The reeds were burning around them; the timbers of the bridge caught fire;
the peat and fagots smouldered beneath their feet. They sprang from the
burning footway and plunged into the fathomless bog, covering their faces
and eyes with scorched hands, and then sank in the black gurgling slime.
Ivo dragged William on, regardless of curses and prayers from his
soldiery; and they reached the shore just in time to see between them and
the water a long black smouldering writhing line; the morass to right and
left, which had been a minute before deep reed, an open smutty pool,
dotted with boatsful of shrieking and cursing men; and at the causeway-end
the tower, with the flame climbing up its posts, and the witch of Brandon
throwing herself desperately from the top, and falling dead upon the
embers, a motionless heap of rags.
"Fool that you are! Fool that I was!" cried the great king, as he rolled
off his horse at his tent door, cursing with rage and pain.
Ivo Taillebois sneaked off, sent over to Mildenhall for the second witch,
and hanged her, as some small comfort to his soul. Neither did he forget
to search the cabin till he found buried in a crock the bits of his own
gold chain and various other treasures, for which the wretched old women
had bartered their souls.
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