On being questioned, Nan Redferne refused to say aught concerning her grandmother’s flight or place of concealment.
“I begin to think there is some truth in that strange legend of the cross,” said Nicholas. “Notwithstanding her blindness, the old hag must have managed to read the magic verse upon it, and so have rendered herself invisible. But we have got the young witch safe.”
“Yeigh, squoire!” responded Sparshot, who had seized hold of Nance— “hoo be safe enough.”
“Nan Redferne is no witch,” said Richard Assheton, authoritatively.
“Neaw witch, Mester Ruchot!” cried the beadle in amazement.
“No more than any of these lasses around us,” said Richard. “Release her, Sparshot.”
“I forbid him to do so, till she has been examined,” cried a sharp voice. And the next moment Master Potts was seen pushing his way through the crowd. “So you have found a witch, my masters. I heard your shouts, and hurried on as fast as I could. Just in time, Master Nicholas — just in time,” he added, rubbing his hands gleefully.
“Lemme go, Simon,” besought Nance.
“Neaw, neaw, lass, that munnot be,” rejoined Sparshot.
“Help — save me, Master Richard!” cried the young woman.
By this time the crowd had gathered round her, yelling, hooting, and shaking their hands at her, as if about to tear her in pieces; but Richard Assheton planted himself resolutely before her, and pushed back the foremost of them.
“Remove her instantly to the Abbey, Sparshot,” he cried, “and let her be kept in safe custody till Sir Ralph has time to examine her. Will that content you, masters?”
“Neaw — neaw,” responded several rough voices; “swim her! — swim her!”
“Quite right, my worthy friends, quite right,” said Potts. “Primo, let us make sure she is a witch — secundo, let us take her to the Abbey.”
“There can be no doubt as to her being a witch, Master Potts,” rejoined Nicholas; “her old grand-dame, Mother Chattox, has just vanished from our sight.”
“Has Mother Chattox been here?” cried Potts, opening his round eyes to their widest extent.
“Not many minutes since,” replied Nicholas. “In fact, she may be here still for aught I know.”
“Here! — where?” cried Potts, looking round.
“You won’t discover her for all your quickness,” replied Nicholas. “She has rendered herself invisible, by reciting the magical verses inscribed on that cross.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the attorney, closely examining the mysterious inscriptions. “What strange, uncouth characters! I can make neither head nor tail, unless it be the devil’s tail, of them.”
At this moment a whoop was raised by Jem Device, who, having taken his little sister home, had returned to the sports on the green, and now formed part of the assemblage in the churchyard. Between the rival witch potentates, Mothers Demdike and Chattox, it has already been said a deadly enmity existed, and the feud was carried on with equal animosity by their descendants; and though Jem himself came under the same suspicion as Nan Redferne, that circumstance created no tie of interest between them, but the contrary, and he was the most active of her assailants. He had set up the above-mentioned cry from observing a large rat running along the side of the wall.
“Theere hoo goes,” whooped Jem, “t’owd witch, i’ th’ shape ov a rotten! — loo-loo-loo!”
Half the crowd started in pursuit of the animal, and twenty sticks were thrown at it, but a stone cast by Jem stayed its progress, and it was instantly despatched. It did not change, however, as was expected by the credulous hinds, into an old woman, and they gave vent to their disappointment and rage in renewed threats against Nan Redferne. The dead rat was hurled at her by Jem, but missing its mark, it hit Master Potts on the head, and nearly knocked him off the cross, upon which he had mounted to obtain a better view of the proceedings. Irritated by this circumstance, as well as by the failure of the experiment, the little attorney jumped down and fell to kicking the unfortunate rat, after which, his fury being somewhat appeased, he turned to Nance, who had sunk for support against the pedestal, and said to her— “If you will tell us what has become of the old witch your grandmother, and undertake to bear witness against her, you shall be set free.”
“Ey’n tell ye nowt, mon,” replied Nance, doggedly. “Put me to onny trial ye like, ye shanna get a word fro me.”
“That remains to be seen,” retorted Potts, “but I apprehend we shall make you speak, and pretty plainly too, before we’ve done with you. — You hear what this perverse and wrong-headed young witch declares, masters,” he shouted, again clambering upon the cross. “I have offered her liberty, on condition of disclosing to us the manner of her diabolical old relative’s evasion, and she rejects it.”
An angry roar followed, mixed with cries from Jem Device, of “swim her! — swim her!”
“You had better tell them what you know, Nance,” said Richard, in a low tone, “or I shall have difficulty in preserving you from their fury.”
“Ey darena, Master Richard,” she replied, shaking her head; and then she added firmly, “Ey winna.”
Finding it useless to reason with her, and fearing also that the infuriated crowd might attempt to put their threats into execution, Richard turned to his cousin Nicholas, and said: “We must get her away, or violence will be done.”
“She does not deserve your compassion, Dick,” replied Nicholas; “she is only a few degrees better than the old hag who has escaped. Sparshot here tells me she is noted for her skill in modelling clay figures.”
“Yeigh, that hoo be,” replied the broad-faced beadle; “hoo’s unaccountable cliver ot that sort o’ wark. A clay figger os big os a six months’ barn, fashiont i’ th’ likeness o’ Farmer Grimble o’ Briercliffe lawnd, os died last month, war seen i’ her cottage, an monny others besoide. Amongst ’em a moddle o’ your lamented brother, Squoire Ruchot Assheton o’ Downham, wi’ t’ yeod pood off, and th’ ‘eart pieret thro’ an’ thro’ wi’ pins and needles.”
“Ye lien i’ your teeth, Simon Sparshot!” cried Nance; regarding him furiously.
“If the head were off, Simon, I don’t see how the likeness to my poor brother could well be recognised,” said Nicholas, with a half smile. “But let her be put to some mild trial — weighed against the church Bible.”
“Be it so,” replied Potts, jumping down; “but if that fail, we must have recourse to stronger measures. Take notice that, with all her fright, she has not been able to shed a tear, not a single tear — a clear witch — a clear witch!”
“Ey’d scorn to weep fo t’ like o’ yo!” cried Nance, disdainfully, having now completely recovered her natural audacity.
“We’ll soon break your spirit, young woman, I can promise you,” rejoined Potts.
As soon as it was known what was about to occur, the whole crowd moved towards the church porch, Nan Redferne walking between Richard Assheton and the beadle, who kept hold of her arm to prevent any attempt at escape; and by the time they reached the appointed place, Ben Baggiley, the baker, who had been despatched for the purpose, appeared with an enormous pair of wooden scales, while Sampson Harrop, the clerk, having visited the pulpit, came forth with the church Bible, an immense volume, bound in black, with great silver clasps.
“Come, that’s a good big Bible at all events,” cried Potts, eyeing it with satisfaction. “It looks like my honourable and singular good Lord Chief-Justice Sir Edward Coke’s learned ‘Institutes of the Laws of England,’ only that that great legal tome is generally bound in calf — law calf, as we say.”
“Large as the book is, it will scarce prove heavy enough to weigh down the witch, I opine,” observed Nicholas, with a smile.
“We shall see, sir,” replied Potts. “We shall see.”
By this time, the scales having been affixed to a hook in the porch by Baggiley, the sacred volume was placed on one side, and Nance set down by the beadle on the other. The re
sult of the experiment was precisely what might have been anticipated — the moment the young woman took her place in the balance, it sank down to the ground, while the other kicked the beam.
“I hope you are satisfied now, Master Potts,” cried Richard Assheton. “By your own trial her innocence is approved.”
“Your pardon, Master Richard, this is Squire Nicholas’s trial, not mine,” replied Potts. “I am for the ordeal of swimming. How say you, masters! Shall we be content with this doubtful experiment?”
“Neaw — neaw,” responded Jem Device, who acted as spokesman to the crowd, “swim her — swim her!”
“I knew you would have it so,” said Potts, approvingly. “Where is a fitting place for the trial?”
“Th’ Abbey pool is nah fur off,” replied Jem, “or ye con tay her to th’ Calder.”
“The river, by all means — nothing like a running stream,” said Potts. “Let cords be procured to bind her.”
“Run fo ’em quickly, Ben,” said Jem to Baggiley, who was very zealous in the cause.
“Oh!” groaned Nance, again losing courage, and glancing piteously at Richard.
“No outrage like this shall be perpetrated,” cried the young man, firmly; “I call upon you, cousin Nicholas, to help me. Go into the church,” he added, thrusting Nance backward, and presenting his sword at the breast of Jem Device, who attempted to follow her, and who retired muttering threats and curses; “I will run the first man through the body who attempts to pass.”
As Nan Redferne made good her retreat, and shut the church-door after her, Master Potts, pale with rage, cried out to Richard, “You have aided the escape of a desperate and notorious offender — actually in custody, sir, and have rendered yourself liable to indictment for it, sir, with consequences of fine and imprisonment, sir: — heavy fine and long imprisonment, sir. Do you mark me, Master Richard?”
“I will answer the consequences of my act to those empowered to question it, sir,” replied Richard, sternly.
“Well, sir, I have given you notice,” rejoined Potts, “due notice. We shall hear what Sir Ralph will say to the matter, and Master Roger Nowell, and—”
“You forget me, good Master Potts,” interrupted Nicholas, laughingly; “I entirely disapprove of it. It is a most flagrant breach of duty. Nevertheless, I am glad the poor wench has got off.”
“She is safe within the church,” said Potts, “and I command Master Richard, in the king’s name, to let us pass. Beadle! Sharpshot, Sparshot, or whatever be your confounded name do your duty, sirrah. Enter the church, and bring forth the witch.”
“Ey darna, mester,” replied Simon; “young mester Ruchot ud slit mey weasand os soon os look ot meh.”
Richard put an end to further altercation, by stepping back quickly, locking the door, and then taking out the key, and putting it into his pocket.
“She is quite safe now,” he cried, with a smile at the discomfited lawyer.
“Is there no other door?” inquired Potts of the beadle, in a low tone.
“Yeigh, theere be one ot t’other soide,” replied Sparshot, “boh it be locked, ey reckon, an maybe hoo’n getten out that way.”
“Quick, quick, and let’s see,” cried Potts; “justice must not be thwarted in this shameful manner.”
While the greater part of the crowd set off after Potts and the beadle, Richard Assheton, anxious to know what had become of the fugitive, and determined not to abandon her while any danger existed, unlocked the church-door, and entered the holy structure, followed by Nicholas. On looking around, Nance was nowhere to be seen, neither did she answer to his repeated calls, and Richard concluded she must have escaped, when all at once a loud exulting shout was heard without, leaving no doubt that the poor young woman had again fallen into the hands of her captors. The next moment a sharp, piercing scream in a female key confirmed the supposition. On hearing this cry, Richard instantly flew to the opposite door, through which Nance must have passed, but on trying it he found it fastened outside; and filled with sudden misgiving, for he now recollected leaving the key in the other door, he called to Nicholas to come with him, and hurried back to it. His apprehensions were verified; the door was locked. At first Nicholas was inclined to laugh at the trick played them; but a single look from Richard checked his tendency to merriment, and he followed his young relative, who had sprung to a window looking upon that part of the churchyard whence the shouts came, and flung it open. Richard’s egress, however, was prevented by an iron bar, and he called out loudly and fiercely to the beadle, whom he saw standing in the midst of the crowd, to unlock the door.
“Have a little patience, good Master Richard,” replied Potts, turning up his provoking little visage, now charged with triumphant malice. “You shall come out presently. We are busy just now — engaged in binding the witch, as you see. Both keys are safely in my pocket, and I will send you one of them when we start for the river, good Master Richard. We lawyers are not to be overreached you see — ha! ha!”
“You shall repent this conduct when I do get out,” cried Richard, furiously. “Sparshot, I command you to bring the key instantly.”
But, encouraged by the attorney, the beadle affected not to hear Richard’s angry vociferations, and the others were unable to aid the young man, if they had been so disposed, and all were too much interested in what was going forward to run off to the vicarage, and acquaint Sir Ralph with the circumstances in which his relatives were placed, even though enjoined to do so.
On being set free by Richard, Nance had flown quickly through the church, and passed out at the side door, and was making good her retreat at the back of the edifice, when her flying figure was descried by Jem Device, who, failing in his first attempt, had run round that way, fancying he should catch her.
He instantly dashed after her with all the fury of a bloodhound, and, being possessed of remarkable activity, speedily overtook her, and, heedless of her threats and entreaties, secured her.
“Lemme go, Jem,” she cried, “an ey win do thee a good turn one o’ these days, when theaw may chonce to be i’ th’ same strait os me.” But seeing him inexorable, she added, “My granddame shan rack thy boans sorely, lad, for this.”
Jem replied by a coarse laugh of defiance, and, dragging her along, delivered her to Master Potts and the beadle, who were then hurrying to the other door of the church. To prevent interruption, the cunning attorney, having ascertained that the two Asshetons were inside, instantly gave orders to have both doors locked, and the injunctions being promptly obeyed, he took possession of the keys himself, chuckling at the success of the stratagem. “A fair reprisal,” he muttered; “this young milksop shall find he is no match for a skilful lawyer like me. Now, the cords — the cords!”
It was at the sight of the bonds, which were quickly brought by Baggiley, that Nance uttered the piercing cry that had roused Richard’s indignation. Feeling secure of his prisoner, and now no longer apprehensive of interruption, Master Potts was in no hurry to conclude the arrangements, but rather prolonged them to exasperate Richard. Little consideration was shown the unfortunate captive. The new shoes and stockings of which she had been so vain a short time before, were torn from her feet and limbs by the rude hands of the remorseless Jem and the beadle, and bent down by the main force of these two strong men, her thumbs and great toes were tightly bound together, crosswise, by the cords. The churchyard rang with her shrieks, and, with his blood boiling with indignation at the sight, Richard redoubled his exertions to burst through the window and fly to her assistance. But though Nicholas now lent his powerful aid to the task, their combined efforts to obtain liberation were unavailing; and with rage almost amounting to frenzy, Richard beheld the poor young woman borne shrieking away by her captors. Nor was Nicholas much less incensed, and he swore a deep oath when he did get at liberty that Master Potts should pay dearly for his rascally conduct.
* * *
CHAPTER VI. — THE ORDEAL BY SWIMMING.
Bound hand and foot i
n the painful posture before described, roughly and insolently handled on all sides, in peril of her life from the frightful ordeal to which she was about to be subjected, the miserable captive was borne along on the shoulders of Jem Device and Sparshot, her long, fine chestnut hair trailing upon the ground, her white shoulders exposed to the insolent gaze of the crowd, and her trim holiday attire torn to rags by the rough treatment she had experienced. Nance Redferne, it has been said, was a very comely young woman; but neither her beauty, her youth, nor her sex, had any effect upon the ferocious crowd, who were too much accustomed to such brutal and debasing exhibitions, to feel any thing but savage delight in the spectacle of a fellow-creature so scandalously treated and tormented, and the only excuse to be offered for their barbarity, is the firm belief they entertained that they were dealing with a witch. And when even in our own day so many revolting scenes are enacted to gratify the brutal passions of the mob, while prize-fights are tolerated, and wretched animals goaded on to tear each other in pieces, it is not to be wondered at that, in times of less enlightenment and refinement, greater cruelties should be practised. Indeed, it may be well to consider how far we have really advanced in civilisation since then; for until cruelty, whether to man or beast, be wholly banished from our sports, we cannot justly reproach our ancestors, or congratulate ourselves on our improvement.
Nance’s cries of distress were only answered by jeers, and renewed insults, and wearied out at length, the poor creature ceased struggling and shrieking, the dogged resolution she had before exhibited again coming to her aid.
But her fortitude was to be yet more severely tested. Revealed by the disorder of her habiliments, and contrasting strongly with the extreme whiteness of her skin, a dun-coloured mole was discovered upon her breast. It was pointed out to Potts by Jem Device, who declared it to be a witch-mark, and the spot where her familiar drained her blood.
“This is one of the ‘good helps’ to the discovery of a witch, pointed out by our sovereign lord the king,” said the attorney, narrowly examining the spot. “‘The one,’ saith our wise prince, ‘is the finding of their mark, and the trying the insensibleness thereof. The other is their fleeting on the water.’ The water-ordeal will come presently, but the insensibility of the mark might be at once attested.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 382
