Chapter 1
The damp chill hung heavily about the trees and undergrowth. The moon
danced fretfully between the clouds, appearing as suddenly as it
would disappear. Like a child's game of hide and seek it showed its
face then fled from view. But not before painting the night landscape
with silver fingers that cast claw like shadows throughout the
heavily wooded forest.
The eerie stillness of the night was broken by a shrill scream of a
woman followed by a cacophony of numerous dogs barking. It echoed
through the ages. Tore at the fabric of time. A dense fog hung in the
air like the devil's breath. Cloying, choking, smothering, it
surrounded her and invaded her heaving lungs almost drowning her. Her
ragged breathing as she fled her pursuers pounded in her ears. Her
heart and lungs were fit to explode.
Fear clung about her person. The pungent stink of sweat soaked her
clothes despite the chill. Then the baying of the hounds loomed
closer. The sound filled her ears. She collapsed against a tree
gasping for breath. Her legs would carry her no further. Choking,
gasping sobs emerged from her strangled throat as she sought to pull
air into her lungs. Her desperate attempt at fleeing had failed. She
had nowhere to run. Pulling her ripped torn skirts and petticoats
ripped in the desperate chase around her she suppressed her sobs and
her fears and turned to defiantly face her accusers. Gathering her
courage around her like a shield and knowing that the end was near
she raised her chin proudly and faced this malevolent accuser whom
was the herald of her doom.
Even here in the cold frigid air as she closed her eyes and imagined
her fate, she could smell her burning flesh as she perished in the
flames. But in acknowledging her fear came a calm that gave her
courage to face her destiny. Salem's witch hunter had claimed another
victim.
He stalked his victim like the predator he was. Circling around her,
unclothing her with his eyes. Cyrus Herrick leered into the face of
the woman who had refused him. His hand reached out snakelike and
captured her throat in a vice like grip of iron. She gasped but she
made no move to fight him, just raised her chin proudly higher with
contempt. Her pale blue eyes were full of dislike, but there lingered
pity in their depths well. Herrick would rather she hate him. It was
a pity to waste such beauty, such innocence and lay it at the altar
of death. He sensed a woman of passion that lingered under her
surface shy demeanor, just laying dormant, waiting for her awakening.
Alas, he might have failed here with her but there was other flesh to
hunt for now. Looking into her pinched frightened face he tried one
last time.
`You only have to say the words�and I'll save you.' He hissed into
her ear.
She recoiled from the stench of his breath, her skin crawling at his
closeness. `I'd sooner burn in hell.' She spat at him her eyes
flashing defiance.
`Well Mistress Lacey. That I can oblige you with, you have denied me
to long.' He retorted savagely. `Burn for your sins you will.'
`If it be god's will. Till my dying breath I will deny you.' She
whispered hoarsely as the other pursuers with their baying hounds and
flaming torches burst through the undergrowth and confronted her in a
circle. Cyrus released her roughly and turned to face the mob.
Constance closed her eyes and thought of her dark haired green-eyed
love, her betrothed who was away seeing to his business and who knew
nothing of her plight and the jealous advances of the man before her.
She knew in her heart he would be too late to save her, she ached for
his grief, for they're lost chance at love.
Constance Lacey turned and faced those before her. In her clear but
soft tones, she spoke and halted the progress of those surrounding
her. `I'm innocent of all charges laid against me.' Her blue eyes
highlighted by the flickering flames from the torches stared down
every man that surrounded her. She leveled a finger at Herrick. `Tis
a man's lust that has brought about my downfall. I refused his
advances and he accuses me of witchcraft.' She gave an ironic laugh
that had in it no mirth. ` I am betrothed to a man I love and honour.
I'd sooner die than betray him, betray our love. Let my death be on
all your consciences, so no other woman suffers my fate at the hands
of this creature�.'
Cyrus Herrick's hand snaked out and slapped her cheek, drawing blood.
It trickled in a scarlet trail slowly down her chin. `Be silent
devil's spawn� you're fate is of your own making.'
Constance licked at her lip and tasted blood. It's metallic taste
filled her mouth with a sour bitter tang. Eyes full of hate bored
into his. `You will face your maker one day sir�and if I've sinned by
denying you my body, no doubt I'll meet you in hell.' she hissed for
his ears only.
With rotten blackened teeth he gave a feral grin. `No doubt Mistress
Lacey.' He reached out and grabbed her golden hair that had loosened
from its bonds beneath her linen cap. He pulled her towards him `Till
we meet again my love. We will one day you know�this is not the end..
This is only the beginning.' He added maliciously.
And cruelly he dragged her by her hair into the waiting mob.
**********************
Two men struggled to hold the taller man still. He squirmed in their
grip his rage making his hard to control. But they held him fast till
the fight went out of him and he collapsed limply on the wooden
settle by the fire. He rested his head in his hands for a few
minutes. When he eventually raised his head, it was with a face that
was carved from stone but his eyes were reddened and swollen. The
last few days had aged his handsome features considerably. Grief was
etched indelibly in every line and his face was pinched and drawn.
The stark whiteness of his lace collar that contrasted with his black
coat just added to the pallor of his skin and his long dark hair hung
limp and matted about his face. But deep within his eyes burned a
fire and a hatred that had Jonas frightened. He knew his brother to
have the devil's own temper when roused. Looking down now at the
grief stricken man sitting on the settle he chewed at his lip worried
about the consequences of the last week's events. In the depths of
those bright green eyes there was a flicker of rage and the hint of
vengeance. He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder in a gesture of
wordless comfort. Green eyes so full of pain and grief looked blankly
about the small sun kissed parlour observing the surroundings. Once
laughter reigned freely here, as did joy. Kenneth's future bride had
loved this room and it still reflected that love in the little signs
of her touch. The lovingly embroidered cloths and cushions that she
had given to her betrothed as gifts, to make her future home
comfortable and welcoming.
Kenneth would have done anything in the world for the gentle girl he
had known and loved since childhood. He would have brought the very
stars down from the sky to decorate her ears. Gowned her in cloth
made from moonbeams. But all his happiness had fled the world the day
his love, his betrothed had been burned at the stake, accused of
witchcraft. All because of the foul lust of one man, a self-
proclaimed protector of the faith, a zealot. A witch hunter who
preyed on the souls of the innocent, a devil working under the guise
of all that was good and holy in the world. A man who hid his primal
lusts for the flesh behind a fa�ade of godliness.
As the green eyes darkened in hate Jonas felt the need to speak. He
too grieved for his brother's loss. He too had cared for Mistress
Constance Lacey,a spirited but gentle loving lass, and also a friend
of his childhood days who had adored his youngest brother with all
her heart.
He too remembered a young Constance trailing a six year old Kenneth
about the fields as a toddler amusing his older brothers no end and
providing many opportunities for teasing and leg pulling of their
younger sibling. But Kenneth had shown nothing but patience with the
lass.
He too remembered a youthful beauty that had dragged his youngest
brother up onto her own mount and ridden across miles of fields when
he had fallen from his bolting horse and broken his leg. It was
always known hereabouts that Kenneth Radcliffe would marry Constance
Lacey. Their two families looked on indulgently and encouraged the
alliance. But now that dream was naught but ashes blowing in the
wind. Ashes as free as Constance Lacey's soul was from earthly cares
and hurts, God rest her soul.
He looked for guidance from their middle brother Thomas. But there
was to be no guidance had from that source. Thomas was every bit the
firebrand as his youngest brother Kenneth. He would need to summon
all his ability with words to talk sense into this pair of hotheads.
`Ken�Constance would not want you throwing your life away for
naught.' Jonas spoke earnestly. Kenneth looked up the blind fury on
his face making his chiseled features flare into life. His red rimmed
green eyes flashed fire. Jonas took a step back away from his younger
brother's scalding rage.
`For naught? Shall that creature go unpunished for what he did? Jonas
I cannot believe I am hearing this, from you of all people.' Kenneth
pounded his fist into his hand and he sounded incredulous. `He took
my love and burned her for a common witch. Burned her at the stake
here in the very town we live in, before all who knew of her. Knew of
her sweetness and gentle ways. And no one thought to put a halt to
him. You were all too scared.' He stood and paced before the fire his
booted feet ringing on the flagstones of the cottage floor. `My own
sweet love�so innocent..' his voice cracked and his hand dashed at
his eyes, wiping away the tears. `Vengeance will be mine Jonas� I
will avenge her death. If it is the last thing I do, this I do swear
on my life.' Bleak eyes watched both his older brothers.
`Kenneth's in the right of it and well you know it Jonas.' Thomas
added as flung himself carelessly down on the settle to stare
gloomily into the fire. He kicked at a falling log with his booted
foot stirring the flames and making them spark. `Justice must be
done. At our own hands if it be necessary.'
`But for what ends? Think on this folly. Cyrus Herrick is a powerful
man about these parts.' Jonas tried with a sinking heart to make them
both see reason. Their family had suffered enough with Constance's
death and he knew his younger brothers too well, there would be more
bloodshed.
`It is a matter of honour Jonas.' Thomas insisted heatedly.
`Aye Thomas, my honour and that of Constance's. I have vowed to clear
her name.' Kenneth said as he stopped pacing.
`Aye more like get yourself killed..' Jonas eyed his two younger
brothers and sighed. `I can see tis no use talking to you both, you
have already made up your minds. That is as plain as day. I guess
there is nothing but for me to come along then.'
The two younger brothers looked stunned. `Well what do you take me
for? Yea I am a peaceable man, but I too want justice for the
innocent. I too want justice for Constance. So what's it to be lad?'
Jonas looked calmly at Kenneth.
`We watch, we wait. He'll not be able to control his base driven
lusts no more than the sun can stop rising.' Kenneth
sneered. 'Herrick's like a rutting dog in heat. We bait the trap
well and then, god willing vengeance will be mine.'
Kenneth walked over and unlatched the small lead paned window. He
rested his head against the weather worn wooden frame inhaling the
chill fresh air and willed the lacerating gut wrenching pain, his
constant companion of the last few days to leave him be. He would
know no peace till he was dead and his enemy with him. He closed his
eyes and summoned a pair of haunting blues eyes to his memory. Her
perfume filled his senses, she seemed so close that he could almost
reach out and hold her close. But Kenneth knew it was all an illusion
of his longing. `Soon my love�soon we'll have eternity. This I do
vow and swear.' A lone tear tracked slowly down his cheek. He made no
move to remove it but let it fall unheeded onto the stone floor.
Chapter 2
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