Children of Fire

by Paul CW Beatty

  ‘Tell him, Josiah, I take responsibility for getting everyone to sit on him if he explodes like a badly made steam engine.’

  Arlon looked uncertain. ‘I had assumed, Mr Ainscough, you were staying here at the Hall?’

  ‘No but I am staying in the Furness Vale not far away from your mill. I am staying with the Children of Fire. I am gathering information for my writings and having heard of them, I went to see them because of reports of their interesting religious ideas.’

  ‘And you will have discovered that I am no friend of them nor they of me. The fact is they get in my way and that I do not tolerate.’

  ‘And what of their leader?’

  ‘Elijah Bradshawe? He was the sharpest thorn in my side. Not only did he persuade the old fool Tremlet to give his land to his cult, which even now thwarts my plans, but he also roundly attacked me for how I treat the children I pay. Then to add insult to injury, when he attacked me in his sermons, it fermented disruption and bad feeling among my workers.

  ‘It also encourages ne’er-do-well apprentices to run off from my mill, causing me all the expense of paying parish Beadles for finding them or the cost and inconvenience of retrieving them from the Liverpool or Chester magistrates. Over the last four years, I have lost twenty apprentices outright, that never returned.

  ‘I will not be a hypocrite, Mr Ainscough, I am glad he is dead. Without him, the so called Children of Fire will collapse. I will bide my time, offer a low price for their land and then I will be shot of them for good.’

  When the cigars were finished the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. Sarah was playing the piano. As soon as he saw this, Arlon had a quiet word with Abram, who seemed to Josiah to look somewhat irked by whatever Arlon had suggested.

  When Sarah finished the piece, to polite applause from the company, Abram strolled over and placed some music on the piano stand for her to play. It was a simple folk tune, which Abram joined her in singing. They were reasonable singers: she with a passable soprano, supplemented by his rather more uncertain baritone.

  Mr Hailsworth was in conversation with Mr Arlon and Josiah did not relish joining Mrs Hailsworth, so he followed Aideen’s lead and sat with her and Phelan.

  Aideen began muttering to herself again. ‘What a cat’s chorus. I hope her father gains satisfaction from this display for I doubt the rest of us will.’ Suddenly she looked hard at Josiah. ‘Mr Ainscough, do you have singing on the long list of your accomplishments?’

  At that moment, Josiah was rather distracted by the wound in his arm. He had been able to dress it himself but as the evening wore on it was beginning to ache as he became tired by the strain of politely dodging the questions. The result was, guilelessly he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘And read music?’

  ‘Be careful, my friend,’ whispered Phelan but it was too late. Josiah had already nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Aideen.’

  When the duet was done she got up and strolled over to the piano. ‘Mr Ainscough and I would like to offer a contribution for your entertainment,’ she announced. Josiah gulped. He could sing, it was almost a requirement of being a Methodist, and he did read music but doing both together in company was not something he did outside his immediate family, except when singing hymns in chapel. But the polite applause in anticipation, gave him no choice he had to follow her lead or suffer public embarrassment.

  To his relief he found that Aideen had placed something he knew on the piano: an arrangement of the Scots song, “Will ye go, lassie, go?” Aideen started to play and sing the first verse.

  Where Sarah Arlon had been competent, Aideen was brilliant. Where Sarah had been a reliable, unadventurous soprano, Aideen was a deep full-blooded metzo: a voice that quivered with emotion.

  Josiah joined in the chorus feeling his way into his voice in preparation for the next verse which was traditionally sung by the man, at least in duet.

  After a slightly uncertain start the beautiful simplicity of the tune took him and he sang without self-consciousness. By the time the chorus came round again everyone in the room was singing or humming.

  In the final verse Josiah and Aideen’s voices blended and wove in and out of each other. At the end, the applause was more than polite. Josiah saw Aideen flash a glance at Abram: half challenge, half triumph.

  16

  Surveying the Possibilities

  It was the following morning and Josiah was sitting in the courtyard at Long Clough writing up his notes on the previous night.

  After other guests had offered their musical contributions to the evening, people had drifted into small groups and the conversation, though it ranged over many topics, none were of much use to him. He has mixed feelings about the success of the gambit. Caleb Arlon was no longer an unknown quantity. What Josiah had seen of his character and obsessions, especially his violently hostile opinions of Elijah Bradshawe and the Children of Fire, had convinced Josiah he was capable of murder. A reason for killing Elijah was a different matter.

  Arlon might be vicious but he wasn’t subtle. He had freely admitted that he looked forward to the collapse of the Children of Fire and that he would then buy their land but, to Josiah, Arlon was an unlikely collector of land for its own sake. The gain he would value would have to be connected with his business. He had already showed he wanted to get his hands on the tongue of land near the woods. Maybe it wasn’t the land of the Children of Fire in general but that smaller piece of land in particular he craved?

  In contrast Josiah had not been able to observe Abram in anything like the detail he had hoped. In fact, the younger Hailsworth had been rather adept at avoiding getting into anything other than the lightest of conversation. It was only at the end of the evening that Josiah had been able to create an opportunity to get to know Abram Hailsworth better.

  The Arlons had gone and Mrs Hailsworth had ushered a tired Mr Hailsworth to bed. Abram was politely standing with Josiah at the exit from the courtyard, waiting for the coach to take him back to Long Clough.

  ‘Well, Constable, having seen all the “bears in the menagerie” at once you’ll be wanting to talk to me.’

  ‘I would hardly term your family and guests bears.’

  ‘What not even Mr Arlon?’

  ‘Perhaps, but bull more than bear might be more appropriate.’

  ‘Well put, Constable,’ said Abram with a chuckle.

  ‘But you are right, Sir. I had been thinking I should like to see round your powder mill. When I have done that then my questions for you might be more pertinent.’

  ‘Be my guest. I will not be available tomorrow. How about if we meet the day after?’

  As Josiah closed his notebook he heard a voice calling from the front of the house. Then a man with a bundle came into the courtyard.

  ‘Can I help you?’ said Josiah.

  ‘You can if you ’appen to be Constable Josiah Ainscough,’ he replied. ‘This bundle’s for ‘im and it’s ‘eavier than it looks.’

  ‘Well you don’t need to carry it any further. I am Constable Ainscough.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said the man. ‘It’s from the Navigation in Marple. It were left by Sergeant Smith’s brother. ‘E said you’d know.’

  Josiah unwrapped the bundle when he got it into the barn. Inside were some spare clothes, including a jacket, some extra shirts, trousers and a cravat. At least he could go to the mill dressed reasonable smartly. There was also a letter from Michael.

  Constable Josiah Ainscough,

  c/o The Children of Fire

  Long Clough

  Dear Josiah,

  Well, lad, you might be interested to know, that thanks to your evidence at the inquest, you’re the talk of the whole of Stockport. The Advertiser described the murder of Elijah Bradshawe in gory detail and they also ran an editorial which praised Mr Prestbury and the new police force. It said that if the new for
ce was capable of recruiting men of your capability and stature then the town would be well served and a safer place in future.

  Privately, Sergeant Smith tells me that Mr Prestbury is spitting feathers about not being able to get you back under his wing, but he is trapped. He cannot recall you without undermining the plaudits he is receiving for his perspicacity, especially since those plaudits are coming from all sides, including the mayor and corporation.

  In short, until the Derbyshire force relieves you, you are going to remain where you are no matter what Mr Prestbury wants. More than half the populace of Stockport are hoping you find the perpetrator before the Derbyshires arrive. That would be a very satisfactory one-up for the town

  But to business, you sent me a nail to see if I could identify it as specific to a particular trade. Well I can, it’s a farrier’s nail for fixing horseshoes but there are two things peculiar to your example.

  First, it had a very large head that would be proud of the slot round the bottom side of the shoe. Nails like this give the horse more grip so they are fitted to dray horses working in wet or slippery conditions.

  Second, they are wrought not cut nails. Most nails these days are cut from sheets of iron and filed sharp but these have been hammered from hot metal, probably from thin iron bar. That takes skill and a forge. Farriers have to have small forges to make the horseshoes fit when shoeing but the person who made these nails is using much more than a portable forge and it is evident from their quality that he takes pride in his work. I would guess he has regular access to a full blacksmith’s works and can make harnesses, the shoes themselves and much more.

  Mary and I will pray for you as, we are sure, will the good folk at Tiviot Dale. Take care, lad.

  Michael

  Josiah could not help but feel pleasure at being prominent in the thoughts of his neighbours in Stockport and rather pleased that his actions were being a source of annoyance to Mr Prestbury.

  That the nails were unusual would make them easier to recognise but they sounded, from what Michael had said, to be old fashioned and therefore might merely have been lying about. It might lead to a connection to a place but a connection to a person seemed very unlikely. He tucked Michael’s letter away with his notebook.

  Until tomorrow, he hadn’t anything to do directly connected to the investigation. He ought to be helping on the farm but after a late night and the stress of an unfamiliar social situation he felt rather jaded. A walk seemed in order. Perhaps he should take a look at the boundary between the Children of Fire’s land and the Arlon estate, to see whether anything made it clearer to him concerning Mr Arlon’s obsession with the exact line of Long Clough’s boundary.

  He climbed up the track onto the top of Pulpit Rock and looked out across the vale. The clouds were scattered and fast moving. As the brisk wind took them, staircases of light came down to illuminate the valley in golden patches. He found the end of the track they had used to bring the wood to the funeral pyre and walked along it until he got to the deserted sawmill.

  Beyond, the wood was just as still and quiet as ever. A cloud passed over the sun and the bright sunlight gave way to sudden shade. The wood seemed more threatening in shadow. He wondered if the marksman was still there, perhaps watching him. It would take time for him to get back his nerve for going far into the wood. He was relieved when the sunshine returned. The wound on his arm seemed to ache in sympathy.

  He struck out again, keeping the border of the wood on his right. After about two hundred yards, the short grass gave way to a path marked by horse prints. Then the fringe of the wood cut away to the right and there, completely unexpectedly, with his back to Josiah, was Caleb Arlon. Arlon had another man with him. Josiah carefully backed off and hid behind a tree.

  As he watched, the man with Arlon held up a red and white banded pole. After a few minutes of holding it vertical, he put it down and picked up something from the ground. It was a long cloth tape measure, which he started to wind into its case. Beyond them, the ground fell away. As he watched a third man came up the hill carrying a sturdy folding tripod with a theodolite on the top. They were surveying.

  ‘What was the overall gradient, Governor?’ said the man who had been holding the pole to the newcomer.

  ‘From here to halfway down about one in fifty. From there down to the river, it’s a bit steeper, then there’s a steady climb from there to the boundary of the estate.’

  ‘So what does all that claptrap mean Jimmy?’ interjected Arlon. ‘Can we get a loaded wagon along here to my land without needing a team of four?’

  If we prepare a good roadway then it should be possible. In fact it would be quite easy if we use the McAdam surfacing.’

  ‘Better than the packhorse route?’ said Arlon.

  ‘Oh very much better than that, Sir,’ said Jimmy, ‘Better than most turnpikes.’

  ‘And you are certain it is possible to build a road from here all the way through to join the canal north of the Marple aqueduct?’

  ‘Yes Sir, I think so.’

  ‘Then you can pack up now. That is all I wanted to know. I bid you good day.’

  From his hiding place, Josiah watched as Arlon mounted his horse, which had been tied to a tree a little way off, and cantered down the hill towards his own land. After he had gone, the men packed up their instruments into a dogcart, which they brought up from lower down the hill. Then they climbed aboard and trotted past him, intent on the direct route to the main road.

  So the reason that Arlon coveted the tongue of land was he wished to build a new road to the canal. That made no sense. Arlon owned Mellor Mill which was no more than a mile and a half from the basin at the Marple limekilns. Why go to all the cost of a circuitous new road and, presumably, the expense of a new basin north of Marple?

  17

  Falling Down

  He emerged from the wood and watched the dogcart pass the Forester’s cottage and disappear into the distance.

  There it was again, the thin column of smoke rising from the chimney of the allegedly abandoned cottage. Was this another passing vagrant lighting a fire? This time he would catch whoever it was red-handed. There might be useful information to be gleaned from such a person about those who had hidden the tools and the paraphernalia of Elijah’s murder in the woodpile.

  There were no sounds to be heard and no movement as he approached the cottage. If it hadn’t been for the smoke nothing would have indicated anything was or could be happening inside. The side of the cottage facing him did not have windows only one simple wooden door. He stopped outside it and listened.

  Ringing all the roses,

  Smelling all the posies,

  Attachop! Attachop!

  They’all tumble down.

  The rhyme was followed by laughter. Then it started again; strange thing for a bunch of vagrants to be singing. He opened the door and stepped in. There was a group of small children facing two older teenagers who were organising the game. They had just got to the “tumble down” bit and the leaders had started to throw their arms in the air when they saw Josiah. The arms stopped half way and looks of horror came across their faces. The children turned, screamed and scattered to every corner of the small building and into every small crevice or place of shelter.

  From the kitchen Brother James emerged. ‘Heavens above! What’s happened!’ Two of the littlest girls threw themselves at his legs and clung on screaming for him to save them from the monster who had just appeared. He looked at Josiah in astonishment.

  ‘Calm down, children,’ he said. ‘Josiah is a friend, just not one you’ve met before. One of the children attached to James shot a glance at Josiah and clearly though escape was a more reliable option than getting to know the newcomer. She tore herself away from James’ knees and ran at Josiah, dodged him with remarkable agility and shot through the door behind him.

  ‘Help me, Rachael! Mar
y’s on the loose!’ shouted James.

  Josiah turned in pursuit. The girl was very quick and, once outside ran straight for the wood. She used all her ability to get under low branches and big bushes to evade him. He managed to keep her in sight, but when well inside a dense stand of larches she simply disappeared.

  He looked to left, then right and finally turned all the way round in a clueless sort of way until he heard laughter from behind him. He turned to see Mary hugging Rachael.

  ‘It’s all right, Mary, Josiah doesn’t bite and it’s time for some food now. Would you like to help me invite him to dinner? He’s usually hungry this time of day just like you.’

  Tentatively, while still holding on to Rachael’s hand, the girl came over and offered her spare hand to him. They walked back to cottage, Mary happily swinging between him and Rachael.

  There was a substantial pot of stew on the fire and James had already started to put spoonsful into an assortment of bowls the children held up to be filled. Josiah stood in line with Mary and got his own spoonful in a spare bowl. Then along with everyone else he found a space to sit on the floor to eat. Rachael came over and sat by him.

  ‘So this is the real reason there were so many children’s clothes to hang up to dry the day I came.’

  ‘Yes,’ she was obviously not going to give him many hints to help him work out what was really happening.

  ‘Is it one of the main reasons Mr Arlon has lost so many apprentices?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And why there are so many earth privies just inside the wood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And I suppose they’ve been here under my nose for days.’

  ‘Yes,’ she started to laugh again at his discomfort until tears came into her eyes in amusement. She blew her nose and composed herself. ‘But to be serious, I need to ask, will you have to report what you’ve seen here?’