Cauldron of Fear (15 page)

'Set the
fire!' The harsh voice scythed through the darkness and Matilda
felt her stomach lurch as she recognised Crawley's harsh tone. The
men grouped around and she heard the sound of flints being struck,
sparks lighting up the night, before at last a small flame was
kindled. One man stepped forward, a pitcher in his hands and bent
over the flickering light. Seconds later the spluttering little
fire leapt into renewed life, as the oil caught and then the dry
twigs succumbed in their turn.

'Turn the
devil's spawn whore!' Crawley commanded. 'Let the light see her
back.' The man Matilda recognised as Jed stepped forward, his
original companion, Silas Grout, but half a pace behind him. They
moved behind her and she felt their hands upon her as they unlocked
the chains that held her, but the respite was short-lived.

Unceremoniously they spun her about so she faced the stake, hauling
her arms around it and chaining them again, except that this time
they attached a length of rope to her bonds and hauled her wrists
high above her head before tying it off, so that now she was
stretched fully, the weighted boots preventing her from even
standing upon tiptoe in order to relieve the strain.

Meanwhile the
flames were beginning to grow higher, throwing the scene into a
dreadful blood-red light and, at the same time, dark figures began
to approach from all sides of the green. It was, Matilda realised,
a gathering of ghoulish fascination: men especially, but some women
too, who had not wanted even to approach as far as the iron ring
perimeter during the hours of daylight, now used the cloak of
darkness to embolden them into watching the impending
spectacle.

Straining to
turn her head from side to side, Matilda peered into the shadows,
trying to identify Simon Wickstanner, certain that he would not
miss the chance to witness her further pain and degradation, but
most of the faces were remaining just far enough back so that they
were not illuminated by the fire sufficiently for her to recognise
them.

The crowd was
growing more quickly, the less adventurous of the villagers taking
their lead from the early comers, and even through the leather hood
and above the crackling of burning timber Matilda could hear the
ambient buzz of whispered conversations increasing by the minute.
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength, knowing that the
moment could not be far away now...

Adam finally
left the two girls alone in a bare timber-walled store to rest,
bringing in two blankets, which he threw over a heap of straw.

'We'll wash
you again and dress you properly before this evening,' he said,
turning in the doorway. 'Our visitor likes to have his ladies
elegantly attired in the French style, so I'm told, so we've got
you your own personal maids in attendance later.' He chuckled again
and stepped outside, banging the door shut, and they heard the
sound of the wooden locking bar being dropped into place.

'I'm sorry,
Sarah,' Kitty sighed, lying back across her half of the rustic
pallet. Sarah, her eyes already closed, sighed in turn.

'Don't be,'
she said, wriggling to make herself as comfortable as possible,
though the fact that Adam had left them both in their leather
harnesses, with their wrists still cuffed at their waists, did not
make this an easy matter. 'You did what you had to do, that's
all.'

'Maybe I did
more than just that,' Kitty murmured.

Sarah opened
one eye and turned her head to where her recent 'lover' lay. 'Oh?'
she said quizzically. 'And how was that?'

'I should be
shamed to tell you, but I think I ought.'

'Tell me
what?'

With an
effort, Kitty struggled back into a sitting position. 'I think I
should tell you fair,' she said, 'seein' as how we'll be expected
to do the same again this evening, by all sound of it.' She pursed
her lips and half lowered her eyelids. 'An' the fact is,' she
continued, 'that I for one am lookin' forward to it.'

'You are?' Now
Sarah's eyes were wide open. 'But surely—?'

'Surely I
can't be?' Kitty cut her short. 'Well, that's where you're wrong,
my pretty Sarah. I'd dip my lips to your sweet honeypot anytime,
any day and without no threat of the whip to urge me on.'

Sarah
hesitated, unsure of what she should say.

'Yes, because
I prefer the soft feel of another woman to the brute coarseness of
most men, though I confess I'm not completely averse to a good
tuppin' now and then.' Kitty grinned, almost shamefacedly, though
not quite, Sarah thought.

'But why do
you feel the need to confess this to me now?' she asked. 'Whatever
is planned for this night will happen one way or the other, for
neither of us would much relish the thought of being whipped.
Almost anything would have to be preferable to that. Even what that
swine Ross did with me earlier, though I never thought I'd ever
hear myself admitting to such a thing.'

Sarah laid
still for several seconds, studying Kitty's naked body, her eyes
drawn to her incredible breasts and their still swollen nipples.
'Do you think I shall be expected to do the same to you tonight?'
she asked quietly.

Kitty shrugged
her shoulders. 'I shouldn't wonder at it. Does it worry you
greatly, then?'

Sarah felt her
cheeks slowly beginning to burn and she averted her eyes again,
staring up at the ceiling beams instead. 'Well,' she said
hesitantly, 'I've never done any such thing before, and I assumed
you had not, either. Have you done it often?' She heard Kitty give
a barely stifled laugh.

'Often enough,
or not, depending upon your point of view, I suppose,' she said.
'And had the favour returned, too. My first time was with a friend,
before I was taken the first time.'

'First time?'
Sarah said, turning to look at her companion once again. 'How do
you mean?'

'Well, I was
taken by men while I was walking along the shore, near where I
lived,' Kitty said. 'It was early in the morning and I was
collecting driftwood for the fire in our cottage. My brother
usually came with me, but this morning he was stricken with an
ague. I saw the boat drawn up in the shallows, but thought little
enough of it for there were always fishing boats offshore. One of
the men called out to me and I went closer, thinking he was asking
me for the name of our village, for there had been some high winds
the night before and, for all I knew, they had been blown off
course.

'But then, as
I came close by, two of them sprang from the boat, bore me to the
ground and bound me with ropes. I was thrown into the boat and they
set the sail and drew away from the beach with all speed. I quickly
discovered that most of them were French or Dutch, only the one who
had hailed me was English.

'They were
mostly navy deserters, pillaging on both sides of the water,
wherever they could steal - goods, money, or people, it was all the
same to them. A week later we had sailed south, so the English one
told me, and were heading close in shore to Spain, where I was to
be sold to Moorish traders, probably to end up in some wealthy
Arab's harem, they said.'

'You poor
thing!' Sarah gasped, her voice no more than an awed whisper.

Kitty smiled
thinly. 'By then I was half past caring. The crew numbered some
nine or ten and each of them had his way with me several times,
despite the fact I was often half dead with exhaustion. The thought
of being only one woman of several and only one man to worry about,
that came as a blessed relief, believe me.'

'But you
didn't get to a harem, I presume?' Sarah said. 'Otherwise, even I
know you would never have come back here.'

'No, more's
the pity,' Kitty said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. 'All those
other women,' she continued, a wistful look in her eyes.

'So, what
happened?'

'The crew were
betrayed by a Spaniard they'd hired to negotiate for them,' Kitty
continued. 'We were all taken to this great warehouse by a trading
dock and there more Spaniards fired upon them, cutting them down
before they could defend themselves. At first, once I'd finished
being terrified out of my wits by the musket fire, I thought I'd
been rescued, but I was soon put to rights on that, believe me. The
Spanish leader - he spoke quite good English - told me I'd be added
to a group of women being sent north again, into France, again on
the coast. From there, he said, I'd probably be sent to the
east.

'For a few
days I thought again I should end up in some harem, but again it
was not to be. Twenty of us were taken to a house just outside of a
French port and there they held an auction. Four of us were
purchased by one man, apparently acting as an agent for a French
nobleman in the north, for that's where we were next taken.

'There was a
big house - a chateau, I was told they called it - and we were
locked in a cellar room, but then we were all brought up again and
handed over to this Englishman. Apparently, he had won us from our
supposed new owner.'

'Won you?'
Sarah demanded uncomprehendingly. 'How was that?'

'On the turn
of a card, so we heard,' Kitty retorted. 'Why we were given as the
stake, I didn't know, nor do I now, but the outcome was that we
finally travelled all the way back to England, landed by night in
some deserted cove and then, a few days later, ended up here.'

'What a
terrible tale,' Sarah said softly. She wriggled herself closer, so
that her head was level with Kitty's bare knee. 'How you must miss
your home and family.'

'Huh!' Kitty
tossed her head back, her hair swirling about her shoulders. 'What
is there to miss? My mother and father died when we were both small
and we lived with a man who said he was our uncle, though I doubt
he ever was by blood.'

'He treated
you both badly?'

'Both?' Kitty
laughed harshly. 'He treated my brother well enough, took him for
the son he never had, but I was nothing more than a burden to him.
Well, apart from being used as a bed-warmer and more, once I was
old enough. Even my brother turned against me as we grew, though
the good Lord knows I never gave him cause.

'No, Sarah, I
was well enough rid of all of them and would have gladly found
myself in some harem, believe me.'

'Well,' Sarah
whispered, looking up into her eyes, 'perhaps you someday still
may.' She continued to stare into Kitty's face, quite unsure of the
palpitations overcoming her entire body. The big breasted girl
stared back for several seconds and then, as if understanding,
turned slightly, moving her knees further apart, revealing the
mouth of her sex.

'There's no
need,' she whispered hoarsely. 'Not yet, anyway.'

Sarah smiled.
'Maybe there is,' she whispered, inching closer. 'Maybe there is,
at that.'

From the
corner of one eye Matilda saw Crawley as he approached her,
carrying a wicked cat-o'-nine-tails. Instantly the murmuring in the
crowd fell away and she could sense, rather than hear, several of
their number moving slightly closer.

'This woman
stands accused of heresy and witchcraft,' Crawley began, his voice
carrying on the still night air like a scythe through ripe corn. 'I
have examined the facts and testimony carefully and find her, by
the powers vested in me by the Holy Church, guilty as charged, and
have since spent many hours in meditation and prayer seeking the
guidance of Our Lord and Saviour.

'God is
merciful!' He cried, raising his voice higher still, and there was
a generally ragged chorus of muttered 'amens' from the darkness.
'God is a merciful god,' he said, speaking more quietly again, 'and
he sees fit to spare the life of this whore of Satan, if she will
once recant her sins and save her soul.'

Suddenly
Matilda felt hands about her head and heard the rasping of metal
upon metal. A few moments later, to her relief, she felt the awful
iron bridle being lifted from her, though no attempt followed to
remove the leather hood.

'Speak,
Matilda Pennywise,' Crawley ordered. 'Speak now and repent ye of
your sins and your penance will be a merciful one.'

'Go to hell!'
Matilda hissed through clenched teeth. 'I'll not dignify your
ignorant barbarity with a single word. Listen well, all of you!'
she shouted, her voice sounding cracked and harsh. 'Listen well,
for this man is no servant of God, rather he serves his own lusts
and his own purse!'

'Silence!'
Crawley roared and at the same instant, Matilda heard the dreadful
hissing as the nine leather thongs cut through the air. A moment
later the night was torn asunder by her scream as the braids seared
into the unprotected flesh of her back.

'Repent!'
Crawley barked and again the lashes found their mark. Matilda
screeched again and bucked and writhed. Through a buzzing haze of
agony she was vaguely aware that Crawley was once again addressing
the assembled villagers.

'The whore
will repent, good people, of that I can assure you,' he cackled.
'And in her repentance and by her blood, so shall her wickedness be
purged from her soul forever.' He paused, turning slowly, peering
into the darkness as if he were searching for someone in
particular. Gasping, Matilda realised who it was he was expecting
to see, but knew her grandmother would not be there without coming
forward to try to intervene.

Without
warning Crawley swung the whip again, this time twice in rapid
succession, and Matilda danced and screamed in her agony, so that
even in her near delirious state she knew that the sound of her
suffering would carry easily to their cottage.

'Repent!' he
growled, coming closer yet again. 'Repent, or suffer as you
please.'

Matilda, her
weight slumping so that she hung almost entirely by her wrists,
peered out from the mask through a curtain of tears. 'Repent of
what, you animal,' she gasped. 'I have done nothing to repent of,
as God is my witness and my judge!'