The Chase by Vivien Teasdale

 

‘Are you sure this will work? ‘ he asked, giving Lucy a large, iron key.

Lucy nodded. ‘I’m sure. It’s just a sleeping draught, but a strong one. If you pretend you’re dying, they’ll be ready to believe it, to believe it’s something infectious – the plague has been found in London, came in with the ships. They’ll accept it, Henry. I’m sure. I will be there tomorrow night to set you, to set both of us free.'

He took the phial and stared at the dark liquid inside. ‘Just as it is?’

Lucy agreed, ‘Don’t mix it with anything else.'

****

That evening, the manor house was filled with lamentations. ‘The young master’s gone,’ the cook cried and all the staff fell silent.

‘Never seen it hit so quick, sir,’ the doctor was astounded. ‘Right as rain one minute and now … gone.’ He looked up at the young man’s father. ‘It could be…the plague, sir.’

‘And it’s high summer,’ Lord John, Henry’s father said. ‘We must arrange the burial immediately. And burn all his belongings.’

And so it was done. By nightfall the coffin was placed in the family mausoleum, and the gate locked. The mourners left, unwilling to remain where there may have been the possibility of plague. The family trooped back, alone, to the house.

‘Sir!’ the maid approached Lord John, timidly. ‘I found this, in his room.’

She handed over a small green phial. ‘It’s one of Lucy Milner’s, I’m sure.’

Lord John called for three of his men and they rode to Lucy’s cottage, banging loudly on the door.

‘Come out, Lucy Milner. Answer to your crime.’

The door was barred, but she called from the window ‘There’s been no crime, sir. I don’t deal in—’

‘Silence, we found the poison. Confess.’ Lord John would hear no more.

****

Lucy flung her cloak around her and crept out of the back door, sneaking away through the wood behind her house.

When he realised her deception, Henry’s father sent for the hounds and began the chase.

As Lucy reached the edge of the wood and started the ascent of High Hill, the hounds were loosed into the field by the cottage and gave tongue after their prey.

Lucy struggled on through the fading light, through the scree and rough tussocks of grass, over the outcrops, upwards to the top.

As she reached the crag and the track that took her around the ridge, the hounds sensed their prey was near and raced on, belling their joy at the chase. Behind them, their master ran, too, whip in hand.

Lucy knew they thought her a witch, knew they wouldn’t listen. ‘They’ll torture me, rack me, tear me apart,’ she panted. She vowed she would escape. ‘I’d rather die than let them hang me, burn me.'

As she reached the top of the crag, and looked down on the raging water below, hounds and men reached the base and stared up at their victim.

As they clambered and climbed upwards, Lucy flung herself down, down onto the rocks to be snatched away by the swell of the sea.

As the men reached the top, they stood and stared at the body, battered and sinking in the water below.

As the sea wrapped Lucy’s long skirt tightly round her legs like a black shroud, her lover stirred inside the darkness of the coffin in the cold, silent tomb.

"Large Cast Iron Key" by upcountryvintage is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.