Speaks the Nightbird

hitching-post to his right was a braided leather whip perhaps two feet in length. It certainly was not as formidable as a bullwhip or a cat-o'-nine, but the braid could do considerable damage if delivered with any sort of srrength— and Green, at the moment, resembled nothing less than a fearsome, red-bearded Goliath.

'In the pillory with you,' the giant said. Matthew put his arms into the depressions meant for them and then laid his neck against the damp wood. Green closed the pillory and locked it, trapping Matthew's head and arms. Matthew now was bent into a crouch, his naked back offered to the whip. He couldn't move his head to follow Green, but he heard the noise of the braid as it slithered off the hitching-post.

The whip cracked as Green tested it. Matthew flinched, the skin crawling across his spine. 'Give it to 'im good!' Hazelton yelled. Matthew was unable to either lift or lower his head to any great degree. A feeling of dreadful helplessness swept over him. He clenched his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut.

'One!' Green said, and by that Matthew knew the first strike was about to be made. Standing close by, the magistrate had to turn away and stare at the ground. He felt he might have to spew at any second.

Matthew waited. Then he sensed rather than heard Green drawing back. The onlookers were silent. Matthew realized the whip was up and about to—

Crack!

—across his shoulders, a hot pain that grew hotter, a flame, an inferno that scorched his flesh and brought tears to his sealed eyes. He heard himself gasp with the shock of it, but he had enough presence of mind to open his mouth lest he bite into his tongue. After the whip had been withdrawn, the strip of skin it had bitten continued to burn hotter and hotter; it was the worst physical pain Matthew had ever experienced—and the second and third strikes were yet to fall.

'Damn it, Green!' Hazelton bawled. 'Show us some blood!'

'Shut your mouth!' Green hollered back. 'This ain't no ha'penny circus!'

Again, Matthew waited with his eyes tightly closed. Again he sensed Green drawing back the whip, sensed the man putting his strength into the lash as it hissed down through the sodden air. 'Two!' Green shouted.

Crack! it came once more, exactly upon the same strip of blistered flesh.

For an instant Matthew saw bright crimson and deepest ebony swirling in his mind like the colors of war flags, and then the truest, keenest, most savage pain under the sky of God gnawed into him. As this pain bloomed down his back and up his neck to the very top of his skull, he heard himself give an animal-ish groan but he was able to restrain the cry that fairly leapt from his throat.

'Three!' Green announced.

Here came the whip's hiss. Matthew felt tears on his cheeks. Oh God, he thought. Oh God oh God oh—

Crack! This time the braid had struck a few inches lower than the first two lashes, but its bite was no less agonizing. Matthew trembled, his knees about to give way. So fierce was the pain that he feared his bladder might also empty itself, so he concentrated solely on damming the flow. Thankfully, it did not. He opened his eyes. And then he heard Green say something that he would remember with joy the rest of his life: 'Done, Mr. Bidwell!'

'No!' It was Hazelton's angry snarl. 'You held back, damn you! I seen you hold back!'

'Watch that tongue, Seth, or by God I'll blister it!'

'Gentlemen, gentlemen!' Bidwell had stepped down from his carriage, and made his way to the pillory. 'I think we've had violence enough for this morning.' He leaned down to peer into Matthew's sweat-slick face. 'Have you learned your lesson, clerk?'

'Green held back!' the blacksmith insisted. 'It ain't fair to go so easy on that boy, when he done scarred me for life!'

'We agreed on the punishment, Mr. Hazelton,' Bidwell reminded him. 'I believe Mr. Green applied the lash with proper consideration. Wouldn't you say, Magistrate?'

Woodward had seen the red welts that had risen across Matthew's shoulders. 'I would.'

'I pronounce the punishment correctly administered and the young man free to go. Release him, Mr. Green.'

But Hazelton was so enraged he was nearly dancing a jig. 'I ain't satisfied! You didn't draw no blood!'

'I could remedy that,' Green warned, as he coiled the braid and then went about unlocking the pillory.

Hazelton took two strides forward and thrust his ugly face at Matthew. 'You set foot on my land again, and I'll strop your hide myself! I won't hold back, neither!' He drew himself up again and cast a baleful stare at Bidwell. 'Mark this as a black day for justice!' he said, and with that he stalked away in the direction of his home.

The latch was opened. Matthew stood up from the pillory's embrace and had to bite his lip as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his shoulders. If Green had indeed held back, Matthew would have hated to be on the receiving end of a whip that the giant put his full power behind. He felt light-headed and stood for a moment with one hand grasping the pillory.

'Are you all right?' Woodward was standing beside him.

'Yes, sir. I shall be, I mean.'

'Come along!' Bidwell was wearing a smirk that was not very much disguised. 'You look in need of some breakfast!'

Matthew followed Bidwell to the carriage, with the magistrate walking at his side. The onlookers were going away to their daily business, the small excitement over. Suddenly a woman stepped in front of Matthew and said brightly, 'My compliments!'

It took Matthew a few seconds to register that Lucretia Vaughan was offering him a teacake from her basket. 'Please take one!' she said. 'They're freshly baked!' He felt numbed of mind and scorched of shoulders, but he didn't wish to offend her so he did accept a teacake.

'The lashing wasn't so bad, was it?' she asked.

'I'm gratified it's over.'

'Madam, we have breakfast to attend to!' Bidwell had already secured his seat in the carriage. 'Would you let him pass, please?'

She kept her eyes locked on Matthew's. 'You will come to dinner on Thursday evening, will you not? I have made plans for it.'

'Dinner?' He frowned.

'My mistake,' Woodward said to the woman. 'I neglected to inform him.'

'Oh? Then I shall make the invitation myself. Would you come to dinner on Thursday evening? At six o'clock?' She gave Woodward a brief, rather tight smile. 'I would invite you also, Magistrate, but seeing as how you are so feeble I fear an evening out might only worsen your health.' She turned her rapacious attention upon Matthew once more. He thought that the shine of her blue eyes was glassy enough to indicate fever. 'May I count on your arrival?'

'Well ... I thank you,' he said, 'but I—'

'You will find my home very hospitable,' she plowed on. 'I do know how to set a table, and you might ask anyone as to the quality of my kitchen.' She leaned her head forward, as if offering to share a secret. 'Mr. Green is quite fond of my onion bread. He told me that the loaf I presented to him yesterday afternoon was the finest he'd ever set eyes on. The thing about onion bread,' and here she lowered her voice so that Bidwell might not hear, 'is that it is a great persuader. A meal of it, and mercy follows.'

What the woman was saying wasn't lost on Matthew. If indeed Green had held back in his delivery of the whip—which Matthew, in severe pain, found difficult to believe—it was likely due to Madam Vaughan's influence on his behalf. 'I see,' he said, though his view was not entirely clear.

'Come along!' Bidwell said impatiently. 'Madam, good day!'

'Might you favor my home with your presence on Thursday evening?' Madam Vaughan was obviously not one to buckle before pressure, though she certainly knew how to apply it. 'I can promise you will find it of interest.'

He surely didn't feel in need of dinner company at the moment, but by Thursday he knew the pain would be a bad memory. Besides that, the woman's manipulations intrigued him. Why had she desired to intercede in his punishment? He nodded. 'Yes, I'll be there.'

'Excellent! Six o'clock, then. I shall send my husband to fetch you.' She gave a quick curtsey and withdrew, after which Matthew pulled himself up into the carriage.