The Temple of Forgotten Secrets

by C. J. Archer

  Gossip was just as rife at the feeding station as it was at the market. The content was little different until the arrival of Lola Ives. Lola worked as a maid in the Camley household, and the Camleys owned the largest boat building business in the village.

  "You'll never guess who came to the house last night," she said. "Sheriff Neerim."

  "What's Mr. Camley done?" asked Deeta.

  "Nothing. The sheriff wanted to ask him if some pitch had gone missing from the boat yard."

  Meg and the others gasped. "Does the sheriff think pitch was used to make the fire spread faster?" Deeta asked.

  "Seems so," Lola said.

  "But that means the fire was started deliberately. Who would do such an awful thing?"

  "We can't be certain it wasn't started accidentally," Meg said with authority. "Let the sheriff investigate. It might be him just ruling it out. For all we know, no pitch was stolen."

  "It was," Lola said firmly. "Mistress Camley told me later that her husband and the sheriff went to check the storerooms, and sure enough, four barrels of pitch were gone."

  "It could have been a mistake," Meg said. "The barrels might have been misplaced, or already used and Mr. Camely merely forgot."

  "He ain't forgetful," Lola said. "He's real careful with his things, too. He don't misplace them."

  Deeta pressed a hand to her stomach. "Who would start a fire deliberately where people live?"

  "We know who," Lola said darkly. "The people who wanted The Row replaced with fancy houses."

  We all looked north east, in the direction of the clifftop estate of the Deerhorns. No one mentioned their name.

  "You knew, didn't you?" Meg whispered in my ear after Lola left. "You didn't look surprised when she mentioned the sheriff questioning Mr. Camley about pitch."

  The arrival of the sheriff himself gave me an opportunity to avoid answering. "I need to speak to him," I said, rushing off.

  The sheriff wasn't too pleased to see me, however. "I have to update the captain," he said, not stopping when I caught up to him. "Alone."

  "I was the one who told you about Ned and the barrels. I should hear how the investigation is progressing."

  "No, you should not."

  "I already know Mr. Camley told you he is missing barrels of pitch."

  He eyed me sideways. "Gossip in this village spreads faster than any fire."

  "What else have you discovered?"

  He sighed. "At least wait until we reach the captain to save me from repeating myself."

  We found Dane working alongside eight of his men, tossing bricks into wheelbarrows. They were all shirtless, their chests and shoulders glistening with sweat. Their clothes hung over a clean bench that had been set up for the purpose.

  Dane straightened upon seeing us. He moved away from the others and rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side. I watched the movement of muscle and sinew beneath his skin with professional admiration that was quickly quashed by admiration of a baser nature.

  "Josie? Are you listening?" the sheriff prompted.

  "Yes, of course." I cleared my throat. "You were telling the captain about the theft."

  Dane smirked and crossed his arms, making his chest look even more muscular. I swallowed and forced myself to focus on the sheriff.

  He frowned back. "I was telling him that you refused to be left out of this discussion and followed me like a stray animal follows a butcher."

  "Right, I did hear that, I was just… er…"

  "I know what you were doing. I have grown daughters." To Dane, he said, "The barrels of pitch were stolen from Camleys' boat yard. He wasn't aware of the theft until we checked his store room."

  "So he says," Dane said.

  "I don't think he would be involved in something like this. He's a good man."

  Dane glanced at me. I nodded.

  "Glad I brought you along, Josie," the sheriff said tightly. He turned to Dane. "I also found out who owns the store room. You won't be surprised."

  "The Deerhorns?" I asked.

  "Governor Wainwright."

  Chapter 6

  Even though I'd suspected the governor or the Deerhorns were behind the fire, hearing his name still shocked me. He was supposed to be the father of the village, our leader and protector. Yet he had almost destroyed it. And for what? To help the Deerhorns gain even more power and wealth? It was almost impossible to fathom the depths he'd plunged to, but the evidence was damning.

  "That links Ned Perkin and the barrels to the governor," I said. "All we need now is to question them and find out if the Deerhorns are involved too."

  "We?" the sheriff echoed.

  "You won't question the governor yet, nor Perkin," Dane said. "Not until we find something else to link them. If you tell Perkin he was seen moving barrels into the store room, he'll know it was Josie who told you. It's too dangerous for her."

  "That's one problem," the sheriff conceded. "The other is proving there was pitch in those barrels. Perkin can claim they contained ale and, with the barrels destroyed, we can't prove otherwise. He also wasn't identified as the one pouring out the contents of the barrels on the night of the fire."

  "Did you find anything in the store room?" I asked Dane.

  "It was empty," he said.

  The sheriff scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "Then Josie's evidence is all we've got."

  "Give me time," Dane said. "I'll find something else."

  The sheriff cast a look at the guards tossing bricks and debris into the barrows. "You have until tomorrow. I can't wait longer than that. Gossip is already spreading through the village, and it has potential to do more damage than the fire."

  The sheriff left, but I waited until he was out of earshot before speaking to Dane. "How will you find other evidence?"

  "I don't know, yet."

  I narrowed my gaze. "You won't place something in the store room that will implicate Ned, will you?"

  He shifted his stance and looked over at his men, just as the sheriff had. "I'll do whatever is necessary."

  I heaved a sigh as I followed his gaze. "Be careful, Dane. If you break the law, the sheriff will have to arrest you."

  "Only if he can prove I broke the law."

  "Sometimes you are far too cocky for your own good."

  He smirked. "Only sometimes?"

  I left him to the hard work of clearing away the rubble, knowing he'd ignore any advice I gave to take frequent breaks. There wasn't much daylight remaining, so they would be forced to stop soon, thankfully.

  That evening, one of Lyle's friends visited to urge him to go to The Anchor. "I heard something down at the docks this afternoon, and I want to find out if it's true," he said. "Apparently they know something about the fire."

  "They?" I echoed.

  But he wouldn't answer me. I went to grab my shawl to follow them, but Meg stopped me.

  "It's too dangerous," she said. "Particularly now."

  "She's right," Mistress Diver chimed in. "Neither of you are going anywhere." Her lips flattened as she glared at the door through which her son had just left. "I wish Lyle wouldn't go."

  Her husband passed her as he pulled on his jacket. "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble."

  "You'd better!" she called after him. "Or I'll serve your privates to the pigs."

  "We don't have pigs," said Tilly, one of Meg's sisters.

  "Serve them to the baby chicken," said little Meena, rubbing my downy chick over her cheek.

  I did as Mistress Diver wished and remained at the house. The men still weren't home by the time we went to bed, and I couldn't sleep. I stared up at the ceiling and listened for the front door.

  I heard something else instead.

  "Down with the governor!" came a distant shout from outside.

  It was repeated by a much louder chorus of voices.

  "Down with the council!" the leader shouted again.

  "Down with the council!" dozens of voices echoed.

  I leapt ou
t of bed and opened the front door to see a swarm of men marching towards us, torches lighting the way. Up and down the street, doors opened and neighbors emerged to see what was happening. Most were like me, still dressed in their nightgowns, jackets or shawls hastily thrown on. At each door, someone split off from the pack and spoke to those watching on. Across the way, Doctor and Mistress Ashmole stood as still as statues.

  "What's going on?" Meg asked from behind me.

  "A march," I said. "Against the council, and the governor in particular."

  "Why?"

  I didn't answer. I knew why, but no one else should know.

  "Arrest the governor!"

  "Arrest the governor!" the leader's shout was repeated by the mob.

  Mistress Diver joined us in the doorway. She looked like thunder as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom. I expected her to tell them to be quiet lest they wake the girls, but then I saw who her glare was directed at. Her husband and son marched near the front, right behind the leader.

  Mr. Diver broke away from the group to speak to us. "Don't look at me like that, Wife," he chided. "We're calling for action. Something has to be done about the governor. He's the one responsible for starting the fire."

  "What?" Meg said on a gasp.

  Mistress Diver covered her mouth with her hand. Her huge eyes stared back at her husband.

  "How do you know?" I asked.

  "Someone at the council office says he let Sheriff Neerim look at the records of building ownership. The sheriff was particularly interested in one store room. It's owned by the governor. The sheriff also asked Camley about some stolen pitch. It doesn't take much to put two and two together."

  "You can't be certain the governor started the fire," I said.

  "It does sound damning," Mistress Diver said. "I can't believe it. How could he do such a thing?"

  My gaze connected with Meg's. It was obvious she knew that I already knew, but she didn't accuse me. She simply looked sad. As sad as I felt, probably. The governor wasn't a good man, but to think that he was almost certainly behind the fire… It was unfathomable.

  "We want the sheriff to arrest him," Mr. Diver said as Lyle joined him, flushed from the excitement.

  "Then shouldn't you be talking to the sheriff instead of marching through the streets?" his wife asked.

  "We have," Lyle said. "He says he's still gathering evidence. It's not good enough. We want justice now."

  "You should let the sheriff do his job," Meg said. "It will take time—"

  "He has had time and he found evidence of the governor's guilt. We know it."

  "Maybe his evidence isn't enough for him to be certain," I said quickly. "It might be just enough to give him an inkling. Meg's right, you should wait. Sheriff Neerim is a good man. If the governor is guilty, he'll arrest him."

  "If he waits, he gives the Deerhorns time to intervene. We can't allow that. We want justice and we want it now!" He punched his fist into the air and rejoined the crowd as it marched past.

  "It's too late to stop this anyway," Mr. Diver said. "Everyone's angry. We've been at the governor's mercy too long. It's time we stood up to him and let the Deerhorns see what we're capable of."

  He ran after the group with more vigor than a man half his age. The mob wasn't made up of just young men, but villagers of all ages, both men and women. The group was larger by the time it turned the corner and left our street. It would be larger again after passing down the next street. The people were angry. They were tired and hungry, anxious and hurt.

  I, however, felt guilty. The sheriff had waited to accuse the governor because Dane asked him to, to protect me. This protest could have been stopped before it started if the sheriff arrested Ned Perkin and the governor this afternoon.

  "The Deerhorns won't sit idly by," Meg said as she closed the door. "They'll see this as a setback to their plans for The Row."

  "They'll see this as a slap in the face," I said.

  "But what can they do about it?" Mistress Diver asked. "There'll be riots if they don't agree to alter their plans, and not even the Deerhorns want rioting."

  I tugged my shawl up as the back of my neck prickled. "They could hire a private army to quash any trouble."

  Mistress Diver clutched her daughter's hand. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. This might all blow over once the men have sobered up."

  Neither Meg nor I spoke. We knew it wouldn't blow over unless the Deerhorns were forced to change their plans.

  Mistress Diver got her wish only hours later when her husband and son returned and announced the mob had dispersed.

  "Everyone went home after the sheriff spoke to us," Lyle said, hovering by the fire where his mother cooked eggs.

  Mr. Diver dipped a spoon into the pot of tea warming over the coals and tested it. "Hot enough," he said, picking up the pot and pouring some of the liquid into a cup.

  "What did the sheriff say?" I asked, trying to keep the edge of worry out of my voice.

  "He arrested Ned Perkin for starting the fire," Lyle said.

  I plopped down on the chair and pulled my cup of tea close to my chest.

  Meg and her mother stared at Lyle. "Merdu," Meg murmured. "Why did Ned do it?"

  "He wouldn't say, according to the sheriff," Mr. Diver said.

  Lyle accepted the plate of fried eggs from his mother and sat beside me. "But we know he was working for the governor, and the governor is probably working for the Deerhorns. Ned stole the barrels of pitch from Camley and hid them in the governor's store room until the night of the fire."

  "But the sheriff hasn't confirmed that's what happened," I said carefully.

  "He told us he can't arrest anyone else because there's no evidence the governor knew his store room was being used," Mr. Diver said.

  Lyle snorted. "So he claims."

  Meg pulled her brother's plate away to get his attention. "Sheriff Neerim wouldn't lie about that. If he hasn't arrested anyone else, it's because he hasn't got proof. You know that, Lyle. Stop being a rouser."

  Lyle snatched his plate back and circled his arm around it to protect it.

  "That was enough to disperse the crowd?" Mistress Diver asked. "Seemed to me they were calling for the governor's blood and nothing would stop them until they got it."

  "Wiser, older heads reassured the youngsters we couldn't ask for more," Mr. Diver said with a stern look at his son. "Meg's right. The sheriff can't arrest the governor without proof. Some of us know that."

  Lyle shoveled eggs into his mouth and didn't meet his father's gaze.

  Mistress Diver and Meg seemed satisfied, but my heart raced faster. "Why Ned Perkin? What evidence did the sheriff have against him?"

  "A witness saw him," Mr. Diver said.

  My stomach dropped.

  "He was seen pouring pitch from a barrel in The Row that night," Lyle said around his mouthful of egg. "Right where the fire started, so the witness reckons."

  I cocked my head to the side. "In The Row?"

  Lyle nodded.

  "The witness identified Ned?"

  "Saw his face as he poured out the pitch."

  I blew out a measured breath. Either a new witness had come forward or the sheriff had lied. The witnesses who'd spoken to Dane hadn't seen the face of the person pouring the pitch. If the sheriff had lied, he'd done it to save me from being identified as the witness who'd seen Ned with the barrels. Dane had influenced him, I was sure of it. The sheriff didn't know the trouble I would be in if the Deerhorns learned of my involvement, but Dane did.

  "Thank the goddess it's over," Mistress Diver said as she served eggs to her husband.

  "It ain't over," Lyle said. "We don't know if the Deerhorns were involved, but we're sure Ned worked for the governor. Until he's arrested, we ain't giving up."

  His father shook his head.

  "But the sheriff already told you he can't arrest the governor without proof," Meg cried. "Honestly, Lyle, you and your friends are just looking for trouble."

 
"We want justice," he snapped back. "People died in that fire. The village could have been destroyed. Don't you want to see those who did it pay for it?"

  "Of course I do, but Sheriff Neerim can't do more. Stop being bullish and see reason."

  "I am seeing reason! The governor did this. We all know he did."

  "But without proof—"

  Mr. Diver brought his fist down on the table, causing all the cups and plates to jump and rattle. "Enough! You'll wake the girls."

  Brother and sister glared at one another until Lyle looked away.

  He held out his plate. "More eggs, please, Ma."

  Meg snatched it off him and shoved it into his chest. "Get them yourself." She marched off to the bedroom.

  I followed in her wake but we didn't speak as we both lay on our beds, trying to fall back to sleep.

  I went out mid-morning to check on an expectant mother. The streets were quiet, and I assumed most men were helping to clear the rubble left from the fire. I was wrong. A large group of men stood on the village green, talking in hushed tones. Several cast glowering looks at the nearby council building where two constables guarded the door.

  Two more constables watched on from the base of the steps, and six mounted palace guards were positioned at intervals around the green. I spotted Max and lifted a hand in a wave. He nodded stiffly then his gaze scanned the vicinity. Either he was looking to see if Meg was with me or he was simply keeping watch.

  More men joined the group as I left the village green behind. I hurried to see my patient. Fortunately she had a few weeks to go and, as an experienced mother, she knew what to expect at this stage of the pregnancy. I left her with reassurances that all was as it should be.

  I could have avoided the village green and gone the long way home, but I wanted to see what was happening. I stopped short before I reached it, however. Up ahead, the small group of men had swelled to the same size as the mob that had marched down our street.

  Like last night, they shouted "Down with the governor!" over and over, but this time, they focused their anger on the council building.