Читать книгу Heiress of Haddon - W. E. Doubleday - Страница 17

Next morning the Hall was early astir. The news of the murder had spread far and wide, and had caused a feeling of consternation in the neighbourhood, which was intensified by the mystery in which it was enshrouded.

De la Zouch had grown worse during the night, and soon after the break of day had departed, with Eustace, for Ashby Castle, declaring that in spite of the good intentions of Sir Benedict his case was not understood, and that it had been aggravated rather than improved by the attentions he had received from his friend.

Sir George, as magistrate of the district, had caused the body to be dressed, and for a long time he sat in his dressing-room pondering what steps he had better take next. There was absolutely no clue, yet the baron was determined not only to discover the culprit, but to make such an example of him as should effectually deter a repetition of such a crime in the neighbourhood of Haddon, at least for some time to come.

At length he issued from his room, and, passing along the corridor, he ascended a short flight of stairs, and stopped at the door of the room in which Dorothy was busily engaged in making some new tapestry hangings. He paused, uncertain whether to turn back or to enter.

"Yes, I will," he muttered; "she has the clearest head of them all," and suiting the action to the word he gently turned the handle and went in.

Dorothy had dropped her work, and so intently was she gazing through the open lattice window that she did not notice the arrival of her father.

The knight stood still for a moment or two, and involuntarily admired the graceful figure of his daughter, and stepping gently forward, he tapped her lightly upon the shoulder.

Dorothy turned hastily round, and as she did so he caught her deftly in his arms and printed a loud, smacking kiss upon the fair girl's cheek.

"There," said he, "I'll warrant me thou wert longing for it; come now, confess."

Dorothy disdained any such idea.

"Nay," she replied, "I was but thinking of the poor pedlar. I had bought these from him only the day before," and she pointed to a little heap of silks which lay upon the table.

"I had come to talk it over with thee, Doll," replied the baron as he sat himself comfortably down upon a chair. "I think it was a robbery, eh?"

"Yes," slowly replied the maiden, "I should think so, too. Meg and I paid him six nobles."

"And only two were found."

"Only two?" asked Dorothy.

"That is all," replied the knight. "The knaves must have made off with the rest. That ill-favoured locksmith would be as likely a rascal as any; I must examine him."

"Nay, that cannot be, he was all day in the stocks."

Sir George scratched his head in despair. He had privately determined that the locksmith was the guilty one, but now that his idea was entirely disproved he felt sorely at a loss how to proceed.

Dorothy watched him in silence; she was as helpless as the baron.

"Was the packman staying in the village?" asked Sir George, lifting up his head after a long pause, during which he had kept his glance upon his foot, as if seeking inspiration there.

"He stayed at Dame Durden's, I believe."

"What, the witch?"

"Yes."

"I have it, then," he exclaimed as he struck his hand heavily upon the table. "I have it!" and without saying another word he hastened out of the room.

Although the knight had thus decisively declared that he "had it," yet whatever it was that he had got, he did not feel equal to proceeding in the matter alone, and before he had proceeded many steps he turned back again.

"Come, Doll," he said, as he opened the door again, "we will go together," and the two went off in company to consult the rest of the family.

The Lady Maude was seated in a low, easy chair, And with an air of languor upon every feature of her countenance was listening to Sir John de Lacey, who was reading to her out of Roger Ascham's treatise on Archery. As the knight stepped into the room the remembrance of the previous day's mishap was strongly brought back to his memory.

"What ho! sir knight," he exclaimed; "better, eh!"

"A little stiff about the joints, mine host," he replied, "for which I have thee to thank."

"Tush, man, don't mention it," laughingly returned the baron. "There's no question of thanks betwixt me and thee."

"They gave me some hot sack, and then rolled me in the river," whined De Lacey, "and the pity of it is I cannot remember which of them it was, or else I'd—I'd—"

Sir John de Lacey paused to consider what course of action he would have taken, but ere he had resolved, the door opened, and Sir Thomas Stanley entered, bringing in with him the Lady Margaret.

"Well, well," returned Sir George, "since it baffles thy wits to discover whom it was, thou hadst best have the grace of forgiveness, it will become thee well. But a truce to this. I came to counsel with you of the murder. Any more news, Sir Thomas?"

"I hear that the old hag, Durden, had a quarrel with the pedlar the day before his death," answered Stanley, "and she told him to his face that he would come to no gentle end."

"They have often quarrelled," added Margaret, who felt bound to add something to her lover's statement.

"Yes, then," said Sir George, "I have it now. I guessed it was her from the very beginning."

"Nay, nay," interrupted Dorothy, "you suspected the smith at first."

"Well, Doll, it makes no matter of difference if I did. 'Tis the old witch, sure enough, and she will either hang or drown for it, I swear."

"Not so fast, either though, worthy knight," interrupted Stanley. "I am not yet satisfied that it really was the witch, for she seems to have been at home all day, except when she was by the side of the stocks."

"Courting the proud smith," added Lady Vernon, referring to a rumour in the neighbourhood.

"But he was killed in the woods," said Dorothy.

"Tut, there's not a doubt about the matter," pursued Sir George, "not the shadow of a doubt."

"Nevertheless there is something in what Dorothy urges, and we had better make some sort of inquiry," suggested the more cautious Stanley; "for thou hast many jealous enemies, Sir George, who would gladly score a triumph over thee an they had but half a chance."

"Sir Ronald Bury, for instance," added Margaret.

"But why Sir Ronald?" asked De Lacey. "He is a simple enough knight, I trow."

"Pooh, I care naught for him," replied Sir George Vernon; "he is jealous of the beauty of my daughters."

"And wants a husband for his child," added Lady Maude.

"Let him want, then," testily returned the baron. "He may turn green with envy for aught I care. I'll do it to his face, I will."

But in the end wiser counsels prevailed, and the knight gave way so far as to order a trial of touch—a superstitious form of trial much relied upon in the times when witchcraft was commonly believed in.

The witching hour of twilight was chosen for this crude but solemn trial, and at the time appointed a large crowd was gathered in the great courtyard of Haddon in obedience to a mandate of the King of the Peak, which they dared not disobey.

As the crowd swayed to and fro it was in marked contrast to the usual way in which they were wont to assemble within the great walls of Haddon. No loud laugh or sound of boisterous merriment broke the stillness of this solemn eventide; no tricks were attempted now upon unconscious friends, and even the almost invariable little groups of admirers listening to the marvellously strange tales of those who had crossed the seas were not to be found. All was silent save the screeching of the owls every now and again, and the subdued hum of conversation which rose up from the awestruck assembly as they patiently awaited the test which was to bring home the guilt of the murderer.

They had a long time to wait, and the moon had long been out before the proceedings were properly commenced.

A loud blast from the trumpets of the sentries gave the first intimation of the approach of the head of the house of Vernon. The great gates swung open and Sir George slowly advanced through the throng, which respectfully fell back on either side and made an open passage for him. A few yards behind followed a bare-headed priest, chanting prayers for the departed, and heading a diminutive procession, in the midst of which the body of the unfortunate pedlar was carried on a bier. They stopped at the foot of the steps which stretch across the courtyard; the doleful chant ceased, and an impressive hush fell upon the assembly, as with bated breath they awaited the next scene in the awful drama.

Sir George did not hurry himself, for it was necessary to the success of the ordeal that the culprit, whoever that was, should be duly impressed with a sense befitting the character of the moment, and a little suspense, he shrewdly guessed, would tend to make the guilty one tremble and offer signs which would make detection the easier.

At last he spoke.

"Mary Durden, Joel Cobbe, Henry Bridge, and Nathan Grene, step out," he said, "take the oath; touch the body in our presence, and prove your innocence if you are able."

Every whisper was smothered into silence as they watched to see the individuals named perform the test. No one stirred, however, and the order had to be repeated.

"Mary Burden, Joel Cobbe, Henry Bridge, and Nathan Grene," thundered the baron, "I command you to answer to your names, or by your silence shall you be condemned."

Joel Cobbe and Henry Bridge, two of the most disreputable men in the whole district, went forward in company, and succeeded in touching the body without a rupture of blood taking place or the body moving its position one iota.

"Mary Durden, spinster, Nathan Grene, locksmith," repeated Sir George, "answer to this third, last challenge, or thy last hope of escape is gone."

Nathan Grene, fuming with ill-concealed rage, stepped out, and a loud shriek announced the presence of Mary Durden, who was unwillingly pushed into view by those around her. As soon as she had gained the little open space that was yet left she fell upon the ground and swooned away.

"See," said one, "the witch is guilty, she dare not touch the body."

"Drown her," shouted another. "Drown her or burn her."

The clouds which for some time had been gathering together, and which by this time had completely obscured the moon, now burst with a torrent of rain. A flash of lightning for a brief moment illuminated the scene, and then died away again, leaving it more weird even than it had been before. A faint roll of thunder broke upon the unpleasant reverie into which the company had fallen, and Sir George's voice ordering the oil lamps to be lighted, somewhat reassured the more fearful among the spectators. A long five minutes elapsed before the lights appeared, minutes of darkness and suspense, disturbed only by the flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, which rapidly grew louder in sound.

Nathan Grene had touched the body, and the trial had proclaimed him innocent. Indeed, Sir George fully expected it would do so, seeing that Nathan had been fast bound in the stocks at the time the crime was perpetrated. His name had only been called out because the baron had a standing dislike to the man. But the woman still lay on the rough stones without offering a sign of life.

"Sir George, is that the witch?" asked De Lacey.

"It is."

"Then she is praying to her master the devil. Listen!"

In the dread stillness of those awful minutes it was not difficult to discover that she was moaning. The crowd was stricken with terror, and catching up the words which Sir John had let fall, reiterated the cry which even yet added to the dismal terror of the scene.

"This cannot long endure," said Sir George, as a vivid flash of lightning almost, for the moment, blinded him.

A long, loud roll of thunder, which terminated in a crashing peal, was the only answer he received, and while the noise was at its loudest, Mary Durden started to her feet and dashed forward to touch the body.

She just reached the bottom of the steps when, catching her foot on the uneven pavement of the yard, she over-balanced herself, and tumbled heavily upon the bier, almost knocking the body off as she fell.

"Guilty!" eagerly shouted Sir George; "she is guilty; seize her."

But before he had finished the sentence, Mary had turned and fled, and far from attempting to hinder her in her headlong flight, the awe-struck people, one and all, shrunk eagerly back to escape being brought into contact with one who had just given such unmistakable proofs of witchcraft, and who had been condemned a murderess by the almost infallible ordeal of the bier.