Guardian Angel

by Brian John

  “All right then. Warmer here, it is, than in the cellar.”

  I sat at the table and helped myself to a good portion of Mrs Ifans’s excellent steak and kidney pie. Between mouthfuls, I turned to Merlin.

  “I have been wondering, young man, how it was that Shemi and George turned up here when I fell ill. Did you play any part in that?”

  “Of course I did, Mrs Ravenhill. After all, I am supposed to be lookin’ after you. When your friends Shemi and Skiff came to see you, they took me to one side as they left the house, and gave me a shillin’, sayin’ that I was to get a message to Mister Skiff’s grand house in Newport at the first sign of you being poorly. They said it would be easy to find, just by askin’ in the middle of town. A matter of life and death, they said it was. Even before you complained about being unwell, I ran down to Cardigan bridge and stopped the first carriage I could find that was goin’ towards Newport. For sixpence, I got a nice ride up in front, next to the driver. Mister Skiff sent messages to Doctor Havard and the wizard, and I got a lift back to Cardigan sittin’ behind Shemi on his horse. What a ride, Missis! Twenty minutes, Newport to Cardigan Bridge!”

  “But that is impossible, Merlin..........” I looked into his eyes as he spoke, and my voice faded away. So I added “Oh all right then. Nothing is impossible. And thank you for your assistance. If you had waited, it might have been too late.”

  “It would have been too late,” said the child, sounding like a hoary old physician for whom there are no secrets left in the world of medicine. “But thank the Lord you are mended now. If I may be so bold as to suggest it, Missis, I think it’s time for you to move on.”

  That took me by surprise, for I had no intention of moving on until I had received full reports of the inquest and the events surrounding the funeral. So I said: “Move on? But my doctors said I must take some days to recover my strength. And I have certain investigations to complete in this area, relating to the family histories of my late husband and myself.”

  “Suit yourself, Missis. But those two fellows are still prowlin’ about outside, and I don’t like the look of them. Another thing. My Aunty Polly is gettin’ very inquisitive indeed, and I think she might start to spread rumours in town. She’s not unkind, but she helps in the Lamb and Flag some afternoons, and when the weather is bad and customers are thin on the ground, she talks and listens.”

  “Are you suggesting that she knows things about me that she should not know?”

  “Well, listen to this, Mrs Ravenhill. When you got ill, and before the wizard and the doctor arrived, you were in a sort of fever and you were talkin’ without knowin’ what you said. You talked about lots of people when my Aunty and me were in the room, and some names I remember were David, Amos, Owain, Joseph and Brynach. You moaned a lot in your sleep, and said “Oh Brynach, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me -- I beg of you!” over and again. Another time you sighed like you was in a great passion, and said “Oh, Owain my love, come to me now! Come to me now!” And another time you said “Oh, Amos, what will the deacons think? What will the deacons think?” Very puzzlin’, thought my Aunty Polly, for all those names to come bubblin’ out of you, but not that of your late husband.”

  I froze in horror as these revelations were made. The boy continued. “She was mullin’ over all of this in the kitchen last night, and she said to me “Was there not something in The Cambrian just three weeks back about a clergyman with the name of Amos, most cruelly killed in some wood somewhere or other? It must have been a terrible business -- but surely Mrs Ravenhill cannot have known that fellow, since she is from far away?” I replied to her, I did, that she should not take the ramblins of a person in a fever too seriously, Missis, for at such times, as in dreams, real and imaginary people are all mixed up, and people in the newspapers do become as real as people in your own family. I reminded her that not long since she had told me about a strange dream, and in it she had passionate encounters with Prince Albert and various others, and saw Queen Victoria ridin’ on a dragon. Very funny, that is!”

  “Thank you, Merlin. I thank the Lord for your quick wit, and hope that you have saved me on this occasion too. Will she talk to others?”

  “No knowing, Missis. But she is certainly thinkin’, and a thinkin’ aunty is a dangerous thing. And by the way, there is somethin’ else.”

  “Oh, no! What is it this time?”

  “When you were sweatin’ gallons with that fever of yours, there were brown stains on your pillow case, comin’ off your hair. I noticed it, and changed the pillow-cases as often as I could without disturbin’ you too much, and washed them myself.”

  “Did your aunty notice?”

  “I can’t be sure, Missis. She hasn’t mentioned it to me, but it’s not impossible. And by the way, there’s somethin’ else too.”

  By this time I was shivering with apprehension, and I dare say that I was as white a sheet. “Tell me the worst,” I said.

  Merlin looked concerned, but he knew that he had to tell me. “You are bein’ followed again, by a third man,” he said. “Well, not followed exactly -- bein’ observed, more likely. There’s this man. He’s watchin’ the other two fellows as well, and he goes up and down the Pendre every day, watchin’ this address very closely and notin’ down every arrival and departure in a little notebook. A very tall man, with a smart leather hat on his head and wearin’ a full-length black coat and top boots. I bumped into him this mornin’, makin’ it look accidental. He gave me a fierce look and grumbled at me, Missis, in a funny sort of English accent. I think he’s a gentleman, but he’s definitely not local.”

  rrr

  Loose Ends

  Next morning -- the day of the funeral -- I was on tenterhooks, and I also felt abandoned since I had had no visitors for two days and since I knew nothing of the inquest or gwylnos. I could only speculate that all was well. I tried to keep myself cheerful, but I was not yet well enough to venture out onto the street, so I tried to pass the time in reading some of the dreadful works of fiction that Mrs Ifans had inherited from various departing guests over the years. Following Merlin’s warning, I peeped through the curtains and out onto the street several times during the morning, and saw a tall man in a long black coat stationed in various places, all of which afforded a view of Mrs Ifans’s lodging house. I thought he was one of the men whom I had sighted shortly after my arrival in town, but I could not be sure.

  Early in the afternoon Mrs Ifans and Merlin were out in town, and I felt very vulnerable in spite of the fact that the front door was locked. The strange man must have known that I was alone in the house. Possibly he was waiting to observe some movement of the curtains, for next time I dared to peep out he reacted immediately and started across the road towards the front door. He knocked violently on the door, over and again, obviously hoping that I would descend the stairs and open it. But I remained in my room, quite petrified, with my door locked in case he should force an entry and come storming up the stairs. I even struggled to move my heavy table up against the door, so that it would be better able to withstand an assault from the outside. Suddenly the knocking stopped, and there was a great commotion out on the street. A wave of relief swept over me, and I dared to look out through my window. I could not see the door or the doorstep since they were directly below me, but then a cowering man and an angry landlady came into view. I almost felt sorry for the fellow, since Mrs Ifans was berating him in Welsh, using words that are best left off this page, and she was beating him about the head with her umbrella. His hat fell off, and as he bent to pick it up she gave him a mighty kick up the backside which sent him flat on his face in the street. That was enough for him. Without bothering to collect his hat, he scrambled onto his feet and ran off as fast as his long legs would carry him.

  In any other circumstances the scene in the street would have been comical, but when Mrs Ifans and Merlin came up the stairs to my room a few minutes later I was still shaking like a leaf. Mrs Ifans was red-faced with fury. “There now, Mrs
Ravenhill bach, that knocking and hammering on the door must have given you quite a fright. And you still recuperating from the sickness, too! Bloody cheek! Asking to see “the English lady” and not even knowing your name! At any rate, I will not have strangers hammering on my door like that, and I gave him a piece of my mind and a few gentle blows with my brolly. God knows what he wanted, but I told him he had better go and want it somewhere else. It’s a tidy house I keep, and folks banging on doors and disturbing my guests are not welcome here. Now then bach, how about a nice cup of tea?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she pottered off down the stairs, grumbling to herself about the decline in the manners of the nation. When she had gone, Merlin grinned and said “Close shave, Missis. I think he’s harmless enough, but you never know. Did you notice his face? Dark sort of complexion, as if he has been out in the hot sun, even if it is still early spring. Short black hair. Narrow eyes, sort of furtive, glancin’ about. And big front teeth like a rabbit. By the way, you might like to look at this.” He handed me the tall man’s hat, which was covered in mud. I looked at it carefully, and saw that it was made of leather rather than felt, and that it came from France. Inside the rim the words LeClerc, Paris were embroidered onto a delicate and discreet label. The stitching and finishing were exquisite. This was a high-class hat if ever I saw one, and I was quite mystified. Merlin had also examined the label, and he said “There ain’t many fellows in Cardigan with hats like that, Missis. Can I keep it?”

  “It’s yours, Merlin. You found it.”

  “A bit too big for me, it is, but if I grows my hair long and thick I can just about wear it without it fallin’ over my eyes. My friends will be very jealous; they won’t believe me when I tells them I just found it on the street, but who cares?” He jammed the hat down over his ears, giggled, and ran off down the stairs.

  I was so preoccupied with the gentleman with the French hat that I lost track of the time. But then in the middle of the afternoon, at about 3 pm, Merlin came quietly up the stairs again and knocked on my door. I invited him to come in, and he said “Can’t stop, Missis. Things to do. But I thought I should tell you that five minutes ago somethin’ happened that will make you very relieved. Bye bye.” And off he went again, leaving me with my mouth opening and closing and looking like a stranded trout.

  It dawned on me then that the funeral was over and done with, and the coffin full of stones was in the ground. How on earth had Merlin come by that news? What an extraordinary child! I don’t know why, but I broke down and wept when I should have danced around the room and filled the place with laughter. Mrs Ifans came up and found me sobbing uncontrollably on the bed. “There now, Mrs Ravenhill bach,” she said calmly. “Here is that cup of tea I promised ages ago, and some nice slices of bara brith into the bargain. Just you put that stupid fellow out of your mind.” She obviously thought that I was still shocked by the hammering on the front door, and I did not have the heart to disabuse her.

  Next day, shortly after noon, Rose and Myfanwy called to see me, and since it was a fine March day with warm sunshine and a gentle breeze from the south, I decided that we could venture out. I was by no means back to my full strength, but thought that I needed the exercise. So the three of us walked, arm in arm, down to the river, and we talked about everything that had happened here and there. We were all dressed in full mourning clothes, so we had to avoid frivolity at all costs. I kept my face covered by my veil, just in case. First, I asked the girls about the inquest.

  “Shemi was there,” said Rose. “He said that after the week’s delay in convening the inquest they have at last found a new coroner. Jonathan Huws, from Mountain West. Quite competent and fair-minded, by all accounts, Mrs Ravenhill. Then there was a jury of ten men from the town. First, they dealt with the death of Mistress Martha Morgan. The Coroner asked if Dr George Havard was present, as he assumed that he would have carried out the post-mortem and signed the certificate of death. Aunty Daisy stood up and explained that in view of the doctor’s close relationship with the deceased he had considered it inappropriate to examine the body or to have any involvement in the Inquest. In any case, she said, he had been called to give urgent medical attention to a patient in Cardigan and had not yet returned. ‘Then who examined the body?’ asked the Coroner. At that point Wilmot stood up and said that he had arranged for a certain Doctor Figgis, being the only other physician then in the neighbourhood, to perform the lamentable task. ‘Never heard of him, sir,’ said the Coroner. Then there was an unexpected intervention from the public gallery. ‘I can vouch for him, sir,’ said Tom Mathias from Dinas, who was no doubt present at Wilmot’s invitation. ‘An excellent doctor, registered with the Royal College, and doing short term duty in Dinas. He fixed me up good and proper when I was very sick in bed a few weeks back.’ ‘And is he here?’ asked the Coroner. ‘I want evidence from him.’ Apparently Wilmot stood up again and said ‘Sadly, sir, he had to return to Swansea on the completion of his appointment in Dinas. But I have here his signed Certificate of Death.’ It was handed over to the Coroner, who examined it minutely before reading it out to the jury. ‘This is very irregular,’ said he, ‘but in the circumstances we have to accept it. Now then, are there any other witnesses to the death of Mistress Morgan?’”

  From this point on Myfanwy took up the telling of the tale. “Then, by all accounts, Will, Abel, Gerallt, Gomer, Henry and Brendan all stood up in turn and explained how they had found the body on the top of the mountain after mounting a search at dawn. They all said that the corpse was cold, with no trace of a pulse and no discernible breath. They told how they had carried it down to the Plas on a ladder, and had then placed it on the kitchen table to await a post-mortem examination. ‘No suspicious circumstances, Mr Owen?’ said the Coroner to Will. ‘None at all, sir, apart from the earthquake.’ ‘Can you confirm that the body was severely damaged by falling rocks and so forth, but that there was no blood?’ ‘Yes, I can confirm that there was no blood.’ The Coroner accepted that, Mrs Ravenhill, and Will never did have to tell a lie! But Master Huws is a very keen and astute fellow, and so he pursued the idea that this might have been a suicide. Several people had to give testimony that Mistress Morgan was in a perfectly sound state of mind, that she wasn’t the sort of person to take her own life, and that indeed she had no reason at all to do such a thing. Bessie had to give testimony that Mistress Morgan often went out alone on Carningli, in all seasons and at all times of the day and night, and that she often slept on the mountain in the open air and returned to the Plas in the morning as lively and refreshed as may be imagined. That caused a bit of a stir in the jury and among the members of the public, so we hear, and the Coroner said ‘Eccentric behaviour, gentlemen, as you might agree, but entirely in character for the deceased. No other evidence? Very well, gentlemen of the jury, without further guidance from me, I ask you to retire and give your verdict.’ Apparently they retired for just a minute or two, and returned with a verdict of death by natural causes. Then the Coroner released the body for burial.”

  “Excellent, Rose. That must have been a great relief to all concerned in this business.”

  By this time we were approaching the tidal river, which was flowing in reverse as the flood tide pushed salt water upstream from St Dogmael’s and under Cardigan Bridge. There was a scent of spring in the air, and there were birds everywhere -- gulls wheeling and mewing, and oyster-catchers, curlews and other little wading birds on the mud-banks, hopping and scuttling about as the water level inched ever higher and reduced their feeding area. I breathed deeply, and for almost the first time in my new life I felt secure and almost serene in the company of these beautiful young ladies.

  “So that was it?” I asked.

  “No no, Mrs Ravenhill,” said Myfanwy. “That was just the start of the proceedings. Now we get to the really interesting bit. Tell her, Rose.”

  And so Rose told me, second-hand, what had happened in the second part of the Inquest, when consideration was given to
the skeleton found in the deep crevice on the mountain, following the earthquake. This was referred to as “an inquiry into the death of an unknown gentleman some time after 1795.”

  When Rose said this, she immediately felt the tension in my body, and she recalled our earlier conversation. “I know this is difficult for you, Mrs Ravenhill,” she said. “Are you sure that you want me to continue?” I nodded. “Yes please. I have to hear it.”

  There was a long pause, and I sensed that Rose was suddenly quite distressed. I took her in my arms and whispered into her ear: “What is it, Cariad? Is the telling of this too hard to bear?”

  “No no, Grandmother. It’s not that at all,” she sobbed, desperately seeking to keep her voice low. “It’s this terrible pretence in which we are all involved! Mrs Ravenhill this, Mrs Ravenhill, that! Will I ever be able to talk to you again as my beloved Grandmother? Sometimes I have to admit to wishing that you really were dead!”

  That struck like an arrow to the heart, and for a while I could not respond. I tried to be strong, but my eyes filled with tears. Then Myfanwy came to the rescue and joined us in our embrace. “Now then, Rose,” she whispered. “You must, you must be brave! We must go through with this, for you know that the Mistress has some great task to complete. It will become easier to keep up this pretence with the passing of time -- I promise it! And once the task is done, who knows what joy will follow?”

  The three of us gradually recovered our composure and continued with our walk along the river bank. Rose was still shaking, and so Myfanwy took up the narrative relating to the bones on the mountain. The discovery had apparently been made initially by some small boys from town, who had collected the bones up and thrown them into a sack. They had given them to Billy Pinder, one of the local constables, who had berated them for ‘destroying evidence of a possible dastardly crime.’ The constable had then climbed the mountain with the boys and various other inquisitive adults, and they had climbed down into the crevice and recovered scraps of clothing, some bits of rope, two iron pots and three pans, all badly rusted, a leather bucket and a leather mug, a knife, the remains of some woollen blankets, and a pair of men’s boots. There were some ashes and charred bits of firewood, some rabbit bones and some chicken bones. All of these items had been assembled in the constable’s office and examined by the Mayor and various others. Apparently they had asked Shemi, as the most astute sleuth in the district, to examine the bones and the other items, but he had declined to help, on the grounds that he was much preoccupied with helping the Morgan family of Plas Ingli, following the sad death of Mistress Martha. So they drew certain conclusions of their own, which were reported to the inquest by the Mayor. They concluded that the possessions were those of a gentleman, since the boots were of good quality, and there were traces of fine embroidery on the waistcoat. The belt had a silver buckle, and the knife had a carved ivory handle. From the presence of the pots and pans and other signs of domesticity it had to be concluded that the deceased gentleman had been living rough on the mountain, maybe in the open and maybe in one of the little caves among the boulders on the southern slopes. But how was it that the bones and all of the other things came to be at the bottom of a deep crevice? Constable Pinder apparently gave evidence that there were lots of stones on top of the human and other remains, suggesting that everything (including the body of the deceased) had been tipped into the crevice and had then been deliberately covered with stones so as to hide evidence of a crime. At this suggestion of murder, said Myfanwy, there was a murmur of anticipation and excitement in the public gallery.