by Kerry Tombs
‘My brother was a good man. I grew up admiring him for his courage, his bravery and his honour. I worshipped the very ground that he stood on. He was everything to me, don’t you understand? All I wanted to do, Ravenscroft, was to join his regiment when I came of age, so that I could prove myself half the man he was.’
‘Go on,’ urged Ravenscroft.
‘The regiment went to India. Then we heard about that terrible massacre by those murdering Afghans. Over fifty men, women and children were slaughtered that day. Do you know that they even cut off the children’s heads and stuck them on pikes? Some of them were as young as three. What kind of man does that? What they did to the women was even worse. Unspeakable! And my brother was the only one to survive. They said that he had deserted his post, had left all the others to be butchered. Can you imagine the disgrace, Ravenscroft? Our friends in society would not speak to us. People spat at us when we crossed the street. When Charles returned home, after he had been thrown out the army, my father and mother would have nothing to do with him, so Charles left the home where he had been born and raised. We heard later that he had purchased a house near Bredon. God knows why he went there. He just wanted to be alone, I suppose; to escape from everyone and everything.
‘Then we heard that he had been killed at a shooting party. I shed no tears. Perhaps he had done the honourable thing in the end — taken the easy way out and shot himself. My dear mother who had never hurt anyone in her life, died of a broken heart. Her dying wish was that I should join the regiment and restore the family honour. So that is what I did, and for three years I went to fight in India — but do you know something, my fellow officers hated and despised me. They said I came from a coward’s family; that my brother had bought dishonour and disgrace to the regiment, and that I would pay for his actions. For three years I had to endure their insults and mockery. Do you know what that felt like? To be treated like an outcast, to be given the foulest of food, to be sent on the worst of engagements, to be sneered at and humiliated. And, worst of all, I did not complain. Never once did I complain. It was, after all, my penance. I had to suffer for the disgrace that my brother had bought on us all. I’m sorry, can I have some water?’ gasped Ross, tears of anger beginning to form in his eyes.
‘Of course. Crabb, bring the prisoner a glass of water, if you will,’ instructed Ravenscroft.
The two men sat in silence until Crabb returned to the room bearing a jug of water. Ravenscroft poured out some of the liquid into a glass. Ross seized it and gulped it down.
‘When you are ready to continue,’ said Ravenscroft, leaning back in his chair once more.
‘One evening, Major Anstruther, who was in our regiment, became the worse for drink, boasted how he and the others — Ganniford, Jenkins, Hollinger and Colonel Eames, had persuaded Lord Treaves to invite my brother to his estate for the weekend, and how they cornered him in that field and confronted him with his cowardice. Anstruther laughed when he told how they had forced my brother to kneel before them and beg for his own life, how they had mocked him and humiliated him and then shot him, and how they all swore an oath to make the whole thing look like an accident. And do you know, Ravenscroft, when I heard that man bragging and boasting in his intoxicated state, I kind of admired him? At least he and the others had done something to avenge the deaths of all those innocent men, women and children. After all, my brother had betrayed them all in order to save his own skin,’ said Ross, becoming increasingly animated and staring round the room with a look of wide-eyed desperation.
Ravenscroft replenished his prisoner’s glass, then looked across at Crabb who was busily engaged in taking notes.
‘Then one day everything changed. I came across an old Sikh, who wandered into the garrison. He had heard that a soldier of the name of Ross was there and asked to speak with him. When I approached the man, however, he said that I was not Captain Ross. I explained to him that I was his brother, and that Charles was dead. Then he told me what had really happened on that day. He had seen it all — how the party had been ambushed in the hills by the Afghans — how my brother had quickly organized the defence, killing many of the attackers as he did so, fighting bravely in a futile attempt to save the lives of the others, until he received a blow on the back of his head and was knocked unconscious. They must have thought they had killed him and left him for dead. How Charles survived the slaughter I do not know. When the murdering cutthroats had left, the old Sikh, who had been observing events from behind a rock, scoured the battlefield for survivors, where he found my brother still alive, but badly injured, and took him back to his own village where the people of his tribe cared for him. It was some weeks before my brother was fit enough to leave and return to his regiment — but, of course, news of the massacre had spread by then, and everyone in the regiment had assumed that Charles had deserted his post. There was no one who could confirm what had really happened, and despite his attempts to assert his own innocence in the affair, he was entirely discredited and forced out of the army. So you see, Ravenscroft, my brother was never the coward they all said he was. He had fought with honour and with bravery.’
Ross paused from his narrative and reached out again for the water and bought the glass to his lips with trembling hands.
‘God, how they had all chosen to disbelieve him! Eames and Anstruther had already left the regiment and returned home before I learned the truth. Once the old man had told everyone the true account of what had really happened that day, the new colonel of the regiment restored my brother’s honour — but by then it was all too late, he had been killed by Anstruther and the others all those years before. Both my parents had died believing that their son had bought dishonour to the family, when in fact the opposite was the case. Worst of all, I had joined in the condemnation, believing in my brother’s betrayal.’
‘What did you do next?’ asked Ravenscroft intently.
‘I resigned my commission and returned home. I did not know what else I could do to restore my brother’s honour. People in Kirkintilloch still believed in Charles’s guilt. So, I decided to move to Bredon’s Norton where I knew that Charles had purchased a house and some land shortly before his death. There I tried to put the past behind me, but however much I tried, I could not. Somehow I had betrayed my brother by my own condemnation. It was as if I had been there that day when he had been shot. Then I became angry when I remembered the words of Anstruther and how he and the others had humiliated and degraded my brother before they had killed him in such a brutal fashion, and I knew that the honour of my brother and my family could only be restored by the deaths of those men who had bought about Charles’s death. At first I thought it would be a simple matter just to kill them all one at a time, but then I realized that would be far too easy. I wanted them each to know the fear and terror as their companions were killed one by one, wondering when it would be their turn to pay for the death of my brother!’
‘I think I can understand that,’ said Ravenscroft, knowing that he would need to offer some words of encouragement so that the full confession could be obtained.
‘You have no idea how I felt; how the anger increased inside me; how all I wanted was revenge on those who had killed my brother. But how was I to bring all these people together? Then I learned of the legend of Sir Roger de la Pole here in the abbey and of the treasure he had bought back with him from the Holy Land, and I saw a way in which they could all be reunited. So I engaged the services of an old school friend of mine.’
‘Crosbie,’ interjected Ravenscroft.
‘You know him by that name. He had fallen on hard times. His employer, a lawyer, had recently died and he was without employment. I outlined my plan to him — how we would bring the six of them here to Tewkesbury and use them to discover the hiding place of the old Templar’s treasure. Of course, I did not tell him my true intentions. So, I compiled the chart, showing how each of them was descended from Sir Roger de la Pole and Crosbie began his work visiting each of them in turn and baiti
ng the trap. We were careful that Crosbie chose a new name for each person he visited.’
‘The novels of Anthony Trollope,’ added Ravenscroft.
‘Ah, you spotted that.’
‘It was my wife who saw the connection.’
‘And so they all came that night here to Tewkesbury lured by greed and expectation, swarming like bees round a honey pot. I had told them to meet each other outside the abbey at midnight. At first I knew that they would not recognize me in the dark, and with my face partially concealed, but I knew that it would not take them long to realize that Charles Ross had returned from the grave,’ laughed Ross slumping backwards in his chair.
‘Why did you then kill Crosbie?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘He had performed his role well. Earlier that evening we had entered the abbey and had together prised open the lid of the coffin. If there was any treasure to be found, then we might as well acquire it for ourselves. I encouraged Crosbie to climb inside the sarcophagus, but there was only a few bones. It was then that I killed him. You see, I could not afford to let him go. He knew too much and might betray me before my plan could be carried out. Then I tried to pull the cover back on the coffin, but it was too heavy for me to move alone. I realized that it would be interesting if I left things the way they were, so that the others would feel uneasy upon finding the dead man inside the coffin, and would begin to wonder why the man who had been instrumental in bringing them there was now dead. When I met the others later, I quickly slipped into the darkness and watched as they found his body inside the tomb. When your constable arrived and confronted them, I took the opportunity to leave the abbey unseen by anyone. I watched as you arrived the next day and began your questioning, but I knew that none of them would tell you the real reason for their visit here.’
‘How did you come to kill Hollinger?’
‘I decided that my first victim would be Hollinger. Shortly after he retired I crept into his room and killed him. It was so easy. He was just lying there. He did not even hear me enter the room. I decided that Anstuther would also die that night, but when I went to his room, I found that he had already left. The man had always been a coward. Perhaps he had realized that his life was in danger and had decided to leave before I could extract my revenge. It looked as though my plan would be thwarted, but then I decided that if I left my bloodstained clothes in his room it would look as though he had committed the murder, and you would do everything in your power to look for him and bring him back here. When your officers brought him back and you began your questioning, I knew that I would have to act quickly. I couldn’t risk Anstruther telling you about the killing of my brother, so when you were away and your constable was taking him his food, I slipped into the front office with the poisoned drink, making sure that no one saw me. It was all so ridiculously easy. I was only sorry that I was not there in person to see him die. The man had been a braggart and waster all his life!’
Ravenscroft poured out more water for his prisoner.
‘I knew now that the others would know that I had killed their companions — but I was also confident that they would never tell you about that weekend when my brother had been shot. If they had told you the truth they would have had to admit their own part in his murder.’
‘How did you kill Jenkins?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘That was easy. I knew that all I had to do was to wait for the right opportunity when one of them would be alone. When Jenkins left the inn, I made sure that he saw me walking down towards the river. I knew that his curiosity would get the better of him. All I had to do was wait for him to reach the river, creep up behind him and strike the back of his head, before throwing him over the weir.’
‘And poor Miss Eames would have been your next victim?’
‘Yes, but then, of course, you had at last unravelled the truth. The rest you know. Do you know something, Ravenscroft? I am glad that I managed to kill Hollinger, Anstruther and Jenkins. They deserved to die for their part in my brother’s death and for the blackening of my families name. My only regret is that I was not able to kill that windbag Ganniford and that insipid Eames woman. I feel that I have only partly avenged my brother!’
‘Miss Eames played no part in your brother’s death,’ said Ravenscroft, observing that his prisoner had begun shaking uncontrollably.
‘Eames was dead, it was only right that his daughter should stand in his place!’ snapped Ross.
‘Good God, man, do you have no remorse? You are responsible for the deaths of four men,’ retorted Ravenscroft.
‘Remorse! You say that I should show some regret for my actions? What pity did they show to my brother when they cornered him in that field?’ replied Ross, burying his face in his hands. ‘Charles fought with honour and with gallantry to save the lives of those men, women and children, but he was branded a coward and killed in a brutal cowardly fashion! Surely you can see that? What will happen to me, now?’
‘You will face trial for the deaths of Crosbie, Hollinger, Anstruther and Jenkins — and you will almost certainly hang,’ said Ravenscroft with contempt, rising from his seat and indicating that the interview was at an end.
Ross let out a loud laugh and reached into his pocket.
‘Take him back to his cell, Crabb,’ instructed Ravenscroft, beginning to leave the room.
‘Quickly, sir!’ shouted Crabb.
Ross poured some liquid into his glass and, throwing back his head, drained it, before Ravenscroft could wrestle the container from his grasp.
‘You are too late, Ravenscroft!’ laughed Ross.
‘No. Good God, man, not this way!’ said Ravenscroft, unable to do anything as Ross’s body shook violently before collapsing in the chair.
‘He must have had the poison on his person,’ said a startled Crabb standing back from the corpse.
‘Damn the man! He has escaped the hangman’s noose!’
* * *
‘Well Mr Ravenscroft, if you have no further need of us, Miss Eames and I with leave you,’ said Ganniford standing outside the Hop Pole later that day.
‘Yes, everything is in order. I have your statements. Everything is at an end,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘I am only sorry that my poor friend Jenkins will not be leaving with us. I will miss our talks together. He was a good man, you know. He did not deserve to die like that. However Miss Eames has agreed to accompany me to London, where I will be pleased to offer her my protection,’ said Ganniford kissing his companion’s hand before stepping into the cab.
‘Good day to you, Miss Eames,’ said Ravenscroft nodding in the lady’s direction.
‘Good day to you, Inspector,’ smiled Miss Eames. ‘Perhaps we will meet again one day.’
‘Right then, Ravenscroft. Jolly well done and all that. We caught that murdering scoundrel in the end,’ said Ganniford as the cabman urged the horse forward.
Ravenscroft and Crabb watched as the vehicle turned the corner.
‘We should have arrested him for the murder of Charles Ross,’ muttered Crabb.
‘It would do no good. No jury would convict him on the evidence now that Robert Ross himself is dead. Ganniford would deny everything, no doubt still maintaining that Charles Ross shot himself as the result of an accident. No, the events of the past have cast a long and deep shadow over the lives of too many people. Let Ganniford and Miss Eames make something of their lives if they can.’
‘I suppose you’re right, sir.’
‘There is one question that we will never know the answer to.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’ asked Crabb.
‘Why that poor Crosbie fellow only cut the nails on one of his feet, and not the other.’
‘What now then, sir?’
‘It seems we have been granted permission to open that old tomb in Meysey Hampton. The vicar expects us there next Tuesday at three in the afternoon. There may be treasure to be found after all.’
‘You’ll be leaving us then, Mr Ravenscroft,’ said a grinning Steb
bins, emerging from the Hop Pole.
‘Yes, Stebbins. We have spent far too long in this town. Our business is all concluded.’
‘Took his own life in the end, I hear.’
‘That is no concern of yours, Stebbins,’ said Ravenscroft mounting his trap.
‘Good day to you then, Mr Ravenscroft.’
‘Good day to you, Stebbins.’
‘Till the next time then. You knows you can call on me at any time. Stebbins is your man.’
‘And Stebbins—’
‘Yes?’
‘Just try and stay out of trouble.’
‘I will do my best, sir. Stebbins will do his best.’
* * *
‘I must say, my dear, that I am mighty relieved that the case has come to a conclusion. It was not the ending I would have wanted, but I suppose justice has been done in the end.’
Ravenscroft had returned home later that evening and, as they sat before the fire, he had related the events of the day.
‘It is quite horrible, to have taken his own life like that and in such an awful fashion,’ replied Lucy.
‘I would have preferred it if we had bought him to trial, but he was too quick for us.’
‘One can almost feel sorry for the poor man, after the dreadful way both he and his brother had been treated, when all the time his brother had done everything possible to save the lives of those innocent women and children. How terrible it must have been. I can think of nothing more horrible than to be killed in such a terrible place. I suppose that is where all this began, one day in a strange land, all those years ago.’
‘Let us not forget the lives of the four people he took whilst carrying out his plan of revenge. Nothing can justify the taking of another life, whether innocent or guilty. There is no excuse for cold-blooded murder. Revenge can often affect a man’s reason.’
‘Do you think that Anstruther and the others did kill Ross’s brother at that shooting party — or was it just an accident as the papers and your Mr Ganniford claimed?’ asked Lucy looking up from her sewing.