Iris Collier - Day of Wrath

‘They say you’re a witch, Agnes. That you cursed Abigail’s child, turned yourself into a demon and frightened Lord Nicholas’s horse up in the woods, and cursed all their hens so that they won’t lay any eggs.’

Agnes threw back her head and laughed, a full-bodied, merry laugh that made Ambrose stop his ablutions and gaze at her disapprovingly with his huge, yellow eyes.

‘I know it sounds preposterous. I know you’re a healer, not a destroyer. I know you’re one of the holiest people I’ve ever met, that you’re on the side of the angels and wouldn’t hurt a living soul. But the rumours are going round, like a fire in a field of dry hay and soon it’ll be roaring through the village. Agnes, I’m afraid for you. Someone’s started these rumours. Someone’s got it in for you. Have you any idea who it could be? Anyone you’ve offended? Perhaps you turned someone away because you couldn’t help him and he resented it. Think hard, Agnes, because we’ve got to put a stop to these rumours. There’s nothing that excites the popular imagination as much as the cry of “witchcraft”. It’s but a short step towards the next cry “Hang the witch!” I feel that you’re in real danger. Why don’t you come and live with us for the time being? My father, as you know, is a bit cantankerous, but he won’t tolerate any superstitious nonsense. You’ll be safe with us.’

‘Thank you for coming and warning me, Jane, but I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. I know only too well what happens to witches. Up on Marchester Heath the bodies of two women condemned for witchcraft still hang from the gibbets. I expect that already they’re saying that Ambrose here is my familiar. But I have a clear conscience. I wouldn’t know how to cast a spell on anyone even if I wanted to, which I don’t. People come here to ask me to help them. Some things I can’t cure, and I always say so. I never give people wrong advice just to keep them happy. Even the holy monks come and consult me sometimes. Ask them if they think I’m a witch! As for babies dying and hens not laying eggs, that’s all part of the natural world; and it’s got nothing to do with me. I know how to prescribe a potion to make people with troubled minds go to sleep, and I know how to ease stiff joints and relieve coughs and fevers, but that’s a gift which comes from God, not His adversary, the devil. Now don’t you worry about me, my dear. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll make you a herbal drink with honey, and we’ll forget all about these gossips.’

* * *

Jane left Agnes’s cottage and rode up to the common to give Melissa a good gallop. She wanted to order her mind. Ahead of her was Mortimer Lodge, usually such a peaceful sight; but now an atmosphere of malevolence hung over it which seemed to contaminate the surrounding countryside. She avoided the wood. Something was going wrong in this little community, she thought. A family broken up through one man’s treachery, two innocent people dying because they unwittingly overheard an incriminating conversation, and now a harmless old lady accused of witchcraft. But why pick on Agnes at this particular time? Agnes had always been held in high esteem. People called her a wise woman, even a holy woman. There’d never been a hint of witchcraft. What had she done? Had she, too, overheard something? Was someone trying to get rid of her?

Deeply perturbed, she turned Melissa back towards home. But first she had to see Prior Thomas. He wanted her to sing to his special guests who were due to arrive at any moment, and she wanted to look through the programme and maybe have a rehearsal with Brother Benedict.

* * *

Nicholas slept fitfully whilst the coach lurched and jolted over the rough roads of West Sussex. They reached home just as the servants were waking up and the labourers were setting off to work in the fields. Nicholas climbed stiffly out of the coach, dazed by tiredness, with his body aching from the rough journey and still sore from the fall he’d had in the woods.

A boy, sleepily rubbing his eyes and frantically trying to tie up the fastening on his trousers, opened the main gate. Nicholas had never seen him before.

‘Who are you?’

‘Anthony, sir. Geoffrey’s nephew.’

‘And where do you come from, and what are you doing here?’

‘I live in Marchester, sir, and I’ve been offered a job as general servant. Geoffrey’s had to take on a lot of new hands.’

At that moment, Geoffrey came running out to meet them. He, too, looked as if he needed a good night’s sleep, although his worried face broke into a smile of relief when he saw Nicholas.

‘Welcome home, my Lord. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going at the moment, what with all the provisioning and the preparation of the rooms, I’m at my wits’ end. I need you to guide me.’

‘I’m sure you’ve got things well under control, but let me have something to eat, for God’s sake, before we start on our domestic problems.’

Over a plateful of fried bacon and half a dozen eggs, Nicholas listened to Geoffrey’s tale of woe: not enough beds, not enough servants, not enough food, not enough chairs … Finally, just as Geoffrey seemed to be on the point of collapse, he blurted out, ‘And they do say, my Lord, that the King’s coming.’

Nicholas carefully mopped up the last drop of egg yolk with his bread, swung round and looked at Geoffrey.

‘I suppose the whole world knows by now?’

‘Bound to. The sailors talk about nothing else in the Portsmouth taverns. Seems he’s going to look at the ships on the seventh so I suppose he’ll be coming here on the sixth? It’s too soon, my Lord. I’ll never be ready.’

‘Calm down, Geoffrey. I know there’s a lot to do, but I daresay the Prior will come to our rescue. He can put up a whole lot of people on the top floor of the guest house, the servants, the valets. We’ll have the most important people here, the King, of course, and his senior courtiers. Now listen carefully, Geoffrey. I know the problem you have of feeding this mob, but believe me it’s nothing compared to the problem I’m going to have with guarding the King. He’s a difficult man to keep under control and I don’t want him wandering off anywhere on his own. He’s bringing some of the Yeomen of the Guard – no, don’t get alarmed,’ he said as Geoffrey exclaimed in horror. ‘They’ll have to stay here with us, and we’ve got to put them up near the King. They’ll have their instructions, of course, but I want you to co-operate with them one hundred per cent. Now, Geoffrey, I want you to swear that you won’t go round prattling to everybody about this. Let people talk, but don’t give them any information. It would be the most terrible thing if the King should come to any harm in my house. Remember our motto – always loyal.

‘I shall need a list of everyone employed in this house; their names and where they’ve come from. Anyone coming here to apply for a job must be turned away. Even if we’re short-handed we must know who our servants are and we must be sure of their loyalty. Now I want that list immediately, as I shall have to check every person on it with you. I must insist on tight security at all times from now on, Geoffrey. If in doubt about anything, consult me. On the sixth of June, I want only those people known to us to be in this house. Anyone not on our list, or not on the King’s list which I shall expect him to send down to me with his steward, is to be sent away. Is that clear? Don’t worry about provisions; I’ll see what the Prior’s got in his store cupboard. But first I must go to Marchester and see Landstock.’

‘But surely, my Lord, you should rest first.’

‘No time for that. Get Harry saddled up. I can rest later.’

‘But where’s the King going to sleep?’