Cauldron of Fear (14 page)

'Please do,'
Harriet replied. 'And I'll not think you the least presumptuous.
The fact that you're a woman lies well enough with me. These past
two or three years I've had cause enough to know how little import
men place in the intelligence of women.

'We start here
as equals, Anne,' she continued, 'save that you've had time to put
some thinking to this. Pray, continue and show me your theory.'

Anne leaned
over the board, the chalk shard scraping across the timber surface,
talking as she drew.

'This here is the crossroads, by the
Drum
,' she explained, 'and this line
here is the main highway between the coast and London, you see?'
Harriet murmured that she understood. 'And here, here, here, here
and here,' Anne went on, 'are the places where these four beggars
have been stopping the night coaches. See,' she said, marking
another line and adding three more crosses, 'these are the others,
best as I can remember and here...' she jabbed the chalk at the
line denoting the main road, '...is where that robbery happened
when the soldiers rode up but a few minutes earlier.

'The robbers
were riding south along here, and those naval fellows were coming
up here.' She added more chalk marks. 'So, between here and here
they must've left the main highway.'

'There are
very few side tracks there,' Harriet observed. 'There is a very
poor lane that leads north and crosses the road before the lane
that leads to our own house. As far as I know that has been so
little used of late that it's completely overgrown, but I suppose
mounted men could push a way through.'

'Aye, horsemen
can go where wagons may not,' Anne agreed, 'and if they turned east
when they got here,' she added, marking again on the board, 'they
would be in Sepley within a half hour. But,' she said,
straightening up, 'there are other possibilities. The road up to
Grayling Hall lies between where they stopped the coach and where
the troopers met the tars.'

'And there are
plenty of woods around the hall,' Harriet mused. 'A good place for
our thieves to hide out for a few hours, no doubt.'

'Always
supposing they knew the lie of the land,' Anne retorted. 'But
t'wouldn't be the sort of place to go riding in the dark, not if a
body didn't know the area.'

'So, where
else might they have turned off?'

'Well, Miss
Harriet,' Anne replied slowly, 'I'm not the best authority, but I
have lived around these parts all my life and I don't reckon
there's anywhere much else. Which means, same as I said, that
whoever's robbing these coaches must live very close to Fetworth -
or one of the beggars must, at least.'

'I think you
could well be right,' Harriet said carefully. 'They were quick to
contact me, seemed to know where and when it would be easiest to
collect ransom money without being overlooked and were close
enough, I presume, to be able to set up certain things.

'I'll know
more when Toby returns, assuming he's not let himself get into
trouble, but there's something else, too. Whoever has taken my
cousin must be holding her prisoner somewhere close by, always
assuming they do intend to return her when the ransom is paid. It
would have to be somewhere safe from prying eyes, well away from
the chance of being stumbled over, yet close enough.'

'Well, there
are a few old cottages and huts in the woods, though I'd not want
to use any of them for living in, but I reckon they'd serve well
enough in the short time.'

'Yes, they
would,' Harriet agreed, 'but I just have this feeling that whoever
is behind this, they wouldn't risk something as unreliable as a
derelict forester's hut. For some reason I cannot explain, I just
think they have a base of operations which is far more secure and
trustworthy.'

'But where,
Miss Harriet?' Anne demanded, pointing the chalk at her rough map.
'There's Fetworth village itself, the church, your own house -
which we can forget, of course - and Grayling Hall itself. And I
can't imagine four mounted thieves, not when they're carrying a
captive woman, risking riding through this village in the dead of
night. Even if they did, someone would have seen or heard something
and we'd have known about it by now, for sure.'

'Quite,'
Harriet agreed. She stood for several seconds, staring down at the
chalk-marked board. 'And that, unless we think that Wickstanner
would risk church involvement in something like this, which is even
more absurd than what he and this awful Crawley creature are doing
now, leaves only one other possibility.'

Few people
knew the woods, paths, streams and the river in the area as well as
Toby, and he was able to take a much more direct route to a spot
opposite Priest's Rock than the little boat. Even so, he wasted no
time, loping along at a steady pace, determined to find a vantage
point in good time before the craft arrived.

However, as he
drew closer to his destination he slowed to a walk, stopping
occasionally to listen. Whoever was waiting for the boat, be it
carrying Harriet and the ransom or just, as was the case now, the
sign that the ransom was to be paid next day, would likely be
somewhere close by, probably with another boat on hand. Toby paused
again, considering what he would do in their shoes.

Grinning to
himself, he swung around in an arc, heading for a point slightly
upstream from the islet, a sheltered nook from which he had fished
many times in his young life. Sure enough, as he slid down through
the reeds and bushes, he saw the dark shape of a boat lurking
beneath a curtain of willow branches, barely thirty paces from
where he was now hidden and about fifty paces upstream from the
islet itself.

Whether or not
there was somebody in the craft he could not see, for the foliage
screened it from the gunwales upwards, but Toby was unconcerned by
this. If the boat was empty, whoever intended to use it would not
be far away, for as soon as the messenger boat appeared they would
need to get out into mid-stream to intercept it and, when that
happened, he would have a perfect view of them.

The sun was
beginning to set, it was true, but by Toby's calculations the
drifting boat would arrive well before darkness fell and, as he
looked up at the clear sky and across to where the pale orb of the
moon was already becoming visible, he knew that even darkness would
not disguise whoever appeared when the time came.

As the sun
finally dipped behind the distant hills Matilda began to feel cold,
her naked flesh quivering in the light breeze that had sprung up
from the south east. She pressed herself tight against the stake
and closed her eyes in silent prayer, willing Crawley to return and
release her, to give her the chance to move her stiffening limbs
and maybe even remove the weight of the iron scold's bridle from
her head.

At the same
time she knew his return would probably mean the start of the next
phase of her suffering, for he had made it clear to the villagers
that she would be publicly flogged. Around the edges of the green
small groups of people continued to meander slowly, staring across
at her naked display, but few wanted to make it obvious that they
were looking at her and fewer still approached even as close as the
circle of iron pickets.

Only her
grandmother had come that near, and she walked right through
Crawley's supposed 'safety zone' markers and right up to Matilda,
her wrinkled face white with horror and anger, her eyes blazing.
Seeing the bridle and recognising it for what it was, the old lady
immediately tried to remove it, but the lock held firm and she very
quickly realised the futility of her efforts. A further cursory
check convinced her that she could not release Matilda from the
rest of her bondage, either.

'He'll pay for
this!' Hannah hissed. 'By damnation he shall and so shall that
lapdog, Wickstanner, or my name is not Hannah Pennywise.' She
grasped Matilda's upper arms and hugged her granddaughter.

'Courage, my
pet,' she whispered. 'I know what needs to be done and, by all the
powers, it shall be done!'

And with that
she was gone, hurrying off across the green in the direction of her
cottage with her familiar stiff-backed gait, banging her cane into
the ground at every other step. Alone again, in her enforced
silence, Matilda began to weep, her tears soaking into the inside
of the leather mask.

It was
beginning to grow dark quickly and a mist forming, its icy droplets
settling on Matilda's exposed flesh, so that very soon she was wet
from neck to feet and the cold and damp brought on an attack of
violent shivering. Hungry, thirsty and tired, she felt herself
beginning to drift into a state of near delirium, but knowing, even
as she did so, that if they did not come for her soon she would
probably die.

Crawley, she
thought vaguely, would not be pleased if that happened...

'So, you
couldn't see who was in the other boat?' Harriet could not keep the
disappointment from her voice and Toby looked downcast.

'I'm sorry,
miss,' he said morosely, 'but that big cowl covered his entire head
and he had his back to me all the while. Just used a gaff hook to
catch hold of the first boat and then paddled back in under them
willow branches.'

Standing in the shadows of the stables, behind the
Black Drum
, Matilda pursed
her lips in momentary thought, but it was Anne Billings who spoke
first.

'If I
understand this rightly,' she said, 'then one of 'em has got to row
that there boat back up to the bridge by the mill. All we needs to
do is keep a watch and see who brings it back.'

'But that
could be almost any time,' Harriet pointed out. 'There are only
three of us and you, Anne, have a husband and two children to
attend to, whilst I need to get back to see to my father 'ere long.
He is particularly sickly at the moment - so much so that I dared
not tell him about Sarah, for fear the strain might make him worse.
All I ventured to him, when he asked, was that cousin Sarah had not
been on the coach when it arrived here, which is truth enough.'

'I could get
some help,' Toby volunteered, but Harriet looked dubious.

'It could be
dangerous,' she said. 'For one thing, we have no way of telling who
might be in league with these villains.' She looked at Anne, whose
emotionless expression suggested that she was sharing the same
misgivings. 'You see, young man,' she continued, 'since you went
off upon my errand we have had reason to suspect that someone -
maybe more than one person - from this village is involved in these
robberies.'

'Well,
certainly ain't me,' Toby asserted firmly, 'and I knows it wouldn't
be either Matt Cornwell nor Billy Dodds, so I'll take them along
with me to share the watching.'

'But they're
only children!' Harriet exclaimed, and Toby looked suddenly
offended and puffed out his chest.

'Matthew
Cornwell is only a week or so younger'n me, miss, and Billy will be
fourteen afore Christmas. We're not kids no more, Miss Harriet, and
we knows these parts better'n most.'

'I could speak
with my husband,' Anne offered, 'and see if he would go along with
the lads. I know for certain sure that he's no highwayman.' Her
face became troubled as she spoke though. 'Problem is, I saw him
going along with several other men as we walked back here just
now.'

'Going to
watch that poor creature being whipped, no doubt,' Harriet
muttered, and Anne set her mouth in a firm line and said nothing
more.

'I heard 'em
all sayin' as how Matilda Pennywise is a witch and the ugly looking
cove in the black cape an' stuff was goin' to whip the devils out
of her,' Toby said, round-eyed. 'Is that right, miss?'

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.