The Witch Hunter's Tale(11)
I nodded in agreement. Rebecca was as smart as she was malevolent, and I knew that if she saw the opportunity to destroy me she would take it, particularly if she thought I was opposing her plans to regain her power within the city.
“Once the battle has been joined we shall have to act quickly,” I replied. “For we will surely hazard all.”
* * *
Martha and I rose early the next morning and made our way to the Castle. Clouds hung low overhead and the wind still tore at our cloaks, but the rain had stopped and I gave thanks for that. The Special Assizes would be in session two more days, so even at that hour, a steady stream of people joined us in our journey. When I looked toward the Thursday Market I could see workmen assembling the three-legged mare for the hangings that would begin the next day. I imagined that Hester would be among the first to die.
As we neared the edge of the city, the stone keep known as Lord Clifford’s Tower came into view, standing watch over the city as it had for centuries. We passed around the Tower and approached the drawbridge. Like many visitors, Martha had been disappointed the first time she saw the Castle, for it was hardly worthy of the name. No lord would deign to live there, for it was little more than a wall surrounding a courtyard, with towers at the corners. During the siege of 1644, it had been at the heart of the King’s defenses, but now it served only as the city’s prison.
Our progress slowed as the crowd squeezed through the narrow gate into the Castle yard. “Let us see Samuel first,” I suggested. Martha nodded, and we crossed to the small tower where Samuel Short lived and worked as one of the Castle’s jailors. When I rapped on the tower door, a small window opened and Tree’s face appeared. He grinned when he saw us, and let us in.
“Lady Bridget,” Tree cried as we entered, and Samuel bade us sit. I had met Samuel when a friend of mine had been taken for murder and imprisoned in his tower. The Warden saw to it that most women sent to the Castle found themselves in Samuel’s care. He thought that because Samuel was a dwarf, he was less likely to take advantage of the women in his charge. I do not know if he was right, but I had never heard anything to the contrary. Unfortunately, Hester Jackson was too poor and her crime too heinous to receive such courtesy, so she would be in one of the lower dungeons. If the jailors abused her, what of it? She had rebelled against God and deserved her fate.
“Welcome, Lady Bridget,” Samuel said as we joined him around his rough-hewn table. Samuel and Tree lived in two rooms in the tower, with the luckier (and wealthier) prisoners above, and the poor or unlucky in cells belowground. “I heard you would be coming to us. The other jailors wonder how you will top the commotion that accompanied your last visit.”
“I imagine so,” I replied with a tight smile. The commotion, as he called it, had ended in four deaths.
Samuel must have recognized that he’d stepped out of line, for he moved on as quickly as he could. “What business brings you to the Castle?”
“I wondered what you might know of Hester Jackson.”
“Yes, yes, the witch,” Samuel replied. “Not very much, I’m afraid. The Warden put her in the Castle’s lowest dungeon. Her keeper’s surprised she hasn’t died of gaol-fever. Nobody down there lasts for long. She was lucky to live to see her trial.”
“Lucky?” asked Martha. “She’ll be hanged tomorrow!”
“Better a quick death at the end of a rope than a slow one by the fever,” Samuel replied flatly. “Believe me, I know whereof I speak.”
“Do you hear anything of her interrogation?” I asked.
“Ah, that’s why you’re here. Anything that brings Joseph Hodgson and Rebecca Hooke together must give you fits of the night-mare.”
“It is not the friendship I most hoped for,” I admitted. “And I must know what they are planning. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing of interest to you, I don’t think,” Samuel replied. “Mr. Hodgson and some of the other Justices questioned her, and she confessed. When Mrs. Hooke found the teat, there was little left to do except wait for the judge and the hangman.” He must have read the disappointment on my face. “If I hear that anything untoward happened, I’ll pass it along,” he added.
“No,” I replied, “I did not think they would be bold enough to announce their scheme so plainly, but one can hope. Where are they keeping her?”
“She’s in the tower nearest the Ouse,” he replied. “I will take you there.” The three of us crossed the Castle yard to the tower where Hester Jackson was being held.