Cauldron of Fear (26 page)

'Come along,
my big-titted little cherub,' she leered, 'let's get you tidied up
some and then I have a few more little surprises for you. I had
hoped to entertain the both of you, but now you'll just have to
work twice as hard, won't you?'

Looking at
Ellen Grayling, especially from the perspective of the extra height
her heels gave her, Sarah began to wonder if she might not be able
to overpower the girl, for she looked to be several pounds lighter
and had clearly been drinking. However, hardly had the thought
entered Sarah's head than the younger girl seemed to read her mind.
Tossing her jacket across the end of the bed she turned, folded her
arms across her chest and planted her bare feet firmly.

'You can try
it, if you like,' she said softly. 'You wouldn't be the first and
neither would you be the first to end up flat on your back. I may
look small, but I am very strong and I have been taught well in the
arts of unarmed fighting. I have always believed that just because
one is born female, one need not assume the sweet little girl role
that men seem to take for granted.'

'I expect,
then,' Sarah said, 'that you fight like street urchin.' For a few
seconds the two of them stood confronting each other, and then
Ellen burst out laughing.

'Aye, that I
do, pretty girl,' she said. 'Only I'd give any of the village
urchins more than a run for what little money they have. So, I can
assume you will be sensible then? Otherwise I'll ring for a couple
of footmen and have them truss you like a chicken first.'

'First?' Sarah
echoed. 'And what then?'

Ellen grinned
impishly and threw herself back to loll on the bed, crossing her
legs and leaning back on her elbows. 'Well then, pretty,' she
giggled, 'I should have to thrash that splendid little bottom of
yours, after which you would be begging me to let you do the very
thing I want you to do now anyway, do you understand?'

'Yes,' Sarah
said simply. Yes, she did understand. Whatever the older Prudence
had intended to do with her once Roderick Grayling was through, his
young sister clearly intended to do instead. Ellen's eyes had not
left Sarah's near naked body since she entered, and now they seemed
actually to be devouring her.

'Furthermore,'
Ellen continued, her lips suddenly forming a grimly set line, 'if
you are wilful and disobedient, or if you displease me in any way
whatsoever, I shall have the grooms hang you from one of the garden
oaks by your pretty little ankles and whip you until you think you
have gone to hell itself.

'On the other
hand, if you please me well, I may decide to ask my brother to let
me keep you as my personal bed slave. You are certainly pretty
enough for my tastes.'

'Your
slave?
'
Sarah gasped. 'I am no slave, whatever you people may like to think
- not in the eyes of the law, at least.'

Ellen studied
Sarah's indignant expression and then gave a derisive snort. 'Let
me tell you something,' she said, her voice dropping so that Sarah
could barely hear her words, 'and it would be the better for you if
you learn from it - and quickly. This estate is very large - the
grounds stretch for miles in all directions - and there are keepers
with dogs patrolling to keep away unwanted interference from the
local people. As for anyone else, my father is a powerful man and
my brother now likewise.

'This is not
the only place in England where you will find slaves, and there are
plenty of other rich and powerful people who will ensure that
always remains so, despite the worst efforts of those drab Puritan
oafs in London.

'So you -
Sarah, isn't it? - had better get this into that pretty head. Here
you are a slave and here you will remain, with me, for as long as
it pleases me. Either that, or you will find yourself aboard a ship
bound either for the Indies or for the east. Whichever it is, I
would not envy you, for a slave girl in either place would not
expect an easy life, nor would she expect a long one,
understand?'

Sarah lowered
her eyes and nodded. She knew enough to accept that what she said
was largely true. Parliament may well have dethroned and executed a
king and even humbled many of his former supporters, but wealth
still remained in the hands of the privileged minority and wealth
had always bought power and influence.

On the
surface, no doubt, the pampered aristocracy would appear to be
conforming, but underneath, away from the public eye, in places
like this, the old ways would die hard - if at all.

'Good,' Ellen
said. 'Now, come over here and remove my shirt and breeches and
then you can use that sweet little tongue to help me relax for a
little while. Later, perhaps, we may go riding, though we shall
have to find you something a deal more suitable than what you are
wearing now, delightful though it looks on you.'

'They wouldn't
dare!' James Calthorpe expostulated, still struggling to unfetter
himself with the rather crude key Hannah had taken from the dead
man's pocket. 'Would they?' He looked up at her, his features
strained with doubt. Hannah, her eyes narrowed, looked deathly pale
in the flickering lamplight.

'I reckon they
would,' she replied quietly. 'That bastard Crawley holds all the
proper warrants. Wickstanner may be lower than a cockroach, but
he'd not dare try anything like this, not unless everything was all
legal.'

'But all that
witchcraft nonsense was ended six or seven years ago,' James
protested. 'After that maniac Hopkins disappeared Parliament passed
a law.'

'Which half
the Church doesn't recognise still,' Hannah said. 'And besides,
laws are only good when there are people around to see them upheld.
From what I saw back in Fetworth, there ain't a body dares to raise
a voice against this wicked stupidity.'

'What about my
father?' James demanded. 'Or Thomas Handiwell?'

'Your father
has neither said nor done diddly-squat,' Hannah said scornfully.
'And I know for a fact that he was there, on the green, standing in
the crowd, goggling along with all the rest of them stupid fools,
while Crawley flogged my poor Matilda.'

'Handiwell,
then?' James persisted.

Hannah shook
her head. 'Master Handiwell apparently had urgent business
elsewhere.' Briefly, Hannah summarised what she had learned of the
coach robbery and Sarah Merridew's abduction. 'So, he went
a-tearin' off down to Portsmouth before anyone really knew what was
happening with Matilda.'

'But he'll be
back, surely?'

'Aye, he'll be
back, boy,' Hannah agreed, 'but with more on his plate than just
our troubles to concern himself with.'

'Then I must
talk with my father, get him to talk to some of the other men in
the village. This cannot be allowed to continue.'

'That it
can't,' Hannah agreed. 'But it'll not be as simple as you seem to
think, my lad. Your father's money has bought you a good education
and you know a thing or two about the world, same as I do, though
my learnin's been of a different school.

'Those fools
back in the village are a different kettle, James Calthorpe, a
different kettle of fish altogether. Wickstanner is a cretin, a
spineless little weasel and worse, but to them he's still the
Church and they'd not dare to raise a finger against him. And
Crawley - well, the same goes for him.' She looked down at the
corpse at her feet.

'The Church
rules by a creeping terror,' she said. 'The likes of Wickstanner
frighten people with tales of what damnation awaits their souls,
if'n they turn against the teachings and rule of the Church.
Crawley's kind terrorises differently; they shows people just what
hell on earth is like.' She prodded the dead man with the toe of
her boot.

'At least,'
she growled, 'he's got one less hell spawn bastard to help him now.
But,' she added darkly, 'he now has an entire village to do his
bidding, so the loss of this swine will hardly weaken his
hold.'

Ellen lay back
across the edge of the bed, her legs wide apart, the pink mouth of
her sex inviting from beneath a carefully tonsured triangle of pale
pubic hair. Sarah knew exactly what was expected of her. Stiffly,
she began to kneel on the floor; as she did so Ellen stretched out
her two hands, entwining them in Sarah's elaborate hairstyle,
gripping with astonishing power.

'Lick gently,
my little kitten,' she whispered hoarsely, lifting her legs so that
she could lower them again and rest them on Sarah's bare shoulders.
'Kitty lap some milk,' she cooed, with a scarcely stifled giggle.
Obediently, and guided by Ellen's insistent pressure, Sarah brought
her mouth to the waiting orifice, first pressing her lips gently
against the outer labia, then slowly sliding her tongue into the
moist warmth within.

Above her she
heard Ellen groan and gasp and then, as her tongue located the hard
bud of the girl's clitoris, she felt her entire body stiffen and
arch.

'Oh, yes -
yes!' Ellen's fingers gripped tighter still, her nails digging into
Sarah's scalp and Sarah winced, but knew she dared not stop nor
complain. Closing her eyes tightly she began to lap and suck,
tasting the curiously bittersweet juices that were now flowing so
copiously that she was forced to swallow them.

'Beautiful,
kitten!' Ellen sighed, and began to gently rock to and fro on her
buttocks, thrusting against Sarah's face so that her nose was
buried in the neatly trimmed bush, and then withdrawing slightly
before thrusting yet again. Quickly she began to build up a rhythm,
all the while mewling and groaning so that Sarah was certain she
must reach her climax without further ado, but then, just when she
seemed on the verge, she stopped, pushing Sarah's head away and
sitting upright, brushing a few rogue strands of hair from her very
flushed face.

'Sit back,'
she ordered hoarsely. Sarah looked up at her uncomprehendingly, and
Ellen seized her shoulders, thrusting her further away until she
was, indeed, squatting back on her haunches. Ellen gave her a
curious little smile and slipped forward, lowering her bare feet so
they were one either side of Sarah's stocking-clad thighs and her
crotch poised a few inches above Sarah's upraised face.

'Diddle yourself, pretty,' she said, and once again Sarah
looked blank. Ellen grinned again and placed the middle finger of
her own right hand inside her sex, gently rubbing it against her
swollen bud. 'Like this, silly,' she said, and Sarah felt her
cheeks beginning to burn even more. After all she had been put
through in such a short space of time, this was, unbelievably, the
worst humiliation of all. To kneel, dressed like a cheap court
harlot before this chit of a girl and to be told to do...
that
... to herself. She
shook her head and tried to protest, but all that came from her
mouth was a whimper, and suddenly everything seemed to explode
before her eyes and her ears rang and resonated. As the tears
cleared and the sounds began to subside, the burning pain in her
left cheek became almost unbearable.

'You want me
to slap you some more?' Ellen hissed, and blinking to clear her
vision, Sarah saw that the girl was already holding her hand with
open palm.

'No,' she
croaked. 'No, please.'

'Please,
mistress
,' Ellen said, deliberately.

'Mistress,'
Sarah repeated dutifully, and Ellen lowered her hand.

'That's
better,' she whispered. 'Now, get your fingers down there and start
diddling. I want to see you make yourself come, understand?'
Miserably, Sarah nodded again.

'And when I
see you are growing close,' Ellen continued, thrusting her crotch
forward obscenely so that it brushed against the tip of Sarah's
nose, 'I'm going to squat my pussy right over your open mouth and
you're going to drink everything I give you from it, like the good
little slave girl you're now becoming.'

'Never mind
postponing it,' Simon Wickstanner said, 'I should rather you
cancelled the idea altogether, Master Crawley. It was never in my
mind that you would actually hang the wench.'

'I dare say it
was not,' Jacob Crawley replied, testily, 'but then you, priest,
take only the narrow view, don't you?' He paced slowly across the
floor of Wickstanner's study and stopped before the window. 'If I
show even the slightest sign of weakness in these matters,' he
continued, without turning round, 'then what do you think would
happen with the next heretic or witch?

'There'd be
almost no recanting, no absolution tithes paid, nothing, that's
what! Oh yes, there'd be a few creatures would confess and beg
forgiveness under the lash, I know, but let us be brutally honest
here, priest. This goes beyond the saving of souls for both of us,
does it not? The Lord shall provide, for it says so in the good
book, doesn't it?' he turned back to face into the room again, his
silhouette dark against the window and the early morning sun beyond
it. 'But it also says that the Lord moves in mysterious ways, and
who is to say what those ways might be?

'So, if the
Lord chooses to provide for me by placing sinners in my way, I
cannot but accept that manna that he bestows upon me, can I?'

'I am still
not at all easy with the idea of taking another human life,'
Wickstanner said, shifting uneasily and averting his gaze. 'We have
the one testimony, it's true, but Matilda has not yet confessed to
her guilt, despite your best efforts.'

'And what if I
were to tell you that she has, eh?' Crawley snapped. 'To me, in the
privacy of the church building itself - what then?'

'And has
she?'

Crawley
grimaced and turned back to the window once again. 'I'm sure my
word and the oaths of my two men would suffice to satisfy anyone
who queried the matter, wouldn't you agree?' he said smoothly.