CHAPTER XV.

THE PHANTOM MONK.

Many hours had passed by, and night had come on
— a night profoundly dark, Richard was still hying
where he had fallen at the foot of Malkin Tower; for
though he had regained his sensibility, he was so bruised
and shaken as to be wholly unable to move. His
limbs, stiffened and powerless, refused their office, and,
after each unsuccessful effort, he sank back with a groan.

His sole hope was that Mistress Nutter, alarmed by
his prolonged absence, might come to her daughter's
assistance, and so discover his forlorn situation ; but as
time flew by and nothing occurred, he gave himself up
for lost.

On a sudden the gloom was dispersed, and a silvery
light shed over the scene. The moon had broken
through a rack of clouds, and illumined the tall myste-
rious tower, and the dreary waste around it. With the
light a ghostly figure near him became visible to Ri-
chard, which under other circumstances would have
excited terror in his breast, but which now only filled

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 51

him with wonder. It was that of a Cistercian monk ;
the vestments were old and faded, the visage white and
corpse-like. Richard at once recognised the phantom
he had seen in the banquet-hall at the abbey, and had
afterwards so rashly followed to the conventual church.
It touched him with its icy fingers, and a chilncss like
death shot through his heart.

" Why dost thou trouble me thus, unhappy spirit ?"
said the young man. " Leave me, I adjure thee, and
let me die in peace !"

" Thou wilt not die yet, Richard Assheton," returned
the phantom; " and my intention is not to trouble thee,
but to serve thee. Without my aid thou wouldst perish
where thou liest, but I will raise thee up, and set thee
on thy way."

" Wilt thou help me to liberate Alizon ?" demanded
Richard.

" Do not concern thyself further about her," replied
the phantom ; " she must pass through an ordeal with
which nothing human may interfere. If she escape it
you will meet again. If not, it were better thou
shouldst be in thy grave than see her. Take this phial.
Drink the liquid it contains, and thy strength will re-
turn to thee."

" How do I know thou art not sent hither by Mother
Demdike to tempt me ?" demanded Richard, doubt-
fully. " I have already fallen into her snares," he added,
with a groan.

E 2

52 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

" I am Mother Demdike's enemy, and the appointed
instrument of her punishment," replied the monk, in a
tone that did not admit of question. " Drink, and fear
nothing."

Richard obeyed, and the next moment sprang to his
feet.

" Thou hast indeed restored me !" he cried. " I would
fain reach the secret entrance to the tower."

" Attempt it not, I charge thee !" cried the phantom;
"but depart instantly for Pendle Hill."

" Wherefore should I go thither ?" demanded Ri-
chard.

" Thou wilt learn anon," returned the monk. " I
cannot tell thee more now. Dismount at the foot of
the hill, and proceed to the beacon. Thou know^st it ?"

" I do," replied Richard. " There a fire was lighted
which was meant to set all England in ablaze."

" And which led many good men to destruction,"
said the monk, in a tone of indescribable sadness.
" Alas ! for him who kindled it. The offence is not yet
worked out. But depart without more delay ; and look
not back."

As Richard hastened towards the spot where he had
left Merlin, he fancied he was followed by the phantom,
but, obedient to the injunction he received, he did not
turn his head. As he mounted the horse, who neighed
cheerily as he drew near, he found he was right in sup-
posing the monk to be behind him, for he heard his

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 53

voice calling out, " Linger not by the way. To the
beacon ! — to the beacon I"

Thus exhorted, the young man dashed off, and, to
his great surprise, found Merlin as fresh as if he had
undergone no fatigue during the day. It would almost
seem, from his spirit, that he had partaken of the same
wondrous elixir which had revived his master. Down
the hill he plunged, regardless of the steep descent,
and soon entered the thicket where the storm had fallen
upon them, and where so many acts of witchcraft were
performed. Now, neither accident nor obstacle occurred
to check the headlong pace of the animal ; though the
stones rattled after him as he struck them with his fly-
ing hoof. The moonlight quivered on the branches of
the trees, and on the tender spray, and all looked as
tranquil and beautiful as it had so lately been gloomy
and disturbed. The wood was passed, and the last and
steepest descent cleared. The little bridge was at hand,
and beneath was Pendle Water, rushing over its rocky
bed, and glittering like silver in the moon's rays.
But here Richard had well-ni^h received a check.
A party of armed men, it proved, occupied the road
leading to Rough Lee, about a bow-shot from the
bridge, and as soon as they perceived he was tak-
ing the opposite course, with the apparent intention
of avoiding them, they shouted to him to stay.
This shout made Richard aware of their presence,
for he had not before observed them, as they were
concealed by the intervention of some small trees ;

54 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

but though surprised at the circumstance, and not with-
out apprehension that they might be there with a hostile
design to Mistress Nutter, he did not slacken his pace.
A horseman, who appeared to be their leader, rode after
him for a short distance, but finding pursuit futile,
he desisted, pouring forth a volley of oaths and threats,
in a voice that proclaimed him as Sir Thomas Met-
calfe. This discovery confirmed Richard in his sup-
position that mischief was intended Mistress ISTutter;
but even this conviction, strengthened by his antipathy
to Metcalfe, was not sufficiently strong to induce him to
stop. Promising himself to return on the morrow, and
settle accounts with the insolent knight, he speeded on,
and passing the mill, tracked the rocky gorge above it,
and began to mount another hill. Despite the ascent,
Merlin never slackened his pace, but, though his master
would have restrained him, held on as before. But the
brow of the hill attained, Richard compelled him to a
brief halt.

By this time the sky was comparatively clear, but
small clouds were sailing across the heavens, and at one
moment the moon would be obscured by them, and the
next, burst forth with sudden effulgence. These alter-
nations produced corresponding effects on the broad,
brown, heathy plain extending below, and fantastic
shadows were cast upon it, which it needed not Richard's
heated imagination to liken to evil beings flying past.
The wind, too, lay in the direction of the north end of
Pendle Hill, whither Richard was about to shape his

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 55

course, and the shadows consequently trooped off
towards that quarter. The vast mass of Pendle rose in
gloomy majesty before him, being thrown into shade,
except at its crown, where a flood of radiance rested.

Like an eagle swooping upon his prey, Richard
descended into the valley, and like a stag pursued by
the huntsman he speeded across it. Neither dyke,
morass, nor stone wall checked him, or made him turn
aside ; and almost as fast as the clouds hurrying above
him, and their shadows travelling at his feet, did he
reach the base of Pendle Hill.

Making up to a shed, which, though empty, luckily
contained a wisp or two of hay, he turned Merlin
into it, and commenced the ascent of the hill on foot.
After attaining a considerable elevation, he looked
down from the giddy heights upon the valley he had
just traversed. A few huts, forming the little village of
Barley, lay sleeping in the moonlight beneath him,
while further off could be just discerned Goldshaw,
with its embowered church. A line of thin vapour
marked the course of Pendle Water, and thicker mists
hovered over the mosses. The shadows were still pass-
ing over the plain.

Pressing on, Richard soon came among the rocks
protruding from the higher part of the hill, and as the
path was here not more than a foot wide, rarely taken
except by the sheep and their guardians, it was necessary
to proceed with the utmost caution, as a single false
step would have been fatal. After some toil, and not

56 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

without considerable risk, lie readied the summit of the
hill.

As he bounded over the springy turf and inhaled the
pure air of that exalted region, his spirits revived, and
new elasticity was communicated to his limbs. He
shaped his course near the edge of the hill, so that the
extensive view it commanded was fully displayed. But
his eye rested on the mountainous range on the opposite
side of the valley where Mai kin Tower was situated.
Even in broad day the accursed structure would have
been invisible, as it stood on the further side of the hill,
overlooking Barrowford and Colne, but Richard knew
its position well, and while his gaze was fixed upon the
point, he saw a star shoot down from the heavens, and
apparently alight near the spot. The circumstance
alarmed him, for he could not help thinking it ominous
of ill to Alizon.

Nothing, however, followed to increase his misgivings,
and ere lon^ he came in sio'ht of the beacon. The
ground had been gradually rising, and if. he had pro-
ceeded a few hundred yards further, a vast panorama
would have opened upon him, comprising a large part
of Lancashire on the one hand, and on the other an
equally extensive portion of Yorkshire. Forest and fell,
black moor and bright stream, old castle and stately
hall, would have then been laid before him as in a map.
But other thoughts engrossed him, mid he went straight
on. As far as he could discern he was alone on the
hill top ; and the silence and solitude, coupled with

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 57

the ill report of the place, which at this hour was said
to be often visited by foul hags, for the performance of
their unhallowed rites, awakened superstitious fears in
his breast.

He was soon by the side of the beacon. The stones
were still standing as they had been reared by Paslew,
and on looking at them he was astonished to find the
hollow within them filled with dry furze, brushwood,
and fagots, as if in readiness for another signal. In
passing round the circle, his surprise was still further
increased by discovering a torch, and not far from it,
in one of the interstices of the stones, a dark lantern,
in which, on removing the shade, he found a candle
burning. It was now clear the beacon was to be
kindled that night, though for what end he could not
conjecture, and equally clear that he was brought
thither to fire it. He put back the lantern into its
place, took up the torch, and held himself in readiness.

Half an hour elapsed, and nothing occurred. During
this interval it had become dark. A curtain of clouds
was drawn over the moon and stars.

Suddenly, a hurtling noise was heard in the air,
and it seemed to the watcher as if a troop of witches
were alighting at distance from him.

A loud hubbub of voices ensued — then there was a
trampling of feet, accompanied by discordant strains of
music — after which, a momentary silence ensued, and
a harsh voice asked —

58 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

"Why are Ave brought hither?"

"It is not for a sabbath," shouted another voice,
" for there is neither fire nor cauldron."

" Mother Demdike would not summon us without
good reason," cried a third. " We shall learn presently
what we have to do."

" The more mischief the better," rejoined another
voice.

" Ay, mischief ! mischief ! mischief !" echoed the
rest of the crew.

" You shall have enough of it to content you," re-
joined Mother Demdike. " I have called you hither to
be present at a sacrifice."

Hideous screams of laughter followed this announce-
ment, and the voice that had spoken first asked —

" A sacrifice of whom?"

"An unbaptized babe, stolen from its sleeping
mother's breast," rejoined another. " Mother Demdike
hath often played that trick before — ho ! ho !"

"Peace!" thundered the hag — "It is no babe I
am about to kill, but a full-grown maid — ay, and one
of rarest beauty too. What think ye of Alizon
Device?"

" Thy grandaughter I" cried several voices, in
surprise.

" Alice Nutter's daughter — for such she is," rejoined
the hag. "I have held her captive in Malkin Tower,
and have subjected her to every trial and temptation I

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 59

could devise, but I have failed in shaking her courage,
or in winning her over to our master. All the horrors
of the vault have been tried upon her in vain. Even
the last terrible ordeal, which no one has hitherto sus-
tained, proved ineffectual. She went through it un-
moved."

11 Heaven be praised !" murmured Richard.

" It seems I have no power over her soul," pur-
sued the hag, " but I have over her body, and she shall
die here, and by my hand. But mind me, not a drop
of blood must fall to the ground."

" Have no fear," cried several voices, " we will catch
it in our palms and quaff it."

" Hast thou thy knife, Mouldheels ?" asked Mother
Demdike.

" Ay," replied the other, " it is long, and sharp, and
will do thy business well. Thy grandson, Jem Device,
notched it by killing swine, and my goodman ground it
only yesterday. Take it."

" I will plunge it to her heart!" cried Mother Dem-
dike, with an infernal laugh. " And now I will tell
you why we have neither fire nor cauldron. On ques-
tioning the ebon image in the vault as to the place
where the sacrifice should be made, I received for an-
swer that it must be here, and in darkness. No human
eye but our own must behold it. TVe are safe on this
score, for no one is likely to come hither at this hour.
No fire must be kindled, or the sacrifice will result in

60 THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES.

destruction to us all. Ye have heard, and under-
stand V

" We do," replied several husky voices.

14 And so do I," said Richard, taking hold of the
dark lantern.

44 And now for the girl," cried Mother Demdike.

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 61