Cauldron of Fear (31 page)

The
confrontation with Crawley had shaken James's confidence badly.
Instead of the supposed witchfinder being concerned by being faced
with logic and learning, he had simply turned what James had
considered as being his strengths and used them against him.

'Your
schooling will no doubt have covered a few basic points of the
law,' Crawley said, when James had finished trying to harangue him
and demanded Matilda's immediate release. 'Therefore, you will be
well aware that a warrant signed under the seal of a bishop is not
something to be treated lightly.

'Regardless of
what you might like to believe, young fellow,' he continued, 'I
thank the good Lord that there are still some who are aware of the
continued presence of evil in these lands and that they have vested
in me the authority to root it out, wherever it lurks. The young
woman in question has confessed to practicing the dark arts and to
heretical utterings. The law of the Church is quite clear in these
cases. Unless the absolution tithe is paid by this evening, she
will be put to death in the proscribed manner, tomorrow morning, at
eight of the clock precisely. Only the payment of the first two
guineas has persuaded me to delay the execution beyond my original
intent. The balance must be paid by sunset - no later!'

James had
barely constrained himself from leaping forward and seizing the
wretched man by the throat, but the lurking presence of Silas
Grout, who was both taller and heavier than James, eventually
persuaded him that violence would bring no solution. He looked
upwards at the strange assemblage of timbers and at the overhanging
bough high above them and shuddered.

'It will not
happen, Master Crawley,' he said, struggling to keep his voice from
trembling with rage. 'It will not happen!'

When they had
moved out of earshot, Hannah Pennywise spoke for the first time
since they approached Crawley on the green. 'He has the law on his
side,' she said, 'no matter how cackafanny that law may be. We
cannot go openly against the law. That swine he has with him would
break your back in an instant, or else the rest of these fools
would fall upon you.'

'But that's just the point,' James seethed. 'He
doesn't
have the law on
his side. Parliament changed the laws regarding witchcraft a good
few years back now. His warrant, if indeed he has one, must now be
out of date and invalid.'

'And I suppose
you have signed and attested copies of their new law, eh?' Hannah
sighed. 'No, I thought not, and somehow it would appear that news
of London laws does not exactly fly to the ears of villagers such
as these. And yes, he does have a warrant, for he took great
delight in showing me it yesterday, and that's all he needs to sway
the simple minds that abound hereabouts.'

'Maybe not all
the minds hereabouts are so simple,' James retorted. 'I'll speak to
my father.' He paused, recalling that Hannah had said his father
had been among the crowd watching Matilda's scourging. 'Better
still,' he said, 'we'll go and see Master Handiwell. Whatever else
he has on his mind he surely cannot stand by and watch Matilda
murdered. He will know about the new laws and he can make that
knowledge known throughout the village.'

However, by the time the unlikely pair had walked to
the
Black Drum
it
was to discover that Thomas Handiwell, in company with the small
detachment of troopers that had returned with him the night before,
had already left. None of the remaining staff seemed to be privy to
actual details, but the word was that they had gone to try to
apprehend the villains responsible for robbing the stagecoach and
abducting Thomas's niece.

'Damn!' James
cursed, pounding his right fist into his left palm. 'There's no
knowing what time they might return. If they're chasing outlaws
they could end up riding clear across the county. All we can do now
is try to reason with Wickstanner. I've never liked the man, but
perhaps he will listen to us.'

'Even if he
does,' Hannah growled, 'I doubt there's much he can do about it
now, not without admitting to all and sundry that he's a liar. It
was he who alleged the so-called evidence and accusations against
Matilda, accusations that the original so-called witness no longer
lives to confirm or deny.

'Besides,' she
added, 'Jacob Crawley is now like a snowball rolling down a
hillside that grows steeper and steeper. Wickstanner has set him
loose upon this village, true, but I don't think he could stop him
now, even if he wished it.'

'Then what's
to be done?' James all but wailed. 'We cannot just stand back and
let them do this foul thing, surely? Perhaps,' he said, halting in
his stride, 'perhaps there is yet time for me to ride down to
Portsmouth and return with a magistrate or a bailiff, some official
who can tell this foolish village that they are living in the
past.'

'The hour
grows later,' Hannah said sombrely. 'Even if you could make it
there before sunset, I doubt you'd find anyone willing to ride back
with you tonight. And by morning,' she added meaningfully, 'it will
be too late. My Matilda will be swinging beneath yon tree.'

'Then I shall
fetch my father's musket and pistol and shoot both Crawley and his
hangman!'

'Brave words,
young James,' Hannah replied, laying one skeletal hand upon his
arm, 'but foolish. Whatever we may think of Crawley, no matter that
his authority is probably long out of date, he remains a vassal of
the damned Church and if you kill him, whatever your reasons,
whatever you might prove afterwards, they'll hang you for it, mark
my words.'

'Jacob Crawley
is no true servant of the Church!' James declared vehemently. 'No
court in this land would convict me.'

'Perhaps not,'
Hannah conceded, 'assuming you lived to face a court. There are
plenty here who would shoot you or swing you and they'd swing you
alongside Matilda, too. What good would that do, eh?'

'Then what?'
James demanded hopelessly.

'For the
moment,' she said quietly, 'there is no alternative other than that
I pay the bastard what he asks.' She frowned and paused. 'Perhaps
that's what I should have done in the first place, but I didn't
think he would dare go so far as he has and besides, if I had
agreed too quickly, who knows what else he might have demanded.

'As it is,
having used Matilda as an example, I suspect he may well inflict
his foulness on others yet. We shall have to wait and see, but
now,' she sighed, beginning to walk again, 'I must go and fetch his
gold. Come with me, James, for I shall need your young muscle,
unless I want to spend all night digging.'

She looked up
at James and gave him a lopsided grin. 'You don't think I'd leave
that sort of money lying around in my old cottage now, do you?' she
demanded, seeing the look of bewilderment in his face. 'Indeed no.
My gold is well hidden and buried deep, so we must set off without
delay.

'One thing
still puzzles me, though,' she muttered, as they began to pick up
the pace. 'Crawley mentioned the paying of two guineas, unless my
old ears are failing me.'

'Yes, he did,'
James confirmed. 'What of it?'

'Well,' Hannah
replied thoughtfully, 'it wasn't me who paid it and it certainly
wasn't you. Which begs the question, who did pay it... and
why?'

Sarah stared
at the saddle in horror, understanding now part of the reason for
the particular design of her riding skirt, with its strategically
placed slits, for the highly polished leather column that curved
upwards from the centre of the seat could only be intended for one
purpose.

Ellen allowed
her a minute or so to take in the full import of what she was
seeing and stepped forward to use a soft cloth to gently buff the
gleaming column, her steady up and down hand movements carefully
calculated to induce a feeling of awed trepidation in Sarah, who
shivered at the thought of what was about to come.

'Mistress,
please...' she whispered, her throat so dry her voice cracked and
failed her momentarily.

Ellen smiled
devilishly and patted the horse's flank. 'You like your new mount,
pretty?' she mocked. 'A sturdy beast, wouldn't you agree?'

'I - I
can't... possibly...' Sarah struggled to get the words out, all the
time knowing that no protestations or pleadings on her part would
save her from this newest ordeal. The young groom who held the
horse's head steady regarded her with barely disguised amusement
and to one side, another groom, who was holding ready a horse that
was obviously Ellen's, looked on similarly. A third groom, Ross,
who had taken her virginity the previous day, stood next to him,
arms folded, affecting an air of utter disinterest.

'Of course you
can, pretty,' Ellen retorted. She turned to Ross, raising her
eyebrows dramatically. 'Would you say this cock is any bigger than
yours, Ross?' she asked, stifling a giggle.

'Perhaps a tad
bigger, mistress,' he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Sarah
stared at him in disbelief, for there was no way that his weapon,
large though it had seemed at the time, compared with this manmade
column and she could not imagine that there was a man living who
could hope to rival its size. She took an involuntary step
backwards, shaking her head.

'No,' she
squealed. 'I cannot... I won't!'

'Oh, but you
will, pretty,' Ellen purred dangerously. 'You will mount this fine
animal and you will impale yourself on this fine cock horse for if
you don't I shall strip you, hang you from that tree over there and
have every groom and keeper on this estate give you a dozen lashes
and a damned good fucking for your disobedience.'

Sarah
hesitated, but she could see from the expression on Ellen's face,
reinforced by the sudden steeliness in her voice, that this was no
idle threat intended just to frighten her into submission. If she
did try to resist, the threat would undoubtedly become reality and
the thought of having to endure so many whips, let alone so many
men ravishing her helpless body, horrified her even more than the
prospect of being made to mount and ride the humiliating saddle
before her.

'Well, come
along then, pretty,' Ellen urged, seeing the rebellion dying in
Sarah's eyes. 'We don't have all day you know. Ross, give her a
hand up, if you please. The irons have been shortened so she can
raise herself sufficiently, but you'll need to position her skirts
as she mounts.'

To Sarah, who
had not sat such a saddle, even without its bizarre modification,
since her early teens, the horse seemed frighteningly large, the
saddle itself a long way from the ground. The stirrups, which she
saw had indeed been shortened, looked to be far too high for her to
lift her foot to, especially with almost no use of her hands to
effect any sort of purchase or leverage.

However that,
she quickly realised, was why Ross was on hand. Moving swiftly to
her side he lifted her easily, placing one forearm beneath her
buttocks and, with his other hand, guided her left boot into the
peculiarly shaped iron, pushing it down until the lower bar sat
snugly between her heel and the underside of her instep.

At the same
time Ellen moved around to the far side and as Sarah swung her leg
awkwardly over, she guided the right boot into place similarly, so
that Sarah was now standing in the stirrups, poised above the
saddle, her balance dependent mostly upon Ross's hand which now
supported her buttocks, the black phallus standing just before her,
its tip pressing gently against her mound through the material of
the skirt.

'Lift her
skirts out of the way, Ross, if you please,' Ellen ordered. 'Yes,
that's right, high and clear so they don't get in the way. Now,
pretty Sarah, lift yourself just a little and come forward. Yes,
that's right - just a little more and... yes, that's perfect.'

As she spoke,
Ellen was using one hand to steady the phallus, gripping it so that
she could guide it slightly in whatever direction was required, and
Sarah felt the cold, unyielding tip settling between her outer
labia. She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath as deep as the
unyielding corset would allow and then, surrendering to the
inevitable, began to slowly lower herself.

Inch by inch
the monster began to penetrate her, aided by the fact -
inexplicable to Sarah - that her sheath was already wet and
slippery. She whimpered though, as she felt herself being stretched
more and more and as the rough forward edge of the stitched seam
began to rub against her clitoris. 'I can't!' she gasped, tears of
shame clouding her eyes, yet knowing she would have to accept the
entire length of the dildo. 'Oh please, no... ooohhh!'

The last three
or four inches slid home as she settled her buttocks on the equally
unforgiving leather of the saddle and her breath whistled through
her nostrils as the horse stirred, sending a sudden vibration via
the saddle and up the shaft which now filled her.

'There now,
that wasn't so bad, was it?' Ellen stepped back, smiling up at her
and, as Ross began to lower Sarah's skirts, gathered those intended
to fall that side and began arranging them. Ross meanwhile was
attending to matters on his side and these included altering the
length of the stirrup leathers, lowering the irons by several
inches until Sarah's legs were once again at full length. This, she
realised, would prevent any chance of her lifting herself off the
phallus.

The
penultimate touch was the addition of a short leather strap from
one side of each stirrup iron, passing about the heels of her boots
and buckling on the outside of each, so that, even should there
have been any chance of Sarah's feet slipping accidentally from the
stirrups, now she could not even remove them deliberately.