‘News of what?’ Father asked.

She heaved herself from the wall and lurched towards Daniel, taking his hands. ‘You must come, for what they’re saying it’s – you must quiet them.’

‘What news?’ he asked.

‘Of the parson,’ she said.

Daniel ran as never before, outstripping both Father and Bett.

The happiness and fearful hope that had filled him through the night, knowing that he would end this day Sarah’s husband and at the very brink of a life of his own making, felt still within reach. The tale Bett had been told would prove false. A mistake; so great an evil could not have taken place. He would find all calm, all as it was and should be. And he and Sarah would say their quiet farewells, and begin along their own path.

He heard the shouts and wails before he came upon the crowd gathered at the foot of the cursed hill, standing a small distance from the figure on the ground. Desperate, he flung aside any that stood in his way, until he looked upon the dreadful sight himself.

The parson lay on his back, arms outstretched and feet together, a grotesque imitation of Christ on the cross. Pinned to the ground by a stake through the chest, grass below him darkened by black wings of blood. His face waxy and white, mouth gaping, eyes open and blank. Hat nowhere to be seen. His wispy hair shifting in the breeze in a cruel replica of life.

Daniel refused to believe what he saw, looked again and could not deny. Gasped for air and found none. Fell to his knees and reached to stroke the parson, to ease pain or give comfort, but found only the chill of death beneath his touch. A sound he did not recognise came from his own mouth, an expression of grief and anger that could not be articulated. The knees of his breeches stained with blood.

Hands gripped his shoulders, lifted him to his feet and turned him. He leaned for a moment in Bett’s sturdy embrace.

‘He – he is a good man,’ Daniel said. ‘Godly. How can this be?’

Bett nodded. ‘I know. And you are stricken, as are we all, but you must come back to yourself now. Blame is being laid and it falls close to your heart.’

Daniel took in her tear-tracked face, let her words seep into him. Heard the voices around him, smelled metal soaked into sod.

One voice rose above all, leading until others followed. Gabriel.

‘Plain as day who’s the culprit. Only one family lives just outside our reach. Only one family would do this to a church man. It’s that witch-girl from up the hill, with her curses and sorcery.’