t’ tower an peept in thro’ a brok’n winda, ey beheld a seet ey’st neer forgit—apack o’ witches—eigh, witches!—sittin’ in a ring, wi’ their broomsticks an lanterns abowt em!”
“Good lorjus deys!” cried Hal o’ Nabs. “An whot else didsta see, mon?”
“Whoy,” replied Ashbead, “t’owd hags had a little figure i’ t’ midst on ’em, mowded i’ cley, representing t’ abbut o’ Whalley,—ey knoad it be’t moitre and crosier,—an efter each o’ t’ varment had stickt a pin i’ its ’eart, a tall black mon stepped for’ard, an teed a cord rownd its throttle, an hongt it up.”
“An’ t’ black mon,” cried Hal o’ Nabs, breathlessly,—“t’ black mon wur Nick Demdike?”
“Yoan guest it,” replied Ashbead, “’t wur he! Ey wur so glopp’nt, ey couldna speak, an’ meh blud fruz i’ meh veins, when ey heerd a fearfo voice ask Nick wheere his woife an’ chilt were. ‘The infant is unbaptised,’ roart t’ voice, ‘at the next meeting it must be sacrificed. See that thou bring it.’ Demdike then bowed to Summat I couldna see; an axt when t’ next meeting wur to be held. ‘On the night of Abbot Paslew’s execution,’ awnsert t’ voice. On hearing this, ey could bear nah lunger, boh shouted out, ‘Witches! devils! Lort deliver us fro’ ye!’ An’ os ey spoke, ey tried t’ barst thro’ t’ winda. In a trice, aw t’ leets went out; thar wur a great rash to t’ dooer; a whirrin sound i’ th’ air loike a covey o’ partriches fleeing off; and then ey heerd nowt more; for a great stoan fell o’ meh scoance, an’ knockt me down senseless. When I cum’ to, I wur i’ Nick Demdike’s cottage, wi’ his woife watching ower me, and th’ unbapteesed chilt i’ her arms.”
All exclamations of wonder on the part of the rustics, and inquiries as to the issue of the adventure, were checked by the approach of a monk, who, joining the assemblage, called their attention to a priestly train slowly advancing along the road.
“It is headed,” he said, “by Fathers Chatburne and Chester, late bursers of the abbey. Alack! alack! they now need the charity themselves which they once so lavishly bestowed on others.”
“Waes me!” ejaculated Ashbead. “Monry a broad merk han ey getten fro ’em.”
“They’n been koind to us aw,” added the others.
“Next come Father Burnley, granger, and Father Haworth, cellarer,” pursued the monk; “and after them Father Dinkley, sacristan, and Father Moore, porter.”
“Yo remember Feyther Moore, lads,” cried Ashbead.
“Yeigh, to be sure we done,” replied the others; “a good mon, a reet good mon! He never sent away t’ poor—naw he!”
“After Father Moore,” said the monk, pleased with their warmth, “comes Father Forrest, the procurator, with Fathers Rede, Clough, and Bancroft, and the procession is closed by Father Smith, the late prior.”
“Down o’ yer whirlybooans, lads, as t’ oly feythers pass,” cried Ashbead, “and crave their blessing.”
And as the priestly train slowly approached, with heads bowed down, and looks fixed sadly upon the ground, the rustic assemblage fell upon their knees, and implored their benediction. The foremost in the procession passed on in silence, but the prior stopped, and extending his hands over the kneeling group, cried in a solemn voice,
“Heaven bless ye, my children! Ye are about to witness a sad spectacle. You will see him who hath clothed you, fed you, and taught you the way to heaven, brought hither a prisoner, to suffer a shameful death.”
“Boh we’st set him free, oly prior,” cried Ashbead. “We’n meayed up our moinds to ’t. Yo just wait till he cums.”
“Nay, I command you to desist from the attempt, if any such you meditate,” rejoined the prior; “it will avail nothing, and you will only sacrifice your own lives. Our enemies are too strong. The abbot himself would give you like counsel.”
Scarcely were the words uttered than from the great gate of the abbey there issued a dozen arquebussiers with an officer at their head, who marched directly towards the kneeling hinds, evidently with the intention of dispersing them. Behind them strode Nicholas Demdike. In an instant the alarmed rustics were on their feet, and Ruchot o’ Roaph’s, and some few among them, took to their heels, but Ashbead, Hal o’ Nabs, with half a dozen others, stood their ground manfully. The monks remained in the hope of preventing any violence. Presently the halberdiers came up.
“That is the ringleader,” cried the officer, who proved to be Richard Assheton, pointing out Ashbead; “seize him!”
“Naw mon shall lay honts o’ meh,” cried Cuthbert.
And as the guard pushed past the monks to execute their leader’s order, he sprang forward, and, wresting a halbert from the foremost of them, stood upon his defence.
“Seize him, I say!” shouted Assheton, irritated at the resistance offered.
“Keep off,” cried Ashbead; “yo’d best. Loike a stag at bey ey’m dawngerous. Waar horns! waar horns! ey sey.”
The arquebussiers looked irresolute. It was evident Ashbead would only be taken with life, and they were not sure that it was their leader’s purpose to destroy him.
“Put down thy weapon, Cuthbert,” interposed the prior; “it will avail thee nothing against odds like these.”
“Mey be, ‘oly prior,” rejoined Ashbead, flourishing the pike: “boh ey’st ony yield wi’ loife.”
“I will disarm him,” cried Demdike, stepping forward.
“Theaw!” retorted Ashbead, with a scornful laugh, “Cum on, then. Hadsta aw t’ fiends i’ hell at te back, ey shouldna fear thee.”
“Yield!” cried Demdike in a voice of thunder, and fixing a terrible glance upon him.
“Cum on, wizard,” rejoined Ashbead undauntedly. But, observing that his opponent was wholly unarmed, he gave the pike to Hal o’ Nabs, who was close beside him, observing, “It shall never be said that Cuthbert Ashbead feawt t’ dule himsel unfairly. Nah, touch me if theaw dar’st.”
Demdike required no further provocation. With almost supernatural force and quickness he sprung upon the forester, and seized him by the throat. But the active young man freed himself from the gripe, and closed with his assailant. But though of Herculean build, it soon became evident that Ashbead would have the worst of it; when Hal o’ Nabs, who had watched the struggle with intense interest, could not help coming to his friend’s assistance, and made a push at Demdike with the halbert.
Could it be that the wrestlers shifted their position, or that the wizard was indeed aided by the powers of darkness? None could tell, but so it was that the pike pierced the side of Ashbead, who instantly fell to the ground, with his adversary upon him. The next instant his hold relaxed, and the wizard sprang to his feet unharmed, but deluged in blood. Hal o’ Nabs uttered a cry of keenest anguish, and, flinging himself upon the body of the forester, tried to staunch the wound; but he was quickly seized by the arquebussiers, and his hands tied behind his back with a thong, while Ashbead was lifted up and borne towards the abbey, the monks and rustics following slowly after; but the latter were not permitted to enter the gate.
As
