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

‘I have not yet thanked you,’ she said.

‘Your freedom is thanks enough,’ I said, and promptly cursed myself for my feebleness.

‘It is not,’ she replied. But after that, she was silent.

The journey downriver to Powick was an easy enough ride in the dusk, with a rising moon which would help to light my way homewards. My fears of being waylaid proved groundless, which occasioned some relief from Burton. As we neared the Teme bridge, having kept in the rear for most of the way, he urged his horse forward and gained my attention.

‘This is as far as I go,’ he said. ‘The village will be taking to their beds, and the road ahead is clear.’

I drew rein, as did Agnes, who eyed the man warily. A moment passed, but he could not depart so easily. He had his orders, and under my gaze strove to execute them with what grace he could muster.

‘I ask your pardon, Mistress, for what I did back at the Guildhall,’ he muttered, avoiding her eye. And when she made no response: ‘I have something for you.’

He fumbled at his belt and produced a small purse. Its contents, of course, had been provided by me, but I had no wish for Agnes to know it. She hesitated, then took the purse in silence. Whereupon the man wheeled his mount, shook the rein and rode away without looking back. Even from a distance, I saw his shoulders sag in relief.

As he disappeared, Agnes turned in the saddle to face me. ‘This is your doing,’ she said.

I shook my head. Her eyes shone in the dim light, or so it seemed; what an old fool I had become.

‘Let’s get clear of Powick,’ I said. ‘Then we should walk the horses, for I have things to tell you.’

We passed through the village, where all was quiet save for noises from the inn. Once on the lane to Cobbett’s tenant farms, we slowed pace and at last dismounted. As I helped her down from the mare she stumbled, allowing the weight of her body to fall against mine; and though she righted herself at once, it was a taut moment. Had she given me the chance I would have embraced her… but it was not to be.

‘What is it you wished to say?’ she asked.

I drew a breath and told what had happened at Ebbfield, of which she had heard nothing; she knew that the charges against her were annulled, but not why. Hence, as we began leading the horses onwards, I found myself giving her the whole tale in brief, including the arrest of Tait and Humphreys. And when we drew close to the turning to his farm, she halted.

‘I will go to his wife soon,’ she said. ‘There may be things she and I should speak of.’

We moved on without further word. Night was falling fast, and I was keen to deliver her safely to her home, where Edward Mason and his wife would be waiting; a letter had been sent, with the news they craved. Yet at the same time I wished the last part of the journey would pass slowly, so that I might have these moments with her. After a while I ventured to ask what she would do now: would the family wish to remain, as tenants of whoever took over Ebbfield?

‘I cannot say,’ she answered. ‘Perhaps we’ll go elsewhere, if we can.’

On a sudden I halted, realising where we were. To our right, barely visible in the gloom, was the path to the Witching Pool. Agnes stopped walking too.

‘I doubt if anyone will go there for a good while,’ she said, nodding towards the treeline. ‘It’s a place of death, and old beliefs will linger long after I’m gone. Yet in time, people may forget…’ she touched my arm, causing me to turn sharply. ‘As must you, Master Justice.’

‘I cannot,’ I said.

Yet, here it was: what was always going to be our last moment together. As I looked down, she lifted her face and kissed me hard on the mouth, then drew away.

‘I will walk by myself from here,’ she said. ‘I like to walk in the night… and when I greet Edward and Isabel, it’s best we are alone.’

She had let the mare’s rein fall and was already backing along the narrow path, then she stopped.

‘I know why Giles Cobbett wanted me dead,’ she said. ‘He was afraid of me – afraid I would divine what he did to his daughter, as he believed I could divine for buried gold.’

I gazed at her. ‘And yet, you are no cunning-woman… or so you told me.’

‘I did,’ she answered. ‘But I see your fortune, Master Justice.’ She managed a smile, then: ‘I say you have little to fear, and everything to hope for. But wherever you are, whatever you do, you are always here.’

She put her hand to her heart, and pressed it there. Then she turned about and walked away with a sure and steady step, to vanish into the gloom.

***

I took my time riding homewards, leading the mare – Hester’s mare, in fact. All the while, I thought on the last hour I had spent with the woman accused of witchcraft; one who, I now believe, had always known more than she let anyone see. And though parting from her was a cup of bitterness, it had to be swallowed. I knew it as I walked Leucippus back towards Powick, leaving Newland Wood and its dark pool behind. I had no wish to go there again; besides, the fishing was too poor even to countenance.

On a sudden, I thought of riding to see Boyd on the morrow and suggesting