the danger which was threatening him. He had known all along what terrible risks he was taking. 'Twas not well in these days to tamper with the supernatural. But he had trusted to the good temper of holiday-makers, whilst the certain patronage of rich burghers and Court gallants had proved an overwhelming temptation to his greed of gain. For the wench he cared but little. He had picked her out of the gutter one day, a starving little slut, and had used her as a tool — a willing one enough — for his own pecuniary ends.
Even now, with a cursing throng of maniacs round him, he only thought of his own safety. Mean, abject, and cowardly, he fell upon his knees.
"Merciful heavens, my masters," he pleaded.
But the crowd was not in a humour to listen. The men kicked him on one side, and he fell up against his miserable companion, who was too terror-stricken to move.
Then there was another rush up to the platform. Without thought or pause, for these would have been fatal to the resolute purpose in view, and might give the devil time to look after his own.
From within the tent there came now a frantic shriek of terror. The next moment, the foremost among the crowd had pushed aside the gaudy draperies, and that one shriek was answered by a dozen awesome, horrified curses.
There was the witch at last. A poor trembling girl, scarce out of her teens, with beautiful, delicate features, and an abundance of golden hair falling round her shoulders; her mysterious veil — a bit of showy tinsel — lying in a heap on the floor. Nothing supernatural or devilish about her, surely. Quaint, perhaps, because of that singular beauty of face and skin which seemed so ill-assorted with the sordidness of her surroundings. One of Nature's curious freaks, this kitchen wench with a head which would have graced a duchess, her interesting personality merely the prey of a common charlatan, who used her for vulgar, senseless trickery.
For the moment her beauty was distorted through the dawning of an awful terror. To a sane man she would only have seemed a wretched, miserable, frightened woman. But not so to the ale-sodden, overheated minds of these excited creatures, blinded by an almost maniacal fear.
To them she looked supernaturally tall, supernaturally weird, with great glowing eyes and tongues of flame illumining her person.
"The witch!" they shouted, "the witch! the witch!"
"What do you want with me?" murmured the poor girl.
Egged on by their passions they smothered their terror. They seized her violently by the wrists and dragged her out of her lair and on to the platform, where the rest of the crowd were pressing.
A shout of exultation, of hellish triumph, greeted the appearance of the wretched woman. Not a spark of pity was aroused by her helplessness, her obvious, abject terror.
"The witch! the witch! death to the witch!"
They seemed to be fanning their own passions, adding fuel to the flames of their insensate wrath.
There was the source of all the evil which might have befallen the peaceful valley of the Thames! the creature with the evil eye, the dispenser of misery and death!
They had forgotten the guard now. Their lawlessness knew no bounds. But for the incessant din of the merry-makers at the Fair, the banging of the drums, and the shouts of the criers, their own yells of execration, their violent curses, and the shrieks of the captive girl could not have failed to attract attention.
But every one was busy laughing and enjoying the last hours of this happy day. No one came to interfere in this devilish work which was about to be consummated.
And every word the poor woman uttered but brought further vituperation upon her.
She shouted, "Help!"
"Hark, my masters," sneered Matthew loftily, "she calls to Satan for help."
"What will you do with me?" she pleaded. "I've done you no wrong."
"Thou hast brought the devil in our midst."
"No! no!"
"I saw thee riding on a broomstick — going to thy Sabbath revels."
"'Tis false!"
"Tie her to the pole — quick!"
The so-called witch, the friend of Satan and of all the powers of darkness, fell upon her knees in an agony of the wildest despair. Realizing her position, the terrible doom which was awaiting her, her whole figure seemed to writhe with the agony of her horror. She dragged herself to Matthew's knees — he seemed to be leading the others — she wrenched her arms free from those who held her and threw them round him. She forced her voice to gentleness and pleading, tried to appeal to what was a stone wall of unconquerable prejudice.
"Sirs, kind sirs," she entreated, "you would not harm a poor girl who had done you no wrong? . . . you won't harm me — you won't. . . . Oh, God!" she shrieked in her frenzy, "you wouldn't — you wouldn't — Holy Virgin, protect me —— "
A rough hand was placed over her mouth and her last yells were smothered as she was ruthlessly dragged away.
Then with two or three leather belts she was securely tied to the flagstaff, whilst a thick woollen scarf was wound round her face and neck, leaving only the eyes free to roam wildly on the awful scene around.
Awful indeed!
Man turned to savage beast in the frenzy of his own fear.
Swift and silent, like so many rodents in the night, the men began collecting bits of wood, broke up their sticks into small pieces, tore branches down from the old elm tree.
Matthew the while, still the ringleader of this dastardly crew, was directing these gruesome operations.
"Hist!" he admonished incessantly, "not so much noise. . . . We don't want the guard to come this way, do we? . . . Now, John the smith, quick, where's thy resin? . . . James the wheelwright, thy tinder, friend. . . . Here! these faggots are not close enough. . . . Some more on the left there!"
And the men, as alert as their clumsy bodies would allow, as quick as the darkness would permit, groaning, sweating, falling up against one another, worked with a will to accomplish the end which they had in view.
To burn the witch!
And she, the woman, her poor wits almost gone at sight of this fast approaching, inevitable doom, did not attempt to struggle. Had the gag been removed from her mouth she would not have uttered a sound.
Nature, more merciful than her own children, had paralysed the brain of the wretched girl and left her semi-imbecile, crazed, watching now with uncomprehending eyes the preparations for her own appalling death.
"Watch how the witch will burn!" said Matthew in a hoarse whisper. "Her soul will fly out of her mouth, and it'll be shaped like a black cat."
They had all descended the steps and were standing in a semicircle on the turf below, looking up at the miserable holocaust which they were about to offer up to their own cowardly superstition.
James the wheelwright was busy with his tinder, with John the smith bending over him, ready with a resin torch, which would start the conflagration.
And Mirrab, looking down on them
