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His Bloody Project

Page 17

by Graeme Macrae Burnet


  I stepped back from the body and surveyed it for some moments. Flora’s skirts were disarrayed around her legs. Her arms were by her sides and were it not for the fact that her skull was broken open, it might have appeared that she been struck down by a bolt of lightning. As her body was not illuminated by the light from the window, anyone entering the house might stumble over it. To avoid this eventuality, I leaned my flaughter against the wall and carried her to the table where she had lately been at her potato peeling. She was not heavy, but as I lifted her a good deal of matter spilled from the back of her skull onto the floor. I laid her on her back with her legs hanging from the end of the table, upsetting the pot in which she had been placing the potatoes. The water ran off and formed a puddle on the floor. I collected the potatoes and placed them back in the pot. I retrieved the flaughter from the wall and with my croman still in my hand, stepped into the darkness on the far side of the door in order to obscure myself.

  After some minutes, Donnie Broad appeared at the threshold. He called his sister’s name, but, of course, received no reply. He stepped into the chamber and saw Flora’s legs dangling from the end of the table. He started to toddle towards her, but as he did so he slipped in some of the matter from her skull and fell face-first onto the floor. He began to cry. I stepped forward and hit him on the side of the head with my flaughter. I did not mean the little boy any harm, but I could not permit him to raise the alarm. I did not know then if I had killed or merely stunned him, for I had not hit him with any great force, but he lay quite still and after some time I concluded that he must be dead. I left him lying where he had fallen and stepped back into the shadows.

  I do not know how much time passed while I remained there. The rectangle of sunlight on the floor slowly lengthened, as if its corner was being tugged by an invisible thread. I began to grow anxious. I would have been saddened to have killed Flora and the boy for no purpose.

  Presently, I heard a dog bark close to the house and this proved an augury of Lachlan Broad’s arrival. He appeared at the threshold, his great frame entirely blocking out the patch of sunlight which had been creeping across the floor. I do not know if he stopped because of the dimness of the room or because he saw the bodies before him. As he had his back to the light, I could not discern the expression on his face. In any case, after a few moments he took three or four steps towards where his son lay in the dirt. He knelt down and turned over the body and seeing that the boy was dead, looked wildly about the chamber. I remained in the shadows, not daring to draw breath. He then rose and moved towards the table where Flora’s body lay. Seeing that she too had taken her leave of this world, he put his fist to his mouth and emitted a stifled cry, somewhat akin to an animal being slaughtered. He steadied himself with both hands, knuckles down to the table, his feet planted apart. A great sob racked his body, but then he mastered himself and pushed away from the table. He turned and took two or three steps towards the door. At this point I stepped from the gloom and he came to a halt. We stood no more than three paces apart. I was struck by the size of him and had grave misgivings about my ability to dispatch him as I had the others. He seemed to take some time to register who was standing before him. Then he drew himself up to his full height and said in a calm voice, ‘Is this your doing, Roddy Black?’

  I replied that it was and that I had come to deliver him from this world in repayment for the suffering he had caused my father. He did not say anything further. He took a step forward and lunged towards me. Without thinking, I planted my right foot behind me and thrust forward my flaughter. The blade caught Lachlan Broad in the ribs, but his weight carried him forward and we both crashed to the floor. I kept hold of my tools and, swinging my croman with my right hand, caught him on the temple with the flat of the blade. He raised his hand to where I had struck him, then stood up and let out a great roar. I feared that I had done no more than enrage him and would not have the strength to overpower him. I scrambled backwards across the floor and got to my feet. Lachlan Broad looked about him, perhaps hoping to find some weapon to hand. I ran at him, swinging my flaughter. This time, however, he anticipated my blow and raised his arm to parry it. He grabbed the shaft below the blade and wrenched it from my grip. He stared at me wildly for a few moments. A thin stream of blood seeped from the wound on his temple. He held the flaughter in his two meaty fists, the blade pointing towards me, then sprang forward. I stepped to the side and his momentum carried him past me. He turned clumsily, perhaps dazed by the blow I had earlier struck. I now had my back to the door and was aware that I could flee, but if I did not do so, it was because I did not wish to depart without achieving my objective.

  Lachlan Broad made a second charge towards me. I recalled the day when I was a small boy that Kenny Smoke’s bullock had run amok in the village and it had taken six men to subdue it. As Broad swung the flaughter, I stepped inside its trajectory and, reaching my left hand onto his shoulder, landed a blow with my croman on the back of his head. The blade did not penetrate the skull, but the impact was enough to bring him to his knees. He dropped the tool and remained, stunned, on all fours. I stepped behind him and stood astride his body, as if straddling a garron. I raised my croman and, keen to conclude the business without further delay, brought it down with both hands. The blow knocked him flat to the floor, but it did not penetrate the bone, and I was struck by the resilience of the human body. He lay face down on the earth, his eyes wide, chest pumping like a landed fish. I now had time to properly measure my stroke and when I next brought down my weapon, the blade properly entered his skull with an unpleasant sound like a boot being sucked into a peat-bog. It was with some effort that I extracted the blade from his head. His hands were twitching by the side of his body, but whether he still had a breath in him I could not say. Nevertheless, I administered a final blow with the heel of the croman, this time entirely destroying the integrity of his cranium.

  I then stood away from the body and surveyed my handiwork. The blood was pumping in my temples and I was quite dazed, but I felt some satisfaction in the successful execution of my project. To an outside observer, the scene in the house must have looked quite dreadful, and I confess that I had to avert my eyes from the sight of the dead infant.

  It was then that I noticed old Mrs Mackenzie, seated in an upholstered chair in the murk at the back of the chamber. She was perfectly still and I wondered if she too had taken her leave of the world. Her face wore no particular expression and I wondered if she was gone in the head or not cognisant of her surroundings. I had heard many tales of old folk who habitually cried out for people long dead, or became lost a few yards from their own door. I approached her, the croman still in my right hand. Her eyes were watery and flitted rapidly to and fro, perhaps distressed by the scene which she had just then witnessed. I held my left hand in front of her face and moved it from side to side, but she made no reaction. There was no reason to do her any harm. Aside from bringing Lachlan Broad into this world, she had caused me no injury. She was no more responsible for the actions of her son than my father was for mine. I had accomplished what I set out to do and, as I had no intention of denying responsibility for any of it, her killing would have served no purpose. In any case, to do to death a helpless old woman would be a pitiless thing, and I had not the stomach for it.

  * * *

  ¶ The village or parish constable was an official elected by members of the community to serve as a go-between between the factor and the people. It was his role to enforce the crofters’ terms of tenancy and to settle disputes. The factor, in turn, was the steward or agent charged with the running of the estate on behalf of the laird. The factor was, generally speaking, an unpopular and feared figure.

  ** Andrew Sinclair was sixty-two years old at the time.

  †† Jeantown is the former name of the village of Lochcarron.

  Glossary

  ashet a large serving dish

  bannock an oatcake


  the black months winter

  byre a cowshed

  caman a shinty stick

  Càrn nan Uaighean translates as ‘heap of tombstones’

  cas chrom a long-handled foot plough

  ceilidh a gathering with singing and story-telling

  croman a hand-tool for breaking ground, like a single-sided pickaxe or mattock

  dwam a stupor

  Erse Irish

  fetch a double or doppelgänger

  flaughter a spade with a pointed triangular blade

  garron a Highland pony

  ghillie a man who leads shooting and fishing expeditions

  gimcrack a cheap ornament or knick-knack

  hurlie a hand-cart

  laird lord

  quaich a traditional shallow drinking vessel

  quern a stone hand-mill for grinding corn or other grains

  quoin the external corner of a building

  reek smoke

  rig a strip of land

  roof-tree a beam

  sea-ware seaweed

  shieling pasture land

  shinty a violent form of hockey still played in the Scottish Highlands

  sowens a kind of gruel, made from husks of grain

  stirk a heifer

  stoor dust or dirt

  strupach a pot of tea, a brew

  swee a chain from which a pot is suspended over a fire

  unchancy supernatural

  winding sheet a shroud

  the yellow months summer

  Medical Reports

  re. the victims, carried out by Charles MacLennan, M.D., resident of Jeantown, and J.D. Gilchrist, surgeon, of Kyle of Lochalsh

  Applecross, August 12th 1869

  At the request of William Shaw esq., sheriff, and John Adam esq., Procurator Fiscal, we this day examined the body of Lachlan Mackenzie, crofter and village constable of Culduie, Ross-shire, aged forty-one years. The body was shewn to us in the outbuilding of a neighbour, Mr Kenneth Murchison, to which, on the evidence of Mr Murchison, it had been removed shortly after its discovery. The body was laid out on a table and covered with sackcloth.

  The face of the victim was greatly discoloured and covered with much blood in a hardened state. The right side of the face, from the cheekbone to the temple, was entirely collapsed and the nose broken. The back of the skull was entirely collapsed and incomplete and much of the cerebral matter was missing. We were informed by Mr Murchison that fragments of the skull and cerebral matter had been retrieved from the floor of the house in which death had occurred and placed in a bowl. This bowl we examined and found to contain fragments of bone consistent with those missing from the skull. The external ear on the right side was almost entirely torn off. On the remaining parts of the skull, fragments of shattered bone had been forced into the cerebral tissue. It is our opinion that these injuries must have been caused by blows from a heavy blunt object or tool wielded with great force.

  There was much bruising to the chest, in particular to the left side of the sternum. A wound six inches across had penetrated the skin between the lower ribs and of these we found two to be broken. The internal organs were intact. This wound we judged to have been caused by a wide, blunt blade, consistent with the flaughter which had been retrieved from the scene, and which was shewn to us.

  On the outer part of the right forearm was a large bruise six inches below the elbow. The palms of both hands bore a number of minor lacerations and were penetrated by a number of splinters of wood. The fourth finger of the left hand was broken.

  On no other part of the body was to be seen any appearance of injury.

  We are decidedly of the opinion that the blow or blows delivered to the back of the skull were sufficient to cause instantaneous death and were the cause of death.

  Attested upon soul and conscience,

  Charles MacLennan, M.D.

  J.D. Gilchrist

  * * *

  Applecross, August 12th 1869

  At the request of William Shaw esq., sheriff, and John Adam esq., Procurator Fiscal, we this day examined the body of Flora Mackenzie, aged fifteen years, daughter of Lachlan Mackenzie, and resident of Culduie, Ross-shire. The body was shewn to us in the outbuilding of Mr Kenneth Murchison, to which it had been removed from the place of death. The body was laid out on a stretcher and covered with funeral cloths.

  The back of the skull was entirely caved in and fragments of bone had deeply penetrated the soft tissue. The hair was matted with a great deal of hardened blood. The features of the face were intact and it is our opinion that the damage to the skull was caused by a single blow of a heavy object or tool wielded with great force.

  We observed a number of lacerations and bruising to the pubic region. The soft outer parts had been quite pulverised and the pubic bone was broken on the left side.

  The left leg was fractured at the knee and the outer part of the knee severely bruised. This injury we judged to have been caused by a heavy blow, from an object consistent with the flaughter shewn to us, and would have rendered the victim unable to walk.

  On no other part of the body was to be seen any appearance of injury.

  We are decidedly of the opinion that the blow to the back of the skull was the cause of death, though whether instantaneous or not we could not say.

  Attested upon soul and conscience,

  Charles MacLennan, M.D.

  J.D. Gilchrist

  * * *

  Applecross, August 12th 1869

  At the request of William Shaw esq., sheriff, and John Adam esq., Procurator Fiscal, we this day examined the body of Donald Mackenzie, aged three years, son of Lachlan Mackenzie, and resident of Culduie, Ross-shire. The body was shewn to us in the outbuilding of Mr Kenneth Murchison, to which it had been removed from the place of death. The body was laid out on a cot and covered with funeral cloths.

  A large bruise, from the front temple to the ear, was observed on the skull. The skull had in these parts collapsed inwards, though the bone had not fragmented. The skin was broken around the borders of the bruised area and some blood had seeped out and hardened.

  On no other part of the body was to be seen any appearance of injury.

  The injury to the skull was most likely caused by a blow from a heavy blunt object consistent with the flaughter shewn to us, though not wielded with such force as with the injuries noted to Lachlan Mackenzie and Flora Mackenzie. However, such an injury might also have been caused by a heavy fall on a hard surface. We are decidedly of the opinion that this injury was the cause of death, but as to the agency of this injury we can only conjecture.

  Attested upon soul and conscience,

  Charles MacLennan, M.D.

  J.D. Gilchrist

  Extract from Travels in the Border-lands of Lunacy by J. Bruce Thomson

  TRAVELS

  in the

  BORDER-LANDS

  of

  LUNACY

  by J. Bruce Thomson

  James Bruce Thomson (1810–1873) was Resident Surgeon at the General Prison for Scotland in Perth. In this capacity he examined around 6,000 prisoners and was an acknowledged authority in the then nascent discipline of Criminal Anthropology. In 1870, he published two influential articles, ‘The Psychology of Criminals: A Study’ and ‘The Hereditary Nature of Crime’, in The Journal of Mental Science. His memoir Travels in the Border-Lands of Lunacy was published posthumously in 1874.

  I arrived in Inverness on the 23rd day of August 1869, and spent the night at an inn where I was met by Mr Andrew Sinclair, advocate to a young crofter accused of murdering three of his neighbours. Mr Sinclair had written to me expressing his desire to have my opinion, as the country’s pre-eminent authority on such matters, as to the sanity or otherwise of his client. We are none of us entirely immune to such appeals to our
vanity and, as the case had several interesting features, not least the alleged intelligence of the perpetrator, I consented and travelled from Perth as soon as my duties permitted.

  From the beginning I found Mr Sinclair not to be a man of the highest calibre, which was hardly unexpected given the limited opportunities for educated discourse in a backwater such as Inverness. He was entirely unversed in current thinking in the field of Criminal Anthropology and I spent much of the evening outlining to him some of my continental colleagues’ recent innovations in this discipline. Naturally, he was anxious to discuss his client, but I bound him to silence, wishing to reach my own conclusions unencumbered by prejudicial thoughts, no matter how ill informed.

  The following morning I accompanied Mr Sinclair to Inverness gaol to inspect the prisoner, and I again directed the advocate not to speak of his client before I had the opportunity to examine him. Mr Sinclair preceded me into the cell, in order, he said, to ascertain whether his client was willing to receive me. I found this a most irregular occurrence as I have never before heard of a prisoner being consulted about who may or may not enter his cell, but I attributed it to the advocate’s lack of experience in dealing with cases of this nature. Mr Sinclair remained some minutes inside the cell before informing the gaoler that I might be admitted. From the first instance, I found the relations between advocate and client to be quite unorthodox. They conversed together, not as a professional man and a criminal, but rather in the manner of two acquaintances somehow in cahoots. Nevertheless, the dialogue between them provided me with an opportunity to observe the prisoner before commencing my examination proper.

 

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