Children of Fire

by Paul CW Beatty

‘I cannot rule it out. The manner of this murder was so extreme. At the very least there is a violent mood festering somewhere in this valley.’

  ‘I hope you are wrong, Constable, but let us be practical. You have made a very good start which makes me think that the best thing would be for you to continue your investigations, at least until the county police can get here.’

  ‘Sir, that is very flattering, but I should say to you that I am the newest and least experienced officer on Mr Prestbury’s force.’

  Hailsworth chuckled. ‘I suppose that was why you were sent. Well, Constable, if you wanted to leave early you shouldn’t have done quite such a good job. I will send a message to Mr Prestbury immediately requesting you stay. In the meantime, is there any way I can assist you? I can offer you accommodation at the Hall.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir, but I think I should stay here. There are still things to look in to but there are only two people I really need to meet. Perhaps you could help me with that?’

  ‘Who would they be?’

  ‘Mr Arlon and your son Abram.’

  Mr Hailsworth rubbed his chin. He was clearly somewhat shocked by the request. ‘I cannot say I like the implications of that request, but it is logical. They should be eliminated from the investigation as soon as possible.’ Hailsworth thought for a moment more. ‘We are holding a small soirée a week today for a few friends. It is by way of a pre-birthday celebration for Mr Arlon’s daughter who comes of age in a month’s time, so Mr Arlon and my son Abram will be present. You seem very well educated for a police constable, if I can be so rude. If I get you some suitable evening clothes, do you think you could carry off a whole evening of foppery and meaningless chitchat?’

  This method of getting to know the two men would not have been Josiah’s first choice but it was an offer with possible advantages, a more formal approach might not allow. He swallowed hard.

  ‘My guardian prepared me to move in all circles with all manner of people, Sir. I think I can do it.’

  ‘Good man. Then next Tuesday it will be.’

  10

  Inquest

  Over the next few days Josiah went back to work on the farm. The haymaking was completed just in time, as low cloud and drizzle started to cling to the hilltops and obscure the view across the vale.

  At first there was suspicion of him among the Children of Fire but gradually, as he worked alongside them again, feelings eased and relationships started to return to their former condition.

  The coroner, a local draper, came on Wednesday. Josiah with Rachael and Peter showed him to the chapel. He hardly looked at Elijah’s body and seemed far more concerned with preening himself than being business-like. After putting the sheet back over Elijah’s head, he took a small silver box from his waistcoat pocket, along with a large, yellow-stained handkerchief, the sure sign of a habitual snuff taker.

  ‘Mr ’ailsworth says you’re a police constable from Stockport?’ he said to Josiah. He raised the lid of the box and spread a little powder on the back of his left hand. Then he sniffed it with each nostril in turn.

  Josiah was about to reply when the coroner gave a succession of short gasps as the powder irritated the back of his nose. He took a mighty indrawn breath and sneezed so hard that it rattled all the brass candle fittings around the chapel. As the echo died away Josiah finally had enough quite to reply to the original question.

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘Well you being ’ere to give evidence will attract quite a crowd. Plenty of young ladies to admire you eh, Constable,’ the coroner winked at him, ‘So we’ll not fit it into this poky little church. ’Ave you got anywhere bigger so we can make a better show o’r it?’

  ‘There is the barn,’ said Rachael.

  ‘Let dog see rabbit then!’ said the enthused coroner. ‘Where is it?’

  They took him to see the barn, which he walked up and down. ‘It’ll make a champion setting for such an important matter. You’ll be able to bury Brother Elijah the following day. My clerk will come by with instructions how to set things out.’ Then he swaggered off, no doubt savouring his part in the drama to come. On Thursday, not only did the coroner’s clerk come, with a detailed set of instructions as to how the barn should be arranged but a carter’s wagon turned up with a bundle for Josiah.

  In it was his police uniform, accompanied by a tetchy letter from Mr Prestbury which gave him grudging leave to help the Derbyshire authorities as best he could. The tone of the letter made it clear that Mr Prestbury had no regard for Constable Ainscough’s abilities to help, even if Steven Hailsworth was impressed with what he had done thus far. Prestbury made it clear that Josiah’s uniform had been sent so that he could be properly attired when he gave evidence to the inquest and thereby enhance the reputation of the Stockport force. Josiah thought that at least the coroner would be pleased about the uniform, since it would add an extra note of drama to the proceedings.

  The arrival of the carter reminded Josiah to do something he had been intending to do for few days. He asked the carter to wait while he wrote a short note to Michael which he wrapped round one of the nails he had taken from the cross. The carter had come from Stockport and knew Michael. Josiah tipped him a farthing to make sure he took the note directly to Michael as soon as he got back.

  The barn looked rather strange on Friday. A long table had been brought over from the house and set opposite the main door, behind which, for the coroner’s use, was placed the biggest armed chair available at Long Clough. Off at a side, was arranged a smaller chair where the clerk would sit.

  On Friday, the coroner was proved right about the interest the inquest would create. From soon after breakfast, people started turning up in small groups; some had brought food and were happily having picnics in the fields. Before putting on his uniform Josiah went into the barn to familiarise himself with the layout, especially where he would stand to give his evidence. Some people had hauled themselves up into the lofts to get a good view down in the court. They were dangling their legs over the side. They stared at him until he felt rather self-conscious.

  From one part of the loft he heard giggling, though he could see no one. Then there was the sound of a loud slap and the head of a young woman with bits of hay in her hair poked up, followed by a young man who was rubbing his cheek.

  ‘What did you do that for Elsie?’

  ‘Just ’cause I’m up in a hay loft with thee don’t mean your hands can wander were they like, Joe Gibbins. You remember that.’ The heads disappeared and the giggling restarted. Josiah thought it was as if a courtroom had somehow become mixed up with the end of a local fair.

  The jury arrived at about two o’clock in the afternoon and the clerk swore them in. The coroner arrived soon after and everyone stood up as he made his way ceremoniously to the chair.

  ‘All those having business or information as to the circumstances of the death of Mr Elijah Bradshawe of Long Clough farm should draw near and prepare to give their evidence,’ he boomed in a baritone voice, before sitting down.

  ‘Please be seated,’ added the clerk for the benefit of the bystanders. From there on the inquest proceeded quickly.

  Peter told how he had found Elijah early that morning when checking on some sheep he was worried about near the cross. Then Josiah, resplendent in his uniform was called. He recounted his proof that two people had been involved in what was clearly a murder. As a result, the jurymen had no difficulty in agreeing a verdict of murder by persons unknown.

  11

  A Walk in the Woods

  After the inquest, the Children of Fire were free to think about Elijah’s funeral. There had been only a handful of deaths of members in the ten years since Elijah founded the community but the bodies of those members had always been claimed by relatives and given family burials in their home villages. No one central to the life of the Children of Fire had died, so they had no precedent on whi
ch to base a funeral service. All they were certain of was that the ceremony should reflect their beliefs and Elijah’s character.

  In the end, they decided to cremate his body on a pyre on Pulpit Rock. As a symbol of his soul’s oneness with nature, his remains would be allowed to return to God’s good earth by the natural processes of fire, wind and rain. The cremation would be at sunset on Sunday.

  The women of the community volunteered to wash Elijah’s body and dress him. This troubled Josiah. Perhaps a thorough examination of Elijah’s body would yield useful evidence, in the same way as the examination of the area around the cross. He went to find Rachael.

  ‘What is it, Josiah?’

  ‘I would like to examine Elijah’s body before the cremation. I would not ask if I didn’t feel it might be helpful in finding his killers.’

  She sighed. ‘I had hoped the worst of things was over. An examination is not a very pleasant thought. I don’t know what to feel or how other members of the community would react? Would you mind doing it secretly?’

  ‘No, if that is your wish.’

  ‘Then we will keep this between ourselves. Sunday morning the community will pray in the house for at least an hour before we go to prepare him. Will that give you enough time?’

  ‘I think so.’

  On Saturday morning, Josiah joined with the rest of the men of the community to gather wood for the pyre. Peter divided them into two groups. He sent one to cut brushwood from along the farm hedgerows. The rest of the men, including Josiah, he took with himself and the cart, following a track to the north. It went gently uphill, came out onto the plateau above the valley and then went towards a building unfamiliar to Josiah.

  ‘Where is that?’ he asked Brother James, who was walking beside him.

  ‘It’s the old sawmill. We can collect some lumber from there for the pyre.’

  ‘I’m surprised it looks so deserted,’ remarked Josiah.

  ‘We never use it, along with the cottage over there,’ James pointed south to the cottage Josiah had seen from the cross. ‘They used to be for forestry work.’

  ‘I’m surprised the community isn’t interested in forestry.’

  ‘Never have been in my time,’ James called up to Peter. ‘Peter why don’t we use the sawmill anymore?’

  ‘Because when the Children of Fire inherited Long Clough from Farmer Tremlet, Elijah wanted the woods to be left as God intended so he stopped the forestry, that and the disagreement about the boundary with Caleb Arlon.’

  Josiah pricked up his ears. ‘What do you mean, a disagreement about a boundary?’

  ‘It’s a long story. The deeds of the farm show its northern boundary as the one with the Hailsworth estate which is well defined by a wall inside the wood.’

  ‘Mr Arlon presumably begs to differ?’ said Josiah.

  ‘Yes he maintains that that the correct boundary is marked by the line of an old stream. That line is this side of those buildings. It goes all the way along the boarder of the forest out to the road on the east. Arlon’s claim has never been legally upheld but we try not to come here to avoid trouble with him.’

  ‘Why would there be trouble if the courts have never upheld his claim?’

  ‘Every so often Arlon has another go. The man’s a fool about it if you ask me. Even if his claim was upheld it would only give him a tongue of land no more than six hundred yards deep between the farm and the Hailsworth estate. I think it just rankles that we got the farm when he expected to be able to add it to his estate when Tremlet passed on.’

  So you’ve got a boundary with the Arlon estate as well as the Hailsworth estate.’

  ‘How very observant of you, Constable,’ sneered Peter. ‘No more than half a mile to our left and running pretty much in parallel with this track.’

  They reached the sawmill and quickly loaded up the lumber.

  ‘Three of you come with me and the cart, the rest can make your way over to the cross through the heather,’ said Peter.

  Josiah watched as the cart left. ‘How are they going to get to Pulpit Rock from here?’ he asked Brother James.

  ‘If you know where to look, there’s an old path that goes that way which you can get the cart down. We used it to take the material for the cross to the top of the rocks last year but it doesn’t go all the way; there’s a ridge of stone that stops it short. When Peter arrives, we need to be there to offload the wood.’

  The brothers set a good pace through the tussocks. Josiah let them go on ahead. He wanted to know why a deserted Forester’s cottage had smoke coming out of its chimney only a few days before. As soon as he could, he doubled back and skirted the boundary of the wood in its direction.

  When he got there, it did indeed look deserted. The door was unlocked and he went in. There was some ash in the hearth that looked fresh but when he felt the bricks of the fireplace, they were cold. If there had been a fire when he had first seen the cottage from the cross, it had not been relit. There was some stale bread on the table but how long it had been there was impossible to say. The house was dry and the roof in very much better repair than might be expected of a disused building. Maybe the smoke he had seen was the result of a wandering vagrant spending a few nights in the dry.

  He went outside again. At the back, a footpath went directly into the wood. Curiously, about three yards in, just off the path, there was a recently dug earth privy that had been in use up to a few days ago and there was evidence that there had been other privies dug in the same area over some time.

  The footpath continued deeper into the woods. He found a stream and not much further on there was a wall which looked as if it marked the Hailworth estate. There was no stile but the path continued on the other side into the deepest and quietest part of the wood. Another hundred yards and the ground fell away sharply into a dell dominated by larch trees where all noise was deadened by the thick layers of needles the trees had shed over many autumns. At the bottom of the dell, hidden under a thick covering of bracken, was a pile of long rough-cut bolts of timber.

  Josiah searched around the base of the pile and found an entrance, big enough to crawl through, leading to a hollow centre high enough for him to crouch. There was a candle lamp, which he lit. It had a broken glass. On the floor were some tools: a small hammer with blood on its head, a bag of nails identical to those he had found at the cross, a ladder and some rope.

  Taken with the wood, which was pretty much identical to that which had been used to crucify Elijah, he must be looking at all the equipment the murderers had used. More searching revealed the most macabre piece of evidence of all. Thrown in a corner were Elijah’s blood-stained boots and stockings.

  The tools for the murder had come from this store and the murderers had been confident enough to return them afterwards. Whoever had done this crime was both cool and arrogant. They had not believed that this store would be found.

  It was satisfying to have discovered it. Even Mr Presbury’s might think more of him if he knew. But those bloody clothes were proof that he had failed to observe at the cross that some of what Elijah’s had been wearing was missing. Then it occurred to him that he still couldn’t account for Elijah’s shirt. He searched but was nowhere in the store. Had the murderers taken it in some sort of imitation of the shirt of Christ taken by the soldiers on the first Good Friday and over which they had played dice? Well he would deny them the satisfaction of keeping the boots and stockings.

  He picked them up and started to leave. Then he realised that removing them would be a mistake, betraying to the murderers that their hiding place was known. He put the clothing back where he had found it and was careful to obscure any footprints or other marks he might have left on the ground under and around the pile of wood as he left.

  Then he carefully followed the path back to the boundary wall but rather than go back to the Forester’s cottage he followed the wall fu
rther and came out of the wood to the south. As he emerged, he looked back towards the cottage. There was a figure on the path going into the wood.

  The figure was a long way off and most people would not be able to recognise who it was but the way the person moved, their way of walking was instantly recognisable to him. It was Rachael.

  12

  Fire at Sunset

  On Sunday morning, as Rachael had said, the community gathered to pray. Josiah went across to the barn, picked up his notebook and returned to the courtyard. As soon as he could hear the sound of prayers coming from the farmhouse, he went over to the chapel. To make sure he was not surprised, he pegged the catch on the door from the inside.

  He pulled the sheet off Elijah’s body and folded it neatly. What had been toned muscle, livid with strength and vigour only a few short days ago, was now flaccid and moist. Generally, it looked pale as if made of alabaster or carved from marble but in some places blue-green patches were showing through the skin. Josiah swallowed hard. Though the chapel was the coolest building at Long Clough, he thought that those blue-green areas were likely to be places where decay had already begun. At least, even if the corpse had started to decay, it did not yet smell corrupt. He shuddered.

  There was a wound near the heart which was certainly decaying but was still well-defined: a dagger rather than a single-edged blade had been used.

  He looked at the back of Elijah’s head and quickly found an area where the skin had been broken by a hard blow. Hit from behind as he had passed the boulders on the path? The broad bruise across his throat, which looked as if it might have been inflicted by a boot or shoe, had no easy explanation. All Josiah could do was note it and do a quick sketch.

  All over Elijah’s chest and arms there were scares from old injuries. They formed a mass of thin white-lines some broader than others, some suggesting no more than scratches, some caused by much deeper wounds. Two stood out as having been caused by serious injuries.