Authors: Charles Palliser
‘This makes better sense,’ Dr Locard muttered. ‘The king’s flight is from danger not into it.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you not find this version of the story of the horse and the stable-boy much more convincing than the sentimentalized account in Leofranc?’
‘No,’ I said miserably. ‘I find Leofranc’s just as plausible.’
‘How intriguing,’ he commented with a hateful compression of his lips. ‘Then you have changed your opinion, Dr Courtine, and you are now arguing that this manuscript is not authentic, is not from Grimbald’s original
Life
, is not older than Leofranc and was not his source?’
‘I haven’t made up my mind,’ I replied with as much dignity as I could muster.
I was in despair. The manuscript clearly pre-dated Leofranc’s period and the parallels were so close that, particularly in view of its Thurchester provenance, it seemed impossible to deny that he had based his own text upon it.
‘Let us see how it goes on,’ Dr Locard said.
Now the king’s authority was destroyed by this act of cowardice. The nephew and the other great lords decided to hand him over to the enemy in exchange for the martyr and to send for the treasure. It was now daylight. The besieging army was drawn up to watch the king being surrendered and as the sun rose over the horizon the martyr could be seen still suspended above the gate, obviously very close to death. Now the king remembered the message from the martyr and he said to his nephew and the other great lords that if they handed him over to the enemy, as a punishment for this terrible act of disloyalty, God would take away the sun. They laughed and prepared to escort him forward. At that moment the sun began to disappear and the land grew darker and darker until complete darkness fell. The king’s nephew and the great lords stopped in terror and when the king said to them that if they released him and restored him to full authority, the sun would return, they immediately accepted these conditions. Meanwhile the enemy leader, who was standing atop the main gate, believed that the martyr had made the sun disappear by his magical powers. He therefore ordered that the ropes which were holding him be cut. The old man plummeted to his death just as the darkness began to lift. The king was delighted and knew that he was saved and no longer had to give up his treasure. The king’s advisers and great lords believed that the king had first commanded the sun to vanish and had then brought it back again. When he ordered them to kill his nephew most of them therefore supported him. Fighting broke out and the nephew was slaughtered. The heathens, seeing that their enemies were in conflict among themselves, made a sudden and fierce attack upon the kings troops and defeated them utterly. The king was forced to hand over his treasure as the price of the invaders’ leaving his kingdom but he was now prepared to do this because his rival was dead and since he had murdered all his other nephews, there was nobody else who had a claim upon the throne. Moreover, he had so little respect for the slain bishop that he ...
‘And there it breaks off abruptly. Well, you have made an extraordinary discovery, Dr Courtine. If it is what you hoped to find, then it will indeed require the rewriting of the history of the ninth century. I don’t know if you noticed that it substantiates Scuttard’s thesis that Alfred was defeated by the Danes, surrendered to them and paid Danegeld?’
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
‘It seems to me very likely that somebody in the Alfredian period – let us say, for the sake of the argument, that it was Grimbald – wrote an account of the king’s reign which contained much that discredited Alfred. Two hundred years later Leofranc revised it to make it glorify him because it served his own interests, which were to make Wulflac’s shrine an object of veneration for all Europe. Does that not seem a reasonable hypothesis?’
‘Possibly,’ I said in despair. I didn’t want him to see how disappointed I was. Was this the truth about Alfred – that he was murderous, cowardly and deceitful? Was my great discovery going to turn out to require a fundamental reassessment of the Alfredian period – as I had hoped – but in a manner which would cause me exquisite pain?
‘The Latin is wretched, of course,’ Dr Locard said. ‘There is a very tiresome stylistic device which reminds me of something, though I cannot place it. Perhaps it will come to me.’ He stood up. ‘I should find the Sacrist and learn what has been done with Gambrill’s body.’
‘Not Gambrill’s,’ I said, with some pleasure at being able to put him right. ‘It has both its eyes.’
‘Really?’ he stared at me. ‘How intriguing.’
‘Whose body do you think it can be?’
He reflected for a moment and took his seat again. ‘There can be only one possibility. Two men died that night.’
‘Burgoyne? But his body was found.’
‘Was it? The body found under the scaffolding was identified as his by the clothes.’
‘But if it was Gambrill’s it would have been recognized by the missing eye.’
‘I think not, for the face was injured beyond recognition. The two men were tall and of about the same age. It was the obvious assumption to make. Obvious but wrong, as the obvious assumption so often is. My experience as a historian has taught me that.’
His words had reminded me of Mr Stonex and started a train of thought which I had no leisure to follow now. Forcing my attention back to the issue at hand, I said: ‘In that case, who killed Burgoyne and Gambrill? And what were his motives?’
‘They were not killed by the same man. Gambrill killed Burgoyne and he must have thought it a darkly apt joke that his body should be put into his family’s memorial – the hideous object which had been such a cause of contention between the two of them.’
‘Dr Carpenter assured us just now he was put into it alive and died of suffocation.’
Dr Locard raised one eyebrow. ‘A very grim jest, indeed. But there was another twist to the joke for Gambrill himself was murdered immediately afterwards when the scaffolding was made to collapse on him.’
‘Presumably by Limbrick?’ I suggested.
‘Certainly by Limbrick. And the two murders are linked. For remember that Gambrill was tormented by guilt for a hideous crime he had committed, as is clear from his conduct when he believed Burgoyne was threatening to denounce him.’
‘And Gambrill’s guilty secret was that he had killed Limbrick’s father?’
He looked at me in surprise. ‘You know that?’
‘How do you think Burgoyne found it out?’
‘I believe Gambrill had confessed to him while they were on friendly terms. Now that they had become enemies he feared Burgoyne was about to reveal it.’
‘So he killed him,’ I agreed. ‘But what he did not know was that Limbrick was even more dangerous. How was that?’
Dr Locard smiled. ‘Limbrick was a child when his father died but when there is murderous conflict between two men I follow the old French adage,
cherchez la femme
. I suppose Limbrick’s mother poisoned her son against Gambrill by telling him the story over and over again.’
‘So for all those years Limbrick was nursing this grievance and waiting for his chance to kill his patron,’ I agreed.
‘And his opportunity came that night when Gambrill killed Burgoyne.’
‘How ironic that Burgoyne started this whole series of events by threatening to expose Gambrill.’
Dr Locard smiled. ‘That’s certainly what Gambrill believed he was doing.’
I hesitated. ‘You believe he was wrong?’
‘The participants did not know the whole of the story. Several other incidents occurred at that time. You know that this was the night of the Great Storm?’
I nodded.
‘And do you know that the storm apparently killed somebody sleeping in the Old Gatehouse?’
‘I remember that Dr Sisterson mentioned it when we were discussing Dr Sheldrick’s chapter.’
Dr Locard smiled grimly. ‘Ah yes, the famous history of the Foundation. I imagine Dr Sheldrick does not mention that incident?’
‘No, strangely, he does not.’
‘Did Dr Sisterson tell you who it was who died?’
‘No.’
‘It was one of the singing-boys – a member of the college of vicars-choral. He was killed by part of the roof falling on him. What was strange was that little damage was done to the building. In fact, some said that he looked as if he had been beaten to death rather than killed by falling debris. His bed was covered in fallen timbers but none of them seemed heavy enough to have killed him.’
‘Did nobody see the roof collapse?’
‘No. And none of the other boys heard any of this. He slept alone in a little chamber right under the roof.’
‘Do you see some connection between that and the other events of that night?’
‘Don’t you think it would be rather a coincidence if there were none?’ He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment.
‘If there is,’ I said, ‘I confess I can’t see it.’
‘When a crime is investigated, the explanation that is adopted is not the one that best accounts for all the circumstances, but the one that best serves the purposes of those carrying out the investigation.’
I thought about this for a moment. ‘You’re suggesting that the assumption that Gambrill killed Burgoyne suited everybody at the time, but it wasn’t the truth?’
‘And although some people knew there was more to the story than that, they had good reason to keep silent.’ He paused. ‘Yesterday’s tragedy is another example. It suits the police to assume that it was a simple case of robbery and murder.’
‘You don’t believe the waiter killed the old gentleman?’
‘On the contrary, I’m quite sure he did. But I think the police have not understood his motive. It’s clear that he knew that if he robbed Mr Stonex he would have to kill him to avoid being incriminated by him. Is it conceivable that he would have decided to commit such a grave crime without being certain of being amply rewarded?’
‘He presumably believed there was money in the house. And I believe he found it.’
‘Twenty pounds, that’s all.’
‘You are very well-informed, Dr Locard. But that is an enormous fortune to a man in his circumstances. Several months’ earnings.’
‘Not enough to justify such a risk.’
‘Reserving judgement on that point, what is your explanation?’
‘I believe he was paid to commit the murder.’
‘Paid? By whom?’
‘By the party who stood to benefit by the old gentleman’s death.’
‘And who is that?’
‘If he died intestate, then it is his next of kin.’
‘Did he die intestate? I had heard ...’ I broke off. It occurred to me that I would do better not to mention that Quitregard had told me the deceased had made a will in favour of the Foundation.
‘I don’t believe he did,’ Dr Locard said. ‘Yet no will has been found.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I believe that Perkins was paid not simply to kill Mr Stonex but to find his will as well.’
‘Then it has presumably been destroyed.’
‘Most probably. Proving that, however, might be difficult.’ I was wondering what he meant when he said: ‘My hope is that Perkins will confess and admit to everything once he is sent for trial at the inquest.’
‘You are sure that will be the result?’
‘As long as the jury is not led into a state of confusion.’
‘There are certainly some confusing features.’
‘But it must be made quite clear to the jury that Perkins ransacked the house after committing the murder.’
I looked at him in surprise.
‘I have been informed that you mentioned to the officers that the house was already in a state of disorder when you and Fickling first arrived.’
‘That’s true.’
‘That is exactly the sort of thing that will confuse the jury and throw them off the right track.’
‘It’s very simple. Mr Stonex had sorted through his papers before Fickling and I arrived because he was looking for a document he wished to show me.’
‘A document?’ he said quickly.
‘And one that will interest you: it was yet another eyewitness account of the death of Freeth ...’
‘It wasn’t a legal document of any kind?’
‘No, no. It was evidence that the killing of Freeth was the result of a conspiracy by the officer holding the town for Parliament.’
‘Really? That sounds most unlikely.’
I recounted briefly the story that the old gentleman had narrated to Austin and myself.
‘That is complete nonsense,’ Dr Locard said briskly. ‘It flatly contradicts the most reliable version, which is the one handed down through the Chapter. This has never been divulged to anyone outside because it casts the canons in such a bad light.’ He smiled. ‘I will reveal it to you now, however. It derives from one of the canons, Cinnamon. He saw the soldiers start looting the Treasury and then Freeth running over from the New Deanery and going into the building. Cinnamon hurried there himself and when he arrived a few minutes later he found the Dean engaged in a physical struggle with another of the canons.’
‘Good heavens! Which one?’
‘Hollingrake, the Librarian.’
‘That is astonishing,’ I exclaimed, remembering Dr Locard’s own allegation that the two men had collaborated over the forged deed. ‘Was he not the Treasurer by that date?’
‘You’re right, he was! You know the history of the Chapter better than I do. Freeth was trying to knock over a lamp in order to set fire to the Treasury.’
‘Freeth was trying to burn it down? That’s extraordinary!’
‘You can imagine why the story was kept secret. He succeeded in starting a fire and Cinnamon tried to put it out. Hollingrake broke away from Freeth and while Cinnamon restrained the Dean, went to a chest and unlocked it and took out what looked like a document. When he saw that, Freeth threw himself at Hollingrake and the two men started fighting for possession of it. Freeth was punching Hollingrake and screaming abuse at him. The canons had to flee from the building because it was now in flames. Once they were outside, the soldiers intervened and dragged Freeth off Hollingrake but he rushed at him again and kicked him while he was lying on the ground and it was then that one of the soldiers unfortunately fired at him.’
I could not prevent myself bursting out: ‘I’m astonished that you can dismiss Mr Stonex’s story and yet believe this!’