The Deathly Portent Read Online Free Page A

rallied, coming back with vigour. “Aye, that there be. Mighty ill it be to see Duggleby brought down for the spite of that devil’s daughter.”
    “Devil’s daughter? You speak of such before me, Tisbury, a man of the cloth?”
    “And why wouldn’t he?” came from behind Aidan in a snapping tone.
    He turned to confront the female he recalled as the landlord’s wife. “Ah, Mrs. Tisbury, yes.”
    She was a small scarecrow of a woman, with a mean mouth and piggy little eyes which sparked up at him as she spoke. “Aye, and I’d like fine to know as why you bain’t damned that witch, seeing as you be parson round these parts.”
    “My dear woman,” Aidan retorted, dangerously quiet, “we are not living in the Middle Ages. Exorcising evil spirits forms no part of my function here.”
    “No, for you takes and hides ’em in your house instead.”
    A young fellow in homespuns, whom Aidan recalled as the tapster, intervened at this point. “Bain’t no spirit, Mistress. The witch it be, for as Farmer Staxton’s boys said last night. Her’ve run away to the vicarage.”
    “If’n she bain’t flown there on a broomstick,” cackled an elderly individual from the corner, removing a clay pipe from his mouth.
    “Aye, you be free enough with your jesting, Pa,” snapped the landlord’s wife, “but she’ve gone too far this time.”
    “She bain’t got no broomstick, Mr. Wagstaff,” asserted the tapster, who had apparently no ear for wit.
    The landlord stepped in again. “Broomstick or no, I’ll see to her personal if’n she bain’t thrown in the lock-up.”
    An uneven ripple disturbed Aidan’s heartbeat, but he was buoyed by the familiar rush of iron that entered his backbone. He had not faced a tribe of spear-wielding savages without learning a trick or two. He allowed his voice to fall into the round, authoritative tones of the pulpit.
    “That will do!”
    The tavern fell silent. Both Tisbury and his wife looked thoroughly astonished, and the tapster’s mouth fell open. Before they could recover themselves, Aidan swept on.
    “The facts, it appears, have so far escaped your attention, but know this. Last night I gave shelter to a lady who was being treated in as barbaric a fashion as I have encountered. I have been out of England for some little time until recently, so I must plead ignorance to any possible changes in manners or custom. Yet it hardly seems possible that pelting a woman with stones has become common accepted practise.”
    Tisbury had the grace to look shamefaced, and the tapster reddened. Aidan looked from one to the other and then allowed his gaze to encompass the rest of the villagers present. They were few this morning, most presumably already at their work, but as Aidan’s gaze shifted from face to face, each dropped his eyes. At length, the aged jokesmith broke the tension.
    “That’s right, Reverend. Give ’em pepper. And if’n they won’t see sense, take and knock their heads together.”
    “You shut it, Pa.”
    Alone in the assembly, the landlord’s wife remained undeterred. Confronting Aidan, she thrust up her chin and her eyes snapped.
    “No one bain’t saying as them boys had ought to throw stones, Reverend. But that there Mrs. Dale bain’t no ordinary female. Dangerous her be. And if’n her bain’t gone and killed poor Duggleby, then my name bain’t Tisbury, neither.”
    A surrounding murmur, possibly of agreement, was backed up by the woman’s husband, although his belligerence had lessened. “It bain’t nowise nothing but the truth, Reverend. Mrs. Dale done it, and if’n I had my way, I’d send Will here for to fetch Constable Pilton to lock her up straight.”
    He flicked a hand at his tapster as he spoke, and the young fellow, recovering his countenance, perked up and nodded assent, yet looking ridiculously scared. “Bain’t the first time as her’ve said as her seen things, and then they happens. Her done it, Reverend, bain’t no doubt of