Cauldron of Fear (19 page)

Slowly, Sarah
turned away from the mirrored tableau and stared at Prudence, who
was watching them both with a peculiarly crooked smile on her face.
The older woman stood motionless for several seconds and then began
to chuckle mirthlessly.

'Such sweet
little confections,' she mocked. 'Good enough to eat, as you will
shortly find out.'

'My dear
Grayling, I must congratulate you on an excellent dinner.' Lord
Henry Soberton, seventh Earl of Heckham, distant cousin of the late
King Charles, sat back in the hugely padded chair and raised his
glass to his host. Balding and now well into middle age, Henry
Soberton did not let his lack of physical attraction worry him one
jot - with his wealth, there was no need to.

The Heckham
estates were vast, both in England and in the New World, thanks
entirely to inherited wealth and the unceasing efforts of the men
he paid to run them, for Soberton was not an industrious man by
nature, preferring to spend his time enjoying the fruits rather
than husbanding them.

His earlier
cautious approach and coded overtures had come as a surprise to
Roderick Grayling, but a prospective new client was always welcome,
especially one with Soberton's resources.

'I know what I
like, Grayling,' he had said, finally, when each man finished
sounding out the other and they cut to the chase. 'Need a couple of
pretty English fillies, obedient and properly trained. None of this
foreign stuff. Wouldn't believe what some people will try to do, I
can tell you. You on the other hand, my young friend, come highly
recommended.'

'I'm glad to
hear that, Lord Henry,' Roderick replied easily. 'I have taken a
great deal of trouble to ensure that the goods we offer are of the
finest kind available anywhere in England. If I offer you an
English rose, then you can be sure that's what she is.'

Soberton
looked pointedly across to where Roderick's two little black slaves
squatted on cushions in one corner of the room. He raised his glass
towards them and grinned, revealing teeth that were blackening in
many places. 'Yet I see your own tastes are a little more
catholic,' he said.

Roderick
twitched one eyebrow. 'Variety is the spice of life, Lord Henry,'
he replied. 'Popsy and Topsy are utterly devoted to me and will do
anything I require of them, without question and without
hesitation.'

'Very nice,
I'm sure,' Soberton leered, 'but I trust you were aware of my own
preferences?'

'Indeed,
milord,' Roderick grinned, 'and I have several prospects for you to
view, but that can wait awhile. First, I have arranged for some
entertainment for you - for both of us, in fact. I instructed
George Hawkin to have Adam select from among our newer
arrivals.

'Neither girl
has been here for very long and as such they are far from properly
trained, but this may give you some idea of the effectiveness of
our methods. What you are shortly to see will, I am confident,
astonish you, so imagine what you get when we have completed the
regime on a girl, eh?'

'I hear a
horse!' Matt Cornwell hissed. 'More than one, too.' He had finally
rejoined Toby and Billy, reporting that the far side of the river,
like this, seemed deserted.

In the
darkness, Toby nodded. 'Keep well down,' he said. He nudged Billy
with his foot and the youngest member of the trio, who had been
threatening to fall asleep again for some little time, grunted and
muttered an oath under his breath. 'Get up a bit and use your
eyes,' Toby said, ignoring the insult.

'Yeah, look, a
rider!' Matt whispered, pointing back down the road that led from
the village. 'Only one though. That's funny, I could have sworn -
no, he's leading a second horse, look!'

'You mean
she
is,' Toby corrected him. 'That's a woman on that horse, or I'm
a fucking papist!' The two horses and rider were now no more than
seventy yards from them and although there was now no moon, the
starlight showed them an unmistakably feminine
silhouette.

'Ellen
Grayling again?' Billy asked, peering over Toby's shoulder for a
better view. Toby pushed him back.

'No, it's not
her this time,' he said. 'Not sure who it is, not from this
distance.'

'I am,' Matt
said. 'That's Kate Dawson, from over Hepping Hill Farm. I'd know
her anywhere, even in the dark and from back here. It's the way she
rides, bobbin' up and down like that, all stiff and upright. My
brother John tried courting her a year back, but she wasn't
interested. Thinks she's a nob herself, that one.'

'Well, she
keeps company with the nobs at times,' Toby said. 'I seen her out
riding with Ellen Grayling more than once. They go over by
Thatcher's Ridge and over towards Butser way, right out in the
wilds. I seen 'em when I bin that way lookin' fer rabbits.'

'Doesn't mean
anything,' Billy grumbled. 'I reckon we're just wastin' our time
an' I'm gettin' hungry.'

'Maybe not,
but - look!' Toby hissed urgently. 'She's left the road, down there
between them yew trees, see? There's a little clearing just behind,
ain't there?'

'Yeah,' Matt
nodded, 'but what's she up to? There's nothing else there.'

'Well, if you
ask me,' Toby smiled, 'I'd say she was waitin' for someone,
wouldn't you? Why else would she have a spare horse with her?'

'Ah!' Matt
exclaimed, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes. He
turned and nodded towards the river. 'You mean whoever is rowing
the boat back upstream?'

'Almost
surely,' Toby said. 'I did wonder. I thought maybe whoever brought
the boat back might have another one in tow and go back that way,
but rowin' one boat up against the current is hard work enough,
without havin' to haul a second one.'

'So now all we
have to do is wait for the boat?' Matt said.

Toby nodded.
'An' I don't think we'll have to wait much longer, either.'

Sarah did not
need to be told which of the two men was Roderick Grayling, the man
ultimately responsible for the horrors of the past hours. Hours?
Was it really only hours, she thought, amazed as she realised how
short a time had elapsed since her initial abduction.

Grayling
looked almost exactly the way she had pictured him from the first
time she learned of his existence. He was tall, dark-haired, slim,
but well muscled and handsome in a disdainful way, as if he knew
he'd been blessed with better than average looks, but really did
not care either way.

His companion,
on the other hand, bordered on being downright ugly and Sarah's
heart sank at the thought of what she might be expected to do. It
had been bad enough having to suffer at Ross's hands, but at least
the young handler had something about him which might have
attracted her in different circumstances, but this fellow was not
just plain, fat and with bloated features, he was old enough to be
her father.

'Titty Kitty
and Sarah, your lordship,' Prudence announced, leading the two
girls across the polished wooden floor towards the rug on which the
two armchairs had been set for the men. 'Sarah has not been renamed
yet, as she's only been with us a matter of hours.'

'No need to
ask which one is which,' the fat man said, laughing. 'What a fine
pair of melons you have, eh, Titty Kitty?' Kitty lowered her eyes,
but Prudence immediately slapped her hard across her naked
buttocks, making her head jerk upwards again.

'His lordship
asked you a question, Kitty,' she snapped. 'Answer in the way you
have been taught.'

'Yes, my
lord,' Kitty demurred. 'I trust this humble slave girl's titties
meet with your approval?'

The man threw
back his head, roaring with laughter. 'Capital!' he exclaimed. 'By
God, Grayling, I tip my hat to you!'

'Master Adam
has told me all about you, Kitty,' Grayling said, leaning forward
in his chair. 'Seems you like your little cunny well reamed and
have a taste for the tongue, eh?'

'Yes, master,'
Kitty replied quietly. 'I am a slave slut.'

'But a pretty
one, Titty Kitty!' Grayling's companion roared again.

'And what of
you, Sarah?' Grayling asked, turning his attention from Kitty. 'Are
you a slave slut, too?'

'Indeed, sir,'
Sarah replied, hating herself, but knowing that she would face a
whipping if she did not answer as she had been instructed, 'I am
becoming one, if I were not already.'

'Ah,' Grayling
said, 'I detect perhaps a sign of some education and breeding in
you, slave Sarah. Are you book read, girl?'

'I have had
some education, yes master,' Sarah said. 'My father was a scholar
and we had a fine library in our London home.'

'London, eh?'
the fat man cried. 'Capital! Really capital, har-har!' He laughed
raucously at his own joke, slapping his thighs repeatedly and Sarah
cringed. The thought of such a creature even touching her with a
single finger was more than enough to make her stomach turn - the
thought of anything else was dreadful beyond anything she could
compare.

However, it
quickly became apparent that neither she nor Kitty had been brought
here for Grayling's guest's personal gratification, rather to
repeat what they had done in their stall cell earlier, this time
with additional spectators. Grayling clapped his hands and the two
black girls - unnoticed by Sarah until this moment - rose from
their cushions, pattered across the floor in their bare feet and
drew aside a curtain that had been hiding a deep alcove.

From this they
drew out a large square mat, or so Sarah thought it, until they
dragged it across to the centre of the polished wood surface. Now,
she saw, it was more than just a mat; rather it appeared to be some
form of thin mattress, two large squares of thick velvet sewn
together, one atop the other and stuffed with something soft.

'Now, my two
little coquettes,' Prudence whispered, as she led the two English
girls back to stand behind the mattress, at a point where the two
men could not hear her instructions, 'I want you to act as though
you're both enjoying this, which I suspect you will anyway, from
what I've heard. I want to see those little tongues in those
honeypots, lapping hard. I want to see those pretty red lips
sucking those pert red nipples and I want to see those painted
fingers working all the time. Their lordships will know if you try
faking and if they don't whip you - which I suspect they will -
then I'll do it myself.

'Now, get down
there my painted jezebels, and let's have a performance worthy of
the name. If not,' she hissed, drawing their heads closer to hers,
'apart from the whipping, you'll probably end up with the fat pig
there poking the pair of you. And I doubt,' she added maliciously,
'whether you much fancy that, my pretties, mm?'

'This is
getting beyond a joke, Captain Hart!' Thomas Handiwell fumed. The
young captain of horse looked a little sheepish; behind him the
line of soldiers, all now leading their horses, did their best to
pretend they were not listening to the conversation between their
officer and the innkeeper.

'I don't see
what else I can do, Master Handiwell,' Timothy Hart said. 'We now
have three horses lame at the same time. We cannot possibly ride
them further, surely you must see that?'

'Of course I see that, man,' Handiwell said curtly. 'I saw
that ten miles back, when we passed through by the
Boar's Head
. I said then
that those mounts looked the worse for wear and that we should have
asked if there were replacements available.'

'Yes, I know
you did,' Hart admitted. His thin face looked even more drawn than
it had when Colonel Brotherwood first introduced Handiwell to him
in Portsmouth. The strain of his recent losses had been evident
then and now, as what should have been a straightforward journey of
a few hours threatened to disintegrate into a farce, it was plain
that he was not coping at all well.

'The problem
is, Master Handiwell,' he went on, 'that these horses are the
property of the government. I am not authorised to simply trade
them in against fresh mounts. There is no way of knowing just what
sort of horseflesh we might be getting in exchange.'

'The sort that can carry a rider more than ten miles without
breaking down!' Handiwell snapped. 'No,' he said, his tone
softening slightly, 'it's not your fault, man, I know that. But
look ye here, at this rate we'll not make the
Drum
before midday tomorrow. I don't
know about you and your men, but I can't walk all
night.'

'Then what are
you suggesting, sir?'

'I'm
suggesting,' Handiwell said firmly, 'that we still have five good
horses between us, so five of us should ride on. Once we get to my
inn one man can ride back with three fresh horses. At least that
will leave four of us to try to find out something about these
villains who have taken my niece.'

'I cannot
leave three men on the road on their own,' Hart insisted. 'It's
completely against regulations.'

'Then don't
leave them on their own. Have your sergeant swap his good horse for
one of the lame steeds and leave him in charge of two of your
troopers. Surely that's not against your precious regulations?'

'Well, no,'
Hart admitted, 'though Sergeant Riley is supposed to be in charge
of my safe passage, as you know.'

'Damn your
safe passage!' Handiwell's voice rose alarmingly and the younger
man flinched. 'What about my niece, Sarah? What about her safe
passage. You'll still have three of your men, plus myself, so what
are you frightened of? Feared some ghost is going to jump out and
make off with you, is that it? Strike me in the saddle, but I
thought you were supposed to be a soldier!'