Daughter of Satan (11 page)

‘Pretty manners!' sneered Bartle, indicating Tamar.

‘Almost as pretty as your own,' retorted Richard. ‘She knows no better. You should.'

‘Oh, hang me, sir, draw me and quarter me! A witch's girl! A stay-out-late! A girl who sleeps in hedges! If she's not asking for it, who is? She ought to think herself honoured that I waste my time on her.'

‘She seems oblivious of the honour,' said Richard. ‘And even when it was almost forced upon her she did not appreciate it. But, Bartle, let us be serious. You know that all this talk of witchcraft wearies me. Of course you are not with me. You are as superstitious as any. Well, let us hope you will grow out of it. In any case, you will help me with this girl for your own reasons. Well, we both have our reasons. Now, promise me you will say nothing to anyone – not even your father – of the girl's being here. Give me your word as a gentleman.'

‘I give my word. Now have I your leave to retire?'

Richard nodded.

Bartle went on: ‘Good day to you, sir. Good day, Tamar.' He threw her a kiss. ‘To our next merry meeting. May it be as merry as this one.' He held up a hand. ‘See! it bears the mark of your teeth to remind me of you. Your gown is ugly. I hate your gown. I like you so much better without it.'

The door shut on him and they heard him singing as he went downstairs.

Richard looked at Tamar. What can I do with her? he asked himself. How can I hide her? He shrugged his shoulders. In spite of his outward calm, he was excited. Life had been
monotonous since the sudden death of that dear friend of his, the widow who had lived at Pennie Cross.

Tamar was eating noisily. Her eyes met his and she smiled.

Her trust in him was complete; and sensing it, he felt a pleasure which surprised him.

Tamar remained in Richard's study for two days before her presence was discovered; and she had herself to blame for that.

She was not yet accustomed to the grandeur of the room, and she would walk about it, touching the furnishings and the table, the bookshelves and the oak chest. She sat on the stools and the chair; she gazed in wonder at the tapestry. There was, moreover, a glass mirror with a most elaborate frame and this gave Tamar the first clear sight of her face; it was so fascinating to see herself as she appeared to others. Indeed, she was so completely occupied with the novelty of being in such a room that she forgot her fears. Her curiosity was to betray her.

Beyond the study was Richard's bedroom, and she was eager to see this for she was sure it would be wonderful She had never seen a bedroom used solely for sleeping in; beds to her were pallets of straw on the floors of cottages.

And so, the desire to see a real bedroom became too much for her. She went to the study door and peeped out into the corridor. There was no one about, but from the bottom of the stairs she heard the sound of voices. That came, she guessed, from the servants working in the kitchen.

She tiptoed along the passage until she reached the door next to that from which she had come. She lifted the latch and went in. This
WAS
his bedroom.

She had only meant to peep, but she could not resist further exploration. There was the bed, its tester and headpiece covered with such intricate carving that she must go near to examine it. The posts were carved with equal beauty. She felt the curtains gleefully and thought how wonderful it would be to sleep in such a bed, to pull the curtains so that she would be shut in a little room of her own. On the floor was a beautiful carpet of Oriental design; not that Tamar knew anything of its origin; she only knew that it was beautiful. There were what she thought of as carpets on the walls, all cleverly worked
in
petit-point
. There was a mirror of burnished metal in a frame which she thought of as gold. She ran to the chest and knelt to examine the figures carved upon it. She would have enjoyed opening the chest and peeping inside.

And then, suddenly, she felt a chill of horror run down her spine, for she knew, by instinct, that someone was at the door watching her.

She swung round, but she was too late to see who had been there. She only heard the rustle of garments and the sound of quick, light footsteps. Terrified, Tamar dashed to the door, but no one was in sight.

Tamar heard the shouts in the distance. They came nearer and nearer. Now they were right outside the house.

Richard ran into the study; she had never before seen him in a hurry.

He said: ‘My child, they have come for you They are almost here.'

In terror she flung herself at him and clung to his doublet. He disengaged her and put her from him, frowning.

‘You must stay here,' he said. ‘Don't move. You understand? If they see you, you are lost.'

She nodded.

He left her and she leaned against the door, an awful sickness coming over her. She saw herself seized and stripped; she felt the horrible pins jabbing into her. She saw them dragging her to the Hoe, and her body swinging on a gibbet. Tamar . . . dead . . . and the crows pecking at her.

Then she heard Richard's voice; strong, it seemed, and her spirits rose. He was not an ordinary man; he was a god. He was as different from other people as she herself was.

He was leaning over the balustrade of the gallery and looking down on to the hall in which the crowd had assembled.

‘What are you doing in my house?' he demanded. ‘How dare you come breaking in like this? I'll have you whipped, every one of you.'

Then Simon Carter spoke in his loud yet gentle voice.

‘Be calm, dear friend. We come on a peaceful mission. You know me. I am Simon Carter, and I am here to rid our land of
those who do evil in it. We have, two days since, hanged a witch, but before she died she told us of her sins. She had lain with the Devil, and of this unholy union a child was born. This child – Satan's own daughter – must be put to death at once. The town is unsafe while she lives. Nay, the country is unsafe. I have reason to believe she is here, and I must beg of you, good sir, I must entreat you, kind gentleman, to let nothing stand in the way of our taking her.'

‘Who gave you this news?'

‘Those who did would wish that their confidence was not betrayed. I am a respecter of wishes. I respect all those who work in the service of God. It is only those who consort with the Devil that I am here to denounce and punish with death. We know the girl to be in this house. I must, in the name of God and the law, ask you to give her up to me.'

‘And if I refuse? And if I say she is not here?'

‘Dear good sir, we should have no recourse but to search the house. It goes not well with those who obstruct the King's justice.'

‘So you have come here to take a child and ill-treat her.'

‘This is no human child, sir. This is the very spawn of the Devil. We are all born in sin, sir, and it is for us to wash ourselves clean of it in our passage through life. But this creature was born in filth, with all the wisdom of hell in her head. Her mother hangs rotting in the sun. I have learned much of her evil ways. We persuaded her to confess her sins. Ah! I have much evidence to take with me when I leave your fair county. The
old
witch worked a spell under our very eyes. She assumed death, but we have strung her up all the same, and she now dangles beside the other. Now, the child, sir . . . I give you a second or two to produce her . . . then we search the house.'

There was a short silence. Tamar, cowering behind the door, had heard every word.

They were coming up the stairs. They would take her, for even he could not save her. He was only one; and they were many.

Then he spoke:

‘You make a great mistake in coming here for the child.
Why should the Devil take a poor silly serving wench and get her with child? Such would be without sense. Is the Devil senseless? If he is like a lustful man and nothing more, you waste your time in seeking out his creatures. Come! Why should the Devil get a girl like Luce Lackwell with child? Why? Why? Do you agree that it is an action without purpose?'

‘This man prevaricates,' cried Simon Carter. ‘Let us waste no more time with him. Come, my friends, search the house!'

‘Be careful!' commanded Richard. ‘My friends down there – you who have come to take a child and submit her to indignity before you murder her – take care that I do not have you all thrown into prison for trespass.'

‘Master!' cried a man in the throng. ‘We but want the young witch. Give her to us, sir, for that's all we do want.'

‘You fools!' cried Richard. ‘Can you understand nothing? Have you not noticed all these years how I have watched over her? Ask the women of my kitchen. She has come here regularly for food. Clothes have been given her. Ask the girls, ask my housekeeper if I did not say that she was never to be turned away. You are stupid people. Is it not clear to you now? You were so anxious to give the girl a devil for a father that you did not see what was under your noses. What has the girl done but be the victim of a filthy story? Her mother lay with the Devil. Is that so?'

There was silence.

‘Is that so?' he shouted.

There was still no answer from below, and he went on in a loud and ringing tone: ‘I demand to know. Is there any other charge against her but that of her mysterious coming into the world? Speak to me there! You, Hurly. Don't stand gaping at me, man. What charge against the girl?'

‘Naught, sir,' stammered Hurly, ‘save that she be the child of the Devil.'

Then Richard laughed loudly. ‘Naught save that! Well, I have the girl here. And here she stays. Have you forgotten that Luce was my serving wench? And a comely one. Think you that I, having lost my wife, have always lived the life of a celibate? Think again, my friends; and this time think with
good sense. Luce's daughter is also mine. This girl here in my house is where she has a right to be, since she is my daughter.'

‘I had the woman's confession!' screamed Simon Carter. ‘She was at the witches' Sabbat and the Devil pursued her!'

‘She dreamed that. I visited her in her room. There was to be a child, so I married her off to Lackwell. Is that such an unusual story, so difficult to believe? Now, Simon Carter, get you out of my house, and if you are not gone in half a minute, I'll have you clapped in gaol. The magistrates of this town are friends of mine. I'll see they show you no mercy. And that is for all of you. Go! Unless there is any among you who dares doubt my story!'

He paused. No one spoke.

‘Go then!' he shouted. ‘But one moment. If any one of you dares harm my daughter, let him know that he will have me to answer to for his offence.'

He stood there, watching them turn sheepishly away. He did not move until the last of them had disappeared; then he stood for a moment looking down with disgust at the mess they had made on the tessellated floor of his hall.

He went into his study. He looked at Tamar and she looked at him. Her eyes were wide with faint wonder and disbelief; his held a hint of amusement.

Tamar thought: It is as though I have never really seen him before . . . nor he me.

WHEN RICHARD TOOK
Tamar down to the kitchen, the two serving girls, Moll Swann and Annis Hurly, were there with Mistress Alton.

Richard said mockingly: ‘Mistress Alton, I don't doubt that you heard the noise those people were making.'

The housekeeper nodded slowly, being too bewildered for speech. Her mind was full of images – the master and Luce Martin! The sly wanton, so mild all the time that she and the master . . . And that black-eyed creature the result! It was more than she could believe. She had known, of course, of the master's visits to the lady of Pennie Cross, who had recently died; but that lady was of the gentry. The master's lapses in that direction were deplorable but understandable. But Luce Martin! That slut! And she had always thought the master so fastidious. What could you know of anybody?

As for the two girls, they could only stare. They had been expecting to see Tamar searched, pricked and hanged; and instead, here she was standing before them.

‘If you heard the noise, you doubtless heard what was said,' went on Richard. ‘Then you will know of the relationship between this child and myself. I wish her to help in the house as her mother did, so I shall leave her with you. Teach her to become as thrifty a housekeeper as yourself.' He paused at the door. ‘And, Mistress Alton, I pray you, do not cut off her hair.'

Mistress Alton said afterwards to Betsy Hurly, when she came to talk over the affair, that she felt as though the wind had been taken out of her sails by what she's heard him say to the crowd, so that she felt becalmed. But for that she would
have told him she was not going to stay in his house and train his bastards.

As it was, the housekeeper merely nodded and he went out, leaving Tamar in her care.

Tamar advanced towards the table. There was silence in the kitchen. If they were bewildered, she was more so. She had just heard a most astounding revelation, and she knew that if she could have chosen her own father, she would have chosen him. But she did not really believe he had spoken the truth. He had said what he had said because he knew that it was the only thing that could save her. Tamar herself was certain that no human being was her father; and although it would be pleasant to be connected with the gentry, how could she abandon her belief in the secret power which could only come to her through the Devil?

And now, remembering that power in her which set her aside from all others, she was able to face the hostile eyes of the woman whom – ever since she had so callously smashed the seagulls' eggs – Tamar had known to be her enemy.

Mistress Alton's lips were moving; she was saying the Lord's Prayer, so Tamar knew that she herself was not the only one who refused to deny the Devil's part in fathering her.

The two serving girls were waiting for the housekeeper to speak, and Mistress Alton knew that she must exert her authority before those two. She still wore her cane dangling from her waist, and she used it frequently, but not so frequently as she had done on Luce and Annis' mother, Betsy. She was shorter of breath now, and those two were apt to giggle when being belaboured. That was humiliating; still, they were afraid of her tongue, if not of her cane.