Keppelberg

by Stan Mason

  ‘Who killed the Headmaster?’ asked the leading police officer bluntly. He decided to brook no more nonsense from any of the villagers. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ stated PC7 smartly, attempting to clarify the situation in favour of the village. ‘Thirty children were present when the Headmaster fell and hit his head on the concrete. It was accidental.’

  ‘And I suppose he fell of his own accord!’ returned the police officer sarcastically.

  The Desk Sergeant felt that he needed to corroborate the story so he entered the conversation. ‘The Headmaster heard the boys and girls shouting in the playground and he hurried out to find out what was happening. In doing so, he tripped and fell with his head striking the concrete. It was an accident. No child was responsible for his death and there were no adults present. But if you want to arrest all thirty children on a charge of murder, I’d be delighted to give you their names.’

  ‘What is it with this village?’ snapped the city policeman angrily. ‘Every time someone’s killed, there’s no one to blame... no single person to arrest... no individual to indict for it. Okay, let’s put the death of the Headmaster aside for the moment. The autopsy will prove whether he died by hitting his head on concrete or not. In the meantime, we have some warrants here to arrest a number of people for the murder of the crew from Northern Television.’ He laid down the documents on the desk and PC7 picked up one of them to examine it.

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ he remonstrated. ‘How can you arrest Jonathan Brazier? He’s a farmer who lives next to the field where the bodies were found but that doesn’t mean he had any involvement with the deaths. He denies all knowledge of the men or of their burial. You can’t arrest him for murder!’ He looked at the other documents and snorted angrily. ‘You want to arrest Archibald Lockett and Aaron Major. You’re out of your mind! You know what happened here... we told you so. They came at the dead of night... ah, what’s the use? No individual can be blamed for mob violence when people are unfortunately killed. You’re simply trying to pin the blame on someone just to get a result. Well it won’t work!’

  ‘You don’t think so,’ retorted the city police officer. ‘Then you must come to the trial and find out for yourself.’

  ‘It’s not justice to single out a few individuals who may, or may not, have been in the forefront of the crowd when those people were crushed,’ commented the Desk Sergeant.

  ‘They weren’t crushed to death,’ stated the city policeman curtly. ‘The autopsy proved that they were all beaten to death with blunt instruments and one of them was stabbed with a knife. Following our investigations, we discovered that the people in the forefront of the mob, and the ones most likely to have delivered the fatal blows, were Archibald Lockett, Aaron Major and Jonathan Brazier. They were the three who had the opportunity to strike those blows and they did so with evil intent. That’s our case and it’s up to them to disprove it.’

  ‘But you can’t be certain those men were at the front,’ insisted PC7 defensively. ‘Who told you that?’

  The city policeman stared wickedly at the Desk Sergeant his eyes blazing with fury. ‘You’re supposed to be the police force in this village keeping peace and order,’ he spouted. ‘Why don’t you do your duty and support us? You know these men are guilty and all you’re doing is putting obstacles in our way.’ His tone softened slightly as he took two more warrants from his pocket. ‘And that is why we’re arresting you, Sergeant Maurice Cable and Constable Adam Blounce as accessories to the murder of those three men, for wasting police time, and for malfeasance of duty. I think you two will be looking for new jobs when you get out of jail.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ spat the Desk Sergeant irately, shaking his head vigorously. ‘You’re really pushing your luck in this matter!’

  ‘We’ll let the jury decide, shall we?’ came the riposte. He turned to the two other policemen he had brought with him. ‘Take them away!’ he ordered. ‘Put them in the chopper and then find Lockett, Major and Brazier. We’ll leave the death of the Headmaster until tomorrow. Hopefully no one else in this village will be murdered before we get back.’

  The two village policemen were led away, PC7 shrugging off the hand of his escort, and they were pushed into the helicopter staring bleakly out of the window. The city policemen went in search of the other three villagers and, after finding them, they herded them into the helicopter to accompany PC7 and the Desk Sergeant.

  I watched them fly off into the sky away from the village wondering whether we would ever see them again. The murder of the television crew had been a heinous unnecessary crime but, in truth, mob rule meant that no individual could be held responsible, even if the three men from Northern Television had been hammered to death with blunt instruments. Proof was the essence of the case but no one could substantiate who had struck the final blows. One thing was certain, the population figure on Keppelberg village was beginning to sag below the eleven hundred mentioned in the constitution. I felt that if it continued that way, the village would be doomed.

  * * *

  After the desk sergeant, PC7 and the other three men had been taken away by the city police, I assumed a new role in the village. As I was the only security officer, I took on the role of being the only police officer appointed unofficially by myself to keep peace and order in the community. To my amazement, I stood behind the desk in the police station assuming superiority which could never before have been envisaged. I was still called a stranger in the community yet I was the only man in charge of law and order. It made me feel exhilarated to have elevated myself to such a high rank although I recognised the many problems faced by the village over the next few months. Murder had been committed... members of the community had been charged and arrested. They had been ferried away to Newcastle to face trial and it was unlikely that they would be afforded bail. Ultimately they would be held on remand until the trial took place. There was also the problem arising from the children which didn’t look like being resolved quickly. And there was the rebuilding of the village hall which had burned down.

  I ran through the ledgers which the Desk Sergeant had constantly referred to and found that, with the exception of Wayne Austen, I had been the last person arrested in the village since time immemorial. I then decided to visit the cells to check that they were all empty, pausing to stop at the one in which I had been incarcerated. Workmen had repaired the ceiling I had damaged during my escape and they had placed a new bed against the wall. I returned to the desk just as the Secretary entered the police station. While the villagers still called me a stranger they tolerated my presence. The Secretary was the only person who detested me and showed me hatred. Her venomous tongue had kept insisting that I left the village and she showed me no mercy for all the work I had done during my stay. I had toyed with the idea that her anger was a reverse sexual situation. In other words, she was attracted to me but any further moves in that direction were out of the question because she was married. Subsequently, her feelings turned to frustration and hatred towards me although she really felt the opposite. I gazed admiringly at her face, for she was a really beautiful woman, with dark brown hair and wide eyes, and she had a dimple in her chin which embellished her looks. To increase the pressure on me, I also noticed that she had a lithe, slim figure even though she wore a long Victorian dress. Had I not been matched with Bridget, and had the Secretary not been married, I would probably have seen the woman in a different light.

  ’I see you’re still here in the village,’ she commented, moving up to the desk to stare directly into my eyes.

  ’It seems so,’ I returned casually. ’In fact I’m now the chief of police on my own volition. The Desk Sergeant and the constable have been arrested and taken to Newcastle.’ I expected her to explode and continue to pour venom but her body language indicated quite the reverse. She appeared ready to open her heart to me.

  ‘Are we alone?
’ she asked furtively looking around.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Quite alone.’ Silence prevailed for a short time before I found my tongue. ’What can I do for you?’ I asked politely wondering why she had come to the police station.

  ‘It’s quite a sensitive matter,’ she began hesitantly, somewhat embarrassed at what she intended to say. ‘I ask you to hear me out before you come to a decision.’ She paused to collect her thoughts. ‘I understand that you’ve learned practically all there is to know about the village. I spoke to Bridget McBain and she told me that you were aware of all that was happening here.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ I confirmed, still waiting for her to clarify her reason for coming.

  ‘I’m ninety years of age,’ she admitted freely, ‘although I still look around thirty. Bridget told me that you were all right with ages.’ She stared closely at my face to note that there was no reaction. When she was satisfied, she continued at length. ‘My husband’s ninety-five. Unfortunately although the tablets make him look young they have not worked well for him. He’s sexually impotent... he’s been that way for the last thirty years.’ I raised my hand to prevent her from continuing as I knew what she was going to ask me. However, nothing was ever going to stop her now that she was in full flood. ‘I know this is out of order but a woman has needs and mine are no different to any other young woman. I’ve been denied sexual activity for thirty years and it’s beginning to drive me crazy.’

  ‘You know I’m living with Bridget McBain,’ I cut in quickly trying to prevent her from continuing. ‘She’s my natural partner.’

  ‘I know,’ she went on. ‘She’s told me all about her sexual activity with you. She recognised my needs and told me to come and see you. Her suggestion is that we split you one-in-five.’

  The expression on my face must have shown my confusion. ‘One-in-five,’ I uttered almost in a whisper. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘One day in every five you and I make love together, the same way you do with Bridget the other four nights.’

  I gasped in amazement at how the two women had arranged my love life between them, yet the idea of bedding the Secretary for a change caused me to become extremely excited. If Bridget agreed for me to do that, I was quite willing to seize the opportunity.

  ‘You do realise that it’s not a permanent relationship,’ she added. ‘I mean I’m married. It’s only the sexual deprivation that causes me to approach you. How do you feel about it?’

  ‘What about your husband? Will he object to this arrangement?’

  ‘Oh he’s in full agreement if it makes me happy. Mind you, I don’t expect you to do it for nothing. I’ll give you fifty vouchers each time for as long as you want to go on.’

  ‘Fifty vouchers,’ I repeated dumbly, hardly listening to what she was saying. My mind was on a different plateau working out my future with both women.

  ‘So will you do it with the blessing of Bridget?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Well,’ I responded affirmatively, ‘if Bridget agrees and she wants me to help out a friend, then I’m your man. When do we start?’

  ‘Tonight will be fine if it’s all right with you.’ Her eyes blazed with satisfaction at the reply.

  ‘Where do you live?’ I enquired wondering what I was getting myself into.

  ‘Bridget will bring you to my house,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, my husband will be visiting a friend and he won’t be there.’

  She left the police station and my mind was in a whirl. It seemed that the two women had decided my fate and I had become a stud to both of them. I mused that this was an additional informal role I had adopted since coming to the village and I hoped that Bridget didn’t have any more friends with sexual needs otherwise I would soon become exhausted.

  That evening, I discussed the matter with Bridget to make certain that she was in accord with the arrangement.

  ‘She’s always been a good friend to me,’ she explained. ‘And I know the problem she had sexually with her husband. I just want to help her out. I hope you don’t mind. I know I’m a fool for doing it but what are friends for?’

  She took me to the Secretary’s house and bade me farewell to go back home, biting her lower lip for letting me go to another woman. The Secretary opened the door in her dressing-gown and I knew that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. She smiled at me pleasantly and then closed the door.

  ‘Come up to the bedroom,’ she invited warmly and I followed her up the stairs.

  She had folded back the sheets ready for us and I was disappointed not to see a bottle of wine and two glasses to warm us up before the action took place. However no one drank wine or spirits in the village so it simply wasn’t there. She moved towards me, a little nervously at first, putting her arms around my shoulders. I drew her closer and kissed her on the lips. To my surprise, her tongue moved out to reach the back of my throat and I felt myself rising to the occasion. Bridget had never done anything like that in all the sexual sessions between us. I undressed entirely and the dressing-gown slid off her shoulders to show that I had been right. She was wearing nothing underneath. We hugged and kissed, touching each other all over for quite some time and she almost melted beneath me enjoying every second. She was a desirous woman with a remarkable slender body and very luscious large firm breasts. I pushed her back onto the bed and started to run my fingers over her nipples, kissing her all the time as I did so. She began to moan and groan as a woman who had been denied physical sex for so long and it turned me on more than I imagined. We toyed around with each other in foreplay for about twenty minutes, my mind consumed with the forthcoming love-making. I triggered her clitoris causing her to moan and groan even louder before I penetrated her body in the moist area that means so much to both men and women. I must have rubbed repeatedly against he G-spot because each time I pressed forward she writhed in ecstasy, screaming at the top of her voice with exhilaration. We continued in the same vein, moving up and down in harmony for the best part of six or seven minutes, with her twisting her body slightly at each thrust, when her back suddenly arched and she gave a long sigh of satisfaction before collapsing on the bed like a full-blown jelly, allowing me to continue until I reached a climax.

  ‘Bridget is so lucky,’ she exclaimed, puffing and blowing through the effort. ‘You are fantastic. I think Bridget’s a very stupid woman to allow you to make love to me. I want you every night to myself. Every night!’

  ‘I think you’re pretty fantastic yourself,’ I commended, feeling ecstatic by her performance. ‘You were very good, In fact you were so good I wouldn’t mind doing it again.’

  She threw her arms around me with excitement and kissed me fully on the lips. ‘Go ahead, lover!’ she cooed in a whisper. ‘I’m ready if you are!’

  I began the same procedure, running my fingers over her full breasts and kissing her on her neck before running my fingers down her spine, trying to find her erogenous areas to excite her even more. I kissed her body all over with a hundred or so kisses and moved my hand between her legs again to feel the moistness on my fingers. It was as though we were making love for the very first time and she moaned and groaned with ecstasy once more, enjoying every erotic moment that we were locked together.

  ‘I really don’t know how to approach this,’ she uttered after we had finished. ‘I want you all to myself every night, every day. I don’t think I could ever let you go.’

  ‘What about your husband?’ I challenged, even though I cared little for the answer.

  ‘To hell with him. It’s my life and you’ve given me the chance to live it again. I’m going to enjoy it the best way I can and that’s with you. I’m going to have another word with Bridget. One-in-five’s not good enough for me. I want more. You can have as many vouchers as you want. By God... it’s worth it!’

  I couldn’t have cared less about the vouchers but I did feel
strongly towards the woman. It was very strange making love to her when I was always doing so with Bridget. Oddly enough, they were both different in their love-making activity. I could not ascertain the reason for it but that was the case. However the Secretary was perfectly correct. There could be no relationship between us because she was already married. Although I hadn’t read it in the constitution, I was sure that Obadiah Keppelberg disallowed divorce. Regardless of that, I was certain the Secretary would never show hatred towards me ever again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  And air of foreboding hovered over the village after the arrest of the two policemen and the three other villagers. They suffered the indignity of apathy, dejection and despair. It was the first time in their lives that anyone had been forcibly taken from the village and those left behind resented the action of the city police strongly. The discovery of the bodies after the betrayal of young Brazier was against everything they believed in yet it had happened. It had been written in stone in the constitution that the villagers must live in peace and harmony. The debacle that had taken place on that fateful night counteracted everything that Obadiah Numbwinton had written. It was true that the television crew had intruded into the village at the dead of night to make a documentary of all that went on there but to murder them out of hand was entirely against all that was practised in the village. And now the children had ganged together to threaten a rebellion. How could the villagers really cope with the changes that were taking place. None of it was thought of when the constitution was written. Clearly they were beyond the control of the Chairman, Townsend, who seemed to have vanished for the present weighed down by the problems. He should have gathered everyone in the village and spoken to them, lifting their morale and telling them to support each other at this time of despair, but he wasn’t to be found. In effect, he was in the church, praying on his knees at the altar with the priest asking for guidance from above... not that anyone could help either him or the villagers. Sadly, following the events that had taken place, he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, just managing to hold himself together for the time being. The responsibility for continuing Obadiah Keppelberg’s wishes lay directly on his shoulders but he felt helpless to field them. If he had a crystal ball in his possession, he would have seen that there were a lot more to come to haunt him. William Shakespeare could not have written a more apt sentence than that in his play Hamlet which goes:’ When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions’. And how they stormed the barricades of Keppelberg!