Spine Chillers

2. Castle De’ath-1

CASTLE DE’ATH

Conrad Vorst slammed the door of his cottage shut with such force it caused the wood to shudder within its frame.

His poor young wife Inga sat up with a start. As was her habit, she had fallen asleep by the fire waiting for her husband to return from his meeting. Whenever Conrad and the Brotherhood met, she knew that there was a good chance he would not return home until way past dinner time.

Conrad was a Town Elder, and much respected throughout the community by those of a certain persuasion. At sixty-five he still had a straight back and an air of authority which garnered him, if not respect, then at least fear from those whose paths he crossed.

His position gave him immense power which, if truth be known, he secretly relished, although he would be the first to deny it if ever anyone had the temerity to ask him.

For above all else, Conrad considered himself to be a pious individual. Staunchly religious to the point of fervour, and able to quote the bible far better than even their parish priest.

Conrad’s first wife had died in mysterious circumstances while he was away on business for the state. It was alleged that he returned home to find her lifeless body lying prostrate at the bottom of the stairs.

Upon further examination, it was discovered that her throat had been cut.

No suspicion was ever cast towards Conrad, at least not by anyone who cared to voice it, and eventually a local man of limited intelligence and a propensity for overindulgence in alcohol, was convicted and hanged for the crime, albeit on flimsy and unsubstantiated evidence.

Rumours that Conrad had only married her for her family money were never substantiated, nor mentioned amongst those who knew better than to incur his displeasure.

After a brief period of mourning, Conrad married the daughter of one of his fellow elders. Inga was nearly half his age, but willing to accede to her father’s wishes that she should marry the aging widow.

Although Conrad made a habit of lecturing on the sin of fleshly love, he took his young bride whenever the urge took control. Afterwards, there naturally followed a session of prayer, where he would drag his wife to her knees and beg God’s forgiveness for their transgression.

If, after a suitable time on bended knee, Conrad felt that they had not been absolved, he would always blame his wife for acting in a seductive or alluring manner in order to entice him to debauchery and beat her across her n***d buttocks with a birch, until he was satisfied that their souls had been cleansed.

Over time, Inga had grown used to such flagellation, until the point of accepting it as a follow-on, or even a pre-requisite, from their union.

Inga rose from her seat and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Husband,” she enquired, respectfully. “Whatever is the matter?”

Without answering, Conrad began pacing up and down their narrow entrance, his hands clasped firmly against his ears as if to shut out some noise which only he could hear.

Such histrionics were not at all unusual in his case, especially when having just returned from a meeting. The root cause, Inga suspected, was the Baroness De Courtney who resided in a castle which sat above the town. As the evening sun began to set, the castle cast a long shadow over the area which, Conrad had decreed to anyone who would listen, demonstrated that the baroness had conjured up the Devil to join her in her nightly round of debauched depravity.

Conrad, much to his chagrin, was unable to exude any authority over the baroness, though not from want of trying. He had made a spectacle of himself in the town square the first time he confronted the baroness concerning his suspicions of the ungodly wickedness which she and her entourage indulged in within the walls of her castle, during the hours of darkness.

It was obvious from his reaction that Conrad had not been prepared for the ridicule and scorn which the baroness proceeded to pour on his assertions, leaving Conrad red-faced and humiliated in front of the very crowd he was hoping to impress.

From that day forth, the baroness had become the target of his constant rage.

However, as she was a distant cousin of the King, to all intents and purposes she was untouchable.

Such a circumstance did not however, stop Conrad in his quest to rid the vicinity of those reprobates which he believed were the cause of any and all misfortune which might befall the God-fearing people of the town. In his quest, Conrad had made it public that he intended to ride to London to elicit an order from the King himself, permitting him to take direct action against the baroness.

Gossip had it that the King had sent him on his way with a flea in his ear, and the promise that if any harm befell the baroness, he would hold Conrad personally responsible.

The truth of the matter was that Conrad had no actual proof of any depraved behaviour taking place within the castle walls, and to the majority of the townspeople-whether or not they admitted it to Conrad’s face-the baroness offered them protection as the King’s representative. But in his mind, the sheer decadence of someone in her position, meant that something had to be happening during her nightly banquets.

Some speculated that his insistence of nefarious activities at such affairs stemmed from the fact that he had never received an invite to one, nor was he ever likely to.

“Is something wrong, husband?” Inga asked, again, having received no answer from her first enquiry.

Conrad turned to face her. His eyes burning. “Wickedness!” he spat. “Wickedness and debauchery in that place of sheer evil.” He raised his hand and pointed behind him in the general direction of the castle.

Inga had been expecting such a response, so she merely nodded, and averted her gaze to demonstrate her modesty.

The gesture was not lost on her husband. “I am sorry my dear that you have to hear such harsh language from me,” he apologised. “But we cannot turn our eyes away while acts of such depravity and iniquity are happening right under our noses.”

He began to pace the floor once more, rubbing his hands together as if to keep out the cold, all the time muttering under his breath.

“Let me fetch you your supper,” Inga suggested. “You must be starving.”

Conrad turned on her. “You cannot expect me to eat at a time like this,” he taunted. “I must remain alert and focussed at all times. There is work to be done. God’s work.”

Inga sighed. “But husband, you’ve only just returned home, surely you have time to stop for some bread and stew before you set off again.”

Conrad raised his hand as if about to slap her across the face.

Inga turned her head to one side and closed her eyes, anticipating the blow.

But instead, Conrad slowly lowered his hand without striking. “Nothing must come between me and my work for God. Nothing!”

“But you have no evidence,” Inga offered, bravely. “If you approach the King again without solid proof, you might end up in the tower, or worse.”

Conrad spun round his face flushed with excitement. “Oh, but we have proof, oh yes we do. Three worthless girls caught leaving the confines of the castle earlier this day. Laughing and drinking, and acting in ways that are completely unrepentant, having previously satisfied their lustful ways along with that evil woman, the baroness. Yes, this is what we’ve been waiting for, now we will have all the proof we need,” he turned to look at his wife. “I go now to ensure a fair trial ensues, after which, we will finally have our justice.”

Inga knew better than to argue, so she merely nodded her understanding.

Conrad rode through the countryside on his way to the town hall. The sky was starting to turn dark as dusk began to settle. By now, the rest of the elders should have been summoned to order. Their work tonight would be arduous and taxing on their bodies as well as their spirits and minds, but it was nothing they had not been compelled to do before, and Conrad felt confident that they would not let him down.

Since the king had passed the new act, there was no longer a need for the elders to prove that death had resulted from the evil practice of witchcraft. So long as he could show that the suspects had indeed been in league with the Devil, Conrad could justify putting them to death.

The only burden now was having to prepare the gallows for their hanging. Although he had personally preferred the old system of burning them, the new law stated that hanging was now the appropriate punishment for these vile creatures.

So be it. Conrad was not one to snub the law as it stood. However, for the sake of their wretched souls, Conrad ensured that once their life had been extinguished, and they had hung there for all to see for at least half a day, their earthly remains would be burned on a pyre until nothing remained but ashes.

Conrad brought his horse to heel and dismounted, tying his animal off on one of the posts leading up to the hall’s entrance. He could tell from the other beasts tethered already, that the rest of the brotherhood were already in situ.

Conrad entered the hall, and as he did so, the rest of those gathered rose to their feet and waited for him to take his place at the head of the gathering.

Conrad climbed the stage in silence and took his seat in the middle of the bench. Seated on either side of him were two elders, making the requisite number of five to sit in judgment and pass sentence.

Once he was seated, everyone else in the hall did likewise.

“Bring in the prisoners,” Conrad called out, loud enough so that everyone could hear.

Immediately, the door which led to the cells was opened, and three young women, bound to each other by a length of stout rope, were dragged in by their jailer and deposited in the makeshift dock area.

The three girls shivered and trembled as they stood, awaiting their fate.

The dresses they wore had all been torn and shredded, so that now they barely covered their modesty. Each had long hair, which was matted and caked with dirt, as if they had been dragged across the floor backwards. Their feet were bare of shoes or stockings, and they shuffled from one foot to the other on the cold wooden floor.

From their faces it was plain that they had been crying, and fresh tears spilled from each of their cheeks as they surveyed the crowd before them.

After a moment, Conrad called out. “Elisabeth Broom, Abigail Adams, Anne Barrow, you have all been accused of practicing the dark arts for the purpose of serving your one true master, Satan.”

The crowd gasped, as one.

Several chants of: ‘Hang-em’ and ‘Witches’ ran through the crowd until Conrad raised his arm, calling for silence.

Conrad waited another moment before continuing. “How do you all plead?”

The girls all turned to each other, and nodded, before saying in unison, “Not guilty, sir.”

A general grumbling ran through the crowd, followed by more calls similar to those shouted earlier.

Conrad waited for the cries to die down, before turning to the jailer who had frog-marched the girls in. “Master Vile, you have been assigned to interrogate these three women, have you not?”

The jailer shuffled forward, removed his cap, and nodded. “Yes, sir, that I have,” he replied.

“And what have you learnt during this time?” Conrad continued.

The jailer glanced at the three girls, then quickly turned back to face his questioner, before answering. “They all admitted to me that they have had indecent dealings with the Devil, sir.” The man made the sign of the cross as he spoke.

A roar came from the crowd.

“It’s a lie, sir,” one of the girls called out.

“Silence!” shouted the elder immediately to Conrad’s right.

The girl who had spoken, shrivelled back in her place.