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Chapter 28

Tatscombe Hall, Wealdshire. 1517

'Imps! Imps! They tried to kill me. Fetch the priest.'

'Hush, father.' Elizabeth, still looking deathly pale, was trying to comfort her father. She had never seen him looking terrified before. She almost felt sorry for the old rogue. 'I know not what you saw, but I cannot think that there were imps in the house.'

'Do you doubt me, daughter!' Sir James snapped. 'I know what I saw! Imps, I tell you!' The shouting brought on a fit of coughing. For a few minutes he was unable to speak. 'Please fetch the priest,' he wheezed. 'The house must be blessed.'

Realising that there was no chance of persuading her father that he had been imagining things, and remembering the black spectre which had spoken to her, Elizabeth decided that a visit from the priest might not be such a bad idea. Seeing Sarah hovering nervously nearby, she bade her fetch someone who could ride. When Sarah had gone, she asked her father which priest should be fetched.

'I care not which priest, as long as he doth bring holy water and say his prayers in every room.'

'I fancy you would prefer Father John of Frogley Heath, but Lambsgrove is closer. Shall I send for Father Nicholas?'

'Aye, but make haste. I shall not feel easy until the house is blessed.'

When the steward appeared outside the door and stood looking in nervously at Sir James, who was still leaning against the wall and looking as if his days were numbered, Elizabeth ordered him to ride to Lambsgrove immediately and fetch the priest. Thinking that his master was close to death, and wished to receive the last rites before he passed away, the steward raced to the stable as fast as his legs would carry him.

'Where is your mother?' Sir James suddenly asked, his face showing concern. 'Is she safe? The imps may have harmed her?'

'I am sure she is still asleep, Father. You know how she enjoys her rest in the afternoon.'

'Go quickly to her chamber. I must know that she is unharmed.'

While Elizabeth went upstairs, Sir James staggered to the door and stepped outside. Holding on to the door frame to steady himself he glanced down at the ground. 'What is this?' he said to himself. 'This mark was left by an imp.'

When Father Nicholas arrived, he studied the footprint. 'Indeed, this is a most unusual mark. I know of no shoe which could make this print. But whether it was made by an imp I cannot tell. I am sure that imps go barefoot.' Bending down to look more closely at the footprint, he suddenly began to laugh.

'What causes thy mirth, Father?' enquired Sir James.

'I fancy this is not an impish print, Sir James. Methinks thou art the butt of a cruel jape.'

'A jape? What makest thou say so?'

'Pray, look closely. There is something writ here. I discern the word 'sport' in the print. Does that not suggest a jape to you? Aye, someone has had good sport here this day.'

Sir James was far from convinced. 'Sport?' he spluttered. 'A jape? I cannot think this is so. I know what I did see. Two imps. Their arms and legs were long and white. They wore no clothes. They flew threw the air at me. Aye, sir, they were flying imps. Their feet did not touch the ground.'

The priest looked up. 'Jape or no jape, there is a mystery here, for if the imps' feet did not touch the ground — how did their feet leave these marks?'

Sir James decided to change the subject before the priest suggested that perhaps he had imagined the imps to fly. 'Jape or no jape, Father, I fancy that my house has been tainted with evil. Wilt thou anoint its walls with holy water?'

While Father Nicholas visited each room, holding up his crucifix, sprinkling holy water, and praying that any evil spirits present should depart immediately (and apologised to Lady Jane for having disturbed her afternoon nap whilst wondering how she had managed to sleep throughout the clamour resulting from the impish visitation), Sir James stood in front of the house and pondered on what further steps he could take. His ponderings were interrupted by the return of his son Simon. What news, my boy?' he asked.

Simon shook his head. 'I have ridden for miles and seen no sign of him. I have asked two score people if they have seen the wretch. If any do know of his whereabouts, they are saying nothing. Perhaps if I was to use my whip to loosen their tongues?'

'No, my boy,' said Sir James, placing his hand on his son's arm.' There are more urgent matters deserving of our attention now.'

When Sir James had related all that had happened, he said that he wanted to take some additional measures to ensure the safety of the household.

'Surely the prayers of the priest will suffice,' Simon suggested.

Sir James sighed. 'Aye, they may. But prayers I cannot see. And holy water dries away to nothing. I prefer safeguards that I can talk to and command. I will mount a guard outside our doors this night.'

'Dost thou wish me to take a turn?' asked Simon, praying fervently that his father wouldn't want him to spend a whole night shivering out of doors.

'Nay, you may stay in your bed. I have no wish to find you have been the victim of impish tricks. The steward and one other will suffice.'

'Very well, Father. At what time will you mount the guard?'

'One hour after sunset.'

Simon shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 'I am expecting Thomas Poulet this evening. Wilt thou permit him to visit?'

'Of course he may visit, but I think it would be advisable to ask him to leave before we bolt the doors.'

'It will be so, Father. Our business will not take long.'

Elizabeth sat in an ornately-carved oak chair and made herself busy embroidering a bonnet. Every now and then she patted her pocket to reassure herself that she still had the funny little object which Chris had given her. Although she hated the sight of Thomas Poulet, she wanted to be sure that she was in the parlour with her parents when he arrived. Custom dictated that the visitor would be brought to the parlour to exchange pleasantries before retiring to Simon's chamber. Elizabeth forced herself to smile as she listened to Thomas's account of his day's hunting but, all the time, was wondering why her parents were so easily deceived by this scoundrel. She had heard many tales of his exploits — and none were complimentary.

When he felt that sufficient polite conversation had been exchanged to satisfy etiquette, Simon asked his parents to excuse the two of them as they wished to discuss some private business.

I must get upstairs immediately, Elizabeth thought, but what excuse can I make? Several ideas had occurred to her during the previous few hours but she had rejected them all. What can I do? Quick. Think of something. 'Ow! she cried, as she jabbed her finger with a needle. 'I have pricked myself. I must ask Sarah to give me a dab of her ointment.' Without giving either of her parents the opportunity to suggest an alternative course of action, Elizabeth hurried to the door and headed up the stairs.

Removing Chris's object from her pocket, she crept stealthily along the corridor towards Simon's room. What if I am found? she asked herself. The task had seemed so simple when she had agreed to do it, but now that she was actually preparing to lie down on the floor, she just knew that she was going to be caught in the act. Please God, she prayed, let no-one see me. And, if what I am doing is sinful, please forgive me.

As she stretched out and tilted her head sideways to peep beneath the door, one of the floorboards creaked. She held her breath. When she saw that the door wasn't going to fly open, she moved her hand closer to the gap. Another creak, louder this time. She knew she hadn't caused it because she was as still as a gravestone. Someone in the room was approaching the door. I have fainted, she decided. Aye, if Simon sees me I will pretend to have been taken ill. The footsteps came closer to the door — then stopped. Elizabeth was unable to prevent her body from shaking. I will pretend I am having a fit, she thought. Another movement inside the room. The feet were going away. As quickly as she could, Elizabeth pushed the remote controller under the door and prepared to press the button. Which button? There were so many. I think it is this one. She pressed it. Suddenly, a tiny red eye glared at her from inside Simon's room. What was it? Was it the eye of a demon? Her brain was urging her to get up and flee but she forced herself to look under the door again. With some relief, she saw that the eye was under the bed. It must be the strange box, she decided. It is looking at me to tell me that it has woken up.

Shortly after sunset, Simon and Thomas returned to the parlour where Thomas thanked Sir James and Lady Jane for their hospitality and bade them a good night. While Simon was seeing him out, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She wondered if the strange box had managed to do whatever it was supposed to do. She wondered if her brother had said anything to incriminate himself. Tomorrow she would find out.

When Simon returned, he asked his father if he wished all the doors to be barred. Sir James rose from his chair by the blazing fire and agreed that there was no point in waiting any longer. As they left the room, Elizabeth got up and prepared to go to her chamber. With the light fading fast, she could do no more stitching. She could have moved closer to the fire, but the flickering light was not ideal for needlework and, more importantly, the sooner she was asleep, the sooner she would discover if the box had done its work. She kissed her mother on the cheek and left the parlour.

Daniel gazed up at the night sky. Dark clouds with silvery edges fired his imagination as they sailed past the full moon, occasionally obscuring it completely. He could see witches riding broomsticks and dragons swishing their long, tooth-fringed tails. Grotesque gargoyles peeped at him from behind the dark trees and threatened to creep invisibly towards where he stood. Spectral figures prodded the back of his neck with their cold, skeletal fingers. The mist, rising from the ground, was transformed into wraiths which called his name in shrill whispers. He shivered and tucked his chin further into the woollen scarf.

Imps, he thought. What does an imp look like? How big are they? How canst I fight an imp with only this cudgel to protect myself? The steward blew on his hands and then took a firm grip on the heavy stick tucked beneath his arm. He looked up at the eight octagonal chimneys. His master had said that the imps had come through the door. He would have expected them to enter and leave by one of the chimneys. Didn't they come from hell where the fires of damnation burned for all eternity? Then he looked back towards the trees. The priest had blessed the house — but he hadn't blessed the forest — or the ground where he was standing. He shivered again. It was after midnight now and he had not spoken to another human being for several hours. Perhaps he should go to the back of the house and see if Timmy was all right.

'The wind doth blow, doth blow. doth blow

It chills my nose and hand and toe —

Who's there! I am armed. Keep away foul fiend.'

'It's me, Timmy — Daniel.'

'How do I know 'tis you and not an evil spirit disguised as you?'

'Because evil spirits don't clip ears — but stewards who are fed up with being outside all night — do!'

'Ow!'

'Hush, lad, or thou wilt waken the whole household.'

'But you smacked my ear.'

'So I did, so I did. And I will smite thee harder if thou dost not stay awake.'

'I be awake. I was making up a song to keep my eyes from closing.'

'Aye, I heard ye. And if I can hear ye — so can all the demons from hell. Thou must stay silent.'

'Dost thou think the master did see some imps?'

'Who knows what the master saw. But we must do what we have been bidden and protect the master's house. If you see anyone enter or leave by the back door, you know what you must do.'

'Aye, I do. I must smack his ear as thou hast smacked mine.'

'Good lad. I will visit thee later.'

'The wind doth blow, doth blow. doth blow

Or else he will tan my hide.'

Daniel made his way back to the front of the house and sought shelter from the cold wind between a bush and the wall of the house adjacent to the door. The clouds now covered the sky and the hiding moon offered little light. He chuckled to himself as he thought of Timmy singing his silly song. 'The wind doth blow, doth blow. doth blow,' he found himself singing. 'Fie! Why is it that silly songs creep into your brain and refuse to leave.' He shook his head vigorously to try to shake out the song. 'Get thee hence, nonsense song.'

What was that!

Daniel stayed as still as he could, and listened. Had he heard a sound? No, 'tis only the house creaking as all houses are wont to do at night. Again — a scratching? No, 'tis more the sound of something being dragged. The bar on the door! Someone is unbarring it. Can imps pass through solid timber or must they open doors?

He crept closer to the door and raised his cudgel above his shoulder. Sir James had ordered him to use whatever means he chose to arrest anyone or anything which tried to enter or leave the house. Whatever this was, it was trying to leave. There was a dull thud as the bar was placed on the floor. Then a creak as the door began to open. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment and said a silent prayer. Protect me, Lord, and let me fell this creature whate'er it may be. Very slowly the door was opening. I must neither be too hasty nor too tardy. The moment I see the creature's head I will —

Daniel brought the cudgel down with all his might. He missed the head but managed to strike the dark creature's back. It fell without a sound. Relieved that the night was now too dark to allow him to see the creature, Daniel rushed into the house and made a hullabaloo. 'Master! Master! I have killed your imp! Come quick. Make haste afore the devil comes to take him home.'

Simon lay on his front before the hearth in the parlour. Lady Jane knelt at his side, weeping and holding a handkerchief to her eyes. Sir James had removed his son's coat in order to inspect the damage to his back and shoulders. There was a long graze, and some bruises were beginning to appear, but there were no fragments of bone protruding from the skin. Sarah had been sent to fetch her ointment. Daniel was standing in a dark corner, as far away from the candles as he could get, and trying to make himself as small as possible. He nervously played with his cap and rehearsed the story which he would tell to Sir James. Elizabeth, holding a candle to light her way, went to close the front door. As she stood on the threshold, she glimpsed a faint flicker on the path. Something was reflecting the flame of her candle. She bent down and picked it up. The goblet!

When Elizabeth returned to the parlour, her brother was beginning to groan. Lady Jane was still crying but, this time, her tears were of relief that her son was not dead. Daniel had moved forward a little and was straining to see over Sir James' back, as if to reassure himself that he had not committed a murder with his cudgel. Sarah had fetched the ointment and was gently applying it to Simon's back. The ointment does burn, thought Elizabeth. Perhaps that is what has awakened him. Uncertain what to do with the goblet, she hesitated before quietly placing it on the hearth. If her father had noticed, he said nothing.

When Sarah had finished her ministrations, she stoppered her jar, stood up, and stepped back.

'Is my back broken?' Simon asked in a feeble voice.

'I think not, my son. See it thou canst turn over.'

With many moans and groans and mumbles and grumbles, Simon managed to roll over onto his side, and then to slowly get himself into a sitting position.'

'How dost thou feel?' asked Lady Jane, touching his cheek gently.

Screwing his face up into a mask of pain, Simon said he felt as if a carriage had run over him.

Sir James stroked his son's head and asked, 'What wert thou doing out of doors at this hour, foolish boy.'

'Out of doors? I remember nothing. Did the imps try to carry me off?'

Elizabeth scrutinised her brother's face very carefully. Having had years of practice, she knew when he was being untruthful. At this very moment, she thought, he is telling lies.

Sir James turned and gestured to Daniel, who closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. 'I think we must ask Daniel to tell us what happened. Daniel — come forward and tell us what you saw.'

Daniel shuffled forwards so slowly that Sir James called, 'Make haste, man. Tell us all.'

The steward looked down at Simon and, for a second, thought he saw an evil glint in his eye. 'I . . . I am truly sorry, master. I . . . I did as you bade me and . . . when I saw the door o . . . open . . . ing, I brought my cudgel down and . . . and fetched him one, sir. If I'd known that it were Master Simon . . .' He saw the evil glint again.

'What do you say, Simon. Has Daniel's story helped to stir your memory?'

Daniel tried to look mystified (But he doesn't fool me, thought Elizabeth) and pouted his lower lip to emphasize his confusion. 'I can only think that I was walking in my sleep.'

Ha-ha, thought Elizabeth. If anyone believes that, they are without a brain. Determined not to let her brother get off the hook so easily, she caught her father's eye before throwing a glance at the silver goblet which was standing on the hearth behind Simon.

Sir James took the bait. 'Elizabeth, where didst thou find the goblet?' he asked, staring at the object on the hearth.

Elizabeth kept her eye on her brother when she replied that she had found the goblet outside the door. She saw him turn over towards the hearth so fast that he seemed to have made a full recovery. He stared at it for some time, and Elizabeth knew that he was busily fabricating a story to account for his having been in possession of it.

When he eventually rolled back, he said, 'I remember now. I found the goblet in my chamber. As I could not find a candle, I decided to take the goblet outside where there was a full moon so that I could see if it was the one which was missing.' The look of triumph on his face was not missed by Elizabeth. Neither, when she heard Daniel's feet shuffle, did she miss the fleeting look of perplexity in the steward's eyes.

Ask him what he was doing finding missing goblets after midnight, Elizabeth urged her father silently. Ask him why he couldn't find a candle. Ask him why he didn't take the goblet to the window to see it clearly. Ask him why he is taking us all for fools. She suddenly thought of something. 'Daniel,' she said, 'why did you enter the house shouting that you had killed an imp. Surely you could see that you had struck my dear brother.'

Daniel shuffled again. Come on, you dolt, implored Elizabeth soundlessly, say that it was too dark to see him. Say that the moon was hidden.

'I . . . I fancy I was so . . . so frightened that I . . . I did not take a good look at who I had walloped.'

Elizabeth screamed in her head. At least Daniel had the grace to lower his eyes when she stared at him. She was so angry at Simon lying his way out of trouble that she felt her blood beginning to boil. What he said next, however, caused her anger to turn to horror and disgust.

'I wonder how the goblet came to be in my chamber,' Simon mused, with the hint of a sly grin. 'Mayhap the thief decided to return it and, at the same time, to make it seem that I had stolen it.' He waited for his poison to seep in. 'I do not think that Caleb returned the goblet. I fancy he had an accomplice.' As he said this, he looked up at Sarah — as did everyone else in the room.

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