‘Mercia!’ Nathan called. ‘What was that?’
She blinked, looking towards the smoke rising straight ahead. ‘It came from over there. Stay with Godsgift while I go and look.’
She ran south around the palisade, aware of someone sprinting behind. She looked back to see Standfast in pursuit, Godsgift now laid out on the ground. Nathan was leaning over his prostrate frame, ripping at his shirt, presumably improvising a tourniquet.
The southern gate came into sight. In the field outside it, a black steaming hole had appeared in the earth. It was surrounded by fragments of wood and other detritus, the shattered leaves of a vaporised barrel strewn across the grass. Black smoke was diffusing everywhere, the smell of gunpowder filling the burning air.
She began to choke, waving the smoke from her face. As she searched the area, a crowd descended on the field; the entire village, it seemed, come from the festival gathering place. A confusion of voices mingled with the smoke, the field thronging with the clamour of agitation.
And then someone screamed – a woman, she could not tell who – pointing at an object on the ground. Mercia hurried towards the incessant cry, the same phrase repeated over and over:
‘An arm! An arm! An arm!’
And sure enough, on the earth at her feet, a human arm lay blackened in the smoke.
Another scream. A man. This time: ‘A leg! Oh God, a leg!’
So it went, as the villagers discovered more and more of the macabre finds, until Standfast, not far behind her, let out an agonised cry.
‘This bracelet … I know this bracelet …’
He was staring at the arm the woman had found, in a total daze.
She did not remember much of the next minute. She recalled Nicholas rushing to steer her away, but it was the next sight that made her memory block out much of the rest. For as he gently pushed her towards the gate, away from the carnage, she made the mistake of looking up. And there, on the gate, in place of the head of the Indian farmhand, a new atrocity had taken its place: another head, congealed blood clogging the neck, nailed to the fearsome spike. Behind her, she remembered hearing Standfast scream, dropping to his knees with a piercing cry. Perhaps it was the sympathy for his pain that made her truly forget those moments, for of all the townsfolk, it was he who must grieve the most. If Standfast could not live up to his name, then his brother Silence surely now embodied his. He could talk no more: the severed head was his.
Chapter Twenty-Six
There was no keeping secrets from the townsfolk any more, and nor could the deniers continue to pretend: a savage killer was on the loose in Meltwater, and it was beholden on them all to uncover him. Mercia took no consolation from the urgency of this change. The terrible death of Silence Edwards disgusted her, almost as much as Clemency’s had, for as with his use of indecipherable codes, the methods of their murderer were callous and perverse.
Standfast had collapsed on seeing his brother’s head nailed to the gate. He had clasped his hands together in incoherent prayer, wailing and calling out for mercy; when Vic had tried to help him up it had proven impossible to get him to rise, and he had to be carried senseless to his cottage, where Remembrance had finally managed to coax his hands loose. Now the morning after, Standfast was continuing to babble pleadings to heaven. Nobody knew how to handle his torment, but Renatus Fox stayed with him, praying and watching his soul, as he said.
After the explosions, the horrified townspeople had wavered uncertain in the meadow, angry, crying, distraught, until Percy had roused his father into bringing order. He had been speaking about his discovery of the codes when the first explosion had shaken the ground, swaying the tent where the harvest festival had been due to take place, the assembled beans and corn falling from their piles. And then the townsfolk ran, not deterred by the second explosion, needing to know what was happening, surely never expecting what they found.
‘How did he do it?’ said Nathan. ‘How could he?’ Curt, he was still shaken by the spectacle of Silence’s death. Mercia knew he was not squeamish, but he had a high sense of honour. The abomination of the murder would have appalled him.
‘Kit says his keenest saw has been taken from his mill.’ Standing beside him, Percy’s words were as emotionless as Nathan’s were not. ‘Nobody can find it. And gunpowder is missing from Godsgift’s supply. It is locked from the Indians, but he never thought one of our own would take it.’ He swallowed. ‘From what we can deduce, it seems Silence was killed before he was … cut up with the saw and his … pieces … hidden in a barrel for the festival. It was blown up for effect, and the head—’ He clutched his neck. ‘The head, you know. The Indian boy’s was lying on the ground.’
‘Bastard.’ Nathan curled his fist. ‘This bastard, who dares to nail a head – a damn head – to the gate, in broad daylight, when anyone could have seen!’
Mercia rose from her chair to look out the window. ‘I think not. Everyone was at the festival, waiting for Percy to talk.’
‘But how would he have known that would happen?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t,’ said Percy. ‘Perhaps he took the opportunity, thinking to mount a still more fearsome display.’
‘And that code.’ Nathan’s tone overflowed with disgust. ‘As indecipherable as the others. He is playing with us. He is a coward.’
‘A clever one, at least. Calculating and obsessive.’ Mercia turned round. ‘But regardless of the codes, we now have a different message. A real one. I have been thinking about it all night.’
‘Which is?’ Nathan folded his arms.
‘The killer’s methods. They can be no mere coincidence.’ She looked at the two men, sure they would have realised, but Percy merely frowned in puzzlement.
‘The last three murders.’ Once again, she was surprised at her own detachment. ‘Forget the old minister’s death for now.’
Nathan pondered. ‘Clemency was hanged. Hopewell had his stomach slashed. And Silence … Silence was blown apart.’
‘Precisely.’ She injected no drama, no pause for effect into her words. ‘One hanged. One drawn. One effectively quartered. Especially if he was sawn apart.’
‘My God.’ Percy stared at Nathan. ‘I had not considered it in the day’s horror, but … those are the three elements of a traitor’s death.’
She gave the slightest nod. ‘And in the correct order. I cannot say why Mason was not part of the sequence, other than there could be only three. Or the Indians’ powwow.’
‘Perhaps the killer views those particular three as traitors,’ said Nathan. ‘Or he only came to the idea of this method, as you call it, later on.’
‘Why not a more straightforward view of treason?’ said Percy. ‘We are the godly here – Puritans as they call us. Is someone passing judgement that we are all traitors to the Crown?’
‘Again we come back to Thorpe.’ She creased her forehead. ‘Percy, you don’t think he knows the regicides are harboured near here, do you, that the town – that you – are hiding them? After all, Clemency was in your group.’
He hesitated. ‘As was Sil.’
‘Silence?’
‘He … did not know much, but he wanted to help. Stored things at his house when I asked, simple tasks like that. Hardly anything. But he was linked with us.’ He scratched at his neck. ‘We were discussing it when you met us at the waterfall that time.’
‘I see. And Hopewell?’
‘Not unless Clemency sought his help without telling me, and I doubt that she would.’
‘Then – Mason?’
‘Again, no. And the powwow was not with us, clearly.’
‘At least now the monas sequence is complete,’ said Nathan. ‘Now all five components are used, perhaps we can unravel the code. If that is the end of it.’ He looked at Mercia, the anger in his eyes morphing to concern.
She looked down at her hands. ‘I tried last night. I was distressed, of course, but even so – it was as nonsensical as before.’
A shuffling in the hall pass
age made them look across. Kit was standing on the threshold, the outside light falling through the front door swinging open behind him. Mercia glanced at Percy, wondering how long he had been waiting to interrupt. She had not heard him come in.
He removed his hat. ‘I’ve just been with Godsgift. I thought you’d want to know he is somewhat recovered.’ He looked at Nathan. ‘Remy says he has you to thank. Your bandage staunched the bleeding.’
Some of the tension seemed to leave Nathan’s face. ‘He will live?’
‘She thinks so. He is weak, and it will take some days … but yes.’
‘Has he … said anything?’ said Mercia.
‘About what?’
‘About anything.’ About what happened in the woods, she thought. About how Standfast shot him, about Sooleawa’s accusations.
‘As ever he talks little. He is in God’s hands now. We must pray for him.’
‘Then pray God allows him to come back to strength,’ said Percy. ‘He may be difficult, but he is the best militia leader we have.’
‘I saw Mr Lavington on the way here,’ said Kit. ‘He asked me to say he would like to speak with you.’
It took a moment before Mercia realised he was talking to her. With a surprised point of her finger at her chest, and a confirmatory nod from Kit, she shrugged her shoulders and sidled past, leaving the men to their discussion.
She found Lavington in his laboratory, rearranging a series of empty glass vials in a futile attempt at tidying. She loitered in the doorway, observing his hurried behaviour, remarking the pallor of his cheeks. Then she cleared her throat and entered, but he continued to bustle. Finally, his energy seemed to fade; his back still turned, he laid out his palms to flatten a curling piece of yellowing parchment on the edge of his desk.
‘So,’ he said. ‘You have come.’
‘You asked for me.’
He remained hunched over his parchments. ‘I suppose I did.’ Still he did not turn round. ‘I was wondering. What happened to Godsgift?’
She gave herself an ironic smile. ‘Is that why you wish to see me?’
‘Partly.’ As though a demon was resting on his shoulders, his back drooped beneath his fine jacket; at last, he dragged up his stooped frame to face her. ‘Is it to do with the—’ He closed his eyes. ‘The murders?’
‘So Silence’s death has finally convinced you.’ She took no satisfaction from his acknowledgment. ‘I take it you have spoken with Percy. Although he said nothing just now.’
‘Percy and I have … had words.’ The magistrate drew himself up, regaining his proper height. ‘I asked him to say nothing until I was ready. In any case, it is nothing to do with him.’ He jutted out his chin. ‘I always knew.’
‘What?’ The poise she had tried to foster slipped.
‘We both knew. Godsgift and me.’ He teased flecks of old parchment from his fingertips. ‘He has been trying to uncover the truth since George Mason died. If unsuccessfully, as ever.’
She let out an exasperated gasp. ‘Then why have you been preventing me from acting? Why have you been obstructive, refusing to heed me? Heed your own son?’
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I wanted to protect Percy. As for you, Mrs Blakewood, you are a stranger. And let me be blunt. You brought two men with you. Two strong men, both of them capable.’ He snorted, his familiar arrogance reasserting its dominance. ‘You, too, if you are working with them.’
‘You do not mean—?’ She felt her lips part open in a mixture of shock and incredulity. ‘You have thought we could be behind this?’
He folded his arms, his diamond-patterned doublet creasing at the sleeves. ‘Would you not find it suspicious, that three strangers appear as your fellow townsfolk continue to die?’
‘I suppose … you are right. But Clemency invited us here. We would not have come otherwise.’
‘And yet you stayed once she had died.’ He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his hands. ‘Would you not think that peculiar? Why would I be honest with you, speak with you at all?’
‘Perhaps not,’ she conceded. ‘And now? Do we remain suspects?’
‘Everyone is a suspect. That is why I have pretended to the town that nothing is amiss. Why I decided to humour Percy and allow you to stay, so I could better keep an eye on you.’ He fixed her with a harsh glare. ‘But Amery told me your story. A remarkable tale, sailing the ocean in search of the King’s lost paintings. Godsgift investigated it further.’ He raised a wry eyebrow. ‘I hear the patroon of Haarlem is still mighty aggrieved.’
She inclined her head. ‘On this point, your constable is thorough.’
‘Even when the Dutch controlled New York we had friends there, by necessity as well as by choice. It is not hard to verify events. And … Percy seems to trust you, which is unusual for him. Nor can I think why you would come here from England to kill folk. But mostly, I do not want more deaths. I would like to propose a truce.’
She studied his face, wondering whether he was truly being sincere. ‘I think we would all benefit from cooperation. And I see now what Godsgift meant in the forest. He talked of the murders, as if he believed in them. Now I see that he did.’
‘So we come back to that affair.’ Unconsciously, he twisted his left earlobe. ‘I have a very taciturn constable, Mrs Blakewood. What did happen in the wood?’
She considered her response. Despite Lavington’s newfound claim that he wished to collaborate, most likely he still did not trust her, and she was certainly not about to reveal all that she knew to him. She decided to play with the truth.
‘Nathan and I were helping Percy fetch everyone to the festival – you saw me yourself, if you recall. Then there was a cry, from the eaves of the forest. By the time we got there we found Godsgift had been shot. We saw an Indian running away. I doubt it was to do with the murders.’
He frowned. ‘An Indian?’
‘I fear they are unsettled because of the death of the farmhand.’ As she spoke, the sachem’s threats of retribution rang out clear. ‘Magistrate, I think it would be wise to prepare for further retaliation.’
His eyes darted about, and for a moment she thought he was ignoring her plea, but then he looked straight at her.
‘Then we had best hope Godsgift recovers quickly. In the meantime, Percy talked of the murders yesterday before I could stop him. Of those … codes. Now the whole town thinks one of their own is a killer. Order is already breaking down.’
She had seen it herself on her way to the house, angry murmurings filling the disturbed streets. ‘Perhaps. But you can hardly hope to keep things quiet now.’
‘It seems I never could. Percy tells me Vic copied down the code he found on Clemency, even though I had asked him to stay silent.’
‘He did stay silent. There is no call to reproach him. He talked to me and me alone.’
‘And you talked to Percy.’ He sighed. ‘But little matter now. The whole town is aware.’
‘Until yesterday, Percy agreed with your wish for silence.’ She took a calming breath. ‘But enough of this. I take it you cannot unravel the meaning of those messages, otherwise I hope you would have said.’
Darkness washed over his face. ‘Neither – I take it – can you. Although as an alchemist, there is one thing I have been able to deduce.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The use of the monas. Nicholas saw that some days ago.’
‘Your manservant?’ His cheek twitched.
‘And there is something else. How many codes are you aware of, Magistrate?’
‘You refer to the missing symbol, I suppose, the semicircle that represents the moon?’
‘Ah.’ As she had wondered, it seemed he did not know about the code found on the powwow. ‘Then I fear I must bring you further confusion.’
‘So he was investigating the murders all along.’ Back in her cottage, Nicholas shook his head. ‘The wily dog.’
Waiting in the open door, she watched Nathan come up to the gate. ‘And yet he still acts strangel
y. When I told him of the powwow, he seemed more concerned that the missing piece of his puzzle had been found than that someone else had been killed. Not that he could read the codes – or would tell me that he could.’
Nicholas stretched his booted legs onto a three-legged stool. ‘Well, we know he hides things. No reason to think he won’t continue to do so.’
‘No.’ She stood aside to allow Nathan in. ‘How is he? Standfast?’
Nathan threw his hat onto the wall hook; it bounced off the dulled point, but he left it on the floor.
‘Not well. Learning Sooleawa did not really care for him, and then seeing his brother … like that … it has destroyed the balance of his humours. Thorpe was there, as physician, doing more harm than good, but I think Remy fared better. She is calming him with warm draughts and trying to make him eat.’
‘It was good that you went.’ She rubbed her eyes, a wave of tiredness sweeping over her. ‘He has told nobody of what happened in the forest?’
‘Unless he has been raving to Remy. I doubt he would want to otherwise.’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘After all, he is supposed to be godly.’
‘Hardly new with that sort.’ Nicholas smirked. ‘He probably preaches to make up for his sin.’
‘A man of deep feelings, perhaps.’ Nathan shot him a glance. ‘I will ask Remy if he has said anything more later. I … said I would call in.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Godsgift is saying nothing, unsurprisingly. I tried to see him, but his servant says he will not speak to a soul. So we can keep Standfast’s part secret, if you think best.’
She bent to pick up his hat. ‘I see no reason why not.’
‘And you?’ He pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. ‘What did Lavington want?’
‘To talk.’ Placing the hat on the hook, she recapped her discussion.
‘Hmm.’ He scratched at his chin. ‘I think you are right not to be too trusting. I have been talking with some of the townsmen.’ He laid his head on the top of his chair. ‘You should see them. After days of turnedaway looks, they suddenly want to stop me in the street, tell me all sorts of tales. Eager to blame.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Just like in the war, when we were younger. Everyone worried for themselves, panicking about their neighbours, desperate to seem loyal and innocent all at once.’
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