The Devil's Plague Read Online Free Page B
escaped it unscathed - it had filled him with dread and a dark sense of foreboding from the moment he had set foot in it. And those dark red eyes were still weighing heavily on his raddled mind. Keen to put as much distance between themselves and Bewdley as possible, Davenant's group trudged wearily onwards. No one had spoken for hours, as if in some way speech would sap whatever energy they had left in their somnolent bodies.
It was Underhill's legs that buckled first.
"We need to rest now," said Charles.
"Where are we?" Davenant turned to Turnbull, who handed him a rough map scrawled upon a tattered piece of parchment, before tending to Underhill. "We're here, on the outskirts of Ombersley." He said, answering his own question.
"My sister lives in Ombersley." Underhill piped up. "She can put us up for a while."
"I wouldn't wish to impose," replied Davenant. "And I doubt that she will have room for all of us."
"I'm sure we can squeeze in. If not, there's a perfectly good tavern in town that will put us up."
Davenant noted the blatant desperation in his tone that longed for rest. "Very well," he said. "Ombersley it is."
As the group joined the narrow thoroughfare which ran through the heart of Ombersley, they witnessed the working day creak into action. The noise and bustle began to grow into an incessant din with every passing cart, wagon, coach and opening shutter. Merchants and tradesmen spilled from dilapidated hovels to take their places on the street. All kinds of trades were on offer - butchers, bakers, barbers and blacksmiths. Within an hour, Ombersley was thrumming. A gaggle of nearby whores had cleverly set up shop adjacent to the Kings Arms, an imposing building that dominated the narrow street, its steep-pitched roof almost touching its opposite neighbours'. The whores, who were flaunting their wares in full view of mothers and children, waited patiently for the drunkards, the husbands, brothers and fathers of Ombersley, to fall out of the pub and take advantage of the services on offer. Their entrepreneurial skills seemed to know no end - a tariff was even etched onto a nearby wall to avoid any confusion or drunken bartering.
Underhill could barely take his eyes off them.
"Maybe some day, wee man," Middleton smirked, as he brought Underhill out of his trance. "Although let me give you a piece of advice. Avoid the red heads like the plague. Unless you want a dose of the pox."
Davenant wandered idly down the street, grateful for the respite Ombersley offered his companions. As he weaved through the commotion a poster, crudely attached to a weathered old beam, caught his eye.
EXOD. 22.18.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
BY ORDER OF PARLIAMENT
The trials of Mary Cavendish, Faith Howard and Anne Underhill on the charge of Witchcraft.
And how they bewitched Men, Women, Children, and Cattle to death: with many other strange things, the like was never heard of before.
7th September, St Andrew's Church, Ombersley
As Davenant processed the information before him, his heart seemed to drop in his chest. The name Underhill had registered immediately...
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sun Inn, Long Marston
July 1st, 1644
"Of course you know who I am," spat Cromwell. "I am the Lieutenant General, not some grubby cannon fodder. And if you would be as kind as to answer my question, do I know you?"
The strange man didn't answer immediately. For the briefest of seconds, as he stared into the stranger's eyes, Cromwell could have sworn he noticed a glint of red in his black, hollow pupils.
"I am a friend, my Lord, a friend who comes with a proposition. Charles Stuart is a man of blood. I see you as Gideon, the Jewish farmer, summoned to lead the army of the Israelites to kill their Kings." Under any other circumstance, Cromwell would have had his men arrest the stranger. But the malevolence in his eyes and the tone of his voice held him in their thrall. "You're about to partake in
It was Underhill's legs that buckled first.
"We need to rest now," said Charles.
"Where are we?" Davenant turned to Turnbull, who handed him a rough map scrawled upon a tattered piece of parchment, before tending to Underhill. "We're here, on the outskirts of Ombersley." He said, answering his own question.
"My sister lives in Ombersley." Underhill piped up. "She can put us up for a while."
"I wouldn't wish to impose," replied Davenant. "And I doubt that she will have room for all of us."
"I'm sure we can squeeze in. If not, there's a perfectly good tavern in town that will put us up."
Davenant noted the blatant desperation in his tone that longed for rest. "Very well," he said. "Ombersley it is."
As the group joined the narrow thoroughfare which ran through the heart of Ombersley, they witnessed the working day creak into action. The noise and bustle began to grow into an incessant din with every passing cart, wagon, coach and opening shutter. Merchants and tradesmen spilled from dilapidated hovels to take their places on the street. All kinds of trades were on offer - butchers, bakers, barbers and blacksmiths. Within an hour, Ombersley was thrumming. A gaggle of nearby whores had cleverly set up shop adjacent to the Kings Arms, an imposing building that dominated the narrow street, its steep-pitched roof almost touching its opposite neighbours'. The whores, who were flaunting their wares in full view of mothers and children, waited patiently for the drunkards, the husbands, brothers and fathers of Ombersley, to fall out of the pub and take advantage of the services on offer. Their entrepreneurial skills seemed to know no end - a tariff was even etched onto a nearby wall to avoid any confusion or drunken bartering.
Underhill could barely take his eyes off them.
"Maybe some day, wee man," Middleton smirked, as he brought Underhill out of his trance. "Although let me give you a piece of advice. Avoid the red heads like the plague. Unless you want a dose of the pox."
Davenant wandered idly down the street, grateful for the respite Ombersley offered his companions. As he weaved through the commotion a poster, crudely attached to a weathered old beam, caught his eye.
EXOD. 22.18.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
BY ORDER OF PARLIAMENT
The trials of Mary Cavendish, Faith Howard and Anne Underhill on the charge of Witchcraft.
And how they bewitched Men, Women, Children, and Cattle to death: with many other strange things, the like was never heard of before.
7th September, St Andrew's Church, Ombersley
As Davenant processed the information before him, his heart seemed to drop in his chest. The name Underhill had registered immediately...
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sun Inn, Long Marston
July 1st, 1644
"Of course you know who I am," spat Cromwell. "I am the Lieutenant General, not some grubby cannon fodder. And if you would be as kind as to answer my question, do I know you?"
The strange man didn't answer immediately. For the briefest of seconds, as he stared into the stranger's eyes, Cromwell could have sworn he noticed a glint of red in his black, hollow pupils.
"I am a friend, my Lord, a friend who comes with a proposition. Charles Stuart is a man of blood. I see you as Gideon, the Jewish farmer, summoned to lead the army of the Israelites to kill their Kings." Under any other circumstance, Cromwell would have had his men arrest the stranger. But the malevolence in his eyes and the tone of his voice held him in their thrall. "You're about to partake in
Readers choose
Henry Kuttner
Elizabeth Goldsmith
Kathleen O`Brien
Spencer Rook
Phil Nova
Alicia Scott
James Haynes
S.G. Schvercraft
The Katres' Summer: Book 3 of the Soul-Linked Saga
Priscilla Masters