JOHNAS WAS GROWING more and more impatient with each passing day. His feelings of irritation only increased as he watched Mathew at his forge working tediously on the Iron chain that he had commissioned him to make.
Mathew heated the links of the chain at the forges grate.
The intense waves of heat causing droplets of sweat to gather on Mathew's sloping forehead, and heavily furrowed brow.
When the metal glowed red hot, he placed it on his enormous anvil striking it over, and over again with the heavy hammer, shaping the links with practiced precision, his immensely muscled arms flexing with every blow as he worked.
Mathew was taking too long to complete the task, Johnas muttered obscenities under his breath. Cursing the smithy for his slow progress.
Johnas needed the chain completed, before the woman fled beyond his grasp.
He gathered his long black cloak around himself against the chill autumn air, and stalked away from the forge.
Damn this whole village!
He said inwardly with a scowl.
The villagers seemed to have forgotten about the witch and her evil deeds, but Johnas had not.
His intense need for revenge festered in his soul like a great rat gnawing at his insides.
He hurried towards the entrance of the church, his dark thoughts swirling around his mind.
Pushing his way through the massive door he stepping into the vestibule beyond the church doors, casting his eyes around the elaborately decorated chancel for the priest.
He spotted him standing behind the altar, fussily arranging the Chalice, Eucharist and Paten in preparation for the evenings communion service. His eyes were drawn to the golden Chalice, and Paten positioned on the altar, a look of disgust crossing his face at the riches that had been bestowed on such a rural church by the Bishops.
Johnas only participated in these ridiculous liturgies because it was what was expected of him as Village Stewart.
However in his heart he thought of them as nothing more but superstitious nonsense.
Johnas silently made his way down the center aisle, moving in the direction of Father Thomas, the parish priest, coming to an abrupt stop only a few paces behind him.
Father Thomas made the sign of the cross over the ceremonial vestiges laid out on the altar's cloth draped surface of the altar.
He then cast his eyes up with adoration at the carved wooden crucifix that hung above it.
The effigy of Christ nailed to the cross by its palms, dripped scarlet painted blood dripping from its wounds.
The figure was elaborately carved. Wooden arrows piercing the figures side.
Christs face twisted into a visage of agony, the carved thorns from the crown placed upon his head, penetrated deeply into the wooden skin of his smooth brow, where more scarlet colored blood dripped from the wounds, and oozed down the figures face.
Johnas cleared his throat loudly to alert Father Thomas to his presence behind him.
The priest started at the sound. He had been so absorbed in the sight of the figure of Christ above the altar, that he had not heard Johnas enter the church.
Father Thomas turned to face Johnas, a startled look still showing on his face.
"Brother Johnas" The priest remarked, after he had recovered his wits. "What can I do for you on this fine day that the Lord has provided us.?"
The Priest shifted nervously from foot to foot.
He always felt apprehensive in Johnas's presence, not knowing what services he would require of him next.
Johnas scanned the man up and down the priest's body, from his balding pate to his meticulously pressed robes, and then his eyes were drawn to the heavy golden chain around the priest's thin neck, upon which hung a large wooden cross.
How he despised the priest and his hypocrisy, with his pious face, behind which he hid his proclivities.
Johnas knew the Priest's dirty little secret.
Knew what he did to the altar boys under his tutelage, in the sacristy when the religious services came to an end.
The Priest's extracurricular activities sickened even his black heart.
But the knowledge had served Johnas well in his pursuits of bending the priest to do his bidding, without the resistance that a true holy man would have provided.
"Father Thomas," Johnas retorted, taking pleasure in the nervous movements that he always provoked from the man before him when he when in his presence.
"I was just at Mathew's forge, he seems to be progressing rather slowly at his work on the chain that we require to catch the witch, and I was wondering if you have had any news of his progress? When will the work be completed?" He pressed.
Father Thomas looked at Johnas' face, barely able to hide the revulsion he felt for the man standing before him.
"Mathew has assured me that the chain will be completed within a fortnight. He is working as rapidly as he can, given the limited amount of raw materials that has been made available to him. The people of this parish are poor after all, and acquiring the raw materials you have requested has proven to be a Herculean task for Mathew. But do not fear, the chain will be completed very soon." The Priest finished.
He motioned with his hands for Johnas to follow him back up the aisle between the pews to the vestibule, wishing to be relieved of Johnas's presence as soon as possible.
Anger flashed across Johnas's face.
" A fortnight is not good enough!" he yelled at the Priest, his fury tinged words echoing around the elaborately decorated walls, and ceiling of the church.
"In a fortnight the Witch will have fled the valley. If she has not done so already!" he spat.
"The Witch is intelligent enough to realize that soon the snows will begin to fall, making travel difficult at best, and the forest treacherous landscape will become devoid of adequate shelter or food. She will not last long on her own exposed to the bitter cold, she will flee the valley before the snows come, moving beyond our grasp. She must be captured or she will be free to work her deadly magic on the next village, and the next. Free to spread her evil across our fair land unhindered. Free to kill again!" Johnas shouted, venom dripping from every word.
Father Thomas stumbled back as if struck, Johnas's words sending a rising sense of panic coursing through his body.
"I shall have a quiet word with Mathew before the communion services this evening. I will inquire if he could possibly increase his efforts to complete the chain." Father Thomas replied, in a placating tone.
Reluctantly meeting Johnas's predatory gaze.
"Very well." Johnas replied, glared at the Priest." Keep me informed as to what Mathew's answer should be."
And with that Johnas pivoted around, making his way back through the arched doorway of the church, then out into the bustling midday crowd that gathered in the market day streets.
* * *
Johnas strode through the bustling market day crowds, pushing past the people gathered tightly about the busy stalls that lined both sides of the cobblestone street.
Many of the villagers who spotted him as he passed averted their eyes. None daring to hold his gaze for even a moment, fearing he would single them out from those around them in the crowded market, singling them out, losing his furry on them for some imagined slight they had committed against him.
When Johnas had reached his destination he pushed open the sturdy door of the tavern the bell that hung above its entrance rang out, alerting, the innkeeper Robert, of his arrival, as he turned in his direction.
"Greetings Johnas." Robert called out with a forced smile, as he recognizing the man who had entered his establishment.
"What may I get you for you today?" Robert inquired flatly, a look of resignation upon his haggard face.
Johnas ordered a whiskey, and retrieved the glass from the oak bar where the barkeep had placed it, before making his way towards his usual table in the corner of the sparsely occupied tavern room.
He raised the glass, studying the amber liquid contained within, before raising it to his thin lips and taking a sip.
After Johnas had drained his glass, he called for another by raising the empty cup in Roberts direction as he stood behind the bar.
The serving wench who brought the whiskey was a young, buxom girl with hair the color of fire.
Johnas slipped a coin from his purse, his hand lingering overlong on hers, causing the girl to snatch it back quickly with a look of revulsion on her face.
Vexation bloomed within Johnas's breast as he reached to grasp the Serving maid by her arm.
She dodged his grasp easily, by moving back a step beyond his reach.
Maeve turned, making her way back across the room, her hips swaying seductively as she moved.
She slipped behind the bar without a backwards glance.
He was not the first drunken pig who had tried to grab her by the hand, pinch her ample ass, or pull her into their lap, she thought.
Johnas saw her whisper something to the barkeep, as they glanced in his direction before Robert murmured something to the girl that caused her eyes to widen, before she averted her eyes hastily.
Busying herself with drying a row of clean glasses with an ale stained cloth.
Johnas picked up his glass, downing the whiskey within one large swallow.
He stood, pushing his chair backwards as he rose, keeping his gaze locked on the back of the flame-haired girl's head, as he stalked his way back across the tavern room towards the entrance.
The few patrons who dared track his exit with their eyes as Johnas moved towards the door gave him a sour look.
Johnas glared back over his shoulder at the wench with the red hair one final time, before aggressively slamming the oaken doors open.
"Little Bitch!" Johnas spat as the cold air of the early autumn evening washed over him.
Johnas did not return to his town home after exiting The Wolf And Lamb. Instead he slipped into one of the shadowy alleyways across the muddy track from it.
As Johnas slid into the darkness, he pulled his black cloak closer around his rotund body, fussily settling the cloaks hood low over the thinning hair of his head.
Then he waited.
* * *
Johnas stood silently as the night's shadows grew deeper around him, watching the tavern's door with stormy eyes.
He heard the church bells calling the villagers to prayer.
He also took note of the steeple's clock in the square tolling the hour. Six.
Seven. Eight.
Nine of the clock.
Until they finally tolled the tavern's closing hour. Men began to stagger out through the tavern's doors.
Some singing in off key drunken voices, as they made their way home to their disgruntled wives, or lonely bedsits.
Johnas slid closer to the alleyways entrance as the streets began to empty of the tavern's patrons.
His dark eyes tracking the flame-haired wench as she went about the business of clearing empty glasses, and cups from the now abandoned tables.
Johnas studied Maeve she moved from table to table, her hips swaying in the same seductive fashion they had when he was seated at the table inside the tavern.
As he observed the movements of the girls hips, his anger became intertwined with lust.
Johnas shifted back within the darkness of the alleyway as the Tavern door opened, spilling lantern light from its interior out onto the empty street.
The Serving wench stepped out onto the cobbled street with a final wave of farewell to Robert from over her shoulder, before he pulled the door closed latching it with a heavy Chunking sound, that carried across the silent street to where Johnas lay in wait.
Maeve made her way along the dimly lit street swaying tipsily on her feet, as though she had drunk her share of the night's receipts.
Johnas slid cautiously from the protection of the alleyway, slipping along the walls of the now closed shops that sat opposite the darkened tavern.
Johnas was surprisingly light of foot for a man of his bulk as he grew close enough to almost touch her.
Maeve suddenly turned sensing something amiss, she emitting a small yelp of surprise upon spotting the darkly cloaked figure approaching from so close behind her.
Johnas, taking advantage of her startled state, clutched the flame-haired girl around her ample waist, while quickly clamping his other hand tightly over her mouth to prevent her from crying out.
He pulled her face close to his, bathing it in his whiskey tainted breath.
"Stay still!" he commanded.
Though the terrified girl struggled to free herself from the man's iron grip, he was stronger than his bloated figure belayed.
He lifted the girl from her feet, and retreated back to the opening of the alleyway that he had occupied earlier in the evening, as he had watched her serving the patrons of the tavern.
Dragging her into the alleys shadows, he flung the girl's body to the mud smeared, and trash covered ground. Momentarily knocking the breath from her lungs as he pounced, pinning the girl beneath his considerable bulk.
Johnas released his grip from her waist only long enough to undo his trousers to free his member, before pulling up the trapped girl's skirts.
Terror washed over Maeve as she realized his intentions.
She bit down hard on the hand that covered her mouth, trying to inhale a deep enough breath to scream, causing Johnas to slap her heavily across her face.
Maeve whimpered beneath him, as she tasted blood where the man's heavy gold ring had split her lip.
She resumed her desperately struggle beneath him, trying to shift his bulk from her body.
"If you don't stop fighting me you little bitch, I'll slit your throat!" Johnas hissed close to Maeve's ear, before landing another hard blow to the girl's face with his with his open hand, cutting her mouth deeply this time.
Maeve stopped struggling at his threat, fear for her life paralyzed her body.
She did not know if the man would keep true to his words, but being raped was better than being dead, she decided in defeat as she ceased her struggles.
As Johnas forced himself inside her the girl closed her eyes, laying motionless as he grunted with his efforts atop her.
Maeve prayed that he would be quick in releasing his seed, and keep his promise not to kill her when he was done.
Once Johnas had finished, he rose from the girl's body, tucking his member back into his trousers, as he stood looking down upon the girl with the flame-colored hair, disdain showing openly on his face, as she lay on the muddy ground sobbing quietly.
Her face smeared with blood from his blows, and her once pristine dress in tatters, clinging to her half naked body.
Johnas reached into his purse, withdrawing a few coins, before flinging them to the ground at the sobbing girls side, before turning away and leaving the girl laying in the dirty alleyway, as he walked briskly along the quiet street towards his home.