The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) by John Pilkington (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📕

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It took some time to calm the old servant, seated on a bench at the side of the courtyard. Sergeant Lisle and I, along with the constables and my people, gathered about him. Someone offered him a costrel of ale, from which he drank a little. Finally, with much sighing, he told his tale.

The servants, it seemed, had fled, deserting their master in a body. It had happened the previous afternoon, after a message arrived for Cobbett. Until then the place had been a hive of unrest, before word came that Jane and Alison were safe. Thereafter, it appeared that the master of Ebbfield had become somewhat irrational, threatening everybody in sight. He had even thrown open a chest of coins and scattered them about, calling his servants thieves and varlets, telling them to take their share and run like the rats they were. In the end he had shut himself away in his chamber, with only Eliza Dowling to attend him.

‘Then where is he now?’ Lisle demanded sternly. ‘Do you tell me that he too has fled?’

‘Nay…’ Matthew peered up at him with rheumy eyes. ‘I did not say so. But he gave orders not to be disturbed.’

The sergeant sniffed. ‘Then I’m about to disappoint him.’

‘See now… you don’t understand,’ the old man answered, in an agitated voice. ‘He is not himself… he took to the chapel, early this morning. I fear for his safety…’

‘How so?’ I asked, throwing a swift glance at the sergeant. ‘Is he alone, or…’

‘I cannot be sure, sir,’ came the mumbled reply.

‘You say there are no servants remaining?’ Lisle asked after a moment. ‘Then, who made that barricade?’

‘Dan Tait built it,’ Matthew said, lowering his gaze. ‘That rogue… he’s been here again, demanding more money.’

‘More money for what?’ I enquired.

He looked up, letting out another sigh. ‘I cannot tell you, Master Justice. There are terrible secrets here…’ he glanced round. ‘You come as rescuers, sirs, but too late. Mayhap it was ordained that the Cobbett line would fail, after more than a century. For myself…’ he paused, then: ‘This is not the family I served from boyhood. Hence, I will testify, as I should have done long ago. But I pray you, spare me further questions now.’

And with that he sat back and closed his eyes, seemingly without a care as to what followed.

I turned to Lisle. ‘You hold the warrant, sergeant. Whatever action you take, we will aid you.’

‘I know that, Master Justice.’

He drew himself to full height and looked round. ‘We’ll go to the chapel at once and arrest Cobbett - and if anyone tries to prevent us, they too will be taken. Given the man’s likely state of mind, I ask you to charge your pistols.’ He eyed the constables who nodded, content with his leadership.

‘What of the nurse - Dowling?’ I asked. ‘She is still here, it seems.’

‘I have no orders concerning her,’ Lisle answered. ‘Perhaps you should speak with her about the daughters, since you appear to be acting as their guardian.’

I made no reply; I knew Eliza Dowling was the last person Jane and Alison Cobbett wished to see. With a last glance at Matthew, slumped on the bench, I turned to the matter in hand.

The seven of us, armed and watchful, walked around the side of the house, to where the chapel stood. There was nobody in sight, nor was there a sound from the stables. Had even the horses bolted? Taut as a bowstring, I followed Lisle and his people up the pathway, with Elkins and Lockyer close behind. On reaching the door the sergeant lifted the latch and pushed, then turned to the rest of us.

‘Locked.’ He frowned. ‘I’m loth to break it, this being a holy place.’

‘Is there no other entrance?’ One of the constables asked, a stocky fellow who looked as if he was spoiling for a fight. He busied himself making his pistol ready, as did the others.

‘I think not,’ I told him. My eyes strayed to the grassy patch where Hester and I had witnessed the burial of Susanna Cobbett, and found myself frowning: the grave was unmarked.

‘Mayhap the old servant has a key,’ Elkins said.

But Lisle turned away, and startled everyone by banging hard upon the door. ‘Open up! He shouted, leaning close to the timbers. ‘In the name of the Crown!’

We waited, every man alert. After a moment I believed I heard a voice, and saw that others had heard it too. But no-one came to the door. With the first sign of frustration he had shown, the sergeant rattled the latch and thumped again.

‘It’s no sin to break it,’ the stocky constable remarked. ‘We’re on Crown business… a door can be repaired.’

I found myself glancing up at the stained-glass windows. I even wondered if some sense of remorse had come over Cobbett, in his predicament. Surely, with his daughters now free, he had guessed that all had been revealed? The thought raised my anger once again.

‘I’m with the constable,’ I said. ‘If you wish to break the door in, my servants will assist.’

There was a pause, each man looking at his fellow. At last Lisle nodded, and would have given the order – whereupon there came a sound that made us start: the crash of breaking glass.

Whirling about, I saw a figure emerging clumsily from a broken window at the side of the chapel, cursing roundly. Coloured glass was everywhere, shards falling from his clothing as he squeezed himself through to land in an untidy heap. At once he scrambled to his feet - but on doing so, he found himself surrounded by a group of armed men. With a whimper, he stared about like a frightened rabbit.

‘Tait?’ I peered at him. ‘What in