‘Can’t you go any quicker?’ Alice asked.
‘It’s not as easy as it looks,’ I told her.
Eventually I managed to lock it and let out a sigh of relief. Then I remembered the Spook...
‘Was Mr Gregory in the cell with you?’ I asked.
Alice shook her head. ‘Not when you let us out. They took him away for questioning about an hour before you came.’
I’d been lucky in managing to avoid capture. Lucky in getting the prisoners out of the cell. But luck has a way of balancing itself out. I’d been just an hour too late. Alice was free but the Spook was still a prisoner, and unless I could do something about it, he was going to burn.
Wasting no more time, I led Alice along the tunnel until we came to the fast-flowing river.
I crossed quickly but when I turned back, Alice was still on the far bank, staring down at the water.
‘It’s deep, Tom,’ she cried. ‘It’s too deep and the stones are slippery!’
I crossed back to where she was standing. Then, gripping her hand, I led her back across the nine flat stones. We soon reached the open hatch that led up into the empty house and, once inside the cellar, I closed the hatch behind us. To my disappointment, Andrew had already gone. I needed to talk to him: to tell him that the Spook hadn’t been in the cell; warn him that Brother Peter was in danger and that the rumours really were true - the Bane’s strength was back!
‘We’d better stay down here for a while. The Quisitor will start searching the town once he realizes so many of you have escaped. This house is haunted - the last place anybody will want to look is down here in the cellar.’
Alice nodded, and for the first time since the spring I looked at her properly. She was as tall as me, which meant that she’d grown at least an inch too, but she was still dressed as I’d last seen her when I’d taken her to her aunt in Staumin. If it wasn’t the same black dress, it was its twin.
Her face was as pretty as ever but thinner, and older, as though it had seen things that had forced it to grow up quickly; things that nobody should have to see. Her black hair was matted and filthy and there were smears of dirt on her face. Alice looked like she hadn’t had a wash for at least a month.
It’s good to see you again,’ I said. ‘When I saw you in the Quisitor’s cart, I thought that would be it.’
She didn’t reply. Just grabbed my hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m half-starved, Tom. Ain’t got anything to eat, have you?’
I shook my head.
‘Not even a piece of that mouldy old cheese?’
‘Sorry,’ I said. I’ve none left.’
Alice turned away and seized one edge of the old carpet that was at the top of the heap.
‘Help me, Tom,’ she said. ‘Need to sit down and I don’t fancy the cold stones much.’
I put the candle and staff down and together we pulled the carpet onto the flags. The musty smell was stronger than ever and I watched the beetles and woodlice that we’d uncovered scurrying away across the cellar floor.
Unconcerned, Alice sat down on the carpet and drew her knees up so that she could rest her chin.
‘One day I’m going to get even,’ she said. ‘Nobody deserves to be treated like that.’
I sat down next to her and put my hand on hers. ‘What happened?’ I asked.
She was silent for a while, and just as I’d decided she wasn’t going to answer me, she suddenly spoke. ‘Once she got to know me, my old aunt was good to me. Worked me hard, she did, but always fed me well. I was just getting used to living there at Staumin when the Quisitor came. Took us by surprise and broke down the door. But my aunt weren’t no Bony Lizzie. She weren’t no witch.
They swam her down at the pond at midnight while a big crowd watched, all laughing and jeering. Real scared I was, expecting it was my turn next. Tied her feet to her hands and threw her in. Sank like a stone, she did. But it was dark and windy and a big gust came the moment she hit the water; blew a lot of the torches out. Took a long time to find her and drag her out.’
Alice buried her face into her hands and gave a sob. I waited quietly until she was able to go on. When she uncovered her face, her eyes were dry but her lips were trembling.
‘When they pulled her out she was dead. It ain’t fair, Tom. She didn’t float, she sank, so she must have been innocent but they’d killed her anyway! After that they left me alone and just put me up in the cart with the rest.’
‘My mam told me that swimming witches doesn’t work anyway,’ I said. ‘Only fools use it.’
‘No, Tom, the Quisitor’s no fool. There’s a reason for everything he does, you can be sure of that.
He’s greedy. Greedy for money. He sold my old aunt’s cottage and kept the money. We watched him counting it. That’s what he does. Calls people witches, gets them out of the way and takes their houses, land and money. What’s more, he enjoys his work. There’s darkness in him. He says he’s doing it to rid the County of witches, but he’s more cruel than any witch I’ve ever known -and that’s saying something.
‘There was a girl called Maggie. Not much older than me, she was. Didn’t bother with swimming her.
Used a different test and we all had to watch. Quisitor used a long sharp pin. He kept sticking it into her body over and over again. You should have heard her shriek. Poor girl almost went mad with the pain.
She kept fainting and they had a bucket of water by the side of the table to bring her round. But at last they found what they were looking for. The Devil’s mark! Know what that is, Tom?’
I nodded. The Spook had told me that it was one of the things witchfinders used. But it was another lie, he’d said. There was no such thing as the Devil’s mark. Anyone with true knowledge of the dark knew that.
‘It’s cruel and it ain’t just,’ Alice continued. ‘After a bit the pain gets too much and your body goes numb, so eventually when the needle goes in you don’t feel it. Then they say that’s the spot where the Devil touched you, so you’re guilty and have to burn. Worst thing was the look on the Quisitor’s face. So pleased with himself, he was. I’ll get even all right. I’ll pay him back for that. Maggie don’t deserve to burn.’
‘The Spook doesn’t deserve to burn either!’ I said bitterly. ‘All his life he’s worked hard fighting the dark.’
‘He’s a man and he’ll get an easier death than some,’ said Alice. ‘The Quisitor gives women a much harder time. Makes sure they take a long time to burn. Says it’s harder to save a woman’s soul than a man’s. That they need a lot of pain to make them feel sorry for their sins.’
That brought to mind what the Spook had said about the Bane not being able to abide women. The fact that they made it nervous.
‘The creature you spat at was the Bane,’ I told her. ‘Have you heard of it? How did you manage to scare it away so easily?’
Alice shrugged. ‘Ain’t too difficult to tell when something ain’t comfortable having you around. Some men are like that - I always know when I’m not welcome. I get that feeling near Old Gregory and it was the same down there. And spit sends most things on their way. Spit three times at a toad and nothing with cold damp skin will bother you for a month or more. Lizzie used to swear by it. Don’t think it’ll work that way on the Bane though. Yes, I’ve heard about that creature. And if it’s now able to shape-shift then we’re all in for some serious bother. I took it by surprise, that’s all. It’ll be ready next time so I ain’t going down there again.’
For a while neither of us spoke. I just stared down at the musty old carpet, until suddenly I heard Alice’s breathing deepen. When I looked back her eyes were closed and she’d fallen asleep in the same position, her chin resting on her knees.
I didn’t really want to blow the candle out, but I didn’t know how long we’d have to stay down in the cellar and it was better to save some light until later.
Once it was out I tried to get to sleep myself but it was difficult. For one thing I was cold and kept shivering. For another, I couldn’t get the Spook out of my mind. We’d failed to rescue him, and the Quisitor would be really angry at what had happened. It wouldn’t be long before he started burning people.
Finally I must have drifted off because I was suddenly woken by the sound of Alice’s voice very close to my left ear.
‘Tom,’ she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper, ‘there’s something over there in the corner of the cellar with us. It’s staring at me and I don’t like it much.’
Alice was right. I could sense something in the corner and I felt cold. The hair on the back of my neck was beginning to rise. It was probably just Matty Barnes, the strangler, again.
‘Don’t worry, Alice,’ I told her. ‘It’s just a ghost. Try and forget about it. As long as you’re not afraid, it can’t harm you.’
‘I ain’t afraid. At least not now.’ She paused, then said, ‘But I was scared in that cell. Didn’t sleep a wink, what with all that shouting and screaming. I’ll soon be off to sleep again. It’s just that I want it to go away. It ain’t right, it staring like that.’
‘I don’t know what to do next,’ I said, thinking about the Spook again.
Alice didn’t reply but her breathing deepened once more. She was asleep. And I must have gone back to sleep myself because a noise woke me up suddenly.
It was the sound of heavy boots. Someone was in the kitchen above us.
T
he door creaked open and candlelight filled the room. To my relief it was Andrew.
‘Thought I’d find you down here,’ he said. He was carrying a small parcel. As he put it down and placed the candle next to mine, he nodded towards Alice, who was still sleeping deeply but now lying on her side with her back to us, her face resting on her hands.
‘So who’s this then?’ he asked.
‘She used to live near Chipenden,’ I told him. ‘Her name’s Alice. Mr Gregory wasn’t there. They’d taken him upstairs for questioning.’
Andrew shook his head sadly. ‘Brother Peter said as much. You couldn’t have been more unlucky.
Half an hour later and John would’ve been back in the cell with the others. As it was, eleven got away, but five were caught again soon afterwards. But there’s more bad news. The Quisitor’s men arrested Brother Peter in the street just after he’d left my shop. I saw it from the upstairs window. So that’s me finished in this town. They’ll probably come for me next but I’m not sticking around to answer any questions. I’ve locked the shop up already. My tools are on the cart and I’m heading south, back towards Adlington, where I used to work.’
‘I’m sorry, Andrew.’
‘Well don’t be. Who wouldn’t try to help his own brother? Besides, it’s not that bad for me. The shop premises were only rented and I’ve got a trade at my fingertips. I’ll always find work. Here,’ he said, opening the parcel, ‘I’ve brought you some food.’
‘What time is it?’ I asked.
‘A couple of hours or so before dawn. I took a risk coming here. After all the commotion half the town’s awake. A lot of people have gone to the big hall down Fishergate. After what happened last night the Quisitor’s holding a quick trial for all the prisoners he’s still got.’
‘Why doesn’t he wait till daylight?’ I asked.
‘Even more people would attend then,’ Andrew answered. ‘Wants to get it over and done with before there’s any real opposition. Some of the townsfolk are against what he’s doing. As for the burning, it’ll be tonight, after dark, on the beacon hill at Wortham, south of the river. The Quisitor will have a lot of armed men with him in case there’s trouble, so if you’ve any sense, you’ll stay here till nightfall then be on the road and away.’
Even before he managed to unwrap the parcel, Alice rolled towards us and sat up. Maybe she’d smelled the food or had been listening all the time, just pretending to be asleep. There were slices of ham, fresh bread and two big tomatoes. Without a word of thanks to Andrew, Alice set to work right away, and after just a moment’s hesitation I joined her. I was really hungry and there didn’t seem much point in fasting now.
‘So I’ll be off,’ said Andrew. ‘Poor John, but there’s nothing we can do now.’
‘Isn’t it worth having one last try to save him?’ I asked.
‘No, you’ve done enough. It’s too dangerous to go anywhere near the trial. And soon poor John’U be with the rest, under armed guard and on the way to Wortham to be burned alive with all those other poor wretches.’
‘But what about the curse?’ I said. ‘You said yourself he’s cursed to die alone underground, not up on a beacon.’
‘Oh, the curse. I don’t believe in that any more than John does. I was just desperate to stop him going after the Bane with the Quisitor in town. No, I’m afraid my brother’s fate is sealed so you just get yourself away. John once told me that there’s a spook operating somewhere near Caster. He covers the County borders to the north. Mention John’s name and he might just take you on. He was once one of John’s apprentices.’
With a nod, Andrew turned to go. ‘I’ll leave you the candle,’ he said. ‘Good luck on the road. And if you ever need a good locksmith, you’ll know where to come.’
With that he was gone. I listened to him climb the cellar steps and close the back door. A few moments later Alice was licking tomato juice from her fingers. We’d eaten everything - not a crumb was left.
‘Alice,’ I said, ‘I want to go to the trial. There might be a chance I can do something to help the Spook. Will you come with me?’
Alice’s eyes widened. ‘Do something? You heard what he said. Ain’t nothing to be done, Tom! What can you do against armed men? No, be sensible. Ain’t worth the risk, is it? Besides, why should I try to help? Old Gregory wouldn’t do the same for me. Leave me to burn, he would, and that’s a fact!’
I didn’t know what to say to that. In a way it was true. I’d asked the Spook about helping Alice and he’d refused. So, with a sigh, I came to my feet.
‘I’m going anyway,’ I told her.
‘No, Tom, don’t leave me here. Not with the ghost...’
‘I thought you weren’t scared.’
‘I ain’t. But last time I fell asleep I felt it starting to squeeze my throat, I did. Might do worse if you’re not here.’
‘Come with me then. It won’t be that dangerous because it’ll still be dark. And the best place to hide is in a big crowd. Come on, please. What do you say?’
‘Got a plan?’ she asked. ‘Something you ain’t told me about?’
I shook my head.
“Thought as much,’ she said.
‘Look, Alice, I just want to go and see. If I can’t help we’ll come away. But I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.’
Reluctantly, Alice stood up. ‘I’ll come and see what’s what,’ she said. ‘But you’ve got to promise me that if it’s too dangerous we’ll turn back right away. I know the Quisitor better than you do. Trust me, we shouldn’t be messing around near him.’
‘I promise,’ I told her.
I left the Spook’s bag and staff in the cellar and we set off for Fishergate, where the trial was being held.
Andrew had said that half the town was awake. That was an exaggeration, but for so early in the morning there were a lot of candles flickering behind curtains and quite a few people seemed to be hastening through the dark streets in the same direction as we were.
I’d half expected that we wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the building, thinking guards would be lining the road outside, but to my surprise none of the Quisitor’s men were anywhere to be seen. The big wooden doors were wide open and a crowd of people filled the doorway, spilling out onto the road outside, as if there wasn’t room for them all to fit inside.
I led the way forward cautiously, glad of the darkness. When I reached the back of the crowd, I realized that it wasn’t as densely packed as it had first seemed. Inside the hall the air was tainted with a sweet, sickly scent. It was just one big room with a flagged floor, across which sawdust was scattered unevenly. I couldn’t see properly over the backs of the crowd because most of the people were taller than me, but there seemed to be a big space ahead that nobody wanted to move forward into. I grabbed Alice’s hand and eased my way into the throng of people, tugging her along behind me.
It was dark towards the back of the hall but the front was lit by two huge torches at each corner of a wooden platform. The Quisitor was standing at the front of it, looking down. He was saying something but his voice sounded muffled.
I looked at those about me and saw the range of expressions on their faces: anger, sadness, bitterness and resignation. Some looked openly hostile. This crowd was probably mainly composed of those who opposed the work of the Quisitor. Some of them might even be relatives and friends of the accused. For a moment that thought gave me hope that some sort of rescue might be attempted.
But then my hopes were dashed: I saw why nobody had moved forward. Below the platform were five long benches of priests with their backs to us, but behind them and facing towards us was a double line of grim-faced armed men. Some had their arms folded; others had hands on the hilts of their swords as if they couldn’t wait to draw them from their scabbards. Nobody wanted to get too close to them.
I glanced up towards the ceiling and saw that a high balcony ran along the sides of the hall; faces were peering down, pale white ovals that all looked the same from the ground. That would be the safest place to be and it would provide a much better view. There were steps to the left and I tugged Alice towards them. Moments later we were moving along the wide balcony.
It wasn’t full and we soon found ourselves a place against the rail about halfway between the doors and the platform. There was still the same sweet stench in the air, much stronger now than it had been when we were standing on the flags below. I suddenly realized what it was. The hall was almost certainly used as a meat market. It was the smell of blood.
The Quisitor wasn’t the only person on the platform.
Right at the back, in the shadows, a huddle of guards surrounded the prisoners awaiting trial, but immediately behind the Quisitor were two guards gripping a weeping prisoner by the arms. It was a tall girl with long dark hair. She was wearing a tattered dress and had no shoes.
‘That’s Maggie!’ Alice hissed into my ear. ‘The one they kept sticking pins into. Poor Maggie, it ain’t fair. Thought she’d got away ...’
Up here the sound was much better and I could hear every word the Quisitor spoke. ‘By her own lips this woman is condemned!’ he called out, his voice loud and arrogant. ‘She has confessed all and the Devil’s mark was found upon her flesh. I sentence her to be bound to the stake and burned alive. And may God have mercy upon her soul.’
Maggie began to sob even louder, but one of her captors seized her by the hair and she was dragged away towards a doorway at the back of the platform. No sooner had she disappeared through it than another prisoner wearing a black cassock and with his hands bound behind his back was pulled forward into the torchlight. For a moment I thought I was mistaken but there was no doubt.
It was Brother Peter. I knew him by the thin collar of white hair that fringed his bald head and by the curve of his back and shoulders. But his face was so badly beaten and streaked with blood that I hardly recognized it. His nose was broken, squashed back against his face, and one eye was closed to a swollen red slit.
Seeing him in that condition made me feel terrible. It was all because of me. To begin with he’d allowed me to escape; later he’d told me how I could get to the cell to rescue the Spook and Alice.
Under torture, he must have told them everything. It was all my fault and I was racked with guilt.
‘Once this was a brother, a faithful servant of the Church!’ cried the Quisitor. ‘But look at him now!
Look at this traitor! One who has helped our enemies and allied himself with the forces of darkness. We have his confession, written with his own hand. Here it is!’ he shouted, holding up a piece of paper high for all to see.
Nobody got a chance to read it - it could have said anything at all. Even if it was a confession, one look at poor Brother Peter’s face told me that it had been beaten out of him. It wasn’t fair. There was no justice here. This wasn’t a trial at all. The Spook had once told me that when people were tried in the castle at Caster, at least they got a hearing - a judge, a prosecutor and someone to defend them. But here the Quisitor was doing it all himself!
‘He is guilty. Guilty beyond all doubt,’ he continued. ‘I therefore sentence him to be taken down to the catacombs and left there. And may God have mercy on his soul!’
There was a sudden gasp of horror from the crowd but it was loudest of all from the priests seated at the front. They knew exactly what Brother Peter’s fate would be. He would be pressed to death by the Bane.
Brother Peter tried to speak, but his lips were too swollen. One of the guards cuffed him about the head while the Quisitor gave a cruel smile. They pulled him away towards the door at the rear of the platform, and no sooner had he been led out of the building than another prisoner was brought forward from the gloom. My heart sank into my boots. It was the Spook.
At first glance, apart from a few bruises on his face, the Spook didn’t seem to have had as hard a time as Brother Peter. But then I noticed something more chilling. He was squinting into the torchlight and looked bewildered, with a vacant expression in his green eyes. He seemed lost. It was as if his memory had gone and he didn’t even know who he was. I began to wonder just how badly he’d been beaten.
‘Before you is John Gregory!’ cried the Quisitor, his voice echoing from wall to wall. ‘A disciple of the Devil, no less, who for many years has plied his evil trade in this county, taking money from poor gullible folk. But does this man recant? Does he accept his sins and beg forgiveness? No, he is stubborn and will not confess. Now only through fire may he be purged and given hope of salvation. But furthermore, not content with the evil he can do, he has trained others and still continues to do so. Father Cairns, I ask you to stand and give testimony!’
From the front row of benches a priest stepped forward into the torchlight closer to the platform. He had his back to me so I couldn’t see his face, but I spotted his bandaged hand and when he spoke it was the same voice that I’d listened to in the confessional box.
‘Lord Quisitor, John Gregory brought an apprentice with him on his visit to this town, one whom he has already corrupted. His name is Thomas Ward.’
I heard Alice let out a low gasp and my own knees began to tremble. I was suddenly sharply aware of how dangerous it was to be here in the hall, so close to the Quisitor and his armed men.
‘By the grace of God the boy fell into my hands,’ Father Cairns continued, ‘and, but for the intervention of Brother Peter, who allowed him to escape justice, I would have delivered him to you for questioning. But I did question him myself, lord, and found him to be hardened beyond his years and far beyond persuasion by mere words. Despite my best efforts, he failed to see the error of his ways and for that we must blame John Gregory, a man not content with practising his vile trade, one who actively corrupts the young. To
nay
knowledge over a score of apprentices have passed through his hands and some, in turn, now follow that same trade and have taken on apprentices of their own. By such means does evil spread like a plague through the County.’