The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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Thus, so far as the siege had gone, success seemed to declare itself
rather for the defenders than the assailants, when a new impulse was
given to the latter, by the bursting open of the gates, and the sudden
influx of Sir Thomas Metcalfe and the rest of his troop. The knight was
closely followed by the Alsatian captains, who, with tremendous oaths in
their mouths, and slashing blades in their hands, declared they would
make minced meat of any one opposing their progress. Sir Thomas was
equally truculent in expression and ferocious in tone, and as the whole
party laid about them right and left, they speedily routed the defenders
of the garden, and drove them towards the house. Flushed by their
success, the besiegers shouted loudly, and Sir Thomas roared out, that
ere many minutes Nowell and Potts should be set free, and Alice Nutter
captured. But before he could reach the main door, Nicholas Assheton,
well armed, and attended by some dozen men, presented himself at it.
These were instantly joined by the retreating party, and the whole
offered a formidable array of opponents, quite sufficient to check the
progress of the besiegers. Two or three of the men near Nicholas carried
torches, and their light revealed the numbers on both sides.

"What! is it you, Sir Thomas Metcalfe?" cried the squire. "Do you commit
such outrages as this--do you break into habitations like a robber,
rifle them, and murder their inmates? Explain yourself, sir, or I will
treat you as I would a common plunderer; shoot you through the head, or
hang you to the first tree if I take you."

"Zounds and fury!" rejoined Metcalfe. "Do you dare to liken me to a
common robber and murderer? Take care you do not experience the same
fate as that with which you threaten me, with this difference only, that
the hangman--the common hangman of Lancaster--shall serve your turn. I
am come hither to arrest a notorious witch, and to release two gentlemen
who are unlawfully detained prisoners by her; and if you do not
instantly deliver her up to me, and produce the two individuals in
question, Master Roger Nowell and Master Potts, I will force my way into
the house, and all injury done to those who oppose me will rest on your
head."

"The two gentlemen you have named are perfectly safe and contented in
their quarters," replied Nicholas; "and as to the foul and false
aspersions you have thrown out against Mistress Nutter, I cast them back
in your teeth. Your purpose in coming hither is to redress some private
wrong. How is it you have such a rout with you? How is it I behold two
notorious bravos by your side--men who have stood in the pillory, and
undergone other ignominious punishment for their offences? You cannot
answer, and their oaths and threats go for nothing. I now tell you, Sir
Thomas, if you do not instantly withdraw your men, and quit these
premises, grievous consequences will ensue to you and them."

"I will hear no more," cried Sir Thomas, infuriated to the last degree.
"Follow me into the house, and spare none who oppose you."

"You are not in yet," cried Nicholas.

And as he spoke a row of pikes bristled around him, holding the knight
at bay, while a hook was fixed in the doublet of each of the Alsatian
captains, and they were plucked forward and dragged into the house. This
done, Nicholas and his men quickly retreated, and the door was closed
and barred upon the enraged and discomfited knight.

CHAPTER XV.--THE PHANTOM MONK.

Many hours had passed by, and night had come on--a night profoundly
dark. Richard was still lying where he had fallen at the foot of Malkin
Tower; for though he had regained his sensibility, he was so bruised and
shaken as to be wholly unable to move. His limbs, stiffened and
powerless, refused their office, and, after each unsuccessful effort, he
sank back with a groan.

His sole hope was that Mistress Nutter, alarmed by his prolonged
absence, might come to her daughter's assistance, and so discover his
forlorn situation; but as time flew by, and nothing occurred, he gave
himself up for lost.

On a sudden the gloom was dispersed, and a silvery light shed over the
scene. The moon had broken through a rack of clouds, and illumined the
tall mysterious tower, and the dreary waste around it. With the light a
ghostly figure near him became visible to Richard, which under other
circumstances would have excited terror in his breast, but which now
only filled him with wonder. It was that of a Cistertian monk; the
vestments were old and faded, the visage white and corpse-like. Richard
at once recognised the phantom he had seen in the banquet-hall at the
Abbey, and had afterwards so rashly followed to the conventual church.
It touched him with its icy fingers, and a dullness like death shot
through his heart.

"Why dost thou trouble me thus, unhappy spirit?" said the young man.
"Leave me, I adjure thee, and let me die in peace!"

"Thou wilt not die yet, Richard Assheton," returned the phantom; "and my
intention is not to trouble thee, but to serve thee. Without my aid thou
wouldst perish where thou liest, but I will raise thee up, and set thee
on thy way."

"Wilt thou help me to liberate Alizon?" demanded Richard.

"Do not concern thyself further about her," replied the phantom; "she
must pass through an ordeal with which nothing human may interfere. If
she escape it you will meet again. If not, it were better thou shouldst
be in thy grave than see her. Take this phial. Drink thou the liquid it
contains, and thy strength will return to thee."

"How do I know thou art not sent hither by Mother Demdike to tempt
me?" demanded Richard, doubtfully. "I have already fallen into her
snares," he added, with a groan.

[Illustration: THE PHANTOM MONK.]

"I am Mother Demdike's enemy, and the appointed instrument of her
punishment," replied the monk, in a tone that did not admit of question.
"Drink, and fear nothing."

Richard obeyed, and the next moment sprang to his feet.

"Thou hast indeed restored me!" he cried. "I would fain reach the secret
entrance to the tower."

"Attempt it not, I charge thee!" cried the phantom; "but depart
instantly for Pendle Hill."

"Wherefore should I go thither?" demanded Richard.

"Thou wilt learn anon," returned the monk. "I cannot tell thee more now.
Dismount at the foot of the hill, and proceed to the beacon. Thou
know'st it?"

"I do," replied Richard. "There a fire was lighted which was meant to
set all England in a blaze."

"And which led many good men to destruction," said the monk, in a tone
of indescribable sadness. "Alas! for him who kindled it. The offence is
not yet worked out. But depart without more delay; and look not back."

As Richard hastened towards the spot where he had left Merlin, he
fancied he was followed by the phantom; but, obedient to the injunction
he received, he did not turn his head. As he mounted the horse, who
neighed cheerily as he drew near, he found he was right in supposing the
monk to be behind him, for he heard his voice calling out, "Linger not
by the way. To the beacon!--to the beacon!"

Thus exhorted, the young man dashed off, and, to his great surprise,
found Merlin as fresh as if he had undergone no fatigue during the day.
It would almost seem, from his spirit, that he had partaken of the same
wondrous elixir which had revived his master. Down the hill he plunged,
regardless of the steep descent, and soon entered the thicket where the
storm had fallen upon them, and where so many acts of witchcraft were
performed. Now, neither accident nor obstacle occurred to check the
headlong pace of the animal, though the stones rattled after him as he
struck them with his flying hoof. The moonlight quivered on the branches
of the trees, and on the tender spray, and all looked as tranquil and
beautiful as it had so lately been gloomy and disturbed. The wood was
passed, and the last and steepest descent cleared. The little bridge was
at hand, and beneath was Pendle Water, rushing over its rocky bed, and
glittering like silver in the moon's rays. But here Richard had wellnigh
received a check. A party of armed men, it proved, occupied the road
leading to Rough Lee, about a bow-shot from the bridge, and as soon as
they perceived he was taking the opposite course, with the apparent
intention of avoiding them, they shouted to him to stay. This shout made
Richard aware of their presence, for he had not before observed them,
as they were concealed by the intervention of some small trees; but
though surprised at the circumstance, and not without apprehension that
they might be there with a hostile design to Mistress Nutter, he did not
slacken his pace. A horseman, who appeared to be their leader, rode
after him for a short distance, but finding pursuit futile, he desisted,
pouring forth a volley of oaths and threats, in a voice that proclaimed
him as Sir Thomas Metcalfe. This discovery confirmed Richard in his
supposition that mischief was intended Mistress Nutter; but even this
conviction, strengthened by his antipathy to Metcalfe, was not
sufficiently strong to induce him to stop. Promising himself to return
on the morrow, and settle accounts with the insolent knight, he speeded
on, and, passing the mill, tracked the rocky gorge above it, and began
to mount another hill. Despite the ascent, Merlin never slackened his
pace, but, though his master would have restrained him, held on as
before. But the brow of the hill attained, Richard compelled him to a
brief halt.

By this time the sky was comparatively clear, but small clouds were
sailing across the heavens, and at one moment the moon would be obscured
by them, and the next, burst forth with sudden effulgence. These
alternations produced corresponding effects on the broad, brown, heathy
plain extending below, and fantastic shadows were cast upon it, which it
needed not Richard's heated imagination to liken to evil beings flying
past. The wind, too, lay in the direction of the north end of Pendle
Hill, whither Richard was about to shape his course, and the shadows
consequently trooped off towards that quarter. The vast mass of Pendle
rose in gloomy majesty before him, being thrown into shade, except at
its crown, where a flood of radiance rested.

Like an eagle swooping upon his prey, Richard descended into the valley,
and like a stag pursued by the huntsman he speeded across it. Neither
dyke, morass, nor stone wall checked him, or made him turn aside; and
almost as fast as the clouds hurrying above him, and their shadows
travelling at his feet, did he reach the base of Pendle Hill.

Making up to a shed, which, though empty, luckily contained a wisp or
two of hay, he turned Merlin into it, and commenced the ascent of the
hill on foot. After attaining a considerable elevation, he looked down
from the giddy heights upon the valley he had just traversed. A few
huts, forming the little village of Barley, lay sleeping in the
moonlight beneath him, while further off could be just discerned
Goldshaw, with its embowered church. A line of thin vapour marked the
course of Pendle Water, and thicker mists hovered over the mosses. The
shadows were still passing over the plain.

Pressing on, Richard soon came among the rocks protruding from the
higher part of the hill, and as the path was here not more than a foot
wide, rarely taken except by the sheep and their guardians, it was
necessary to proceed with the utmost caution, as a single false step
would have been fatal. After some toil, and not without considerable
risk, he reached the summit of the hill.

As he bounded over the springy turf, and inhaled the pure air of that
exalted region, his spirits revived, and new elasticity was communicated
to his limbs. He shaped his course near the edge of the hill, so that
the extensive view it commanded was fully displayed. But his eye rested
on the mountainous range on the opposite side of the valley, where
Malkin Tower was situated. Even in broad day the accursed structure
would have been invisible, as it stood on the further side of the hill,
overlooking Barrowford and Colne; but Richard knew its position well,
and while his gaze was fixed upon the point, he saw a star shoot down
from the heavens and apparently alight near the spot. The circumstance
alarmed him, for he could not help thinking it ominous of ill to Alizon.

Nothing, however, followed to increase his misgivings, and erelong he
came in sight of the beacon. The ground had been gradually rising, and
if he had proceeded a few hundred yards further, a vast panorama would
have opened upon him, comprising a large part of Lancashire on the one
hand, and on the other an equally extensive portion of Yorkshire. Forest
and fell, black moor and bright stream, old castle and stately hall,
would have then been laid before him as in a map. But other thoughts
engrossed him, and he went straight on. As far as he could discern he
was alone on the hill top; and the silence and solitude, coupled with
the ill report of the place, which at this hour was said to be often
visited by foul hags, for the performance of their unhallowed rites,
awakened superstitious fears in his breast.

He was soon by the side of the beacon. The stones were still standing as
they had been reared by Paslew, and on looking at them he was astonished
to find the hollow within them filled with dry furze, brushwood, and
fagots, as if in readiness for another signal. In passing round the
circle, his surprise was still further increased by discovering a torch,
and not far from it, in one of the interstices of the stones, a dark
lantern, in which, on removing the shade, he found a candle burning. It
was now clear the beacon was to be kindled that night, though for what
end he could not conjecture, and equally clear that he was brought
thither to fire it. He put back the lantern into its place, took up the
torch, and held himself in readiness.

Half an hour elapsed, and nothing occurred. During this interval it had
become dark. A curtain of clouds was drawn over the moon and stars.

Suddenly, a hurtling noise was heard in the air, and it seemed to the
watcher as if a troop of witches were alighting at a distance from him.

A loud hubbub of voices ensued--then there was a trampling of feet,
accompanied by discordant strains of music--after which a momentary
silence ensued, and a harsh voice asked--

"Why are we brought hither?"

"It is not for a sabbath," shouted another voice, "for there is neither
fire nor caldron."

"Mother Demdike would not summon us without good reason," cried a third.
"We shall learn presently what we have to do."

"The more mischief the better," rejoined another voice.

"Ay, mischief! mischief! mischief!" echoed the rest of the crew.

"You shall have enough of it to content you," rejoined Mother Demdike.
"I have called you hither to be present at a sacrifice."

Hideous screams of laughter followed this announcement, and the voice
that had spoken first asked--

"A sacrifice of whom?"

"An unbaptised babe, stolen from its sleeping mother's breast," rejoined
another. "Mother Demdike has often played that trick before--ho! ho!"

"Peace!" thundered the hag--"It is no babe I am about to kill, but a
full-grown maid--ay, and one of rarest beauty, too. What think ye of
Alizon Device?"

"Thy grand-daughter!" cried several voices, in surprise.

"Alice Nutter's daughter--for such she is," rejoined the hag. "I have
held her captive in Malkin Tower, and have subjected her to every trial
and temptation I could devise, but I have failed in shaking her courage,
or in winning her over to our master. All the horrors of the vault have
been tried upon her in vain. Even the last terrible ordeal, which no one
has hitherto sustained, proved ineffectual. She went through it
unmoved."

"Heaven be praised!" murmured Richard.

"It seems I have no power over her soul" pursued the hag; "but I have
over her body, and she shall die here, and by my hand. But mind me, not
a drop of blood must fall to the ground."

"Have no fear," cried several voices, "we will catch it in our palms and
quaff it."

"Hast thou thy knife, Mould-heels?" asked Mother Demdike.

"Ay," replied the other, "it is long and sharp, and will do thy business
well. Thy grandson, Jem Device, notched it by killing swine, and my
goodman ground it only yesterday. Take it."

"I will plunge it to her heart!" cried Mother Demdike, with an infernal
laugh. "And now I will tell you why we have neither fire nor caldron. On
questioning the ebon image in the vault as to the place where the
sacrifice should be made, I received for answer that it must be here,
and in darkness. No human eye but our own must behold it. We are safe on
this score, for no one is likely to come hither at this hour. No fire
must be kindled, or the sacrifice will result in destruction to us all.
Ye have heard, and understand?"

"We do," replied several husky voices.

"And so do I," said Richard, taking hold of the dark lantern.

"And now for the girl," cried Mother Demdike.

CHAPTER XVI.--ONE O'CLOCK!

Mistress Nutter and Mother Chattox were still at the hut, impatiently
awaiting the return of Fancy. But nearly an hour elapsed before he
appeared.

"What has detained thee so long?" demanded the hag, sharply, as he stood
before them.

"You shall hear, mistress," replied Fancy: "I have had a busy time of
it, I assure you, and thought I should never accomplish my errand. On
arriving at Rough Lee, I found the place invested by Sir Thomas Metcalfe
and a host of armed men, who had been sent thither by Parson Holden, for
the joint purpose of arresting you, madam," addressing Mistress Nutter,
"and liberating Nowell and Potts. The knight was in a great fume; for,
in spite of the force brought against it, the house had been stoutly
defended by Nicholas Assheton, who had worsted the besieging party, and
captured two Alsatian captains, hangers on of Sir Thomas. Appearing in
the character of an enemy, I was immediately surrounded by Metcalfe and
his men, who swore they would cut my throat unless I undertook to
procure the liberation of the two bravos in question, as well as that of
Nowell and Potts. I told them I was come for the express purpose of
setting free the two last-named gentlemen; but, with respect to the
former, I had no instructions, and they must arrange the matter with
Master Nicholas himself. Upon this Sir Thomas became exceedingly wroth
and insolent, and proceeded to such lengths that I resolved to chastise
him, and in so doing performed a feat which will tend greatly to exalt
Richard's character for courage and strength."

"Let us hear it, my doughty champion," cried Mother Chattox.

"While Metcalfe was pouring forth his rage, and menacing me with
uplifted hand," pursued the familiar, "I seized him by the throat,
dragged him from his horse, and in spite of the efforts of his men,
whose blows fell upon me thick as hail, and quite as harmlessly, I bore
him through the garden to the back of the house, where my shouts soon
brought Nicholas and others to my assistance, and after delivering my
captive to them, I dismounted. The squire, you will imagine, was
astonished to see me, and greatly applauded my prowess. I replied, with
the modesty becoming my assumed character, that I had done nothing, and,
in reality, the feat was nothing to me; but I told him I had something
of the utmost importance to communicate, and which could not be delayed
a moment; whereupon he led me to a small room adjoining the hall, while
the crestfallen knight was left to vent his rage and mortification on
the grooms to whose custody he was committed."

"You acted your part to perfection," said Mistress Nutter.

"Ay, trust my sweet Fancy for that," said the hag--"there is no familiar
like him--none whatever."

"Your praises make me blush," rejoined Fancy. "But to proceed. I
fulfilled your instructions to the letter, and excited Nicholas's horror
and indignation by the tale I told him. I laughed in my sleeve all the
while, but I maintained a very different countenance with him. He
thought me full of anguish and despair. He questioned me as to my
proceedings at Malkin Tower, and I amazed him with the description of a
fearful storm I had encountered--of my interview with old Demdike, and
her atrocious treatment of Alizon--to all of which he listened with
profound interest. Richard himself could not have moved him
more--perhaps not so much. As soon as I had finished, he vowed he would
rescue Alizon from the murtherous hag, and prevent the latter from
committing further mischief; and bidding me come with him, we repaired
to the room in which Nowell and Potts were confined. We found them both
fast asleep in their chairs; but Nicholas quickly awakened them, and
some explanations ensued, which did not at first appear very clear and
satisfactory to either magistrate or attorney, but in the end they
agreed to accompany us on the expedition, Master Potts declaring it
would compensate him for all his mischances if he could arrest Mother
Demdike."

"I hope he may have his wish," said Mother Chattox.

"Ay, but he declared that his next step should be to arrest you,
mistress," observed Fancy, with a laugh.

"Arrest me!" cried the hag. "Marry, let him touch me, if he dares. My
term is not out yet, and, with thee to defend me, my brave Fancy, I have
no fear."

"Right!" replied the familiar; "but to go on with my story. Sir Thomas
Metcalfe was next brought forward; and after some warm altercation,
peace was at length established between him and the squire, and hands
were shaken all round. Wine was then called for by Nicholas, who, at the
same time, directed that the two Alsatian captains should be brought up
from the cellar, where they had been placed for safety. The first part
of the order was obeyed, but the second was found impracticable,
inasmuch as the two heroes had found their way to the inner cellar, and
had emptied so many flasks that they were utterly incapable of moving.
While the wine was being discussed, an unexpected arrival took place."

"An arrival!--of whom?" inquired Mistress Nutter, eagerly.

"Sir Ralph Assheton and a large party," replied Fancy. "Parson Holden,
it seems, not content with sending Sir Thomas and his rout to the aid of
his friends, had proceeded for the same purpose to Whalley, and the
result was the appearance of the new party. A brief explanation from
Nicholas and myself served to put Sir Ralph in possession of all that
had occurred, and he declared his readiness to accompany the expedition
to Pendle Hill, and to take all his followers with him. Sir Thomas
Metcalfe expressed an equally strong desire to go with him, and of
course it was acceded to. I am bound to tell you, madam," added Fancy to
Mistress Nutter, "that your conduct is viewed in a most suspicious light
by every one of these persons, except Nicholas, who made an effort to
defend you."

"I care not what happens to me, if I succeed in rescuing my child," said
the lady. "But have they set out on the expedition?"

"By this time, no doubt they have," replied Fancy. "I got off by saying
I would ride on to Pendle Hill, and, stationing myself on its summit,
give them a signal when they should advance upon their prey. And now,
good mistress, I pray you dismiss me. I want to cast off this shape,
which I find an incumbrance, and resume my own. I will return when it is
time for you to set out."

The hag waved her hand, and the familiar was gone.

Half an hour elapsed, and he returned not. Mistress Nutter became
fearfully impatient. Three-quarters, and even the old hag was uneasy. An
hour, and he stood before them--dwarfish, fiendish, monstrous.

"It is time," he said, in a harsh voice; but the tones were music in the
wretched mother's ears.

"Come, then," she cried, rushing wildly forth.

"Ay, ay, I come," replied the hag, following her. "Not so fast. You
cannot go without me."

"Nor either of you without me," added Fancy. "Here, good mistress, is
your broomstick."

"Away for Pendle Hill!" screamed the hag.

"Ay, for Pendle Hill!" echoed Fancy.

And there was a whirling of dark figures through the air as before.

Presently they alighted on the summit of Pendle Hill, which seemed to be
wrapped in a dense cloud, for Mistress Nutter could scarcely see a yard
before her. Fancy's eyes, however, were powerful enough to penetrate the
gloom, for stepping back a few yards, he said--

"The expedition is at the foot of the hill, where they have made a
halt. We must wait a few moments, till I can ascertain what they mean to
do. Ah! I see. They are dividing into three parties. One detachment,
headed by Nicholas Assheton, with whom are Potts and Nowell, is about to
make the ascent from the spot where they now stand; another, commanded
by Sir Ralph Assheton, is moving towards the but-end of the hill; and
the third, headed by Sir Thomas Metcalfe, is proceeding to the right.
These are goodly preparations--ha! ha! But, what do I behold? The first
detachment have a prisoner with them. It is Jem Device, whom they have
captured on the way, I suppose. I can tell from the rascal's looks that
he is planning an escape. Patience, madam, I must see how he executes
his design. There is no hurry. They are all scrambling up the
hill-sides. Some one slips, and rolls down, and bruises himself severely
against the loose stones. Ho! ho! it is Master Potts. He is picked up by
James Device, who takes him on his shoulders. What means the knave by
such attention? We shall see anon. They continue to fight their way
upward, and have now reached the narrow path among the rocks. Take heed,
or your necks will be broken. Ho! ho! Well done, Jem,--bravo! lad. Thy
scheme is out now--ho! ho!"