The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Mercifully Tamhas did not ask Chloris the same question. Nevertheless it brought about an immense sense of unease about her secret negotiations. She could not begin to imagine how she would respond if Tamhas asked her.

“If he even looks at you,” Tamhas told his wife, “look away. There is witchcraft in those eyes of his and no woman is safe when he is around.”

Tamhas looked Chloris’s way again, obviously expecting a reaction to his comment.

Chloris put down her cutlery. “Witchcraft?”

“The things that go on, cousin dear...” Tamhas narrowed his eyes.

Was he thinking about Eithne? Chloris wondered.

His mood was dark. Tamhas was a distinguished-looking man and could be quite charming at times, but he also had a temper on him and Chloris had experienced it early on in life. As a result she was always a little tense in his presence—always ready to stand up to him, if necessary.

Jean shook her head disapprovingly then gestured at the serving girl who was standing by waiting to take the plates, indicating that she was finished. The girl moved around the table, causing a minor distraction for which Chloris was grateful.

After the serving girl had gone, Jean leaned closer to her husband. “You fear for his influence over women? Do you think it is true, what they say about them...when they gather together as a coven?”

There was a distinct look of curiosity in her eyes. Chloris wondered if Jean was as eager to know what exactly went on when these people came together as she was.

“Their activities obey no rules,” Tamhas replied, “no decent bounds.”

Jean dabbed her neck with her handkerchief, her cheeks flushing.

“No respect for the rules of the king or Church,” Tamhas continued, his thoughts clearly deeply occupied. “They are heathens, no better than animals.”

Chloris’s thoughts reeled. Could she stop Master Lennox coming?

I have to go through with it, everything depends upon it.

Her belief in his powers had grown solid and she had to concentrate on his ability, not his dubious reputation. If she thought about the potential result she could be brave. Yet there was no guarantee the ritual he described would engender any change in her, and she risked great disapproval from her cousin—who had allowed her to visit these past weeks, when her husband was on the brink of casting her into the streets with nothing but the clothes she stood up in.

“You would be wise to quell your curiosity about them,” Tamhas told his wife. “Let the men deal with these vermin. The fair sex should mind their doors and be wary.”

Everything he said only made Chloris more uncomfortable about the arrangement she had made for that night. Why had she been foolish enough to allow him to come to the house?

Tamhas still pontificated on the matter, including Chloris in the conversation. “You would not remember our grandfather, Lucas, but when I was a wee lad he took me to see a witch burning.”

Jean looked astonished. Her attention was all his. “Oh, Tamhas, you never told me.”

“It was disturbing, that is why, but it never left my mind, just as Lucas planned. My grandfather was protecting his family for generations to come by teaching us what to look out for. I’d already seen good Christian folk in their coffins, at peace. There is no peace for those who worship the Devil.” He paused to shake his head in disgust. “Kicking and screaming and cursing us all they were, as they were led to their end.”

Was it guilt, fear or injustice that made them do that? Chloris wondered.

“It must have been quite a sight.” Jean looked enthralled.

“Three of them there were, two women and a man. One of the women, she was wickedness incarnate. She cursed everyone there, cursed their cattle and harvests and offspring.”

Jean crossed herself. “Did they hang them?”

Tamhas nodded. “The rope first, then they lit the kindling that had been built at their feet. They burned the bodies to be sure the demons were gone. It is necessary, you see, this double death. We thought they would be dead after the hanging, but one of the women was so evil that the Devil kept his slave alive and put breath in her lungs, and whe

n the flames lit her gown, a terrible scream issued from her. Even while she burned, she seemed to live on until she was burned to bone and ashes.”

Chloris took her serviette to her mouth and then dabbed her forehead quickly, for she felt quite ill at her cousin’s lurid description.

“Their flesh melted like wax candles. I will never forget the stench. Inhuman they were.”

Jean frowned. “Wouldn’t any person smell bad on burning?”