Part 61 (1/2)
”Was I the central subject of the reverend's rantings? If so, I should at least ask for a percentage of the coin he made off my name!”
”The central subject was the Devil, ” Green said. ”And how we're to get out of this town still wearin' our skins.”
”After the reverend is done, you'll still have your skins, but your wallets will be missing.” He was wandering from the point of his mission, and doing himself no good. ”But please... there is the magistrate's request to consider. As I said, if you'll give me the key, I might-”
”No, ” Green interrupted. ”Much as I despise to leave my home, the prisoner's my charge, and no hand shall unlock her cage but my own. Then I'll escort the both of you to the magistrate.”
”Well... Mr. Green... I think that, in light of the reason to stay and defend your-” But Matthew was left talking to the air, as the giant gaol-keeper turned and entered his house.
His plan, tenuous at best, had already begun unraveling. Obviously Green was wary of Matthew's intentions. Also, the red-bearded monolith was faithful to duty even to the point of leaving his wife and child on this Satan-haunted eve. The man was to be commended, if Matthew wasn't so busy cursing him.
In a few moments Green emerged again, wearing his nights.h.i.+rt over his breeches and heavy-soled boots on his feet. Around his neck was the leather cord and two keys. He carried a lantern in his left hand and his right paw brandished, to Matthew's great discomfort, a sword that might be used to behead an ox. ”Remember, ” he said to his wife, ”keep this door latched! And if anyone even tries to get in, let out the loudest holler your lungs ever birthed!” He closed the door, she latched it, and he said to Matthew, ”All right, off with you! You walk ahead!”
It was time, Matthew thought, for his second plan.
The only problem was that there was no second plan. He led Green toward the gaol. He didn't look but, from the way the flesh on the back of his neck crawled, he a.s.sumed Green kept the sword's point aimed at it. The barking of a dog further up on Harmony Street caused a second canine to reply from Industry, which Matthew knew would be no soothing melody to Green's nerves.
”Why wasn't I told about this?” Green asked, as they approached the gaol. ”If it is such a necessary part of the law. Couldn't it have been done in daylight?”
”The law states the accused in a witchcraft trial shall be afforded the opportunity for confession no more than six hours and no less than two hours before execution. It is called the law of... um... confessiato.” If Jerusalem could get away with his rite of sanctimonity, Matthew figured he might employ a similar stratagem. ”Usually the magistrate would visit the accused's cell in the company of a clergyman, but in this case it is impossible.”
”Yes, that makes sense, ” Green admitted. ”But still... why wasn't I told to expect it?”
”Mr. Bidwell was supposed to inform you. Didn't he?”
”No. He's been ill.”
”Well, ” Matthew said with a shrug, ”there you have it.”
They entered the gaol, Matthew still leading. Rachel spoke to the lights instead of the persons carrying them, her voice wan and resigned to her fate. ”Is it time?”
”Almost, madam, ” Matthew said stiffly. ”The magistrate wishes to see you, to allow you opportunity for confession.”
”For confession?” She stood up. ”Matthew, what's this about?”
”I suggest you be silent, witch, for your own good. Mr. Green, open the cell.” He stepped aside, feverishly trying to think of what he was going to do when the key had turned.
”You step over there, away from me, ” Green instructed, and Matthew did.
Rachel came to the bars, her face and hair dirty, her amber eyes piercing him. ”I asked you a question. What is this about?”
”It is about your life after you leave this place, witch. Your afterlife, in a faraway realm. Now please hold your tongue.”
Green slid the key into its lock, turned it, and opened the cage's door. ”All right. Come out.” Rachel hesitated, gripping the bats. ”It's the law of confessia.s.sho! Come on, the magistrate's waitin'!”
Matthew's mind was racing. He saw the two buckets in Rachel's cell, one for drinking water and the other for bodily functions. Well, it wasn't much but it was all he could think of. ”By G.o.d!” he said, ”I think the witch wants to defy us, Mr. Green! I think she refuses to come out!” He stabbed an urgent finger at her, motioning toward the rear of the cell. ”Will you come out, witch, or shall we drag you?”
”I don't...”
”By G.o.d, Mr. Green! She's defying the magistrate, even at this final hour! Will you come out, or will you make things difficult?” He added the emphasis on the last three words, and he saw that Rachel was still puzzled but she'd realized what he wanted her to do. She retreated from the bars, stopping only when her back met the wall.
”Matthew?” she said. ”What game is this?”
”A game you will regret, madam! And don't think speaking so familiarly to me shall prevent Mr. Green from going in there and dragging you out! Mr. Green, have at it!”
Green didn't budge. He leaned on his sword. ”I ain't goin' in there and risk gettin' my eyeb.a.l.l.s scratched out. Or worse. You want her so b.l.o.o.d.y bad, you go get her.”
Matthew felt the wind leave his sails. This was becoming a farce worthy of a drunken playwright's most fevered scribblings. ”Very well then, sir.” He clenched his teeth and held out his hand. ”Your sword, please?”
Green's eyes narrowed. ”I'll go in and drag her out, ” Matthew pressed on, ”but you don't expect me to enter a tiger's den without a weapon, do you? Where's your Christian mercy?”
Green said nothing, and did not move. ”Matthew?” Rachel said. ”What's this-”
”Hush, witch!” Matthew answered, his gaze locked with the giant's.
”Ohhhhh, no.” A half-smile slipped across Green's mouth. ”No, sirrah. I ain't givin' up my sword. You must think me a proper fool, if you'd believe I'd let it out of my hand.”
”Well, someone has got to go in there and pull her out! It seems to me it should be the man with the sword!” By now Matthew was a human sweatpond. Still Green hesitated. Matthew said, with an exasperated air, ”Shall I go to the magistrate and tell him the execution will be postponed because the law of confessiato cannot be applied?”
”She doesn't care to confess!” Green said. ”The magistrate can't force her to!”
”That's not the point. The law says...” Think, think! ”... the accused must be afforded an opportunity, in the presence of a magistrate, whether they want to confess or not. Go on, please! We're wasting time!”
”That's a d.a.m.n ridiculous law, ” Green muttered. ”Sounds just like somethin' from a bunch of highwigs.” He aimed his sword at Rachel. ”All right, witch! If you won't move on your own will, you'll move at a p.r.i.c.k on your a.r.s.e!” Sweat glistening on his face, he entered the cell.
”Look how she steps back!” Quickly, Matthew set his lantern on the floor and entered directly behind him. ”Look how she hugs the wall! Defiant to a fault!”
”Come on!” Green stopped, motioning with the sword. ”Out with you, d.a.m.n it!”
”Don't let her make a fool of you!” Matthew insisted. He looked down at the buckets and made the choice of the one that was about half-full of water. ”Go on!”
”Don't rush me, boy!” Green snapped. Rachel had slid away from him along the wall toward the bars of the cell Matthew had occupied during his incarceration. Green went after her, but cautiously, the lantern in his left hand and the sword in his right.
Matthew picked up the water bucket. Oh G.o.d, he thought. Now or never!
”I don't want to draw blood, ” Green warned Rachel as he neared her, ”but if I have to I'll-”
Matthew said sharply, ”Look here, Mr. Green!”
The giant gaol-keeper whipped his head around. Matthew was already moving. He took two steps and flung the water into Green's face.
It hit the behemoth directly, blinding him for an instant but an instant of blindness was all Matthew had wanted. He followed the water by swinging the empty bucket at Green's head. Wham! went the sound of the blow, wood against skull, and skull won. The st.u.r.dy bucket fairly burst to pieces on impact, leaving Matthew gripping the length of rope that had served as its handle.
Green staggered backward, past Rachel as she scrambled aside. He dropped the lantern and collided with the bars with a force that made the breath whoosh from his lungs. His eyes had rolled back in his head. The sword slipped from his fingers.
Then Green toppled to his knees in the straw, the floor trembling as he hit.