The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) by John Pilkington (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

name’s Howell Rhys, from the Welsh borders - and he was so smitten with love, he would swim across the river to meet her, night after night.’

And as I stared, the poacher slung his bow across his back and turned to go. ‘Now I’ll bid you good-bye. Likely we’ll not meet again - for I’ll hear you long before you see me.’

With that he was gone, melting into the trees and leaving no trace but the sound of rainwater dripping into the pool.

SEVEN

Back at Thirldon I took time to reflect on what had passed, seated in the garden after a good dinner. I could have been a hundred miles from the Witching Pool, with its secrets. For that matter, I could have been a hundred miles from the gloomy cell where Agnes would, in my mind at least, be sitting hunched on her rough pallet. Having spent the best part of an hour in grim contemplation, I heard footsteps on the gravel path: Hester and Childers were advancing upon me.

‘Master Justice, we would speak with you,’ my steward said. Whereupon, despite misgivings, I gestured them both to take vacant stools at the old table.

‘I’m troubled, sir – as are we both,’ he continued, wearing his gravest expression. ‘Touching upon the business of the witch… I mean Mistress Mason,’ he added. ‘If you’ll heed the advice of those who are most concerned for your safety…’

‘My safety?’ I echoed tartly. ‘Why, what kind of danger do you suppose I am in?’

‘Not bodily danger, perhaps,’ Hester said. Sitting upright, she faced me across the board. ‘But there is a threat to your standing. We thought you should be aware of it.’

‘Indeed?’ I frowned. ‘What are the gossips saying, then?’

‘It’s more than a matter of mere gossip, sir,’ Childers said. ‘There’s troubling talk in Worcester… Mistress Hester bore the brunt of it this morning.’

I turned to her. ‘I didn’t know you were in the city today.’

‘Only at market. Where I was accosted by someone known to us both, if slightly: the wife of Justice Standish.’

I stiffened, as she went on somewhat quickly: ‘She was harsh. She said you do yourself no good, taking up the case of the witch – those were her words. The town will turn against you, she said. Her husband is most displeased that you visit Mistress Mason, taking her food.’

I remained silent.

‘I pray you, tell all of it,’ Childers urged, in some agitation. Whereupon Hester drew breath and added:

‘You remain in her cell longer than is fitting, it’s said, so that folk wonder what passes between you. They speak of the woman’s charms, which are of diverse nature.’

‘My God – do they think she’s bewitched me, or seduced me?’

On a sudden I wanted to bang a fist down in anger. Instead I sat upright and, as I would do in my magistrate days, placed my hands flat. Childers looked wary, but Hester was calm.

‘It appears that some do,’ she replied.

‘And what of you?’ I eyed each of them in turn. ‘For if you have any suspicions about my motives, perhaps now is the time to voice them.’

‘Sir, I swear… you know better than that, I hope,’ Childers said. ‘But you must compass how the matter’s viewed by the common sort - even by your equals.’

‘Like Justice Standish, you mean?’ I snapped. ‘Well, by the Christ, it’s time I went to see him - lay the entire matter before that slippery old goat. I have new evidence…’

I stopped, seeing how both of them stared. There was a cup of sack on the table, still unfinished, which I now took up. Having drained it, I set it down and gave a sigh. ‘Let me tell you what’s passed, since we last spoke,’ I said.

And I told them what I had learned, from Agnes and from Ned Berritt. By the end of it, both were silent. Such silences, however, never lasted long where Childers was concerned.

‘This will do no good, sir… forgive me, but I must say it. You intrude on ground that’s best left to others.’

‘And who might they be?’ I retorted. ‘Do you think Giles Cobbett would probe any further? From what I see, his only desire is to put the matter to rest, along with his daughter.’

‘This young man… Susanna’s swain,’ Hester said. ‘Surely if Berritt knows of him, others do too?’

‘I’d wager on it,’ I answered. ‘If, by Berritt’s account, the fellow swam across the river to keep tryst with his beloved, he would likely have crossed Humphreys’ land. I mean to question him too – after I’ve spoken to Standish.’

‘Master Justice, no!’ In his agitation, as so often, Childers had forgotten his place. ‘It would be folly to go to Standish. You and he are known rivals. At the least, he would refuse to hear you - he thinks first of his own station, and such favours as he may garner from men of rank and power.’

‘Ay, men like Cobbett,’ I countered. ‘So, your counsel remains the same as before: I should step away from this whole affair and look to myself.’ He made no reply, whereupon I faced Hester. ‘Would that be your advice, too?’

‘If it were, would you heed it?’ She answered. ‘For it appears you’re resolved to play Sir Galahad and rescue this poor, wronged woman, or perish in the attempt. I speak only of the death of your reputation,’ she added. ‘But then, you seldom give much thought to that.’

It was a pretty speech, and I confess I was chastened. More, once again I suspected Hester had divined more than she would say. After some thought, I nodded.

‘I’ll not go to Standish… not yet,’ I said. ‘I need more evidence. But I’ll go to Humphreys first thing tomorrow. I want to look that man in the eye, and