Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [2]
„Be this the best thou canst do, Master Jowett?‟
„Aye, Thy Lordship, „tis but a poor ale house, known to me from my younger days.‟
„Indeed,‟ said Jeffreys dismissively. „Curious that temperance did not follow thy misspent youth.‟
Someone sniggered briefly and Jeffreys snapped his head around to find the culprit. His gaze fell upon Long John and he moved towards the man, slowly. His eyes were as cold and unblinking as a snake‟s.
„What is thy name, sir?‟
„John Ballam,‟ he said. „A blacksmith of these parts.‟ He looked down at the much smaller Jeffreys and the merest hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. „I am known to all as Long John,‟ he continued, „on account of my considerable size!‟
Jowett moved, menacingly, behind Long John, and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing the blacksmith to stoop until his face was level with that of the judge.
„And art thou a righteous man, John Ballam?‟ asked Jeffreys.
John grimaced. „No one has ever said to my face that I am not.‟
„Knowest thou of Monmouth, John Ballam?‟ continued the judge.
„Aye, sir. A man of considerable standing with some in these parts.‟
„Shall I tell thee of Monmouth?‟ asked Jeffreys with a savage grin. „Shall I tell thee, John Ballam, of how that rotting bastard-spawn of the King‟s father was caught in a ditch at Ringwood and dragged to the Tower, caked in his own filth? How he wept and begged before His Majesty for his life? Him that was proclaimed King by cowards and traitors at Taunton this July, now dead - shall I tell thee of him?‟ He paused and looked closely into Long John‟s eyes. „Or dost thou know? Wast thou at Sedgemoor?‟
„No, never,‟ said Long John. „I am a loyal Englishman, true to my King.‟
„Then thou hast nothing to fear from me, or from His Majesty, nor from God,‟ said Jeffreys. He turned away from the terrified man, to Spence. „Master innkeeper?‟ he asked cheerfully.
„Aye, sir,‟ he said, bowing.
„Be there a room where a servant of the King can rest his weary head this night?‟
Jeffreys was high above the Earth, arms crossed over his chest, as if he had ascended directly from a coffin to the very heavens. He looked ever upward, and towards the face of the Almighty. But there was war in the heavenly realm, and angels were being cast out in droves. They fell like flaming arrows through the chill of space, merging into one great fiery dart that burnt white-hot. Down, down to the planet cursed by God and man, through skies and clouds and air, until the angels fell like rain upon Hexen Bridge. The village green ruptured as if under cannon fire, and closed over the demons, who immediately set about creating their own hell.
Jeffreys looked, and saw filth and abomination everywhere.
In this cavern, this microcosm of the world, figures in robes indulged in unspeakable acts. The ground was a writhing carpet of snakes, their tongues flicking up at Jeffreys, heavy with poison. He turned to run, but slipped, and, crying out to God, fell under the shuddering mass of snakes. Hell was cold, and they sought entrance into his warmth, pushing into nose and mouth.
Jeffreys awoke screaming.
Baron Jeffreys of Wem was often troubled by bad dreams.
The voices of those whom he had sent to their maker seemed to return, still seeking their vengeance upon him. But the dreams he had in the tavern in the village of Hexen Bridge on the Somerset-Dorset border were the worst. As he tossed restlessly in his bed, the dreams seemed to continue even when the judge lay awake and trembling. This was a bad place. Satan‟s own.
As Jeffreys exhaled slowly, resting back on the sodden sheets, the answer came to him. With a grim smile he drifted into the untroubled sleep of the just.
Jowett entered Jeffreys‟s chamber to find the man stooped by the open hearth, jabbing at the few remaining logs with a small iron poker. The judge was not yet fully dressed, his wig hanging from a hook by the door. The shutters were still closed over the windows,