Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

Firethorn was scathing. ‘Are such imbeciles ever truly awake?’

‘He’s begun a search for the fugitive.’

‘What comfort is that supposed to bring?’

‘None, sir. I share your dismay.’

‘Rural constables are as much use as a hole in the road.’

‘Officers of the law are difficult to find.’

‘This one should have been left where he is. I’m surprised the oaf didn’t give the prisoner the key to his cell before he went off to sleep. Are there no clues? Is there no indication of where Isaac Upchard went?’

‘He’s disappeared into thin air.’

‘What of Reginald Orr?’

‘He, too, has vanished from sight. It’s deeply troubling.’

‘Yes,’ said Firethorn with a worried frown. ‘Thank you for coming to warn us. Nick should certainly be told but I’ve no idea where he is. Luckily, he has Owen Elias at his side. They make a formidable pair when armed.’

‘My fear is that Upchard may somehow waylay them.’

‘He’ll be no match for either of them.’

‘Don’t be fooled by Puritan garb,’ said the vicar.

‘It always makes me laugh.’

‘Before he was converted to his peculiar faith, Isaac Upchard was a soldier who fought in Holland. He’s been trained to fight, Master Firethorn. That’s why I was so eager to raise the alarm. Nicholas Bracewell must be alerted,’ he stressed. ‘Upchard is a dangerous enemy, skilled in the use of sword, dagger and musket.’

Firethorn started. Taking the vicar by the shoulders, he pulled him close.

‘Did you mention the word “musket”?’ he said.

‘What sort of a woman is Mother Pigbone?’ asked Owen Elias. ‘Motherly or pig-like?’

‘A little of both,’ said Nicholas.

‘I’ll play on her emotions and charm the truth out of her.’

‘Not even your skills could charm this lady, Owen. Mother Pigbone is no tavern wench with a bright smile. She’s more seasoned in the ways of the world.’

‘Why, so am I, Nick.’

‘It may not be a meeting of minds.’

Elias grinned lecherously. ‘Who cares about minds? She’s a woman, isn’t she? That’s all I need to know.’

‘Not quite,’ said Nicholas. ‘Beware of Beelzebub.’

‘Is that the black boar you told me about?’

‘He’s very fond of Welsh beef. If you value your legs, keep clear of him.’

After leaving Holly Lodge, they headed in the direction of Stapleford. Nicholas was anxious to speak to Mother Pigbone again, to probe the nature of her relationship with Doctor Winche and to find out for certain if she had sold poison to someone earlier in the week. It was not a reunion he looked forward to with any pleasure. Elias offered to spare him the ordeal altogether.

‘Let me go alone, Nick,’ he volunteered.

‘Why?’

‘Where a gentleman like you failed, a roisterer like me might succeed.’

‘But I didn’t fail, Owen. I touched her on some raw spots, that’s all. Before I could elicit the truth from her, she turned Beelzebub loose on me.’

‘He can’t be any more frightening than Lawrence Firethorn on the rampage.’

Nicholas smiled. ‘There are similarities, I grant you.’

They caught the first whiff of Mother Pigbone’s lair when they were almost fifty yards away and its pungency steadily intensified. Loud grunting noises showed that Beelzebub was aware of their approach. When they reached the house, Mother Pigbone ambled out to size them up, combining surprise and disgust when she saw Nicholas.

‘You dare to come back, sir?’ she sneered.

‘Nick enjoyed his own visit so much,’ said Elias, dismounting and doffing his hat to her with a flourish. ‘And I can see why, Mother Pigbone. I’m delighted to meet you. My name is Owen Elias, actor with Westfield’s Men.’

‘Then go back to them.’

‘Will you not invite us in?’

‘No, sir,’ she said. ‘Leave while you can or I’ll set Beelzebub on you.’

Elias raised the musket. ‘Please do,’ he challenged. ‘He won’t be the first boar I’ve shot dead. Go on, Mother Pigbone. Let him out and you’ll be able to dine off pork for a month.’

She wilted. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, backing away.

‘Some honest answers for a change.’

‘I won’t speak to you, sir.’

‘Then talk to Nicholas instead,’ said Elias, pretending to aim the musket at her. ‘And be sure to tell the truth or my finger may slip on the trigger.’

‘There’s no need to threaten Mother Pigbone,’ said Nicholas, touching the barrel of the musket to lower it. ‘I’m sure that she understands the seriousness of the situation. All that I wish to do is to put two very simple questions to her.’

‘What are they?’ grunted the old woman.

‘You’ve heard them both before.’

‘Shall I jog her memory, Nick?’ asked Elias.

‘No, no. Mother Pigbone will oblige me in time. She’s an intelligent woman. She’d much rather talk to me here than face the same questions in front of Sir Michael Greenleaf when he dons his robe as a Justice of the Peace. Which is it to be?’ he asked, dismounting to stroll across to her. ‘A polite conversation here at your home or a more thorough examination by a lawyer?’

‘I’ve done nothing!’ she protested.

‘Apart from setting that wild beast on Nick,’ said Elias.

‘Beelzebub is not wild.’

‘I wouldn’t let him curl up in my lap.’

‘Leave this to me, Owen,’ said Nicholas. ‘Mother Pigbone knows the law. I fancy she’s had many brushes with it over the years. She’s aware of the penalty for withholding evidence. Aren’t you, Mother Pigbone?’

She glared at him, transferred her hostility to Elias then looked towards the sty.

‘Ask your questions,’ she said at length.

‘What sort of dealings do you have with Doctor Winche?’

‘I sell him a potion or two.’

‘To kill or cure?’

‘To cure,’ she said defiantly. ‘That’s where my skill lies. Whatever they may say about me, I’m no witch. I don’t cast spells. But I know the trick of lifting them. That’s why I was able to give a voice back to your friend,’ she boasted, hands on hips. ‘Doctor Winche had no medicine for that complaint. I did. That’s why he turned to me.’

‘Does he often turn to you?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘He has no need.’

‘But other people come in search of remedies?’

‘It’s how I live.’

‘Are any of these people bewitched?’ asked Nicholas.

‘They believe they are and that amounts to the same thing.’

‘Why do they call you Mother Pigbone?’

Elias wrinkled his nose. ‘I can tell you that, Nick.’

‘Let’s talk about the poison.’

‘What poison?’ she said.

Nicholas met her gaze. ‘The one that Sir Michael Greenleaf will ask you about if you come before him in court. If you’d rather discuss it under oath, you can. But a lawyer will be more ruthless than I am and squeeze you hard until the truth comes out of you like pips from an orange.’ He gave a cold smile. ‘Do you understand, Mother Pigbone?’

There was a long pause. ‘I may have sold poisons in the past.’

‘To whom?’ mocked Elias. ‘Bored wives who want to kill off their husbands?’

‘To people who want to get rid of vermin.’

‘I know a few husbands who’d fit that description.’

‘This is no place for levity, Owen,’ scolded Nicholas. ‘A man’s life was taken against his will. The least that we can do is to find out why. Do you want his widow to go to his funeral thinking that he simply had a heart attack?’ His eyes flicked back to Mother Pigbone. ‘When was the last time you sold a poison?’

‘Some time ago.’