When he brought forth Pegasus, I half-expected to see the animal agitated, or at least frisky, having been shut up so long whilst his fellows were free to skip about and frolic over the meadow. But no, the horse moved in a dignified, almost stately fashion. It could hardly be said that Deuteronomy led Pegasus, yet there was a leadrope dangling from the bridle, and the jockey had a loose hold upon it. Yet, at the same time, he whispered into his ear. Pegasus bowed his mighty head that he might catch every word and once or twice did whinny in response. It was almost in the nature of a conversation between the two, man and beast. Particularly noteworthy was the fact that the stable boys paid them no attention whatever. They seemed so well-accustomed to such occurrences that they were of no interest to them.
I went direct to a window in the stable that promised the best view of the meeting of artist and horse. Sir Joshua Reynolds hung back a little as if shy or slightly fearful. I hoped Pegasus would take it for politeness, for Sir Joshua seemed to want in the worst way to be accepted by the horse. The artist turned to Mr. Deuteronomy and said something quite unintelligible to me, with a wall and a windowpane between us. Deuteronomy certainly understood, however, for he smiled, and nodded, and said something in response. Only then did Sir Joshua dip into the deep pocket of his rather elegant coat and come up with an apple. He extended it carefully to Pegasus, holding it loosely in his palm, and, with a single bob of his head, the horse took the apple from his hand. Sir Joshua did then laugh in delight as Pegasus began nosing about the pocket from which the apple had come in hopes that there might be another inside it. This was cause for great merriment among us all.
The three of us within the stable were drawn irresistibly to the door, where the view was undeniably the best. At least, in my case, this proved to be a mistake, for I had hoped to stay out of Lord Lamford’s sight for the length of this visit. Yet here he came, rounding the path from the big house, emerging from the stand of trees, which had hidden him until that moment. He waddled as he walked, like some great fat goose.
“Here now, to work with you,” he shouted. “Get that horse saddled. And you there, whoever you are, go to the house and get a stepladder.” As this last came from him, he raised his arm and pointed direct at me.
What was I to do? I could not turn my back upon him, much as I would have liked to do just that. Nor could I have explained to him that I was neither servant nor employee, and I had no obligation to obey his orders. I had no wish to call attention to myself, for I was there under false pretenses. And so, having no choice in the matter, I simply put my head down and ran for the house. I was some distance from him when we passed. I chanced a quick glance and found him staring fixedly at me. Turning sharply away, I continued to run, listening fearfully for him to call me back. But no call came. Though I had probably looked familiar to Lord Lamford, he had not recognized me.
Blustering into the kitchen by way of the back door, I announced to the cook that the master was greatly in need of a stepladder—and that was all it took. One was hustled into my hands by a wan-looking kitchen slavey, a girl of little more than twelve by the look of her.
Though the cook paid me no heed, the girl blinked and asked me in a puzzled manner, “Who’re you?”
“Just helping out,” said I. Then, thanking her, I took my leave and hurried back toward the stable. Did I say that I “hurried”? Well, let it stand that I went as fast as I could whilst hauling an object as cumbersome as a stepladder.
Burdened as I was, I felt the danger of discovery even more than before. Yet luck was with me, for I stopped at the stand of trees and, peering through them, I saw that Lord Lamford had taken Sir Joshua off for a stroll of the grounds and, with his back to me, was pointing this way and that at the six horses as they flashed by at play. I moved forward and deposited the stepladder at approximately the same spot where Deuteronomy, Sir Joshua, and Pegasus had stood but minutes before. Then did I run for the stable.
Inside, Amos and his mate were just finishing all that needed be done to prepare Pegasus for the honor to be bestowed upon him. (After all, how many horses manage to have their portraits painted?) He was properly saddled, bridled, combed and curried, and otherwise prepared for his appointment with Sir Joshua. Mr. Deuteronomy took no part in all this, for he was once more busy whispering messages of a secret sort into the horse’s ear. Pegasus listened closely, head bowed, except once when, I swear, he did nod his head in understanding to Deuteronomy.
“Hey in there,” came Lord Lamford’s shout from outside, “are you not ready yet? Bring out the animal, if you please, and let us start. I’ve not got all day, you know.”
Then did Mr. Deuteronomy a most peculiar thing: he laughed—something between a giggle and a cackle it was. And so, gathering it from deep within him, he bellowed forth a most compliant and polite response.
“We are ready, my lord, and Pegasus the most ready of us all.”
At the mention of his name, the horse beat his front hooves upon the rough boards of the stable’s floor. Laughing again as he had before, Mr. Deuteronomy grabbed up the reins, and, with Pegasus beside him, he jog-trotted out and into the light. Then did the two boys scramble to the window through which I had earlier watched. I wondered why till I took a spot that they had made for me: In my absence, as I had watched the preparation of Pegasus, someone had set up Sir Joshua’s kit—yet set it up, I was sure, so that the better view was through the window; no doubt this had something to do with the movement of the sun and the consequent shifting of the light.
I sensed the rising excitement in the two boys, and I wondered what they might know that I did not.
“What’s going to happen?” I asked them. “What goes on?”
“We don’t know,” Amos declared. “But by God something will. That horse out there will do anything Mr. Deuteronomy says, and Deuteronomy’s been talking to him the whole day long and part of yesterday.”
Outside, I saw that Deuteronomy had led Pegasus to a point opposite that which Sir Joshua had claimed as his own.
“Who moved things around?” I asked.
“Oh, that was Deuteronomy, whilst you was in the big house. Didn’t take but a minute.”
“Oh, my God, will you just look at that,” the nameless lad marveled. “Lord Lamford’s actually going to try to mount Pegasus. Look, he’s moving the stepladder up close.”
“I wondered what that was for,” said I, “yet I never really gave it much thought.”
“He’s tried it once or twice before.”
“But never with a stepladder.”
Lord Lamford had pushed it so close to Pegasus that its top rung (or step) pressed into the horse’s ribs.
“Oh, Pegasus don’t like that at all.”
“Foolish thing to do. Lamford’s going to be sorry. Just you wait.”
“You see,” said Amos to me, “Pegasus won’t let anyone ride him but Deuteronomy—not even Mr. Bennett when he was alive.”
“And he liked Mr. Bennett.”
“Just imagine how he’s going to feel about it when someone as big and fat as Lamford tries to crawl up on top of him.”
“Well, quiet down, you two,” said I to my informants, “because it certainly looks as if he’s going to allow him to remain up on top of him this time.”
And indeed it did. Lord Lamford had inserted his boots into the dangling stirrups. He now shifted his great weight in the saddle and called out something to Mr. Deuteronomy.
It is rather difficult to describe the appearance of the nobleman upon that horse, for he certainly did not appear noble upon it. The way that he overflowed the small racing saddle made him look quite like a huge bear perched tentatively upon a small pony. Yet, still, the horse held his ground, his four hooves planted solidly beneath him.
Deuteronomy came over, no doubt in response to Lord Lamford’s call. An order was given. Deuteronomy collected the stepladder and backed away quite some distance. And then, as I was wondering why he had gone so far, the answer came in a series o
f powerful leaps—four in all. On the second of them, Lord Lamford lost his hold upon the stirrups. The third unseated him and landed him flat upon his back. The fourth leap seemed to be executed simply for the grand sport of it. For his part, Lord Lamford found no pleasure whatever in his grotesque position. He struggled to right himself and regain his feet. Shouting for help, he demanded a hand up.
All this we heard easily from our place at the window. Yet I hoped for the sake of the stable boys that they could not be heard by Lord Lamford, for they were laughing quite rudely at the plight of their master. Another shout was added to the cacophony in and outside the stable. Having tossed the stepladder aside, Mr. Deuteronomy came forward, calling the horse by name, attempting (I assumed) to calm him. Pegasus seemed quite calm. He studied Deuteronomy as he backed off a bit. Then did Deuteronomy shout the horse’s name for a second time and a third, and clapped his hands together, just as Pegasus cantered forward, as if still at play. As he reached the flailing form of Lord Lamford, the horse reared and, a moment later, brought his front hooves crashing down upon Lamford.
A howl of pain was heard. The boys, who had at last stopped laughing, ran to the door and then outside. Yet, for the time being, I kept my place at the window and saw the entire exercise repeated: Pegasus ran back a bit, then cantered forward to rise once again and come down most brutally with his hooves upon the body. Lamford no longer moved. If there were cries for help, I heard them not. I went to the door just in time to hear the horse’s hooves beat down once again upon him. And then, a fourth time—the most frightening of all, for I was that much nearer and could see the damage wreaked by Pegasus upon that disgusting man. Oh, he was dead right enough. His broken limbs were thrown about in astonishing angles. Joints were added. Worst of all was the head, which had been quite flattened, and the worst of the worst was the face—a hideous pulp of flesh, brain, and blood.
“That may be quite the oddest story I have ever heard,” said Sir John with a sigh. “Forgive me for asking—and I mean it as no sign of doubt—but did it all happen just as you said?”
“It did, sir, just as I told it to you.”
“And Deuteronomy Plummer simply jumped into Pegasus’s saddle and rode away?”
“Well, not quite so casually as all that, perhaps. He asked me to return the wagon and the team to the stable—Burnaby’s in Market Street—and to Sir Joshua Reynolds he gave assurances that he was simply taking the horse away to shoot him. It seemed to satisfy Sir Joshua, though he was so eager to get away that I believe he would have been satisfied by whatever he was told.”
“I must speak to him about this,” said Sir John. “Oh, and the stable boys—you said he’d made certain promises to them.”
“Well, implied certain things, anyway. Just before he mounted up, he took them aside and seemed to be giving them instructions of some sort. I believe they have a meeting arranged.”
“But you didn’t hear where it was to be, or when?”
“No sir, I did not.”
He let forth another deep sigh. “You know, Jeremy, I put no credence in tales of the great understanding of some animals.”
“Of horses, for example?”
“Right to the point, yes. If Pegasus had perhaps been a dog, a trained wolf, something of that sort, I do believe I might be able to accept the facts that you have given me. I might be able to take them as you do.”
“And how do you believe I take them?”
“Gullibly, in a word. You seem to accept it that Deuteronomy instructed Pegasus to kill Lord Lamford, and is therefore responsible for his death.”
“Well, I have already quoted to you what I heard from Deuteronomy in Newmarket: that Pegasus is the smartest horse he ever knew. That was his claim, and so he proved in winning the King’s Plate in Newmarket.”
“Oh? Did he?” said Sir John in his argumentative fashion. “I thought what he proved was that he was the fastest horse on the track that day.”
“But sir, I saw Deuteronomy barking out orders to him, and Pegasus followed those orders in a manner most exact.”
“Do you think he was the only jockey that day barking out orders—as you put it? ‘Faster, faster!’ They must all have said that one time or another.”
“No doubt, but—”
“And did you not hear from both Mr. Bennett and this very morning from the stable boys that Pegasus never allowed any other but Deuteronomy climb upon his back?”
“Yes, but still, if you had only seen the two of them— Deuteronomy and Pegasus—in the stable together, you would have sworn that they were planning something.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized my faux pas.
“Unfortunately,” he responded coolly, “I was denied that on two counts. First of all, I was not there. Secondly, even if I had been there, I could not have seen any such thing for reasons you know only too well. But further, Jeremy, even if I had been there and been able to watch the human and the equine conspirators at work, I would nevertheless have denied them responsibility for what followed. Why? Simply because a man cannot communicate to a horse in the manner you have described—not with any reasonable expectation that his instructions would be followed. Because it is not reasonable, simply that—and nothing more. Do you not understand that?”
Thus our conversation on this matter paused where it usually ended. This, as it happened, was the third time we had had the discussion. The first followed my visit to Mr. Donnelly to drop off the body of Mr. Bennett. (Over his protests, of course, for he was to leave with his bride-to-be for Ireland the next day.) I ran into Number 4 Bow Street and blurted out to Sir John that Lord Lamford had been killed—and little more.
“Murdered?” he had asked.
“Perhaps,” said I. “I shall give you all the details soon as ever I return.”
And that I did less than an hour later, seated in his chambers, telling a much longer version of the same story, including many details. At that point, he seemed satisfied. Finally, after dinner that evening, he requested my presence in his “study” to talk a bit more of the case of Lord Lamford: “Some information has come in from Mr. Donnelly that fills out the picture a bit more completely.” The “new information” of which he spoke was that in the opinion of Mr. Donnelly, which he had freely expressed in his report, Mr. Bennett had almost certainly been murdered. The wound was in the back of his head, which made a suicide physically possible but highly unlikely. Then did he ask me to go through the entire story once again, for he had caught some hint earlier that I actually believed Deuteronomy Plummer to be in some sense responsible for the death of Lord Lamford. And so have I included here the lively talk we then had on these matters of the culpability of humans who act through the agency of animals. Yet there was, as I recall, a bit more to the matter; for having talked through it thus far, he added a sort of coda, as I sat puzzling through what already had been said.
“Jeremy, let me ask you something. What is the purpose of the statements that you have made supporting the notion that Pegasus killed Lord Lamford on the instructions of Mr. Deuteronomy? What result do you seek? Do you wish me to bind him for trial at Old Bailey? The charge: murder. The weapon: a three-year-old stallion.”
Even to speak of such a thing did chill me. “Oh no, sir. I would not wish that at all.”
“I mention it in this way because your intention is still to be a barrister, is it not?”
“Oh yes sir, most emphatically so.”
“You must remember then that the job of pleading is by and large a game of wits. You must win over the judge and the jury, which is hard enough in itself, but to give the prosecution something to work with—that would surely be quite mad, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
“Why, a good lawyer for the prosecution could work wonders with a jury if he had something like your theory to go on. Intellectual speculation in its proper place is one thing, yet its proper place is not the courtroom, nor is it a good subject for discussion with
a magistrate, such as myself. Lucky for you I put no faith in such theories of communication between humans and animals. Why, I would sooner credit Divine Intervention in this case. Yes, Divine Intervention might work very well indeed. Such a pity that such a fine animal as Pegasus must be destroyed.”
“Must he be?”
“So says the law.”
I let that stand without comment. Thinking that he had said about all he wished to say, I made ready to take my leave of him. Yet before I did, a thought did occur to me.
“I wonder, Sir John,” said I, “if there have been any further developments in the matter of Elizabeth Hooker.”
“Ah, yes, indeed there have been,” said he. “If Saunders Welch is given a push by the Lord Chief Justice, there is no magistrate can match him for swift justice.”
“Why? What has he done?”
“Mr. Bailey informed me when he came in that he had just heard that Welch had called a special session of his court, had his constables bring in Mother Jeffers, and based solely upon the testimony offered by Elizabeth Hooker, had bound Jeffers for trial in Felony Court.”
“On what charge?”
“The only one possible—wrongful imprisonment.”
“Can she be convicted?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. I will say, however, that in his haste to please Lord Mansfield, Mr. Welch has put a burden upon the prosecution much greater than usual. Whoever it is appears for the Crown must build his case from scratch—and he will have little time to do it.”
“Why so little time, Sir John?”
“Because the trial has been set for Monday next,” said he.
“Monday next? Why, that is but four days hence!”
“So it is.”
“But why such dispatch? This is no matter of state. No insult has been thrown at the King. What is the great engine that drives this with such urgency?”
“Ah, you have it right, Jeremy. This indeed is no matter of state. And certainly no insult of any sort has been offered. What then is the great engine? It is known quite prosaically as Public Opinion.”
The Price of Murder Page 27