by David Marcum
“‘This is most unseemly,’ our host protested. ‘Lady Bulmer has been here all evening. When do you imagine she had time to leave this poor creature on your doorstep?’
“‘It was the doing of her familiars.’
“‘I fear I must disappoint you,’ said the lady with dignity. ‘I do not own a cat.’
“‘Do not mock me, woman,’ said he. ‘Only those who fear the judgement of the Almighty would disdain His church.’
“‘I do not disdain it, sir. However, I was raised a Baptist.’
“‘And what of you?’ Tunstall demanded, turning on me. ‘Are you a man of God, Mr. Holmes?’
“What transpired gives me no pride in the telling. I hold it entirely responsible for the events that followed. My defence is the arrogance of youth. As lessons go, it would prove to be a costly one, and is a mistake I have never repeated. So wild and unreasonable were the clergyman’s ravings that I thought it amusing to poke a little fun at this uncouth fellow by testing the limits of his intelligence with the choice of an obscure religious sect from the 17th century for my answer.
“‘I am a Muggletonian,’ I declared, and in that same moment I realised I had underestimated the man. His eyes widened with something approaching fevered elation.
“‘A follower of Lodowicke Muggleton! Then you may be the instrument of my deliverance!’ He grasped my hand and held it in an iron grip. ‘I have heard, sir, that part of your beliefs is the ability to curse people. I seem to remember that a denouncement was placed upon the head of dear Walter Scott shortly before his death.’
“‘It does not follow that the one led to the other.’
“‘Quite so, quite so. But tell me, Mr. Holmes, do you also possess the ability to remove the curses of others?’
“‘Do you believe yourself cursed?’
“He nodded frantically. ‘Truly, and by this woman. She is a servant of Satan. We must defend ourselves. “Thou shall not suffer a witch to live”.’
“‘Really, Vicar, this is too much,’ Zeal objected. ‘I will not have you insult my guests in this manner. And I am going to prove you wrong. Lady Bulmer, for the sake of harmony, will you and your household attend the morning service with us tomorrow?’
“Her grace in the face of such ill-treatment was admirable. ‘I have not crossed the threshold of a church since my late husband was buried. As the Lord abandoned us, so did I turn my back on Him. As for my daughter, she has been made unwelcome in your church, and my maid is Catholic. However,’ said she with resignation, ‘for the sake of my daughter, I shall make this one exception on Christmas morning. We shall all attend.’
“Zeal breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Will that satisfy you, Vicar?’
“He was staring at Lady Bulmer with a look of concentrated fury. ‘It remains to be seen whether she is able to go through with it,’ said he. ‘Good night to you, Lord Zeal, Mr. Holmes.’
“With the mood soured, it was felt best to call an end to the evening. Taylor was summoned to fetch Lady Bulmer’s transport. Zeal said he would see them safely home and then walk back.
“‘And thank Mrs. Hil for a fine dinner,’ said he. ‘The chops were splendid.’
“I noticed Taylor wince. Among the less pardonable of Zeal’s eccentricities was a failure to observe the usual etiquette. Even so, such familiarity seemed a step too far.
“He must have seen my expression, for he was quick to explain. ‘Just our little joke, Holmes. You see, Mrs. Taylor is Hilda and Mr. Taylor is–’
“‘Hilary, sir,’ said Taylor. ‘Hil for short.’
“‘So Mr. Taylor is Hil and so is his wife, if you see what I mean,’ he added, growing ever more uneasy by the second. ‘Thank you, Taylor, that will be all.’
“With the evening at an end, I retreated to my room. The encounter with Tunstall had instructive. Far from being the unworldly country clergyman I had been expecting, here was a man of learning, given way to beliefs that were almost medieval. Why he had consented to be exiled to a place like Norton Deverill was as much a mystery as Lady Bulmer’s stubborn decision to remain. Mrs. Balfour had talked of a scandal, but there would have been other parishes at the bishop’s disposal more to Tunstall’s liking. I considered whether he saw Lady Bulmer as a threat to his dominance of the village, for he had bridled when she had said she would attend the morning service. But that too seemed unlikely, for the lady chose to live a quiet life and had little to do with the community. If mastery was his concern, then Lord Zeal would have been a better target for his attacks.
“I was certain, however, he was the instigator of the strange events in the village. To what end, I could not say. I trusted that the morrow would shed more light on his motives.
“As it was, the next day we found Tunstall more perturbed than ever. He met us at the porch, declaring his very life was in peril should he step over the threshold. The change in the man was considerable. Gone was the fire and brimstone. Sheer terror had taken its place. There was a hunted look in his eyes, and his face was haggard. The twitching of his fingers as he dabbed his handkerchief at his sweat-dampened brow told of his turmoil. To behold him thus gave me pause as to my theories of the previous evening.
“‘I saw the Devil last night, dancing upon my lawn,’ he told me earnestly. ‘He beckoned to me, told me I would be his this very day. I dared not close my eyes in sleep the whole night. My very soul is in peril.’
“‘Come now, Vicar,’ said Zeal merrily, ‘you exaggerate.’
“‘Upon my word, Lord Zeal, had you been there to witness when I was plucked from my bed and carried halfway across this accursed county, you would not doubt my word. And then, this morning, to find scrawled upon my door: “This night thy soul shall be required of thee”.’
“‘The same could be said of all of us, Vicar,’ said Mrs. Balfour, who had followed us up the path. ‘Let us have none of this talk at Christmas.’
“I fear her words fell upon deaf ears, for Tunstall continued to ramble to any who would listen about the danger which he faced. Such was the growing consternation that when Lady Bulmer, her daughter, and their maid arrived, Zeal insisted we should show our support by sitting with them at the back of the church.
“The service began in erratic fashion and continued in the same vein. The vicar was nervous, as though he expected to hear the gnashing of teeth and rending of flesh at any moment. The crisis came when he climbed into the pulpit. In the midst of his reading, he stopped suddenly and the words died on his lips.
“He was staring straight at me. I shall never forget the look of horror in his stricken eyes. With a strangled cry, he lurched forward with such violence I thought he must be thrown from the pulpit. He clutched at his throat, tearing at his collar as he gasped for air. In his death throes, he scrabbled for support, sending the Bible flying down to the tiled floor with a thud loud enough to wake the sleepers in the crypt. A moment later, he had reeled back and then, losing his footing, tumbled down the steps and sprawled in front of the altar.
“Panic took hold of the congregation. Several ladies fainted, whilst another began a high-pitched wailing. Others congregated around the fallen man, keeping their distance lest his death become theirs. The vicar was barely conscious when we got to his side. With his dying breath did he utter a few agonised words before his eyes rolled heavenwards and his body grew limp.
“It was a grave situation. The vicar was dead, struck down in his own church on the very day Lady Bulmer attended. With the mood growing fearful and angry by the minute, I had grave concerns for the lady’s safety.
“‘Get Lady Bulmer away from here,’ I told Zeal. ‘And then send for a doctor and the authorities. This needs resolving without delay.’
“Zeal scurried away, taking Lady Bulmer and her party with him. Around me, those who remained were declaring she had summoned the Devil to claim Tunstall’s soul. If not for Mrs. Balfour’s calming intervention, we should have had a riot upon our hands. Should you ever doubt the extremes to which people
may be driven by fear, then you need look no further than the horror that gripped Norton Deverill that day. Whether trusting to prayer or the safety of home, every soul who had witnessed the vicar’s death was convinced we were bound for Gehenna.
“Matters were not helped by the three hours it took for the doctor to arrive. Dr. Meakin was a brusque, officious man of middling years, given to grumbling because of what he saw as the unnecessary interruption to his day.
“‘Couldn’t it have waited?’ were his first words on seeing the body. ‘The man is beyond help.’
“‘Lord Zeal did right in calling us in, Doctor,’ said Shorter, the bovine sergeant of police who had accompanied him. ‘This here death is suspicious, wouldn’t you say?’
“‘No, I wouldn’t. It’s a clear case of apoplexy if ever I’ve seen one.’
“‘A remarkable diagnosis, Doctor,’ I interjected, ‘considering you have yet to examine the body.’
“‘I don’t need to examine him. Revevend Tunstall had a weak heart. I told him to take things easy, but he would have it his own way. This is the result. Well, he can’t say I didn’t warn him.’
“‘Quite so. Patients can be inconvenient, ignoring their doctor’s advice and interfering with his plans to leave for London by dying.’
“Meakin started. ‘Why do you say that? I do not deny it. My wife and I depart the day after tomorrow. Someone in the village told you of my plans, no doubt.’
“‘Not at all. Your enamelled silver tie-pin with the letter “T” intertwined with ivy is the emblem of the Tantamount Club in Pall Mall. I know it well. My brother is a member of the Diogenes, several doors along. The pin is new, for it has yet to tarnish or bear the wear of polish. Why should a man make such a lavish purchase unless he has expectations of attending the establishment in question on a regular basis. It can only be because he anticipates a move to the capital where he can avail himself of the club’s facilities. The chef, I understand, is first-rate, and his syllabub is without equal. The Reform Club tried to tempt him away, but he showed an admirable loyalty to the Tantamount.’
“Meakin sighed with a quiet sort of irritability.
“‘As you say, Mr. Holmes, I would prefer that Tunstall’s death did not cause us unnecessary delay. We moved to the town of Norton Deverill several years ago, seeking peace and solitude. It was enjoyable for a while, but in truth now I find myself hankering for a busy life and less of these rural customs. Do you know Mrs. Weatherall still keeps a deaf dog for the uprooting of mandrake? The screams of the dying plant are said to bring death to those who hear it, so she told me. And now this! Good heavens, you would think no one had ever died here before. Well, not like this, I dare say. At least it was instantaneous.’
“‘He lingered a moment or two, long enough to say a few words.’
“‘What were they?’
“‘Agnus Dei’.
“‘The Lamb of God’.
“The doctor’s gaze was drawn to the West Window where a roundel in the stained glass depicted a lamb holding a cross in the crook of its leg. It was positioned in a direct line of sight over the place I had been sitting.
“‘Before the service, Tunstall spoke of delusions,’ said I. ‘Had he mentioned it to you?’
“‘Softening of the brain,’ said the doctor dismissively. ‘He told me he had seen the serpent of Eden in his study. As for the cause of death, I see no reason to believe it was anything other than natural. That is what the death certificate shall say.’
“With that, he left. As it happened, I did not disagree with him. I am familiar with the effects of thirty-four poisons, none of which were displayed by Tunstall. Meakin’s visit, brief though it was, had however opened up a line of enquiry which required broader horizons than Norton Deverill to explore fully.
“With this in mind, I persuaded the sergeant to allow me to accompany him to break the news of the clergyman’s death to his bishop. Whilst there and after some explanation, I was able to question him about his reasons for sending Tunstall to the village. Concern for his advanced years and increasing frailty was the only motive to which the bishop would admit, although I gathered consideration had been given to isolating him in a place where his excesses would cause the least embarrassment.
“It was too late to return to the village, and so after our interview, I availed myself of the bishop’s library and his hospitality for the evening. I had difficulty finding transport back to the village the next day, and it was late afternoon before I found myself at Gallows’ Corner, courtesy of an ancient hay wagon and the reticent farmer who drove it.
“I knew by then what had happened. What I lacked was evidence and a motive. Because of that latter consideration, it was important that the culprit was made aware I had discovered the facts in the case. My hope was that my knowledge might be enough to prevent them from causing another death, if such were their plans.
“As I approached Lady Bulmer’s cottage, I observed Taylor outside heaving a trunk onto the tumbrel. He confirmed that the household was leaving.
“‘Can’t wonder at it after yesterday,’ said he, pausing to mop his brow. ‘Will you be staying at the Grange tonight, sir? I only ask because Mrs. Taylor wants to know whether she should serve ham or gammon.’
“It was as he spoke that I experienced one of those moments of clarity. The sense of gratification was over-whelming, enough to render me speechless. My reaction made quite an impression on the sullen fellow, for I caught him peering intently at me.
“‘You can tell Mrs. Hil that I may be delayed,’ I replied. ‘Forgive me, Mrs. Taylor. Ham will be sufficient for my needs.’
Taylor nodded, and, leaving him looking after me in mystification, I knocked on the cottage door. The maid let me in and I was shown into a sitting room, stripped now of all comforts, save for several armchairs and a small circular table. Lady Bulmer was waiting for me, her expression open and welcoming.
“‘Mr. Holmes, we had expected to see you before we departed.’
“‘Expected?’
“A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Hoped, then. Will you take a seat and join me? I have promised myself to take tea one last time in this place. I shall miss it so.’
“The maid returned with a tray and tea was served. Several lumps of sugar were added to my cup before I could refuse, and out of politeness, I accepted the adulterated offering without complaint.
“‘Where will you go now?’ I asked.
“‘We shall stay at Norton Deverill tonight before taking the train to Lincolnshire tomorrow. My husband’s family has offered us kindness in the past. I grieve to leave my home, but I fear we shall never be accepted after recent events.’
“‘That is a consideration which does not seem to have bothered you in the past, Lady Bulmer. Is it because your work here is done?’
“She paused with the cup at her lips before setting it down. ‘You appear to have something specific in mind, Mr. Holmes.’
“‘The murder of a clergyman, no less. You may not have stabbed him in the back or poured poison down his throat, but scaring a man to death is murder all the same.’
“‘Is that what I did?’ said she in all innocence. ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me how I achieved such a wicked deed?’
“‘You used Tunstall’s own prejudices against him. It was he who regularly trampled Mrs. Balfour’s flowers at Gallows’ Corner. You encouraged talk of devils and witchcraft with the name of your cottage and your dabbling with herbs and remedies. You set yourself apart from the village and allowed your daughter to exert influence over Lord Zeal, who became your protector. When the rumours began, you assumed the role of the victim. And that was how Zeal presented your case to me.
“‘However, when one turns that assumption on its head and sees the vicar not as the persecutor, but as the persecuted, then the affair takes on a new aspect. Tunstall had made enemies. Mrs. Balfour wanted him removed, and Merryweather had every cause to resent, if not hate, him. As for
you, Lady Bulmer, I could at first find no common ground, save that you were both, at one time, newcomers to the village. And there I found my answer.
“‘I suspected the cause lay in Tunstall’s past. The bishop confirmed this was not the first time he had had to move him to a new parish. He would not elaborate, but I dare say the vicar caused harm to a person of your acquaintance. I could even give you a name: Agnes Day.
“‘At the time, I erred, as did the attending doctor, in believing Tunstall was making reference to “Agnus Dei” with his dying breath, given our surroundings. But he was not. The context had blinded me to other possibilities. Had we been anywhere but in a church, I should have considered alternatives. I was forced to re-examine that assumption just now. Taylor and his wife share the same name – Hil – short for Hilda and Hilary. It occurred to me then that ‘Agnus Dei’ and ‘Agnes Day’ are phonetically very similar.
“‘If he was talking of a person, then something must have happened to call this person to mind. When he had his seizure, I thought he was looking at me. In fact, he was looking at someone behind me. In that pew were seated the Taylors and your maid, Mary Chaucer. Would you agree she is the daughter of Agnes Day?’
“Lady Bulmer nodded, seemingly untroubled by my accusations.
“‘That she was an orphan is indicated by her surname,’ I continued. ‘It is common practice in orphanages to name foundlings after a famous personage in the hope of inspiring ambition. Therefore, she was young at the time. The mother left her a token, however, which she wears around her neck. It would be a rare domestic who could afford a silver charm. Why do you blame Tunstall for her death?’
“The lady folded her hands in her lap in resigned fashion. ‘Imagine what would happen should a young woman lose her husband and then have the vicar cast doubt on the legitimacy of her marriage? Let us say she presents her child for baptism and is refused, and then others, easily led, turn her from their doors. She would become desperate, would she not? She might consider that the child would have a better life without her. She might leave the baby at the orphanage and take herself down the river and cast herself into the water. In such a case, Mr. Holmes, who would you say bore the responsibility of her death?’