‘Are you serious?’ Boyd was frowning. ‘Suppose he, or someone else, refuses? I can hardly insist.’
‘You might,’ I told him. ‘You could say you’re writing a report about what you observed at the inquest of Susanna Cobbett - one you mean to send to the proper authorities. Standish is most touchy on the matter. If he thought someone were to accuse him of malpractice…’
‘Robert, enough!’ Boyd wore his exasperated look. ‘Your feelings run away with you. Though I’ve said I will help you in this business, you know my powers are limited-’
‘What about gathering evidence?’ I said, cutting him short. ‘That’s all I desire. I told Standish I might have something new, but I didn’t tell him what. It nettled the man… he’s not invulnerable. Between us, I believe we have reasons enough to insist on your viewing the corpse. If he objects, I might throw in a few veiled threats. So - in view of your professed interest in matters of supposed self-murder, what do you say?’
Having made my case, I waited. I was asking a lot, perhaps, but I knew Boyd. At last, he let out a sigh and nodded.
‘If you can arrange it, then I will do it,’ he said. ‘But if I’m satisfied the youth died by drowning, that’s the end of the matter – and of your case. If indeed, you have a case?’
It was a question to which I had no answer. But on a sudden, I knew what to do next: I would go again to Newland Wood and try to find Ned Berritt.
I wanted to hear what he knew, before the news became widely known.
***
In the early afternoon I left the city once again and rode downriver to Powick. After crossing the Teme I followed the lane towards Humphreys’ farm, before turning aside and walking Leucippus along the grassy track. The route was becoming familiar, I thought; but recalling my previous meeting with Berritt, it dawned on me that I might not find him, which meant a wasted journey. I had no wish to ride on to the Masons’ cottage, having nothing of comfort to tell them; after what had now occurred, their fears would only worsen. Hence, my hopes had dwindled somewhat by the time I dismounted at the treeline. I ventured into the wood once more and made my way towards the Witching Pool, now the scene of another tragedy. But very soon, I was checked.
There was a shout, and two men came striding through the trees towards me. One of them held a pistol. I stopped in my tracks, hand on sword, and drew a breath.
‘Who are you, and what’s your business here?’ The one with the firearm demanded.
‘I might ask the same of you,’ I replied, gathering my wits. ‘Whom do you serve?’
They halted, observing my station from my good clothes and my basket-hilt rapier. Seeing I was not a man to be browbeaten, the forerunner of the two lowered his pistol, blew the charge off and uncocked it. ‘I’m not obliged to answer questions, sir,’ he said. ‘We have orders to keep a watch – the wood is dangerous.’
‘Do you mean the pool is dangerous?’ I enquired. ‘I hardly think so.’
The two exchanged glances. By now I had looked them over and seen a pair of lackeys, unaccustomed to the role of guards. ‘I asked you who your master is,’ I went on, summoning my official voice. ‘This is the border of Cobbett’s land – is it him you serve?’
‘We’re not at liberty to say, sir,’ the second of the two answered. ‘But we are ordered not to let any man pass. There has been a death… the body was only removed this morning.’
I regarded him briefly, then turned my gaze upon the other.‘Has anyone spoken to the finder of the body?’ I asked him.
‘I know naught of that, sir.’ Nervously, the man fingered the butt of his pistol. ‘But I can tell you there’s no more to be done here.’
In spite of my resentment at being treated in this manner, I realised he was probably right. I would find nothing new – and Berritt, of course, would be nowhere near.
‘The corpse – do you know where it’s been taken?’ I asked.
‘To the church in Powick,’ the unarmed man answered. But at a look from his companion, he lowered his gaze.
‘Do you have an interest in the matter, sir?’ The man was eying me suspiciously. ‘I mean no insult, only-’
‘That’s as well,’ I broke in. ‘Or you may regret it. And like you, I’m not obliged to answer questions. Instead I’ll leave you to your duties, superfluous as they seem. I can’t imagine sightseers flocking to this spot just now, can you?’
I turned about and left them, retracing my steps. I was both disappointed and curious; why had those men been placed here? And why did they refuse to say whose orders they followed?
Still turning these questions over, I returned to Leucippus where he grazed. At my approach he lifted his head, ready for me to mount the stirrup. Instead I took up the rein and led him back along the track. At least I had learned where the body of Howell Rhys was, I thought; I needed to inform Boyd, before taking the bold step of confronting Standish again about the inquest.
I was pondering the matter, when Leucippus suddenly came to a standstill. At the same moment there was movement in the bushes beside the track. Turning sharply, I peered about – whereupon a bark of laughter almost caused me to jump out of my skin.
‘Berritt… by the heavens, is that you?’ I called.
For answer there came a twitch of branches, and the familiar figure of the woodman appeared. With a glance at Leucippus, who eyed him warily, he stepped on to the track and faced me.
‘Why, were you expecting someone else, Master Justice?’ He enquired, with that innocent look of his.
‘Once again you catch me unawares,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Were you following me?’
He gave a shrug. His appearance was precisely as before: the same clothes, the quiver on his back, bow over his shoulder. But my feeling now was one of relief – he was here after all, and I was not about to waste the opportunity.
‘In fact, I came looking for you,’ I told him.
After a moment he nodded. ‘About the Welsh boy, is it?’
‘I heard it was you who found him. Is it true?’
‘True enough.’ Berritt turned aside and spat. ‘A bad business… two lovers, bound in spirit now.’ He eyed me. ‘Did you seek him out, like I told you last time?’
‘I would have done, had I the chance,’ I answered. ‘Now, will you tell me what you know? It’s important.’
‘I see that.’ But he would not be hurried, I saw. With a glance to either side as if to reassure himself we were alone, he moved at leisurely pace towards Leucippus and began to stroke his neck. As a rule, my horse was loth to let anyone save myself touch him, but this time he seemed content.
‘A fine steed,’ Berritt said. ‘What do you call him?’
I told him, then waited until he turned to face me.
‘The boy was in the water right enough,’ he said. ‘Been there all night, to my reckoning… they’ll be needing another shepherd at Rowden’s now, eh?’
‘Was that his master?’ I asked. ‘The farm where he worked?’
He nodded. ‘Tom Rowden… like I said, it’s a sorry business.’
I strove to rein in my impatience. ‘See now, is there anything more you can tell?’ I asked. Fumbling for my purse, I found a silver sixpence. ‘Take this for your pains.’
He took it without a word, then: ‘I said to you once, Master Justice, the pool will keep it secrets. But I’ve seen drowned men before, when the river’s in spate… and that one didn’t look right.’
‘How so?’ I demanded.
‘The face,’ Berritt answered. ‘The colour wasn’t what you’d expect. More, he wasn’t dressed like you’d expect – he was muffled in a shepherd’s cape. He’d been out with his flock – I don’t believe he’d leave them untended.’
‘What… do you mean he was abducted?’ I said sharply.
‘I can’t say. But there were bushes broke and flattened, like there’d been a struggle of some sort. I saw Rhys, pulled him out on to the bank, then walked to Rowden’s and told them. A constable was fetched, and the
body was carried away. I’d done my part, so I stayed clear.’
Thinking fast, I took in his statement, then thought it best to tell him something he might not like. ‘You know there will be an inquest,’ I said. ‘And from what I’ve heard, you’ll almost certainly be called to give evidence.’
‘Eh?’ He frowned. ‘No - I told you before, I’ll not set foot in any court of law.’
‘It’s not a trial,’ I said. ‘It’s an inquest, likely to be held in the old tithe-barn at Powick. You only need tell what you found-’
‘I said no!’ Berritt scowled. ‘There’s some could make trouble for me, if I’m stood up before the while village.’
‘Someone like Abel Humphreys?’
At mention of the name he tensed. It was bold of me, I realised, given what Agnes had told of Humphreys’ treatment of this man. But I would not lie to him: he was a witness.
‘See now, I’ll vouch for you,’ I said. ‘I can sit with you, if you wish, and escort you out. You only need describe how you found the body… there’s no call to repeat all that you’ve told me.’
For a moment the man continued to scowl at me - then, to my surprise, he threw his head back and gave one of his barks of laughter.
‘By Jesus, Master Justice…’ he shook his head. ‘When all’s said and done, under your learning you’re a rogue like me at heart – would you lie to a court, if it suited you?’
‘I most certainly would not,’ I answered hotly. But seeing the glint in his eye, I experienced a sudden urge to laugh. Stifling it, I drew breath.
‘Though I might keep certain matters to myself,’ I admitted, ‘should they be of help to others.’
To that Berritt laughed again, a low chuckle. But the next moment he glanced about restlessly, as if eager to be gone.
‘I told you how I wish to help Agnes Mason,’ I said. ‘And you know there are strong feelings against her in Worcester. Can you see that she might even be blamed for causing Howell Rhys’s death?’ And when he frowned again, I added: ‘Anything else you can tell me might be of value – I pray you, speak it now while you can.’
‘No more about the death,’ he answered, after a moment’s thought. ‘But to earn my coin, I’ll say this. You once asked about the dead birds… things set out to frighten folk away, you said. Well - in that, you were right enough. I was paid to do it, now and again. Make ‘em look like witches’ charms, or some such. It suited one man to keep folks away, so long as he thought there might be gold buried in the wood.’
I drew breath sharply, causing him to nod. ‘Ay… you know who I mean. The same one whose own daughter drowned in the pool.’He grew sombre. ‘It got to be a habit, hanging up crows and such. But I’ve stopped… no stomach for it now.’
I stared at him. ‘Did you use other means to scare people away?’ I asked. ‘Like the creature that was said to live in the pool – big enough to send a wave onto the bank, I was told, and send folk running away in fear?’
‘Ah… that.’ Somewhat sheepishly, Berritt met my gaze. ‘Well now… if you’ll swear to keep it to yourself, I’ll tell you.’ And after I had nodded agreement, if against my better judgement: ‘There was a great catfish in the pool once, as long as your arm. He was eating everything that moved, greedy bastard – it could have become a dead place. So I hooked him and killed him, took him away. Had a few good suppers off him, after that.’ He paused. ‘Are you content now?’
Lost for words, I barely nodded. I might have said more about how this wild rogue, whom I had once fined, had been one of the chief causes of people shunning the Witching Pool for years; but I held my tongue.
And soon after we parted, Berritt vanished into the bushes whence he had sprung.
I would never see him again.
ELEVEN
Two days after my encounter with Berritt, I received a message by courier from Boyd: he had viewed the body of Howell Rhys, and asked me to attend him as soon as was possible.
Mercifully, the business had been easier to arrange than I feared. On my return from Newland I had sent a letter to Boyd, acquainting him with what I had learned. Then I sent another to Justice Standish with my request, offering to visit him and state my case, but to my relief there was no need. Perhaps to avoid another taut meeting, Standish agreed to Boyd acting as surgeon in the matter. Now, having received word I made haste to return to Worcester. I was unsure what to expect, but on arriving at the doctor’s, I was both alarmed and intrigued to hear his findings.
‘Unnatural?’ I stood before him in his parlour, still perspiring somewhat from my ride. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean your friend Berritt was likely correct,’ my friend answered in his phlegmatic fashion. ‘The youth had been submerged, but there was very little water in the lungs – in short, his death was not by drowning.’
‘Then, what did cause it?’
‘Now we come to the nub of it,’ Boyd replied. ‘When I removed his clothing, down to the waist, I found heavy bruising about the chest and stomach…’
‘What, do you mean he was beaten to death?’ I broke in, my words tumbling over themselves in my eagerness.
‘Robert, would you care to sit down and catch your breath?’ My friend suggested. ‘When I lay out the facts I’d prefer to do so in good order, if you’ll allow.’
With an effort at calm, I seated myself. Boyd having done the same, he continued: ‘As I said, there was severe bruising, but that’s not what killed him.’ He paused. ‘In my opinion the lad was poisoned.’
‘By the heavens…’ At once I recalled Berritt’s words: The face… the colour wasn’t what you’d expect…
‘I’ve seen it before,’ the doctor nodded. ‘The discoloured lips, the pallor… though since he’d been in the pond an entire night, it’s difficult to be sure.’ He frowned. ‘Had I been able to examine the contents of his stomach, I could perhaps speak with more certainty. But since I was working under the eyes of others, who resented my presence, I thought it best to bring matters to a close - and to keep my findings to myself.’
‘But this is important,’ I said urgently. ‘If Rhys was murdered – which is what you imply – it has a strong bearing on the case. Whoever had motive for such, I would-’
‘Murder?’ Boyd held up his hand. ‘See now, I did not use that word. I merely said death was likely caused by poison. The deceased could have taken it by design, hence…’
‘Then why would he go to the Witching Pool to drown himself?’ I objected. ‘It’s absurd.’
‘That, indeed, is the nub of it,’ the doctor agreed.
We both fell silent. My own thoughts were running at speed: if Howell Rhys had taken poison, the verdict might still be one of suicide, given the whims of a jury made up of plain folk who simply wanted to get back to their day’s business. His reasons would seem clear: the lad was distraught at the death of his beloved, and had no desire to live without her. At least, I reflected, there was no suggestion that he had been driven to madness by witchery.
‘Who were these others, who resented your examining the corpse?’ I asked. ‘Do you mean they tried to prevent you?’
‘No… they could not, once I showed my order from the Justice in his capacity as Coroner,’ he answered. ‘They could only throw me looks of disapproval. There was the constable from Powick – a dullard, who saw me as a meddling intruder. And some of the church people, who doubtless shared his opinion. Later came Rhys’s master, the farmer… an angry man. He seemed more concerned that the shepherd had abandoned his flock, than the fact that he had lost his life.’
‘Well, I believe Rhys was abducted,’ I said. ‘The bruising you found points to a struggle… he was dressed for the night-time, and would have been alone. But let’s assume you’re correct concerning the poison. Could it have been administered by force?’
Boyd was eying me uneasily. ‘Robert, I pray you – rein in these theories before they lead you astray. Whatever the means by which the poison entered his body, there’s no proof of murder.
Besides, who would wish the poor lad dead? Surely not Cobbett, if that’s how your mind moves. With his daughter gone, he has no reason to pursue her forbidden lover.’
I gave a sigh, for he was right. Was I so eager to free Agnes Mason from the likelihood of conviction, I wondered, that I had grown obsessed with seeing Cobbett behind every evil that occurred? ‘You read my thoughts too well,’ I said ruefully. ‘Some might call it witchcraft.’
‘What with the fears and rumours that are about now, let’s hope that word is not used at the inquest,’ my friend replied.
‘Yet you will present your findings, as told to me?’
‘Of course. Unwelcome as they might be…’ Boyd sighed. ‘I’d not be surprised if our friend Standish tries to hurry matters along as he did before. A careless man, with a degree of idleness beneath his cloak of authority.’
‘Well now, this time I’ll be there to observe him and to make objection,’ I said. ‘And I confess that the more it discomforts him, the more satisfaction I shall feel.’
With that I stood and suggested dinner, to which my friend agreed. Yet he was as sombre as I, thinking on what lay ahead.
***
The following morning the inquest into the death of Howell Rhys, shepherd, took place in the old tithe barn at Powick, amid an air of some excitement. It was the second such procedure within ten days, and would no doubt be the talk of the village and its surrounds for a long time to come.
Along with Boyd, I arrived as men were setting out a table for the Justice. There was a handful of Powick folk present, among them a pinch-faced fellow whom Boyd pointed out as the constable. The jury of sixteen men were already seated, on benches at one side. I was observing them when my friend touched me on the arm. Turning, I was surprised to see someone I recognised, stepping in out of the sunlight: Thomas Woolland, the parson from Kempsey - and friend of Giles Cobbett. What, I wondered, was his interest?
But there was no time to think on it, for more people were arriving. One was Abel Humphreys, dressed in the same garb he had worn when I last saw him. With him was a man who looked like another farmer, whom I would learn was Rowden, master of the deceased shepherd. Finally came Justice Standish, striding in with a harried look, a sheaf of papers under his arm. Ignoring everyone, he walked to his table and sat down heavily. And at once my hackles rose, for I saw that Boyd’s suspicions were correct: Standish had the air of a man whose patience was short, and who wanted the entire affair despatched quickly.
The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) Page 8