The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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"I am glad to see you drink, lad," he observed to Richard, as soon as
they were alone; "a cup of wine will do you good."

"Do you think so?" replied Richard, filling his goblet anew. "I want to
get back my spirits and strength--to sustain myself no matter how--to
look well--ha! ha! If I can only make this frail machine carry me
stoutly through the King's visit, I care not how soon it falls to pieces
afterwards."

"I see your motive, Dick," replied Nicholas. "You hope to turn away
suspicion from Alizon by this device; but you must not go to excess, or
you will defeat your scheme."

"I will do something to convince the King he is mistaken in me--that I
am not bewitched," cried Richard, rising and striding across the room.
"Bewitched! and by Alizon, too! I could laugh at the charge, but that it
is too horrible. Had any other than the King breathed it, I would have
slain him."

"His Majesty has been abused by the malice of that knavish attorney,
Potts, who has always manifested the greatest hostility towards Alizon,"
said Nicholas; "but he will not prevail, for she has only to show
herself to dispel all prejudice."

"You are right, Nicholas," cried Richard; "and yet the King seems
already to have prejudged her, and his obstinacy may lead to her
destruction."

"Speak not so loudly, Dick, in Heaven's name!" said the squire, in
alarm; "these walls may have ears, and echoes may repeat every word you
utter."

"Then let them tell the King that Alizon is innocent," cried Richard,
stopping, and replenishing his goblet, "Here's to her health, and
confusion to her enemies!"

"I'll drink that toast with pleasure, Dick," replied the squire; "but I
must forbid you more wine. You are not used to it, and the fumes will
mount to your brain."

"Come and sit down beside us, that we may talk," said Sherborne.

Richard obeyed, and, leaning over the table, asked in a low deep tone,
"Where is Mistress Nutter, Nicholas?"

The squire looked towards the door before he answered, and then said--

"I will tell you. After the destruction of Malkin Tower and the band of
robbers, she was taken to a solitary hut near Barley Booth, at the foot
of Pendle Hill, and the next day was conveyed across Bowland Forest to
Poulton in the Fyld, on the borders of Morecambe Bay, with the intention
of getting her on board some vessel bound for the Isle of Man.
Arrangements were made for this purpose; but when the time came, she
refused to go, and was brought secretly back to the hut near Barley,
where she has been ever since, though her place of concealment was
hidden even from you and her daughter."

"The captain of the robbers, Fogg or Demdike, escaped--did he not?" said
Richard.

"Ay, in the confusion occasioned by the blowing up of the Tower he
managed to get away," replied Nicholas, "and we were unable to follow
him, as our attentions had to be bestowed upon Mistress Nutter. This was
the more unlucky, as through his instrumentality Jem and his mother
Elizabeth were liberated from the dungeon in which they were placed in
Whalley Abbey, prior to their removal to Lancaster Castle, and none of
them have been heard of since."

"And I hope will never be heard of again," cried Richard. "But is
Mistress Nutter's retreat secure, think you?--May it not be discovered
by some of Nowell's emissaries?"

"I trust not," replied Nicholas; "but her voluntary surrender is more to
be apprehended, for when I last saw her, on the night before starting
for Myerscough, she told me she was determined to give herself up for
trial; and her motives could scarce be combated, for she declares that,
unless she submits herself to the justice of man, and expiates her
offences, she cannot be saved. She now seems as resolute in good as she
was heretofore resolute in evil."

"If she perishes thus, her self-sacrifice, for thus it becomes, will be
Alizon's death-blow," cried Richard.

"So I told her," replied Nicholas--"but she continued inflexible. 'I am
born to be the cause of misery to others, and most to those I love
most,' she said; 'but I cannot fly from justice. There is no escape for
me.'"

"She is right," cried Richard; "there is no escape but the grave,
whither we are all three hurrying. A terrible fatality attaches to us."

"Nay, say not so, Dick," rejoined Nicholas; "you are young, and, though
this shock may be severe, yet when it is passed, you will be
recompensed, I hope, by many years of happiness."

"I am not to be deceived," said Richard. "Look me in the face, and say
honestly if you think me long-lived. You cannot do it. I have been
smitten by a mortal illness, and am wasting gradually away. I am
dying--I feel it--know it; but though it may abridge my brief term of
life, I will purchase present health and spirits at any cost, and save
Alizon. Ah!" he exclaimed, putting his hand to his heart, with a fearful
expression of anguish. "What is the matter?" cried the two gentlemen,
greatly alarmed, and springing towards him.

But the young man could not reply. Another and another agonising spasm
shook his frame, and cold damps broke out upon his pallid brow, showing
the intensity of his suffering. Nicholas and Sherborne regarded each
other anxiously, as if doubtful how to act.

"Shall I summon assistance?" said the latter in a low tone. But, softly
as the words were uttered, they reached the ears of Richard. Rousing
himself by a great effort, he said--

"On no account--the fit is over. I am glad it has seized me now, for I
shall not be liable to a recurrence of it throughout the day. Lead me to
the window. The air will presently revive me."

His friends complied with the request, and placed him at the open
casement.

Great bustle was observable below, and the cause was soon manifest, as
the chief huntsman, clad in green, with buff boots drawn high up on the
thigh, a horn about his neck, and mounted on a strong black curtal, rode
forth from the stables. He was attended by a noble bloodhound, and on
gaining the middle of the court, put his bugle to his lips, and blew a
loud blithe call that made the walls ring again. The summons was
immediately answered by a number of grooms and pages, leading a
multitude of richly-caparisoned horses towards the upper end of the
court, where a gallant troop of dames, nobles, and gentlemen, all
attired for the chase, awaited them; and where, amidst much mirth, and
bandying of lively jest and compliment, a general mounting took place,
the ladies, of course, being placed first on their steeds. While this
was going forward, the hounds were brought from the kennel in
couples--relays having been sent down into the park more than an hour
before--and the yard resounded with their joyous baying, and the
neighing of the impatient steeds. By this time, also, the chief huntsman
had collected his forces, consisting of a dozen prickers, six habited
like himself in green, and six in russet, and all mounted on stout
curtals. Those in green were intended to hunt the hart, and those in
russet the wild-boar, the former being provided with hunting-poles, and
the latter with spears. Their girdles were well lined with beef and
pudding, and each of them, acting upon the advice of worthy Master
George Turbervile, had a stone bottle of good wine at the pummel of his
saddle. Besides these, there were a whole host of varlets of the chase
on foot. The chief falconer, with a long-winged hawk in her hood and
jesses upon his wrist, was stationed somewhat near the gateway, and
close to him were his attendants, each having on his fist a falcon
gentle, a Barbary falcon, a merlin, a goshawk, or a sparrowhawk. Thus
all was in readiness, and hound, hawk, and man seemed equally impatient
for the sport.

At this juncture, the door was thrown open by Faryngton, who announced
Sir John Finett.

"It is time, Master Nicholas Assheton," said the master of the
ceremonies.

"I am ready to attend you, Sir John," replied Nicholas, taking a
parchment from his doublet, and unfolding it, "the petition is well
signed."

"So I see, sir," replied the knight, glancing at it. "Will not your
friends come with you?"

"Most assuredly," replied Richard, who had risen on the knight's
appearance. And he followed the others down the staircase.

By direction of the master of the ceremonies, nearly a hundred of the
more important gentlemen of the county had been got together, and this
train was subsequently swelled to thrice the amount, from the accessions
it received from persons of inferior rank when its object became known.
At the head of this large assemblage Nicholas was now placed, and,
accompanied by Sir John Finett, who gave the word to the procession to
follow them, he moved slowly up the court. Passing through the brilliant
crowd of equestrians, the procession halted at a short distance from the
doorway of the great hall, and James, who had been waiting for its
approach within, now came forth, amid the cheers and plaudits of the
spectators.

Sir John Finett then led Nicholas forward, and the latter, dropping on
one knee, said--

"May it please your Majesty, I hold in my hand a petition, signed as, if
you will deign to cast your eyes over it, you will perceive, by many
hundreds of the lower orders of your loving subjects in this your county
of Lancaster, representing that they are debarred from lawful
recreations upon Sunday after afternoon service, and upon holidays, and
praying that the restrictions imposed in 1579, by the Earls of Derby and
Huntingdon, and by William, Bishop of Chester, commissioners to her late
Highness, Elizabeth, of glorious memory, your Majesty's predecessor, may
be withdrawn."

And with this he placed in the King's hands the petition, which Was very
graciously received.

"The complaint of our loving subjects in Lancashire shall not pass
unnoticed, sir," said James. "Sorry are we to say it, but this county
of ours is sair infested wi' folk inclining to Puritanism and Papistry,
baith of which sects are adverse to the cause of true religion. Honest
mirth is not only tolerable but praiseworthy, and the prohibition of it
is likely to breed discontent, and this our enemies ken fu' weel; for
when," he continued, loudly and emphatically--"when shall the common
people have leave to exercise if not upon Sundays and holidays, seeing
they must labour and win their living on all other days?"

"Your Majesty speaks like King Solomon himself," observed Nicholas, amid
the loud cheering.

"Our will and pleasure then is," pursued James, "that our good people be
not deprived of any lawful recreation that shall not tend to a breach of
the laws, or a violation of the Kirk; but that, after the end of divine
service, they shall not be disturbed, letted, or discouraged from, any
lawful recreation--as dancing and sic like, either of men or women,
archery, leaping, vaulting, or ony ither harmless recreation; nor frae
the having of May-games, Whitsun ales, or morris dancing; nor frae
setting up of May-poles, and ither sports, therewith used, provided the
same be had in due and convenient time, without impediment or neglect of
divine service. And our will further is, that women shall have leave to
carry rushes to the church, for the decoring of it, according to auld
custom. But we prohibit all unlawful games on Sundays, as bear-baiting
and bull-baiting, interludes, and, by the common folk--mark ye that,
sir--playing at bowls."[3]

The royal declaration was received with loud and reiterated cheers,
amidst which James mounted his steed, a large black docile-looking
charger, and rode out of the court, followed by the whole cavalcade.

Trumpets were sounded from the battlements as he passed through the
gateway, and shouting crowds attended him all the way down the hill,
until he entered the avenue leading to the park.

At the conclusion of the royal address, the procession headed by
Nicholas immediately dispersed, and such as meant to join the chase set
off in quest of steeds. Foremost amongst these was the squire himself,
and on approaching the stables, he was glad to find Richard and
Sherborne already mounted, the former holding his horse by the bridle,
so that he had nothing to do but vault upon his back. There was an
impatience about Richard, very different from his ordinary manner, that
surprised and startled him, and the expression of the young man's
countenance long afterwards haunted him. The face was deathly pale,
except that on either cheek burned a red feverish spot, and the eyes
blazed with unnatural light. So much was the squire struck by his
cousin's looks, that he would have dissuaded him from going forth; but
he saw from his manner that the attempt would fail, while a significant
gesture from his brother-in-law told him he was equally uneasy.

Scarcely had the principal nobles passed through the gateway, than, in
spite of all efforts to detain him, Richard struck spurs into his horse,
and dashed amidst the cavalcade, creating great disorder, and rousing
the ire of the Earl of Pembroke, to whom the marshalling of the train
was entrusted. But Richard paid little heed to his wrath, and perhaps
did not hear the angry expressions addressed to him; for no sooner was
he outside the gate, than instead of pursuing the road down which the
King was proceeding, and which has been described as hewn out of the
rock, he struck into a thicket on the right, and, in defiance of all
attempts to stop him, and at the imminent risk of breaking his neck,
rode down the precipitous sides of the hill, and reaching the bottom in
safety, long before the royal cavalcade had attained the same point,
took the direction of the park.

His friends watched him commence this perilous descent in dismay; but,
though much alarmed, they were unable to follow him.

"Poor lad! I am fearful he has lost his senses," said Sherborne.

"He is what the King would call 'fey,' and not long for this world,"
replied Nicholas, shaking his head.

CHAPTER VIII.--HOW KING JAMES HUNTED THE HART AND THE WILD-BOAR IN
HOGHTON PARK.

Galloping on fast and furiously, Richard tracked a narrow path of
greensward, lying between the tall trees composing the right line of the
avenue and the adjoining wood. Within it grew many fine old thorns,
diverting him now and then from his course, but he still held on until
he came within a short distance of the chase, when his attention was
caught by a very singular figure. It was an old man, clad in a robe of
coarse brown serge, with a cowl drawn partly over his head, a rope
girdle like that used by a cordelier, sandal shoon, and a venerable
white beard descending to his waist. The features of the hermit, for
such he seemed, were majestic and benevolent. Seated on a bank overgrown
with wild thyme, beneath the shade of a broad-armed elm, he appeared so
intently engaged in the perusal of a large open volume laid on his
knee, that he did not notice Richard's approach. Deeply interested,
however, by his appearance, the young man determined to address him,
and, reining in his horse, said respectfully, "Save you, father!"

"Pass on, my son," replied the old man, without raising his eyes, "and
hinder not my studies."

But Richard would not be thus dismissed.

"Perchance you are not aware, father," he said, "that the King is about
to hunt within the park this morning. The royal cavalcade has already
left Hoghton Tower, and will be here ere many minutes."

"The king and his retinue will pass along the broad avenue, as you
should have done, and not through this retired road," replied the
hermit. "They will not disturb me."

"I would fain know the subject of your studies, father?" inquired
Richard.

"You are inquisitive, young man," returned the hermit, looking up and
fixing a pair of keen grey eyes upon him. "But I will satisfy your
curiosity, if by so doing I shall rid me of your presence. I am reading
the Book of Fate."

Richard uttered an exclamation of astonishment.

"And in it your destiny is written," pursued the old man; "and a sad one
it is. Consumed by a strange and incurable disease, which may at any
moment prove fatal, you are scarcely likely to survive the next three
days, in which case she you love better than existence will perish
miserably, being adjudged to have destroyed you by witchcraft."

"It must indeed be the Book of Fate that tells you this," cried Richard,
springing from his horse, and approaching close to the old man. "May I
cast eyes upon it?"

"No, my son," replied the old man, closing the volume. "You would not
comprehend the mystic characters--but no eye, except my own, must look
upon them. What is written will be fulfilled. Again, I bid you pass on.
I must speedily return to my hermit cell in the forest."

"May I attend you thither, father?" asked Richard.

"To what purpose?" rejoined the old man. "You have not many hours of
life. Go, then, and pass them in the fierce excitement of the chase.
Pull down the lordly stag--slaughter the savage boar; and, as you see
the poor denizens of the forest perish, think that your own end is not
far off. Hark! Do you hear that boding cry?"

"It is the croak of a raven newly alighted in the tree above us,"
replied Richard. "The sagacious bird will ever attend the huntsman in
the chase, in the hope of obtaining a morsel when they break up deer."

"Such is the custom of the bird I wot well," said the old man; "but it
is not in joyous expectation of the raven's-bone that he croaks now,
but because his fell instinct informs him that the living-dead is
beneath him."

And, as if in answer to the remark, the raven croaked exultingly; and,
rising from the tree, wheeled in a circle above them.

"Is there no way of averting my terrible destiny, father?" cried
Richard, despairingly.

"Ay, if you choose to adopt it," replied the old man. "When I said your
ailment was incurable, I meant by ordinary remedies, but it will yield
to such as I alone can employ. The malignant and fatal influence under
which you labour may be removed, and then your instant restoration to
health and vigour will follow."

"But how, father--how?" cried Richard, eagerly.

"You have simply to sign your name in this book," rejoined the hermit,
"and what you desire shall be done. Here is a pen," he added, taking one
from his girdle.

"But the ink?" cried Richard.

"Prick your arm with your dagger, and dip the pen in the blood," replied
the old man. "That will suffice."

"And what follows if I sign?" demanded Richard, staring at him.

"Your instant cure. I will give you to drink of a wondrous elixir."

"But to what do I bind myself?" asked Richard.

"To serve me," replied the hermit, smiling; "but it is a light service,
and only involves your appearance in this wood once a-year. Are you
agreed?"

"I know not," replied the young man distractedly.

"You must make up your mind speedily," said the hermit; "for I hear the
approach of the royal cavalcade."

And as he spoke, the mellow notes of a bugle, followed by the baying of
hounds, the jingling of bridles, and the trampling of a large troop of
horse, were heard at a short distance down the avenue.

"Tell me who you are?" cried Richard.

"I am the hermit of the wood," replied the old man. "Some people call me
Hobthurst, and some by other names, but you will have no difficulty in
finding me out. Look yonder!" he added, pointing through the trees.

And, glancing in the direction indicated, Richard beheld a small party
on horseback advancing across the plain, consisting of his father, his
sister, and Alizon, with their attendants.

"'Tis she!--'tis she!" he cried.

"Can you hesitate, when it is to save _her_?" demanded the old man.

"Heaven help me, or I am lost!" fervently ejaculated Richard, gazing on
high while making the appeal.

When he looked down again the old man was gone, and he saw only a large
black snake gliding off among the bushes. Muttering a few words of
thankfulness for his deliverance, he sprang upon his horse.

"It may be the arch-tempter is right," he cried, "and that but few hours
of life remain to me; but if so, they shall be employed in endeavours to
vindicate Alizon, and defeat the snares by which she is beset."

With this resolve, he struck spurs into his horse, and set off in the
direction of the little troop. Before, however, he could come up to
them, their progress was arrested by a pursuivant, who, riding in
advance of the royal cavalcade, motioned them to stay till it had
passed, and the same person also perceiving Richard's purpose, called to
him, authoritatively, to keep back. The young man might have disregarded
the injunction, but at the same moment the King himself appeared at the
head of the avenue, and remarking Richard, who was not more than fifty
yards off on the right, instantly recognised him, and shouted out, "Come
hither, young man--come hither!"

Thus, baffled in his design, Richard was forced to comply, and,
uncovering his head, rode slowly towards the monarch. As he approached,
James fixed on him a glance of sharpest scrutiny.

"Odds life! ye hae been ganging a fine gait, young sir," he cried. "Ye
maun be demented to ride down a hill i' that fashion, and as if your
craig war of nae account. It's weel ye hae come aff scaithless. Are ye
tired o' life--or was it the muckle deil himsel' that drove ye on? Canna
ye find an excuse, man? Nay, then, I'll gi'e ye ane. The loadstane will
draw nails out of a door, and there be lassies wi' een strang as
loadstanes, that drag men to their perdition. Stands the magnet yonder,
eh?" he added, glancing towards the little group before them. "Gude
faith! the lass maun be a potent witch to exercise sic influence, and we
wad fain see the effect she has on you when near. Sir Richard Hoghton,"
he called out to the knight, who rode a few paces behind him, "we pray
you present Sir Richard Assheton and his daughter to us."

Had he dared so to do, Richard would have thrown himself at the King's
feet, but all he could venture upon was to say in a low earnest tone,
"Do not prejudge Alizon, sire. On my soul she is innocent!"

"The King prejudges nae man," replied James, in a tone of rebuke; "and
like the wise prince of Israel, whom it is his wish to resemble, he sees
with his ain een, and hears with his ain ears, afore he forms
conclusions."

"That is all I can desire, sire," replied Richard. "Far be it from me to
doubt your majesty's discrimination or love of justice."

"Ye shall hae proofs of baith, man, afore we hae done," said James. "Ah!
here comes our host, an the twa lassies wi' him. She wi' the lintwhite
locks is your sister, we guess, and the ither is Alizon--and, by our
troth, a weel-faur'd lass. But Satan is aye delusive. We maun resist his
snares."

The party now came on, and were formally presented to the monarch by Sir
Richard Hoghton. Sir Richard Assheton, a middle-aged gentleman, with
handsome features, though somewhat haughty in expression, and stately
deportment, was very graciously received, and James thought fit to pay a
few compliments to Dorothy, covertly regarding Alizon the while, yet not
neglecting Richard, being ready to intercept any signal that should pass
between them. None, however, was attempted, for the young man felt he
should only alarm and embarrass Alizon by any attempt to caution her,
and he therefore endeavoured to assume an unconcerned aspect and
demeanour.

"We hae heard the beauty of the Lancashire lassies highly commended,"
said the King; "but, faith! it passes expectation. Twa lovelier damsels
than these we never beheld. Baith are rare specimens o' Nature's
handiwark."

"Your Majesty is pleased to be complimentary," rejoined Sir Richard
Assheton.

"Na, Sir Richard," returned James. "We arena gien to flichtering, though
aften beflummed oursel'. Baith are bonnie lassies, we repeat. An sae
this is Alizon Nutter--it wad be Ailsie in our ain Scottish tongue, to
which your Lancashire vernacular closely approximates, Sir Richard.
Aweel, fair Alizon," he added, eyeing her narrowly, "ye hae lost your
mither, we understand?"

The young girl was not discomposed by this question, but answered in a
firm, melancholy tone--"Your Majesty, I fear, is too well acquainted
with my unfortunate mother's history."

"Aweel, we winna deny having heard somewhat to her disadvantage,"
replied the King--"but your ain looks gang far to contradict the
reports, fair maid."

"Place no faith in them then, sire," replied Alizon, sadly.

"Eh! what!--then you admit your mother's guilt?" cried the King,
sharply.

"I neither admit it nor deny it, sire," she replied. "It must be for
your Majesty to judge her."

"Weel answered," muttered James,--"but I mustna forget, that the deil
himsel' can quote Scripture to serve his purpose. But you hold in
abhorrence the crime laid to your mother's charge--eh?" he added aloud.

"In utter abhorrence," replied Alizon.

"Gude--vera gude," rejoined the King. "But, entertaining this feeling,
how conies it you screen so heinous an offender frae justice? Nae
natural feeling should be allowed to weigh in sic a case."

"Nor should it, sire, with me," replied Alizon--"because I believe my
poor mother's eternal welfare would be best consulted if she underwent
temporal punishment. Neither is she herself anxious to avoid it."