The Sign of the Gallows

by Susanna Calkins

  ‘Sarah’s activities concern me greatly,’ Adam said. ‘I do understand she is following her conscience. I just wish her conscience might sometimes see fit to lead her towards a less dangerous path. When I saw Sarah last, she’d just been in the stocks.’

  ‘In the stocks! Oh no!’

  ‘She was fine. Just had some tomatoes and eggs in her hair, which she took pains not to wash away for some time. She did not appear to have been physically harmed.’ He scowled. ‘Friends view such torments as travails to be endured in their devotion to their Inner Light.’

  ‘I saw your father recently,’ Lucy said, changing the subject. ‘He appears to be doing well.’ Except for missing you so greatly, she added to herself. Master Hargrave did not confide in her of course, but she could tell from little things he’d say, or even in his silences, that he was lonely with his son away. He’d lost his wife during the plague, and his daughter was living a life that was hard for him to support, although he’d become reconciled to their differences over time. Still, the soreness of Adam’s absence no doubt ran deep.

  Now Adam’s smile grew. ‘I did stop in to see him this morning soon after I arrived. He told me you’d visited him on occasion. He also said that he’d been teaching you chess.’ He looked at her. ‘Truly, Lucy, I thank you for caring for my father.’

  ‘I stop by to visit him, as well as Cook, Annie and John, whom I still view as my own dear family. As for chess, I will never be a match for him, but I have enjoyed learning the game. It is good that you have returned so that he may have a worthy partner.’ She paused. ‘Your father has always been dear to me. I never find it a burden to visit. Quite the opposite, in fact.’ Then she returned to what he had just disclosed. ‘You just disembarked this morning? Why did you not take to your bed? You must be so very weary.’

  ‘I was, but I’m not any more.’

  Lucy kept tugging at her cloak, wrapping it around her to protect against the wind. She was trying not to limp, but it was getting harder and harder to hide her pain. She slowed, putting her hand to her stomach.

  ‘Lucy! Are you all right?’

  She nodded, gritting her teeth as she did so. The stiffness in her joints was getting harder to bear.

  Adam smacked his head with his palm. ‘I’m a doddering sot! You said you were injured, that a cart ran over you? I should have attended to this straight away. Let me take you to Doctor Larimer. He must see you at once.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Lucy protested. ‘The cart didn’t actually run over me. I just banged into it and got knocked backwards on to the ground. I will be all right. I’ll just set type for a while. I can do that sitting down.’

  He took her arm and gently helped her the last few steps to the shop. When they reached the door, they stopped. ‘Lucy, I—’ he started to say, when the door was flung open.

  Master Aubrey’s red-haired apprentice Lach was staring at them. ‘Oh, sir, I wasn’t expecting to see you.’ He gave Lucy a wicked smile that made her face flush.

  ‘I’m back,’ Adam said easily, not discomfited by the apprentice’s mischievous remarks. ‘Is Master Aubrey about?’

  The master printer appeared behind his apprentice. ‘Greetings, Master Adam. I’m pleased to see you’ve returned.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Are there some pieces I may interest you in for you or your father?’

  Adam bowed his head slightly. ‘I will return soon enough. However, I must tell you that I believe Lucy must be seen by Doctor Larimer. She was injured this morning and—’

  ‘What? What’s wrong with her?’ Master Aubrey asked, while Lach looked her over impudently.

  ‘Seems fine to me,’ Lach commented, regarding her still-full sack.

  ‘I am fine,’ Lucy said quickly. ‘Truly. Perhaps I may just sit for a spell.’

  ‘Lucy, you can barely walk. You’re in pain.’ Adam turned back to Master Aubrey and handed him Lucy’s pack. ‘Let me call for a chair to take you to Doctor Larimer. I’ll be right back.’

  ‘A chair! Oh no!’ Lucy cried, but Adam ignored her. He left to hail a sedan chair, one of those fine chairs hefted by a man or two, which were used mainly by the wealthy, the elderly and the infirm to get around the crowded city streets.

  ‘Didn’t sell much,’ Lach commented, looking at her bag.

  Master Aubrey looked at Lucy. ‘You do seem pale. Have the good physician examine you and return as soon as you can. We must set the type for a new tract this afternoon. It’s in three parts and may take us into the evening.’

  Seeing that there was no room to argue, Lucy gave in. ‘I may have a story for you as well,’ she teased, still trying to hide the pain from her bruises. ‘I’ll tell you what I encountered when I get back. You’ll never believe it! There’s even a ghost or two! A true tale indeed!’

  ‘What? What! What was it?’ Master Aubrey shouted, as Lach exclaimed, ‘Don’t go. Tell us!’

  Just then, Adam walked up, followed by two men carrying a sedan chair between them. Such luxury! Lucy again began to demur, concerned by the expense, but Master Aubrey wagged a finger at her. ‘Lucy!’ he said. ‘Do as Master Hargrave says. It’s for the best.’

  ‘Very well,’ Lucy said, reluctantly agreeing. She let herself be helped into the chair, with its luxurious cushioned seats and curtained windows, and leaned back, trying to ignore Lach’s mocking comments as they set off down the street.

  THREE

  The swaying walk to Dr Larimer’s took about twenty minutes, which was quite long enough for Lucy to be seated in the covered sedan chair. Her head pounding, she thought several times she was going to be sick with the motion. Adam walked alongside the chair, his hand resting on the curtained window frame, so that his fingers were visible to her the whole while. Now it was Adam’s turn to talk, chatting about different news of London that he’d taken in earlier that day.

  He’s just trying to keep my mind off my injuries, Lucy thought. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t think she could have made the long walk to the physician’s residence on her own without some difficulty.

  When they arrived, Dr Larimer’s young servant Tom shouted when he saw Lucy being helped out of the sedan chair by Adam and went running inside for help. A moment later, Mrs Hotchkiss, the physician’s housekeeper, came out, brushing her hands on her skirts. She looked from Lucy to Adam in dismay. ‘Lucy Campion!’ she exclaimed. ‘What have you been doing to yourself? Are you injured?’

  ‘She needs to see the physician, if you would, madam,’ Adam said.

  Lucy felt embarrassed by the attention. ‘Oh, I can wait—’

  ‘At once,’ Adam added firmly.

  ‘Of course, sir,’ Mrs Hotchkiss replied, acknowledging his position and status. ‘He is with a patient, but I’ll fetch him. Please wait in his study.’

  Lucy and Adam were ushered into Dr Larimer’s study, and Lucy looked around. Earlier that year, she’d spent some time in the doctor’s home, looking after a patient, a woman she’d discovered, incoherent and alone in the vast expanse of the city that had been destroyed after the fire. She had got to know the members of the Larimer household quite well during that time.

  Although he was with a patient, the physician came out to see her immediately. ‘Lucy, my dear! What has happened to you? Got yourself in trouble again?’

  ‘In a way, I suppose, sir. Although I think trouble ran into me.’

  ‘What? How’s that?’

  After Lucy quickly explained what had happened, Dr Larimer nodded. ‘Ah, yes, I know about this. Constable Duncan stopped by a few minutes before you arrived with news of a suspicious suicide. I sent Sheridan to accompany him and to return here with the body if necessary.’ He led Lucy to the bed where he examined patients. ‘So you were run over by a cart? How inconvenient!’ Despite his jovial tone, Lucy detected an undercurrent of worry.

  ‘I wasn’t actually run over by a cart. I was just knocked over,’ Lucy repeated, starting to feel resigned when both men looked at her sternly.

  ‘Wait outside, if yo
u would,’ the physician said to Adam, gesturing towards the door. ‘I need to understand the extent of Lucy’s injuries.’

  A short while later, Dr Larimer helped Lucy to stand up and move over to the chair. ‘I do not think there was any internal injury done,’ he said. ‘Although that bruising will be painful and the stiffness will most likely linger. Wormwood tea for you. I shall let Mrs Hotchkiss know.’

  ‘Wormwood,’ Lucy said. ‘I had quite a bit of experience making that when I was here. I can make it myself when I return to Aubrey’s.’

  ‘Nonsense. You’ll have it here under my supervision.’ He gave her a stern glance. ‘Be certain to drink it slowly. If you feel any pain in your stomach, stop immediately. With such an injury, we cannot yet rule out internal damage.’

  That was certainly true. She remembered being at the deathbed of a man who’d been run over by a cart. His suffering had been great indeed, and she would not wish such an end on anyone. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Lucy said.

  When the physician opened the door, they could hear a great clamour out in the hallway. ‘I’ve brought the suicide,’ she heard Dr Sheridan call out, sounding annoyed. ‘Against my better judgement.’

  ‘I insisted,’ Duncan replied. ‘I trust Lucy when she said that something seemed off about his death.’

  ‘Just so,’ Dr Larimer said. ‘All right, wheel him into the surgery down the hall. We shall do the autopsy there.’

  Lucy stepped out of the room then, just in time to see Duncan and Hank push the man’s body to the closed room at the end of the corridor. When he saw her in the doorway, Dr Sheridan glared at her. There was little love lost between her and the physician’s assistant, even though there’d been a thawing of sorts this past year. ‘Causing us trouble again!’ he muttered.

  ‘What was your opinion of the body, sir?’ Lucy asked. She was genuinely curious, but she tacked on the honorific to appeal to his sense of pride.

  Both physicians glanced at her in surprise, though Dr Larimer’s look was far fonder. ‘Ah, Lucy. You remember the right questions to ask.’

  Dr Sheridan shrugged, directing his answer to Dr Larimer. ‘The body was clearly hanged, although it is not completely certain that the man committed suicide. A few indicators suggest that someone may have assisted in this most desperate act.’

  ‘Could he have been murdered?’ Lucy asked, thinking about the activities of the two men she’d seen at the site.

  ‘I hope we will learn that from the autopsy,’ Dr Larimer said. ‘Doctor Sheridan, please go and prepare the body. I shall be along shortly.’

  ‘Lucy, what are you doing here?’ Duncan asked, entering the room. ‘Did Doctor Larimer check you for injuries? Are you all right?’

  The room was suddenly starting to feel very cramped and hot, and Lucy sat down in a nearby chair, her arm to her forehead.

  ‘Lucy, would you like some mead?’ Duncan asked, filling a tin cup of mead from the pitcher on the side table. He looked at Dr Larimer. ‘Is there some medicine you can give her?’

  ‘I am all right,’ she said, hoping she did not sound petulant. She just wanted to lie down and rest. Thankfully, Mrs Hotchkiss arrived then with a cup of steaming wormwood tea, which she accepted gratefully. ‘This will help.’

  Dr Larimer insisted on waiting while she drank half of the liquid, asking her questions about her health as she drank. Finally, he seemed satisfied with her responses. ‘Your colour is improving, too,’ he said. ‘We shall just keep an eye on you.’

  Feeling a little revived, Lucy began to think more about the body. She remembered the conversation about why the man was wearing the ring around his neck. ‘Were the man’s fingers too swollen to wear a ring?’

  Dr Sheridan stepped back out then, scowling when he heard Dr Larimer address Lucy’s question. ‘His fingers will have swelled in death. Still, most people who’ve been wearing bands on their fingers for long amounts of time will have notable lines there from being pinched or rubbing the skin. Or, depending on the ring’s metal, there might be some discolouration. Sometimes, too, for men who spend their days in the sun, there may be lighter skin where the sun could not tan. Any one of those things may help us know.’ He nodded at Sheridan. ‘If you would check, sir.’

  ‘Why doesn’t everyone just come along?’ Sheridan asked, giving Lucy a mocking grin. ‘The body is ready for autopsy.’

  ‘I don’t really need to see the body again—’ Lucy began.

  ‘Please, I insist.’

  Lucy wasn’t sure if Sheridan was trying to torment her or if he truly wanted her to come along, but, resigned, she and the others trailed into the autopsy room, where the man’s corpse awaited.

  Despite living in Dr Larimer’s household earlier that year, Lucy had not spent much time in the space where the phys-icians conducted autopsies. The powerful smell of the room assaulted her nose, and she put her hand over her mouth. Even though there were sachets of rosemary and lavender all around the room, their cloying perfumes could not quite mask the more pungent stench of death.

  The corpse was on a table in the centre of the room, a sheet covering his now-naked form. The clothes the man had been wearing were all dumped in a basket in the corner. They’d clearly been cut off the man’s body with the pair of sharp scissors now resting in a tray with the other surgical instruments.

  ‘So quick, Sheridan,’ Dr Larimer murmured to his assistant, looking pointedly at the pile. From his tone, Lucy could not tell if he was complimenting his assistant or not. She suspected not. Dr Larimer tended to be far more meticulous and thorough in his actions.

  Not replying to the senior physician, Dr Sheridan examined the man’s hands one by one, then turned back to the others. ‘A cursory inspection of all the man’s fingers reveal that he did not habitually wear a band.’

  ‘So perhaps the ring belonged to someone else,’ Lucy mused, still standing a few steps away. ‘I wonder what that might mean.’

  Adam was staring at the man’s face. ‘Lucy,’ he said, ‘does this man look familiar to you?’ His voice was strained, worried. ‘I feel I’ve met him before.’

  ‘I never observed his face in detail,’ she replied, trying not to shudder. ‘I couldn’t bear to look long on his countenance.’

  ‘Please look,’ Adam said. ‘I know it is not a very becoming sight, but I must know.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Lucy said. Ignoring the nausea that surged up when she looked at the dead body, she peered more closely. He was clearly now in the grip of rigor mortis, not the malleable form she’d looked upon that morning. His hair was thick and black, though trimmed neatly as befitting a rich tradesman’s status. The earlier flush to the man’s countenance had faded to the sickly bluish colour of death. His eyes were still closed but his features did not look recognizable. ‘I don’t think I know him. Why? Do you?’

  Adam continued to stare at the corpse. ‘I don’t know. There’s something about him.’

  ‘Maybe this will help you remember.’ Dr Sheridan pulled back the white sheet to expose the man’s upper left arm, exposing a tattoo of a sea serpent. They all stared at it.

  ‘No,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ve never seen this before.’

  Adam studied the tattoo, eventually shaking his head. ‘No, that doesn’t look familiar to me either. Still, there’s something about this man. I hope I can remember.’

  Lucy and Adam walked slowly to Master Aubrey’s. She was grateful that Adam had not insisted on another sedan chair for the journey back to the printer’s shop, although he moved at a slower pace through the streets to accommodate her halting movements.

  ‘Have you remembered where you’ve seen him?’ Lucy asked. ‘He appeared to be a tradesman. Perhaps you have been to his shop or he has made a delivery to your father’s household.’

  ‘That could be it, but I just can’t recall. Certainly, it could not have been a recent encounter.’ He sighed. ‘With any luck, my slumbers will be restful and I might recall how I may have known him.’

  They fell sile
nt then, each to their own thoughts. Finally, Lucy broke the silence. ‘Adam, what’s it like in the New World?’ she asked. She’d read the strange and fantastic tales of the colonists as well as the native peoples who preceded them.

  He hesitated. ‘Rough. I do believe in the opportunities there, but people age quickly. The environs are quite difficult. I have heard the winters there take on an ungodly chill. There has been much sickness that I am wary of, too.’

  Will you be returning soon? Do you see a life there now? Why did you return? These questions hovered on her lips but she did not speak them. A sudden aching in her chest told her that she could not bear to hear his reply.

  ‘Well, Lucy,’ he said when they reached the shop. ‘Do take your wormwood tea as Doctor Larimer has prescribed.’

  Lucy waited to see if he might mention anything of seeing her again, or bring up wanting to speak to her, as he had earlier that day. When he didn’t, she gave a tight nod and pushed into the printer’s shop.

  FOUR

  After tossing and turning for a long while on her straw pallet, Lucy finally got up and opened the shutters of her tiny room. It was still dark, maybe several hours before dawn. Her stomach was not hurting any more except when she touched it, but her back was still paining her a bit. She must have hit a root or something when she was knocked to the ground, although, as the physician said, she’d certainly been lucky not to have sustained more serious injuries. Still, the purple bruising all over her body was a sight to behold.