The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  There had been no time, I realised, with Susanna’s funeral following so hard upon her death, to fit them out in mourning attire. And in truth it was a sorry, almost ragged procession that filed towards the grave. Hester and I had drawn aside, but as the only bystanders we were conspicuous enough. There were glances in our direction. Jane, the elder daughter, a pretty girl of perhaps fourteen years, looked sharply at me. While the younger one, whose name I recalled was Alison, barely raised her head. Both were stricken with grief, their eyes wet with tears. Neither of them knew me; then, I had not set eyes on them since their mother was alive, when they were small children. The only person to recognise me was Cobbett himself, who stopped in surprise.

  ‘Belstrang… Good God sir, is it you?’

  ‘It is, sir,’ I answered. ‘I’m come with my late wife’s companion, to offer our sympathies.’

  Cobbett glanced at Hester, but barely acknowledged her. ‘Indeed? Well then, I must bid you welcome.’

  And yet, though the words were spoken smoothly, I stiffened: there was suspicion in the man’s cold grey eyes. Hester saw it too, and lowered her gaze.

  ‘I pray, come into the house after… later,’ Cobbett added quickly. ‘A funeral table is prepared.’ With a nod he moved off, leaving us to follow as we wished.

  We waited, our attention now on Abel Humphreys and his wife. For a farmer, I thought, he was an odd sort: heavily-built and fleshy of face, with little trace of the permanent sunburn common among men of the land. He saw us, but looked away quickly, while his wife… his wife, I now realised was blind. Her sightless eyes stared ahead, though there was no mistaking the tears which ran from them.

  It struck me then, with some force, that of all those present, Mistress Humphreys and Cobbett’s two daughters were the only ones who showed any sign of real sadness, apart perhaps from the servants. But the thought receded as the burial service began - for it was the most discomfiting I have ever attended.

  At first matters proceeded as expected. Parson Woolland, a grim-faced man, intoned the words while the mourners stood with bowed heads. The coffin was then lowered into the earth, to the muted sound of sobbing from the Cobbett girls. Their nurse, meanwhile, stood like stone - a hard woman, I decided; then her master was a hard man, as Hester had said. Cobbett, for his part, stood with the air of one whose main concern was to get the business over with. I turned to Hester, the two of us standing at the rear, and caught her glance.

  ‘I never saw a father so unmoved,’ she whispered.

  But we were diverted, for there came a restlessness among those present: an air of anticipation, or even of unease. Its cause, I realised, was the parson who, having closed his prayer-book, now drew himself to full height and glared round at what was become his congregation.

  ‘Evil was done to this innocent maiden,’ Woolland said, in a voice of doom. ‘An evil that many might fear to confront - yet I shall not shrink from my task.’ He paused as if daring anyone to speak, but there was only silence.

  ‘Madness comes in many forms,’ he went on. ‘Some may mock, while others weep at the plight of the afflicted. The heaviest burden is borne by the families, who are oft driven to torment by the trial God has seen fit to place upon them - and yet…’ This with a fierce gaze at every person in turn. ‘Yet this trial, this cruel visitation came not from God, whose purpose is beyond our understanding. It came from a servant of Satan, albeit one in human form: the form of a woman who dwelt but a short way from where we stand, before she was taken. I name her not – I have no need, for you know of whom I speak.’

  He stopped, closed his eyes and muttered what I assumed was a prayer. The listeners were still, heads bent low. Cobbett appeared impassive, while beside him the shoulders of both his daughters shook with silent sobbing…

  And then I saw something: something that sat most starkly with the occasion. Abel Humphreys turned his head to Cobbett, who returned his gaze - and to my astonishment, the two exchanged private smiles.

  The smiles were gone almost at once, both men assuming an attitude of close attention as the parson opened his eyes. But I had seen it, and would not forget.

  ‘Yea, you know full well of whom I speak!’ Woolland thundered, his voice loud on a sudden. ‘That one, that cursed demon, now faces due process of law - and if justice prevails, she will go to the pit that is prepared for her. I need say nothing further, yet I will remind you of those words from Exodus, in the eighteenth verse of the twenty-second chapter, that show us the will of God in such matters: ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’

  Whereupon, to murmurs from some of the servants, he ended his sermon – for such it was. It was no eulogy, no plea for mercy or understanding for the girl who had committed the grave sin of self-murder, but a sermon, which he now concluded with an amen before turning to walk away. He was followed by Cobbett, Humphreys and his wife and the servants, who dispersed in silence. Soon only the two sisters remained at the graveside, standing close together and a little apart from their nurse, who appeared ill-at-ease with their grief. The labourer, meanwhile, stood ready to do his work.

  ‘I’d like to go,’ Hester said. ‘Yet, if you wish to tarry at the house-’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said.

  I was still struggling with the picture in my mind: of Cobbett and his tenant, whose wife had stood beside him in ignorance, smiling over the bowed heads of the other mourners. After a moment I offered Hester my arm, but as we began to take our leave a female voice called out. I looked round to see the older of the Cobbett daughters coming towards me.

  ‘Sir… might I know your name?’

  I told her, and was about to summon some words of sympathy, but her response cut me short.

  ‘You were the Justice, in Worcester?’

  ‘I was. I… we knew your mother in happier times,’ I began - but I was at once arrested by the look in her eyes. There was more than grief: there was nervousness, even fear. Hester saw it too, and caught her breath. By instinct both of us were moved to try and comfort the girl – but almost at once, we were challenged.

  ‘Jane! What are you doing?’

  I looked up to see the nurse, skirts swishing about her as she hurried towards us. Without checking her stride, she took Jane Cobbett by the shoulders and almost thrust her aside.

  ‘In God’s name, sir, have you no shame?’ she demanded of me. ‘Troubling my poor charge in her grief, at such a time? I pray you, go to the house and attend your father!’

  The instruction was for Jane who, without a word, turned about and obeyed. But as she went, she threw a look over her shoulder which I will not forget: that of a soul in anguish. I had barely noted it before the nurse faced me again, but quickly I recovered myself.

  ‘I had not the least intent to trouble your charge, Mistress,’ I said, in my magistrate voce. ‘She came to me… I believe she wished to speak.’ Whereupon I gave my name, adding that I had some acquaintance with the Cobbett family. Such explanations, however, seemed of little concern to this woman.

  ‘There was small need for you to come here… sir,’ she answered. ‘This family is in torment, if not one of their own making, and in need of privacy. I would have thought a man of your rank and education would have understood.’

  ‘Might we know your name, Mistress?’

  Hester spoke up, her eyes peering into the other woman’s. Another moment followed, before the nurse nodded briefly. ‘Eliza Dowling. Master Giles’ daughters have been in my care since their mother passed.’

  ‘Your care?’ Hester was taut as a wand. ‘Well, it appears to me they will need more than mere discipline in the days ahead,’ she said. ‘They will need understanding.’

  ‘Do you presume to teach me, Madam?’ Eliza Dowling retorted. ‘I’m grateful, but I fear my duties call me. If you’ll allow?’

  Whereupon, with a look of severity, she turned and called out to the younger sister who, I now saw, had been watching our exchange open-mouthed. But she came meekly, and was soon swept away to
wards the house. I watched as both figures disappeared from sight, before glancing absently at the grave.

  The labourer was at work already, shovelling earth so quickly, he seemed in haste to have the dead girl’s remains hidden from sight, for ever.

  ***

  We did not speak for some time on the ride homewards, each of us busy with our thoughts. Finally, as the spires of Worcester’s churches came into view, we slowed our mounts and walked them at gentle pace.

  ‘Those poor girls,’ Hester murmured. ‘Who will they turn to now, with no older sister to be their confidante?’

  I made no answer; the particulars of the burial and its aftermath were yet fresh in my mind.

  ‘Something was wrong back there,’ she added. ‘More than the tragedy of the death.’ She glanced at me as we rode. ‘Humphreys, for one thing – the tenant. He made my blood run cold. For that matter, so did the parson.’

  I nodded. ‘I wouldn’t like to be one of his flock when he’s in full flow, spouting fire and damnation.’

  ‘And what of Cobbett?’ Hester asked. ‘You saw his demeanour as I did.’

  But I was thinking of Agnes Mason, who was likely unaware of the strength of feeling gathered against her. If ever there were a hopeless case, I reflected, hers was one.

  ‘I had a notion we might take our dinner in Worcester,’ I said finally. ‘But if it please you, we’ll go home directly. I’ve some business this afternoon, that will not wait.’

  Hester threw me a questioning look, but said nothing.

  Nor did she query my request, back at Thirldon, for Henry the cook to put some cakes in a pouch, along with a stoppered flask of ale, and bring them to me after we had dined. Though from her expression, she guessed where I intended to go.

  ***

  Two hours later I stood once again in the gloomy Guildhall cellars, before the door of Agnes Mason’s cell.

  My arrival had not gone entirely smoothly, for in the entrance hall I had been confronted by an official who told me the prisoner was now forbidden visitors. On learning who I was, however, the man relented and called Sergeant Lisle. After I had surrendered my sword, the sergeant accompanied me downstairs to the chamber at the end of the passage. Key in hand, he paused at the door and regarded me.

  ‘Might I enquire as to what’s in the bag, Master Justice?’

  ‘Cakes and ale,’ I answered. ‘Is the prisoner now forbidden such comforts?’

  ‘Not by me, sir,’ Lisle said. ‘But I have to ask. I’m also obliged to search you, but let’s take that as done, shall we?’

  I sighed and gave him my thanks, whereupon he unlocked the door and stood back. This time I had no need to adjust my eyes to the gloom, for there was a small rushlight burning. In its feeble glow, I entered the cell to see Agnes Mason rising from her pallet in surprise. As the door closed she stood up, smoothing her skirts hurriedly, but greeted me warmly.

  ‘Master Justice… once again, you cheer me.’

  Somewhat awkwardly I held out the bag; I had forgotten how disarming her smile was. She took it and thanked me.

  ‘A costrel of ale and some sweet cakes,’ I said. ‘Better than prison fare, I suspect. Do they feed you properly?’

  She nodded and set the pouch aside, her smile fading. ‘I make no complaint, sir. But the jailer is harsh… he dashed my porridge to the floor this morning.’

  At once, I pictured Burton’s smirking features. My anger must have shown, for Agnes lifted a hand. ‘I pray you, let’s not speak of him. I’m eager for any news you bring – do you know aught of Edward and Isabel?’

  ‘They are well,’ I answered, hoping it was not an untruth. I hesitated, then added: ‘I fear my other news is not pleasant.’

  ‘And yet I would hear it,’ she said. ‘It’s unlikely to be worse than any I have imagined, here in this place.’

  Seeing her somewhat dispirited, I let my gaze wander the grimy chamber. ‘If only we could sit,’ I said absently.

  ‘Well, why should we not?’ Agnes replied. ‘The bed’s none too clean, but it’s better than cold stone.’

  Whereupon, somewhat to my embarrassment, she sat herself down on the pallet, in the corner of the cell. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she looked up. Will you join me, sir?’

  I did so - most clumsily, I should add. A man of my station is unused to such a posture, and given my years… but no matter. The two of us sat side by side, which could have put certain thoughts in my head, had my news not been so grim. For I felt obliged to acquaint Agnes with all that had passed since our last meeting: In primis, Boyd’s report of the inquest, and secundus, my own account of the funeral. I made no effort to sugar the tale, for there was little to gain by it. After I had finished, I leaned back against the rough cell wall and let her ponder the matter in all its starkness.

  ‘Well, I should thank you,’ she said after a moment. ‘Even if my fate appears sealed. Might I ask you sir, as a man of the law, what your advice would be? To await trial and try to gather some defence? Or to keep silent, putting my faith in the hands of the Lord?’ She paused, her eyes on the floor. ‘Either way, I fear the result will be the same.’

  I failed to summon a ready reply, whereupon she added: ‘Or might there be another way? You carry a poniard… perhaps you could mislay it, when you rise to take your leave? Or would you deny me the chance to cheat the gallows, while I may?’

  I turned sharply, uncertain if she was in earnest. But I could divine little from her expression, and a chill stole over my heart.

  It was a feeling I knew would not lift, unless I could find some means to save this woman’s life.

  SIX

  My remedy, on this occasion, was not to fall back on a pious-sounding attempt to dissuade Agnes from such a desperate act as she had hinted at. Nor did I assume my lawyer’s manner and speak of her defence at trial – a defence, I knew, which would carry little weight against the testimony of Giles Cobbett, let alone public opinion. Instead I put rank aside and spoke as I would to any friend in need.

  ‘I’ll pretend I never heard that,’ I told her, in a severe voice. ‘And I resent having my time wasted with foolish talk. I wish to help you, but I cannot do so unless you help me. I need to hear something new – anything you can think of, which may be of use.’ And thinking fast, I seized the first notion that came to mind.

  ‘Cobbett’s tale of your cursing him, for instance - telling him his firstborn would perish. I know it’s a lie, but in the absence of witnesses, if he swears to it-’

  ‘My word is worthless,’ Agnes broke in.

  ‘Well then, the gold,’ I persisted. ‘The so-called Offa’s gold. Are others aware of his desire for it? Or of his notion to have you divine its place, by conjuration?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘It’s likely Humphreys would know,’ she said finally. ‘They’re close, those two… more than is common between landlord and tenant.’

  I frowned as the memory arose of Cobbett and Humphreys, exchanging smiles at the graveside. ‘Will you say more?’

  ‘You have seen him, and his wife, you say… that poor woman. To my mind she’s never viewed him as he truly is, being blind from childhood. Some still wonder why he wed her, for there’s precious little warmth in the marriage. They say he visits women of the town… in some ways, I might say Sarah Humphreys is as much a prisoner as I am.’

  I pictured the man, as he had walked by Hester and I: his wife in tears, while he betrayed no emotion.

  ‘The pool,’ I resumed. ‘Your son spoke of the old rumours. It’s not somewhere I intended to visit again, but is there aught I might find if I did? Those birds, hung in trees – do you think they were placed to scare intruders? If Cobbett believed the gold was hidden nearby…’

  I broke off, for Agnes was nodding. ‘You might ask Ned Berritt about those,’ she said.

  I recalled the name, as I recalled Edward Mason describing the man. ‘How so?’ I asked.

  ‘I cannot be sure,’ Agnes answered. ‘But Ned’s sharp-ey
ed, and wiser than many would credit. I’d not call him a friend, but nor is he our enemy. He has no affection for Cobbett, or Humphreys either. Humphreys caught him rabbiting on his land once, and offered him a choice: either he would report him, or he could take a beating then and there. Being Ned, he took the beating, which Humphreys enjoyed dealing out, so he swore. It meant bruises and a cracked rib, but it spared him from being arrested.’

  I pondered her words. It might pay me to visit Humphreys on his farm, I thought, and try to probe the man for some clue to this conundrum. For so it was become, the more I learned of the matter. ‘I should go soon,’ I said to Agnes. ‘I’ll do what I can… though I fear it may not be enough. It would be an untruth to tell you otherwise.’

  I turned to her, and our faces were suddenly close – whereupon I drew back, lowering my gaze. Had I betrayed my feelings? The notion brought unease, which was only compounded when Agnes laid a hand gently on my arm. But when I forced myself to meet her eye, I saw only gratitude.

  ‘You have my deepest thanks,’ she said.

  With an effort I got to my feet, grunting a little. Agnes too rose, a good deal more nimbly than I had. But I confess that her next words came as a disappointment.

  ‘I pray you, sir: feel no need to come here again,’ she said. ‘Unless there are tidings you wish to bring. Though you warm my heart with your presence, there’s only sadness when you’re gone. You understand me, I think.’

  With a quick smile of farewell, she faced the wall and stood motionless. And though I had an urge to reach out and turn her towards me, I did not.

  Instead, with heavy heart I stepped to the door, threw it open and got myself out into the passage. Had the insolent Burton been waiting just then, I believe I might have struck the man down merely on impulse. But it was Lisle who stood nearby, regarding me without expression. With barely a nod, I walked past him to the stairway.