‘What say you to this accusation, Josiah?’ asked Rachael.
‘That it is both true and false,’ he replied. There was a gasp from the congregation. Josiah continued, ‘True in that I was sent here to find out what I could about the community…’
Peter could not contain himself ‘… There, I told you so,’ he burst out. Josiah held up his hand, appealing to be allowed to finish. He raised his voice as he continued, ‘… But I was not sent here to spy on you by Caleb Arlon or anyone else living here in the Furness Vale. You should know that I am a constable of the Stockport Police Force and was lawfully ordered here by my superior to gather intelligence about the Children of Fire, and especially Elijah Bradshawe.’
There was another gasp followed this time by a murmur of questions whispered to neighbours. ‘Why would anyone in Stockport be worried about what goes on here?’ said an incredulous Rachael.
‘A question had been asked if the community was a threat to the reopening of the powder mill.’
‘And what did you conclude, spy?’ growled Peter.
‘If you have my pack and notebook then you can read what I was writing this morning when Rachael came to fetch me.’ Rachael pulled out the pack from under her pew, found the notebook and offered it to Josiah. He found the relevant place and gave it back to her.
‘Sister Rachael, please pass it round the community. All may read what I put this morning. It is not a secret. What I wrote was to be the basis of my report when I got back to Stockport.’
‘And it says what?’ sneered Peter.
‘That I had concluded that the community formed no threat to the powder mill; you are essentially peaceful. But you will also see that I could not entirely clear my mind of doubts about Elijah. I wondered if he might take personal, violent steps to stop the mill opening again.’ A surprised silence met this last observation. Rachael put into words what everyone was thinking.
‘Why would you believe that?’
‘It was the last thing he said himself in his sermon that persuaded me that it was a possibility.’
‘Oh really,’ said Peter, ‘There was nothing in his sermon like that.’
‘I’m sure I’m not alone in remembering the words I have in mind,’ said Josiah. ‘Wasn’t it: “But such wickedness may so affront others that they may anger so that they take violent action themselves in defence of God’s good earth”. That remark, on the tongue of a man of action like Elijah, might easily mean he felt like that.’
‘Constable,’ asked Brother James, ‘did the person who thought we might be a threat to the mill reopening think that we’d been involved in the original explosion?’
‘That is a logical conclusion, Brother,’ replied Josiah.
‘But now Elijah is dead,’ said Rachael.
‘Yes, I know that changes things. Now it seems impossible that he was planning any violent action on his own and logically that he was not involved in the previous explosion if it was not an accident. But it does not mean that his death is separate from what he said. Someone who heard the sermon, who was already suspicious he had a hand in the previous explosion at the mill, might have thought he was intending more harm. They might have decided to take drastic action of their own to prevent whatever Elijah might do.’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Peter looking round at the other community members for support.
‘Hardly ridiculous, Brother Peter, when one looks at the savagery and care that went in to Elijah’s murder.’
‘Savagery there was,’ said Brother James. ‘I’ve rarely seen anything crueller or more savage anywhere I’ve sailed and that includes a couple of public executions I witnessed. But what do you mean by care, Constable.’
‘Perhaps planning would be a better word. The murder of Elijah Bradshawe was carefully planned and prepared.’
‘If you know that, then that’s as good as a confession you did it,’ said Peter.
‘You may think that, but I can prove that I could not have done it alone. In which case how could I have met with anyone to plan the murder in the time I’ve been here with the community, unless, of course my accomplice was one of the Children of Fire? I know that this crime took two men to perform.’
‘How do you know?’ scoffed Peter.
‘I think I see how he knows,’ said Brother James. ‘It took two of us on the ropes to let him down, so it must have taken two pulling on the ropes to put him up there.’
Rachael had gone pale. ‘And the crossbeam to which he was fastened had to be brought from somewhere, and it would have been too heavy for one person to carry.’
‘And there must have been a way of getting the ropes and pulley’s in place so there must have been a ladder as well,’ added Brother James.
‘How could anyone have done that?’ said Peter.
‘I don’t know,’ said Josiah, ‘I can only think that ladder, the beam, the ropes, everything used, was brought up using the Long Clough track or had been hidden close by.’
‘There’s nowhere to hide what would be needed near the cross,’ said Peter.
‘And anyone carrying the beam up the path would be in grave danger of being seen by one of us,’ said James.
‘I must ask,’ said Josiah, ‘have any of you seen anyone unfamiliar near the cross in the last few weeks.’ There was a murmur of ‘no’ and a shaking of heads. ‘Or anywhere else, near the edge of the wood across the moor perhaps?’ As he said this he was surprised to see Rachael look hard at Peter who stared back.
That morning, after the small cortège had left for Long Clough, Josiah had sat on the edge of the cliff and tried to compose himself.
He had felt completely useless. Here he was, a policeman, charged with enforcing the law and bringing wrong doers to book, faced with the worst possible of crimes and he had no real idea of anything useful he might do. Surely there was something that would make a contribution to catching Elijah’s murderers. He got up and started to pace up, down and around the cross, just as he had seen Mr Cooksley do when in debate with Josiah’s adopted mother Martha.
Those debates, went on for days. They ranged over all sorts of subjects science, morals, ethics but the best were always about interpretation of bible passages. It would have been understandable that anyone who witnessed one of these debates would wonder how the Cooksleys’ marriage survived. But Josiah and his stepbrother John knew better, the debates kept the Cooksley’s marriage alive and the brothers looked forward to them, trying as best they could to keep up, sometimes daring to chip in views of their own.
In his present predicament one debate came into Josiah’s mind. It was about something he needed a good measure of right then, wisdom. The debate raged around the story of Solomon’s judgement between two women claiming to be the mother of a single baby. Solomon had said that he could not decide between them and as a fair settlement, he would cut the baby into two and give the women one half each. This immediately meant, to save her baby’s life, that the real mother withdrew her claim. Josiah could remember the climax of the argument
‘Surely Martha,’ Thomas had said, ‘you must see that it is God who gives him the discernment to see the truth in the moment of crisis?’
‘I see nothing of the sort,’ she had retorted. ‘I accept God gave to Solomon the gift of wisdom to help him rule justly, but to apply it well, as he does in the passage, he has to combine it with his own common sense to see what is in front of his face.’
Josiah had smiled to himself as he rolled those words round in his mind common sense to see what is in front of his face. That was what he needed to do. Look, observe, see, examine. There might be nothing to see but if there was it might lead to a murderer. There was only one way to find out.
‘It might not be you,’ said Peter grudgingly, ‘but it does not rule out that Arlon could be using you.’
‘I leave it to you all to decide whether I am lying when I
say I was not sent here at the behest of Mr Arlon even indirectly,’ said Josiah. ‘Brother Peter, if I am at some future time able to divulge who instigated my presence here, then I think you may owe me a second apology.’
‘Even if there were two men involved how did they get Brother Bradshawe onto the cross?’ Sister Rose asked.
‘That puzzles me as well,’ said Brother James. ‘He was a powerful man. Whoever killed him, even if there were two of them, they would never have been able to strap him to that crossbeam if he put up a fight.’
‘Who was the last person in the evening to see Brother Elijah?’ asked Josiah.
‘I must have been me,’ said Rachael. ‘After the evening meal I talked to him about a part of the Bible I had been reading.’ She paused and Josiah saw her eyes start to fill with tears. ‘I went to bed when we finished. He said he would be doing the same but he wanted to take a breath of air before turning in. It was dark by that time and the last thing I saw him do was to light the candle lamp that hangs near the door to the courtyard.’
She put her head down and Sister Rose put her arm round her shoulders.
The beam was lying where it had fallen as Elijah was taken down. The wood was square, stout and rough-cut, just like timber used for a thousand and one purposes anywhere in town or country. With it were the nails that had been used to fasten him to the cross. They were long, with bulbous, offset heads to which smears of blood still clung. The nails were stout and well made, so that even though they had been drawn from the wood in haste they were bent but still intact. He collected them up from the ground and put them in his pocket. Somehow it seemed sacrilegious to leave them to be lost.
Close to the cross, what grass and heather there was, had been trampled flat by the feet of the brothers and sisters. He had to walk a few yards away before he found untouched undergrowth of ling, rooted into thin layers of peat. It grew in thick clumps between which sheep had worn grazing paths but there was no indication that the materials need for the murder, like the crossbeam had been brought that way.
A pair of magpies flew over him going away from the valley towards the margin of the wood. Their flight drew his attention to a small cottage. It looked deserted, except for a thin column of smoke rising from its chimney. It was a candidate for storing the materials. He would have to visit that cottage when he had the chance.
It had been then that he had realised what Brother James had just pointed out to the community meeting, that Elijah must have been caught unawares and incapacitated. That suggested he had been lured into a trap in the dark. Josiah had gone straight to the path that came up to the cross. He found nothing unusual until he got to where it passed through the narrow space between two large boulders.
On the low side of these rocks there was a single set of tracks that came round from the side of one boulder before disappearing on the surface of the footpath. On the rock itself, there were splashes of wax, which might have come from a lantern held by someone negotiating the path.
On the high side of the gap, there were more wax stains, this time heavier and very near the ground. Loosely, covered by the path’s sand and gravel were two small shards of broken glass.
‘Where is the lantern now?’ asked Josiah.
‘It’s missing,’ said Sister Margaret. ‘I noticed that its hook was empty when I went to the pump this morning.’
9
Steven Hailsworth
At breakfast the following morning Rachael came and sat by Josiah. She still looked sad and very shaken. Her eyes were red, as though she had spent most of a sleepless night weeping but she still maintained the calm and self-control she had exhibited in public ever since they had taken Elijah’s body back to Long Clough.
‘What happened after I left last night’s meeting?’ he asked her.
‘We went on ’til well after midnight,’ she said. ‘We were much divided about what we should do next. Peter was all for burying Elijah in our own way right now.’
Josiah was surprised. ‘The law will not let you do that,’ he said quietly, ‘there has to be an inquest.’
‘Yes, I realise that but you must understand that there is a great temptation for us to close ranks.’
‘I sympathise. What did you decide?’
‘That we would do what the law requires. Elijah’s legacy, the standing of this community and our future, depends on our reputation. In this vale, being seen as above the law, would give easy ammunition to those who hate the truth Elijah cherished. It was a difficult decision but we will send word to the local magistrate, Mr Hailsworth, to notify him of Elijah’s death.’
‘And me?’
‘You may remain here until you have done your duty in whatever way the authorities require. Personally, I shall be happy to have you stay. It occurs to me that whoever murdered Elijah may have hoped that the Children of Fire would then disintegrate. If we show signs of withstanding the blow then they could attack us again.’
Josiah said nothing in reply. Rachael had made a very good, if grim, point. Whether she was aware of it or not, her stoicism was drawing her into filling part of the gap left by Elijah’s death. In which case, if there was another attack, she might be the target.
When Rachael had finished her breakfast and left, Josiah took a few moments to collect his thoughts before going about his tasks for the day.
He would have to disobey Mr Prestbury’s instructions not to tell Prestbury’s friend Steven Hailsworth that he was in the Furness Vale because he was duty bound to tell Steven Hailsworth the local magistrate, in which case he should put his findings and thoughts about the murder on paper. A verbal report should not satisfy Mr Hailsworth and would not help Josiah to explain himself to Mr Prestbury when he got back to Stockport.
A written report would have the added advantage that whenever Mr Hailsworth came to see Elijah’s body, Josiah would be able quickly to give him a detailed account of what he had found by his examination of the ground around the cross. After that, he supposed it would no longer be his duty to stay.
The prospect of passing on a responsibility, which was way beyond his experience and capacities, should have made him feel relieved but instead all he felt was a mood of disappointment. His days with Rachael were numbered and the thought she could become a target for a killer, when he was not at Long Clough to protect her, was horrifying.
Mr Steven Hailsworth was a tall man, about sixty years old. He had a gaunt face with a firm chin. He did not wear a hat and his hair was thin, white and swept back from his forehead. He must have been a handsome man in his prime but the painful manner of his walking, with his weight on a stick, undermined his natural bearing. It was clear that what Mr Prestbury had said about his friend was right: Hailsworth was a man in ill health at least in his joints. Discretely, Josiah followed him up the steps to the chapel and took up station at the threshold, waiting an opportunity to speak to the magistrate when appropriate. Hailsworth went straight over to Elijah’s body. His coachman brought up a chair for him to sit in before going back to the coach.
Josiah watched as Hailsworth lifted the sheet and took his time to look carefully and sadly at the dead face. Then he replaced the sheet, sat down and sighed.
‘This is a sad day,’ he said to Peter and Rachael who had waited for him in the chapel. ‘It may seem strange to you but I will mourn his passing. He was not my friend and I do not see the world in the way he did but none the less he was a great man in his own way.’
‘What has to be done now?’ asked a subdued Peter.
‘I will call in the coroner and he will convene an inquest. If you would be able to hold it here at Long Clough, then that would greatly facilitate matters. A jury will hear any evidence, agree how Elijah died and give their verdict. Then you will be able to bury him.’ There was a pause as if no one wished to break the moment’s mood.
Finally, Hailsworth spoke. ‘Unless you have anything else
to ask me I think I should leave you to mourn. Could you call my coachman back to help me?’
‘I am afraid there is someone else here who needs to speak with you, Mr Hailsworth,’ said Rachael.
‘Not by any chance the attentive young man by the door?’ said Hailsworth.
‘Yes, his name is Constable Josiah Ainscough of the Stockport Police. He wishes to explain his presence and pass on what information he can about the murder.’
Mr Hailsworth’s expression changed to one of interested surprise. ‘A policeman from Stockport? That I had not expected. Ask him to come in.’
Josiah marched in, stood to attention and saluted. ‘Constable Josiah Ainscough, Sir.’
‘Brother Peter and Sister Rachael, I do not wish to be ungracious but could you leave me alone with the constable.’ When they had the chapel to themselves Hailsworth indicated Josiah should sit in one of the front pews.
‘Do I infer you were sent by my old friend Prestbury?’
‘Yes Sir. He said you had asked him for advice as what to do about the Children of Fire.’
‘That is true but the worries of an over anxious father for a son in a controversial and dangerous new business venture did not warrant sending a constable, however welcome it is having you here. I would thank him for his care.’
‘To explain what I have done I have written a report. Perhaps your own police force will find it helpful.’ Josiah handed Mr Hailsworth a sheaf of pages. The old man started to read. When he had finished, he looked up at Josiah.
‘A first-rate report, Constable. I am sure another officer taking over the case would find it very useful, if we had anyone.’
‘But I thought Derbyshire had a police force Sir?’
‘It is based in Derby and Matlock. It will be weeks before they can send anyone here. If I read between the lines correctly, you think there is a danger of further violence.’
Children of Fire Page 5