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

wound is healing, Master Justice,’ he said. ‘Though I’m a mite sore in the mornings.’ He regarded me with his shrewd look. ‘You are in health, I trust?’

I assured him I was, and spoke briefly of recent events: the departure of the Cobbett girls along with their servant. Yet he seemed unwilling to dwell on the matter. I believed I knew why, but it was only later, with the passage of time, that I gained a truer understanding: that Lisle saw the grim climax of events at Ebbfield as a failure on his part. To a man like him, duty was everything. His orders had been to arrest Giles Cobbett and bring him in to await trial, and he had fallen short.

‘Worcester is abuzz with the affair,’ he told me, with a wry look. ‘Cobbett will achieve a fame he never expected, if not for reasons he’d have wished.’ He gestured towards the stairhead. ‘Well now, shall we proceed?’

So, for the last time I followed him down to the gloomy cellars, but as we reached the lower floor I stayed him. ‘I heard she is in better spirits, is it so?’

‘Indeed, sir… her health is fair, given the weeks she’s spent here. And I’d wager today will bring the healing she needs.’ He paused, then: ‘The matter has been arranged as you requested, by permission of the Justice. Are you prepared?’

‘Most certainly,’ I answered - which was a lie. I was aflutter with doubt, at pains to keep it hidden. And as we walked to the end of the cellar, my unease arose as to whether I had done aright.

I would bring Agnes Mason away, out of Worcester with speed before the gates shut for the night. It was believed to be the best course of action, given feelings that still prevailed towards the supposed witch. The knowledge of Giles Cobbett’s deeds that had leaked out was piecemeal, and doubtless clouded with gossip and rumour. And though there was no crowd of angry townsfolk outside the Guildhall now, the need for caution was paramount.

Yet, I would not be alone to escort Agnes to freedom: my companion-in-arms, as I had requested as a favour from Standish, was now standing before me by the door of her cell: her jailer, grim-faced and silent.

‘Now, Master Burton,’ I said, with forced cheerfulness. ‘Are you ready for our little journey?’

He barely grunted, but under Lisle’s eye was forced to do his office. Wordlessly, he took the bundle of keys from his belt and fitted one to the lock. As the door swung open he stood back, his eyes on the floor.

‘Mistress Mason?’ I took a step inside, peering about in the gloom; it seemed an age since I was last here. I was rewarded with a rustling of straw - and at once, she was before me.

‘Master Justice.’

She met my gaze, causing me to draw a sharp breath. I’m uncertain what I had expected to find: a figure emaciated and shrunken, perhaps, hair matted with neglect – but I was wrong. She appeared unchanged, standing calm and erect in a different frock to the one I remembered… whereupon she guessed my thoughts, and reminded me.

‘It’s the one you sent,’ she murmured; she even managed a faint smile. ‘Whoever wore it must have been close to me in size. It’s somewhat grand, yet I’m most beholden to her – and to you.’

‘Are you ready to go?’ I asked, somewhat briskly. ‘I have horses…’

She gave a shrug. ‘I have nothing to take with me, save the lice.’

I turned and got myself outside, so abruptly that Burton took an involuntary step back. As Agnes too left the cell he stiffened, scowling at his boots. But nothing was said as the four of us, led by Lisle, walked to the stairs and began to climb. Up in the hall people stared at the ex-prisoner, some in unfriendly fashion; not everyone was pleased to see the one they called Mother Blackcat walk free.

But we passed to the doors without challenge, to emerge in the gathering dusk. Here atop the steps, the sergeant-at-arms and I said our brief farewell. As he went back inside he threw me a warm look, that spoke of both friendship and respect.

Standing close to Agnes, I realised that this was her first moment outdoors in more than a month. I turned to see her with eyes closed, breathing deeply in the eventide air. ‘It’s but a short while now,’ I said. ‘Once we’re clear of the city, you will be with your family within the hour.’

I turned to Burton, who stood like a post, his lips tight-shut. He was armed with pistol and poniard, and wore a coat that, I now realised, had a hood.

‘Are you afraid someone will recognise you?’ I said, keeping my face blank.

‘No more than you are – sir,’ he answered. ‘But I’m under orders to be guided by you… can we go?’

I pointed to where the boy I had hired stood with the horses: Leucippus, a mare for Agnes and a horse from the Guildhall stable, saddled and ready. So, with a glance from side to side, we stepped down to the street and walked quickly to the mounts. I had to help Agnes, who was unused to riding. But once in the saddle, she took the rein and threw me a look of relief.

‘I had begun to think this day would never come,’ she said.

I made no reply, but tugged Leucippus’s rein and led the way through the streets. Agnes rode with difficulty, trying to stay close while Burton brought up the rear, hooded and watchful. But the town was quiet, and nothing prevented us. Within minutes, as church bells clanged, we had made our way to the west gate, then passed through to the bridge. There was a creak as the great doors closed behind