Gallows at Twilight (29 page)

During their discussion, the mob and the guards had climbed the scaffold and were now closing in on their prey. Scarred and limping, this half-mad horde still screeched for blood. They were within striking distance when Eleanor reached into her cloak and gave Jake the command:

‘CLOSE YOUR EYES!’

A split second before he obeyed, Jake caught sight of a man standing on the far side of the platform.

Matthew Hopkins, the infamous Witchfinder General, coughed and a speckle of blood stained his lips.

‘I will find you, witch!’ he bellowed. ‘If I have to follow you into the depths of hell, I will find you! YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE MEEEeeee!’

A silver explosion flashed against Jake’s closed lids. A rush of wind as he was lifted into the air. An electric crackle and, before the darkness reclaimed his senses, the touch of earth, the sight of trees, the hush of a forest, and …

Her
. Eleanor. Lying beside him.

Years had fractured.

Centuries crumbled.

Time itself had shown that it could be kind.

Jacob—Josiah—had found his Eleanor again …

‘Daybreak. We have to move.’

Jake was shaken roughly by the shoulder. He woke to find himself in the forest glade he had glimpsed the night before. A beautiful face fringed with golden, dawn-drenched hair loomed over him. He smiled, and the smile broke into every corner of his being. Untouched for so long, deep memories and feelings were rising to the surface.

As Jake blinked up at Eleanor, he suddenly realized who she reminded him of. Although they were separated by hundreds of years they could have been sisters, or even twins, for they looked about the same age: Eleanor of the May and Rachel Saxby … Jake sat up. A little sigh of surprise passed his lips. Of course! They
were
related. Rachel was a descendant of Josiah Hobarron, and so this young woman must be her distant ancestor too! A great-great-great-great-great (probably a few more greats) grandmother!

He laughed and the girl leaning over him smiled.

‘What’s funny?’

‘I don’t think I can explain it,’ Jake said. ‘It’s too crazy!’

Eleanor’s smile widened, and Jake saw a line of white teeth, perfect except for a slight dent on her left canine.

‘Chip,’ he said softly.

Eleanor’s face hardened.

‘Don’t call me that.’ She jumped to her feet and hurried towards the campfire. ‘That was his name for me.’

‘Eleanor, wait.’

Jake tried to stand. He had expected flashes of agony to strike along his neck, spine, shoulders, arms and legs, but there was no pain. Not even the slightest twinge. Stunned, he rolled his head and stretched his muscles.

Jake looked at the girl slouched beside the campfire.

‘How?’

When Eleanor didn’t answer the man sitting on the log next to her gave a huge smile.

‘Magic,’ said Mr Lanyon. ‘Wonderful, miraculous, spiritual, beautiful, godly magic!’

And with that the vicar leapt off the log and started dancing around the fire. He sang snippets of hymns and fragments of tavern songs, verses of scripture and bawdy ballads. It didn’t seem to matter what the words were, so long as the tune could express the joy in his heart. He seemed to Jake like a sun-starved bird that had been released from its cage and given the dawn.

Jake caught Eleanor’s eye. She was laughing again and clapping her hands to the rhythm of Lanyon’s song. He went and sat beside her on the log and, although her smile faltered, it didn’t fall away completely. At last, Lanyon tired of his dancing and took a seat between his friends.

‘Magic!’ he repeated and slapped Jake on the back. ‘I saw it done, my boy. It was the finest, the most beautiful, the most holy sight I have ever seen. Here, let me show you.’

Tears in his eyes, Lanyon reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a sliver of mirror.

‘A piece of my mother’s old looking glass,’ he said. ‘The only thing I have to remember her by … But look! See!’

Lanyon held the mirror to Jake’s neck. There was not a burn, not a blister, not a bruise. The glass moved to his face and showed that his nose was firm and straight.

‘My back?’ Jake asked, his fingers spidering along his spine.

‘Healed,’ Lanyon said in a soothing voice. ‘There are no longer any signs of your torture, Jacob. No evidence of the bodkins and the chains. Not a single trace of that hellish witchfinder.’

Jake beamed. His hand moved over his body, seeking out the places where he had been wounded. All he found was healthy, solid flesh. Then his fingers went to the side of his head and the smile died. His ear was still missing.

Lanyon and Eleanor exchanged concerned glances.

‘It seems that there are limits even to the strongest magic,’ Lanyon sighed.

‘The spell can heal wounds and mend bones, but if the damage is too old and too severe … ’ Eleanor reached for Jake’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Josiah—I mean … ’

She stood up. Unashamed of her tears, the girl walked slowly into the forest. Jake was about to follow when Lanyon caught at his sleeve.

‘Let her be.’

He stared into Jake’s eyes—

She has shared some of her thoughts with me. While you slept, we spoke of many things, strange and wonderful. She told me of this man, Josiah Hobarron, who she grew up with, and who she loved with all her heart. She told me of his gifts, his goodness, his fight against the hidden evils of this world. She told me of his death and of seeing her beloved frozen in a tomb of ice. And now he has returned to her
…

Lanyon grasped Jake by the shoulders.

You look like him and you have his moral courage. Can you imagine what hopes and terrors your existence holds for her?

Jake shook his head.
I feel for her
.

Do you?
Lanyon frowned.
Or are you remembering the feelings of another? You must consider that question carefully, my friend.

The vicar held out his hand.

‘Goodbye.’

Jake pulled him into a hug.

‘My cowardice hardly warrants such friendship,’ Lanyon said softly.

‘You saved me … in the end.’ Jake winked. ‘I always knew you would. So, where will you go now? Not back to Cravenmouth, I bet!’

‘No,’ Lanyon laughed. ‘I had always feared that my “gift” might one day be exposed, and so years ago I buried a little nest-egg near the Crow Haven Tavern on the London Road. I shall dig it up and then hide myself away somewhere in a country parish where no one has heard of Mr Lanyon and the Cravenmouth witch.’

‘Good luck,’ Jake said.

‘And to you, Jacob Harker. My friend.’

A few minutes after Lanyon had left, Eleanor re-emerged from the forest. She looked at the vacated spot beside the fire.

‘He’s gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘He was a good man.’ She kicked over the ashes, smothering the last embers of the fire. ‘It’s time we were on our way.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘To the village, of course. To the Preacher.’

‘I can’t,’ Jake protested. ‘I’ve got this mission, this quest, and I need to—’

‘The Preacher knows all about your quest, Jacob Harker,’ Eleanor said, leading the way out of the forest. ‘Only he can help you find Josiah’s witch ball. The Preacher sees all.’

Chapter 25

The Blind Man of Starfall

‘You’ve got your own magic then?’ Jake asked.

‘No,’ Eleanor said, her eyes on the road. ‘What you saw was borrowed magic.’

They had been walking for the better part of a day and Jake’s bare feet were hot and sore. He winced now as he followed Eleanor over a low stone wall that girdled an untidy meadow. Insects droned in the long grass and the breeze hummed through the trees.

‘Then how did you teleport us away from the gallows?’

‘Tele-what?’

‘Um, make us vanish and reappear in the forest?’

‘As I said, borrowed magic.’

Jake shot the girl a sideways look. He gave a wry smile.

‘What’s so amusing?’ Eleanor muttered.

‘You are, Chippy. You never were much good at keeping secrets.’

She glanced at him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

‘But you—I mean Josiah—he was always the master of secrets. Close as close could be, even when we were children. He’d tease me all the time, hide my dolls and never tell me where they were. One day I found six of them stuffed down the—’

‘Well.’ Jake stopped in his tracks. ‘The old dried-up well in Mr Carew’s lower field. You were so upset, and I—
he
—he felt so ashamed. He couldn’t bear how much he’d hurt you, and it was then that he realized … ’ Jake reached for the girl. ‘He loved you.’

Eleanor flushed with anger. ‘Please, don’t speak about him.’

They walked on in silence. With every step new thoughts and feelings cascaded in on Jake, memories that came to him unbidden. He found the sensation both exhilarating and troubling.

In the far distance, Jake could see the shapes of men and women toiling in the fields. He heard the rattle of an oxcart and his thoughts turned to the cart that had borne him and his coffin into the square. If it hadn’t been for Eleanor he would now be buried beneath the gallows, an iron stake driven through his heart.

‘The Preacher sees all,’ Jake quoted. ‘This preacher knew that I was coming to Cravenmouth. That I would be executed there.’

‘It’s why he sent me,’ Eleanor confirmed.

‘He gave you the magic to save me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why didn’t he send you sooner?’ Jake thought back over the weeks he had spent in the keep. Days and nights of endless torture.

‘His vision was of you on the gallows. Only in your dying moments could you be saved. He saw the woman murdered by the guard, the uproar of the crowds. The Preacher, he … ’ the words caught her throat, ‘he told me that you had to suffer at the Witchfinder’s hands; only then would you be prepared.’

‘Prepared for what?’

‘For what will come. For the journey you will soon have to take into the land of shadows and torment.’

‘What does that mean?’ Jake asked.

‘I’m sorry, the Preacher did not say. He may not even know. His visions are not always complete.’

‘But he knows about me? He told you who I am, where I came from.’

Eleanor nodded. ‘You are him—Josiah—but you are not him. You are a copy, a duplicate of the man I lost. You come from distant times to find the witch ball and then you will go away again. You have the same face and, like him, you will leave … ’

‘Eleanor?’

Jake could see the struggle as the girl forced herself to look at him.

‘Will you hold my hand?’

She hesitated, just for a moment. And then Jake felt the small, strong fingers entwine with his. In that connection, memories, joys, horrors, and hopes passed between them in an unspoken thread of consciousness. They both gasped, and Jake lifted his free hand to the level of his eyes.

He clicked his fingers and a blue flame roared into life.

‘Borrowed magic,’ he smiled.

‘No,’ Eleanor said. ‘
Your
magic.’

They reached the far side of the meadow and Eleanor drew her hand away. Her face had closed again and in her eyes the shutters had gone up. The sound of barking dogs and the smell of woodsmoke filled the air. Jake looked down into the valley below. He saw a semi-circle of wattle and daub cottages surrounding a tiny, lopsided church.

‘Starfall,’ Eleanor said simply.

That was the name of the village, but another word loomed large in Jake’s mind—

HOME.

A switch. A turnabout of ideas. A shifting of viewpoints.

The life of Jacob Harker became blurry while the life of Josiah Hobarron came to the fore in a thousand vivid sights and sounds. Jake’s fingers played through the tall grass that bordered the road leading down into Starfall. He remembered: a boy, little more than a toddler, running through this miniature forest. Long ago days when the beetles were lions and bumble bees were dragons. Muffled by the grass, the ghost of a voice called out—
Josiah, come now, your supper is on the table. Hurry, it’s your favourite
. Stewed neat’s-foot. The boy licked his lips and left the lions and the dragons to their play.

The road narrowed into a cobbled lane.

‘Barleyman’s street,’ Jake murmured. He turned to his left—‘Mrs Symond’s cottage,’ and to his right—‘the Bradburys’ house.’

‘You remember,’ Eleanor said quietly.

‘Do I?’ His voice trembled. ‘Or does he?’

Jake clutched the sides of his head—it was too much for one mind, too many lives for one body to contain. His dual existences burned inside him.

‘Come on.’

Eleanor reached for him. At the last moment, he saw doubt flicker in her eyes and she tucked her hands under her cloak.

Jake looked at her suspiciously.

‘It’s hot,’ he said. ‘Why are you still wearing that thick cloak?’

‘I … I have to.’

‘Why?’

‘He gave me the cloak. Told me to wear it, always.’

‘The Preacher?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re hiding something.’

‘No, it’s just—’

‘What is it? Tell me!’

Eleanor brushed past Jake and ran up the lane towards the church. She dodged between the people who had come out of their cottages to see what all the shouting was about. They turned to Jake and, in mortal dread, crossed their hearts and ran back behind their doors. Of course, Jake knew why they were so frightened. Josiah Hobarron had returned from the grave. A dead man was walking in the sunlit streets of Starfall.

As she ran, Jake noticed how Eleanor held her hand against her hip. Noticed the bulge at her belt. Whatever she was hiding from him, he could
feel
it. As soon as he had bent his thoughts on the object, his magic responded. The fire sparked inside him, licked down his arm and ignited between his fingers. From inside the cottages came shouts of surprise and terror as the blue flames erupted from Jake’s fists. This was powerful magic; almost as strong as that which he had felt on the night he had destroyed the demon Door. What was happening to him? What was inspiring this formidable Oldcraft?