. We have a long day ahead of us, and Roger has made it known that he wants to stop at his own home on the way to the manor.”
“On the way? It’s four miles in the opposite direction!” A thousand church bells seemed to ring inside his head. Nicholas groaned again. “I’m not well, go without me.”
“What? And miss the opportunity to win… how did you put it… ‘a hearty repast at Bess Whittaker’s?”
Nicholas put his head in his hands. “Oh, don’t mention food.”
“I’m afraid I must.” Richard explained about Dorothy and Lavinia.
Nicholas looked up, alarmed. “Are they all right?”
“They are now.” Richard took pity on his cousin. Nicholas already looked green and grim, so perhaps now was not the best time to describe the disgorgement of a woman’s stomach. Even so, he could not resist a slight tease. “Come on, my lad. A dip in the river and a hearty breakfast is what you need.”
They walked outside, and Nicholas was momentarily blinded by the light. “Perhaps we can ask one of the old witches to turn down the sun,” he said, his eyes watering in the bright sunshine.
Richard grinned as he said, “Or drown you in rosewater. You smell bloody awful.”
“I will relieve your olfactory sense shortly. I want to check on the horses first.”
“And I want a word with Aunt Alice. Don’t be long, we have much to do.”
***
Nicholas felt decidedly ‘seedy’ as he walked towards the main stables. Several dogs, their tails wagging furiously, bounded up to greet him. Accompanied by the noisy pack, he approached Ben Tobin, the stable-master, who was rubbing down a chestnut gelding.
“Ah, morning Master Nicholas. I’m glad you’re up. I was wondering what horse ye want to assign to Master Twissleton.”
“Morning Ben. Give him the grey pony.”
“Flint? Are ye sure? He’s an irascible little bastard.”
“So is the man who’ll be riding him. Where’s Rayzer?” The name ‘Rayzer’ was a play on words. The stallion was a powerful brute and he knew it, and could ‘raise merry hell’ when he wanted to.
“Laurie’s getting him ready now.”
Nicholas frowned. The name was unfamiliar. “Who?”
“Laurie Bainbridge, been here about four months.”
“I don’t recall seeing him.”
“About 50, grey hair, has a slight cast in one eye. Keeps himself to himself, but a good horseman though.”
“I see. Well, if my father is satisfied with him, who am I to argue? I’m off to try and smarten myself up. I’ll be back soon.”
“Right ye are, sir.”
***
The river was cool and invigorating, and Nicholas felt much better after a swim. He returned to the abbey to find Richard and Horace Twissleton in the entrance hall. The solicitor was seated with his head in his hands. He did not feel well, a circumstance he secretly attributed to Alice Nash.
Recalling his own queasy stomach a short time earlier, Nicholas took in the pasty face and lack-lustre eyes, and rather than sympathy, was inclined to be callous. “Have you breakfasted?” he asked i
nnocently.
“I had something at the White Swan that was termed breakfast, though I cannot vouch for its sustainability.”
Nicholas, who was now ravenous, clapped him rather heavily on the shoulder. “Well, I’m sure we can remedy that,” he said heartily, enjoying the solicitor’s discomfiture.
Seated in a secluded dining chamber, the men were eating a meal of fresh trout, sausages, and leftover venison pie, when Alice entered. She had not slept well, tossing and turning as her mind had grappled with the disastrous covenant and the potential outcome.
Two points were of particular concern. Firstly, that Lavinia was seemingly suffering a great lapse of memory, for as yet, she had not uttered a word about the previous evening. Secondly, that they had both defied Einyon, and he was not a man to cross. It was not his punishment that Alice feared, but the retribution he might exact on Lavinia.
Alice had no doubt that she would be seeing the warlock soon, and this time, without benefit of owl or any other form of warning. He liked to play sadistic mind games. In the interim, there was another concern that needed to be discussed, and it was for this that she had sought out Richard.
She acknowledged salutations and then took Richard aside, completely ignoring Twissleton, who was trying his best not to look at her, but whose mind was plotting her downfall.
“Richard, I wanted to warn you. Last night before you came to our aid, Dorothy said something imprudent in front of the guards.”
“What did she say?”
“She accused Lavinia of bewitching her.”
“Lavinia? Bewitch her? Impossible.”
“Yes I know that, but the guards did not witness Dorothy being ill, and her accusation will find easy credence amongst the credulous.” She cast a meaningful glance at Twissleton. “This may prove highly prejudicial, perhaps even fatal, to Lavinia. We both know they were suffering the effects of food poisoning. Which reminds me, I must speak to the kitchen servants. But, the fact that they were found in the old chapel is enough to raise suspicion.”
“I will talk to Dorothy before we leave,” said Richard, his face echoing his alarm. “Perhaps I can convince her of the truth.”
“You’re missing the point. We must stop any gossip before it has chance to take root, and with your permission, this is what I propose. I have a sleeping draught with me. I will give it to Dorothy and then arrange for her to be conveyed to Craxton Hall later today. I will administer the same medicine to Lavinia and take her to Barkham Manor. We can meet there after the survey is concluded.”
This time, Richard was much quicker on the uptake. “In other words, drug them and get them away from here.”
“Exactly. Does Nicholas know about last night?”
“Yes, I told him earlier. He had a right to know.”
“True, but the fewer who know of the plan and the circumstances behind it, the better.” She shot another glance at Twissleton. “Especially him.”
Richard vacillated. “I admit that I don’t like it, but neither can I deny your wisdom. All right, go ahead. I won’t say a word to Nicholas. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Alice smiled as she walked away. He would never know the depth of her gratitude.
Half an hour later, all those involved in the survey party, which now included two grooms and Ben Tobin, were assembled in the courtyard. Rayzer and Richard’s horse, Merlin, were magnificent specimens, standing perfectly still with heads’ proudly erect.
The same could not be said for Flint. When first brought forward, the animal had allowed Twissleton to mount him, but no sooner was the solicitor seated when he was ejected from the saddle.
Sighing, Nicholas dismounted and went across to Flint. “Listen,” he whispered in the horse’s ear, all the while stroking its nose, “I know you don’t like him, and quite frankly neither do I, but we have important business today, so I need you on your best behaviour.” The animal neighed as though in compliance. “Master Twissleton, you may mount again.”
“Not without a horsewhip I won’t!”
“What is the delay?” shouted Sir Howarth from the doorway. Nicholas explained. “I should have known,” mumbled the knight and returned to his breakfast.
Armed and ready, the party set forth. Passing through the gateway, they were joined by Simon Smithers, who, much to Twissleton’s delight, had been retained in an official capacity. As far as the solicitor was concerned, the more legal power he had to hand, the better his chances of arresting a witch - perhaps even two.
***
Clearing Holton, it was not long before they were deep in the countryside. “Just smell that air,” said Nicholas, taking a deep breath. “Say what you like about the government, but when you see the thriving fields and hedgerows, it almost makes you believe in a higher authority.”
Richard was amused by his cousin’s poetic waxing. “Are you still drunk? You sound like a philosopher.”
Nicholas looked back over his shoulder. The abbey and the craggy bluff of Hadrian’s Folly were now in the distance. “I wonder how it got its name,” he said musingly.
“What?”
“Hadrian’s Folly. To me, it looks like a cliff that’s evolved in the wrong spot. It should have an ocean and crashing waves at the base, not trees and pretty flowers.”
“I see little beauty in the place,” said Twissleton grumpily. His gut had been ‘queasy’ since he’d first awakened. “I think it a great ugly rock only fit for rearing sheep. Hampstead Heath is wild enough for any civilised man.”
“Does nothing satisfy you?” asked Nicholas contemptuously, and without waiting for a reply, urged Rayzer into a gallop.
***
At 63, Roger Knowles was a father, a grandfather, and much to his delight, a soon-to-be great grandfather. All his family lived on his estate, which more often than not, was in a state of happy chaos. With nine surviving grandchildren, it saddened him that his wife had not survived to see the fruitfulness of their three sons. He was also a generous host, and when the party eventually arrived at his property, refreshments were ordered for both man and beast.
As the magistrate disappeared into his inner sanctum, Nicholas hoped they would not tarry long. The morning was already two hours old and there was still hard riding ahead. His hope was soon realised, but when Roger emerged and mounted his horse, his expression was unaccountably grim.
“What’s the matter?” asked Nicholas as the party set off again.
Roger leaned closer and lowered his voice. “There was a letter awaiting me, a letter with a royal seal.”
“Indeed?” said Nicholas, sounding impressed. “And may I be permitted to know the contents?”
“Yes, but keep it to yourself for the time being, though lord knows it will soon be common knowledge.” Roger took a deep breath. This was the most important announcement he had ever made, albeit to a limited audience. “The King is coming.”
Nicholas stared at him in amazement. “What? Here? To Holton?”
“Not exactly. He will be on a progress, and has business with Sir Roland at Stewart Tower. His Majesty will be staying at the Tower for several days, and anyone of consequence will be summoned to attend.”
“I’m not sure my father will be pleased,” said Nicholas thoughtfully. “He respects the office but not necessarily the man.”
“I doubt my Lord of Leeds is pleased about it either. The King’s decision to stay with Sir Roland is something of a snub.”
Nicholas grunted. “More like caprice due to the name.”
“Wrong spelling.”
Nicholas spied an area in the near distance that culminated in a grove of trees. “From what I’ve heard of the King, it wouldn’t matter. Excuse me for a moment,” and rode up to Richard who was slightly ahead. “A capital spot for a race,” he said, pointing to the area.
Richard shielded his eyes. “I can see a depression, a ditch perhaps.”
“All the better. It will add spice to the contest. Ready?” They gripped their bridals’ and leaned forward,
and it was Roger who, discerning what they were about to do, shouted, “Go!”
The groomsmen cheered as Rayzer pulled ahead of Merlin. Flint, or so it seemed, also wanted to participate and took off. Bouncing helplessly in the saddle, Twissleton used the horsewhip savagely but the animal would not slow down, not that it mattered, for they were soon left far behind.
The ground was level and firm for about half a mile, but upon approaching the depression, it became apparent that the area had the hallmarks of a quagmire. Nicholas, his cheeks flushed with exhilaration, pulled Rayzer to a stop.
“I put it about twenty-feet wide. Think old Merlin can jump it?”
Richard grinned as he dismissed the challenge. “He might be a few years older than Rayzer but he’s still got plenty of heart.”
“Very well, then. I increase the wager to include a pottle of her best cider!” Nicholas wheeled Rayzer around, retreated a short distance, and then let him have his head.
“Two!” yelled Richard as he did the same.
The horses cleared the mire with room to spare, but a moment later, a succession of urgent shouts and yells compelled both men to stop and turn around. The cause of the commotion was immediately apparent. Twissleton was climbing out of the morass, his clothes covered in dirt and slime.
Ben Tobin galloped after the errant Flint, who after a merry chase, allowed himself to be caught. A nearby stream did much to restore Twissleton’s appearance, though a disagreeable odour still clung to his clothes.
Flint neighed loudly as Twissleton re-mounted, and Nicholas was sure the horse was laughing. Clearly the animal was in mischievous mood, so to prevent further mishaps, a groom rode either side of him.
Twissleton’s only regret was that he’d misplaced the horsewhip in the fall. It was not the cost of replacement that irked him, but that he couldn’t give the animal a sound thrashing. Somebody, he thought as he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, was going to pay for this.
The Sisterhood:: Curse of Abbot Hewitt Page 12
