A Dark Anatomy (18 page)

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Authors: Robin Blake

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I walked across the lawn and stepped between the two groups of men.
‘What is this?' I said to the man standing in front of the builders, who I supposed was their foreman. He merely swore and spat, so I swivelled back to face the troops. I could not see Captain Fairhurst anywhere.
‘What is the reason for this stand-off, Mr Sutch?' I asked.
‘We are trying to inspect the temple, sir,' Sutch replied, coming towards me. ‘It is the only place we haven't searched. The builders have been keeping us away from it, they have even threatened us with breaking our heads if we come near. So I thought it wise to put off searching it until we have exhausted other possibilities. But now we have searched every other part of these grounds and can be put off looking into this temple no longer. Yet these men are still preventing us. Captain Fairhurst is not here; nor is the squire. That is why I sent for you.'
I swivelled back to face the murmuring knot of builders.
‘Are you?' I challenged. ‘Are you obstructing the king's men?'
Piltdown, the ganger, a wiry, deeply weather-beaten fellow in a protective leather apron and carrying a wooden mallet, spoke angrily from the front.
‘One of us has been beaten by the soldiers. He's bruised and got a black eye. And that was after they stormed through our living quarters, pulled down all the tents, and frighted the women and childer.'
‘Nevertheless, a little restraint would—'
‘Restraint be damned. My men are very vexed that these soldiers should come and rough up freeborn Englishmen, and destroy their shelters. Now we are waiting for Mr Woodley. I have sent word to him. His orders were no one is to disturb the work in progress at the temple – no one, whoever they be. And if we allow them to go there, and there is damage, we shan't be paid a farthing while it's repaired. That's usual.'
‘Why should the works be damaged? The soldiers only want to look.'
Piltdown spat again.
‘Mortar is wet. Stonework's not secure. And I've seen the ruin them soldiers do. They went through our camp like a twisting-storm. So until Mr Woodley comes and says otherwise, we cannot allow them in to knock pieces off the temple.'
‘These troops have the Lord Lieutenant's warrant,' I said mildly. ‘You cannot prevent their search, you know, not lawfully. '
‘We are just awaiting our own orders,' he repeated stubbornly. ‘Mr Woodley has told us if anyone damages the temple we must all answer for it. It is Mr Woodley, not us, mind, doing the preventing.'
The man was clearly a born troublemaker. I decided on a firmer tone.
‘And my cat reads Horace, Mr Piltdown! Come come, man. Mr Woodley is not here. As far as I can see, it is
you
who are in the way. Clear off out of it, and let the soldiers do their duty in the Lord Lieutenant's name.'
My words had no beneficial effect. Instead, quite suddenly, a clod of earth came flying from the midst of the gang and over my head. It landed in front of the soldiers with a wet thump, accompanied by derisive hoots from the builders.
Now I heard a bustle among the soldiers behind me and turned again. Aggravated by this sally, Sutch had lost patience. He now ordered his men to pick up their weapons and, with a rapid run of
trick-track
sounds, they began fixing bayonets. I had a summary vision of the horror that might be about to unfold.
‘Sergeant!' I called out. I was aware that my voice was cracking with anxiety. ‘Sergeant Sutch! Have great care. We do not want violence here.'
‘It will not be violence, sir, but merely the exercise of power.'
‘That is sophistry!'
‘As you prefer, Mr Cragg. But whatever the case, we must force home the Lord Lieutenant's will in this.'
‘I am told a man of yours beat one of them. Is that true?'
‘A slight quarrel. We searched the workmen's camp. A few tents were unavoidably pulled down. Some dirty names were called and the one that called them received a rap on the nose. He deserved it.'
‘Well, Sergeant, be that as it may, I still think—'
But Sutch was in no mood to hear what I still thought. He brushed past me and took a step or two towards the builders and let fly a parade-ground bellow.
‘Listen here! I call on you for the last time in the King's name to move aside, so we may do His Majesty's business of making a search of the building site behind you, known as the Garden Temple.'
I flicked a glance towards the scaffolded front of the house. A group of estate servants had gathered at its near corner to watch the goings-on. Seeing William Pearson among them, I ran over at the double to join him.
‘Where's the squire?' I gasped. ‘If ever he was needed, it's now. Someone must calm this confrontation. They will not listen to me.'
‘Squire's away from home to Lancaster, Mr Cragg. The bailiff's sergeant is somewhere about. He's supposed to be on Corporation business but spends most of his time in the kitchen drinking Mrs Marsden's port wine. I've sent young Jonah to get him.'
‘What can
he
do?'
Pearson smiled and showed me the palms of his hands.
‘Not a bloody thing! Nor me, nor you. These are soldiers, trained to fight, while those builders are rough-necked incomers, and very half-witted. Also one of them's been assaulted. They likely won't back off till one lies dead, with a bayonet in his chest.'
Timothy Shipkin standing beside him gave out, not exactly a laugh, but a kind of triumphant yip.
‘The churning of milk bringeth forth butter, as Scripture sayeth.'
Pearson ignored him.
‘Not you, nor I, nor that dolt Mallender can change these men's minds, Mr Cragg,' he said. ‘Happen the bayonet will.'
I looked around in desperation at what was looking increasingly like two armies in miniature squaring up to do very unequal battle. The soldiers were forming a line, making ready to march forward and sweep the nuisance aside by force. I could not comprehend the immediate necessity of this. I called out impotently for them to stop and consider, to wait for reason to reassert itself over anger and discontent. No one was listening. The soldiers continued to ready themselves, while the group of builders, each of them armed with some sharp or heavy tool, murmured amongst themselves, seeming to be bracing against the shock of an attack. I saw in their midst the towering figure of Solomon, the idiot I had spoken to when Fidelis and I were leaving the orchard on the day Mrs Brockletower's corpse went
missing, and whose mother I'd met at the camp. He was hoisting above his head a great iron-headed sledgehammer. It seemed cracked heads and worse injuries were in prospect; or something even worse than injuries.
And then quite suddenly everything changed. Two figures appeared silently, serenely, between the contending groups, walking slowly and without fear. One was the dog, Jonathan, I had last seen dozing in front of Sarah Brockletower's fire. The other was Sarah herself.
 
 
S
ARAH AND JONATHAN advanced to a point about halfway between soldiers and builders. No sooner had the two groups of men registered her presence than they fell silent, then began shifting their feet and exchanging uneasy comments, murmuring to each other out of the corners of their mouths. The dog sat on its haunches and lolled its tongue.
I was still near the house with Pearson and the others. Now, in sudden panic, I set off, half-running down towards Sarah, wanting to haul her, physically if necessary, out of harm's way. But I pulled up before I had covered half the distance between us. I realized she had not strayed by chance into the middle of this
rencontre
, but had placed herself there with a purpose. What was more, I thought, she was of strong enough character to succeed in that purpose, which was of course to make the peace.
Turning her head this way and that, Sarah tried to assemble the various sounds she was hearing, to make a picture in her mind of what she could not see. One of these sounds was the approaching tread of Sergeant Sutch. He came towards her in a bustling manner, then inclined his head and spoke quietly into her ear, causing her to turn towards him.
Now I could see her face. It looked paper-white, and pinched.
Seeing her in daylight I realized that Sarah's extreme pallor was not face-powder, or even the effect of spending most of her time out of the daylight. She was looking sickly-pale and exhausted. Her voice in the other hand was clear and sharp and audible to all.
‘No, I shall not move away. Is it you in charge of the soldiers?'
Again the sergeant spoke inaudibly. Sarah's reply was loud, scornful and audible to us all.
‘You mention the King, sir? And the Lord Lieutenant? I may be stone blind, but I think neither gentleman is with us now. In my brother's temporary absence I am the proper authority in this place. And I demand that you stand your men down. I will have no violence. These workmen of Mr Woodley, though they do not live permanently on the estate, are employed on my brother's business and they shall not be threatened.'
Sutch hesitated, looking short of ammunition with which to reply to Sarah's withering fusillade. At the same moment we heard a scattering of stones and Jonah Marsden came at speed around the far corner of the house, and careered across the gravelled forecourt like a skidding ninepin. Behind him was the sweating figure of Oswald Mallender in hot but not very close pursuit. Having caught sight of the soldiers and workmen confronting one another, he began shouting, and waving his arms.
There was no sense in coupling Mallender's arrival with the reassertion of reason. At the sight of him the soldiers gave a cheer more of satire than encouragement. I strolled forward quickly enough to reach Sarah and Sutch before Mallender did. I put my hand on Sarah's shoulder – the first time I had touched her for almost twenty years.
‘Sarah, it is Titus,' I said. ‘You are safe, now. The danger is past, I do believe.'
Though her face was as strained and pallid as ever, Sarah laughed.
‘Danger, Titus? But I saw no danger! That is the advantage I have over you. I am glad you are here nevertheless. Tell me, who is this arriving at such full cry?'
In speaking these words she raised her voice in order that the approaching Mallender would hear them. He faltered in his advance and then, not quite knowing what to make of Sarah's presence, adopted the strategy of ignoring her and of striding across to harangue the workmen instead.
‘You men! You are in breach of the peace. The bailiff's peace. The Lord Lieutenant's peace. You must give over, you know. Give over and … and disperse.'
A jeer followed by general laughter came from the men. Mallender turned and came back to where Sarah and I were standing. Immediately a figure broke from the crowd behind and stalked after him. It was the ganger, Piltdown.
‘Let's put an end to this, now,' I said as he approached. ‘It's time to parley the dispute. Mr Piltdown, what is your objection to the soldiers entering your Temple of Eros?'
‘It is not in safe condition. Columns might fall. Foundations sink. The whole lot collapse.'
‘You are intending to stabilize it before completion of the work?'
‘What would be the use of the place otherwise?'
‘Then complete that work of stabilization,' I said simply. ‘Then it can be searched.'
Not liking the sound of this, Mallender butted in.
‘The bailiff's orders are—'
But Sutch overrode him.
‘They might bury anything hidden underneath with rubble and mortar. We couldn't allow that, Mr Cragg.'
‘Precisely so,' huffed Mallender. ‘It might be just what the bailiff has asked me to seek.'
‘Under supervision, then,' I went on. ‘Suppose Sergeant Sutch posts one reliable man to watch the proceedings, and make sure nothing is buried in cement.'
Mallender looked as if he would object further, and Sutch looked doubtful, but instead of hearing them I turned back to Piltdown.
‘You would not object to the presence of just a single soldier on the site to see that all is above suspicion?'
Piltdown mumbled the concession that he supposed this would be better than to have the whole platoon crawling over the site, but he'd have to ask Woodley. Sutch knew his freedom of action was limited, and he now found it further curtailed with the appearance of Captain Fairhurst riding at a rotund trot towards us. Ignorant of the battle that had so nearly been fought, he sprang from his horse and joined us, smiling globu-larly and rubbing his hands together in a businesslike way. I told him immediately of the imbroglio over the searching of the Temple of Eros, and the joke that must have been ready on his lips immediately died there. Pop-eyed and deprived for the moment of words, he swung his face in turn towards me, Sarah, Sutch and Piltdown, and back to me. I then put to him my idea for a resolution of the dispute, to which he listened attentively. After a moment's thought, and a vigorous rub of the hand to his jaw and jowl, he subscribed to the plan.
‘I see no reason against it,' the captain decided. ‘As long as a lookout is posted who has a sharp pair of eyes in … in his …'
His head yawed tortoise-like once more.
‘In his head,' he completed.
‘Good! Excellent! Let it be so!' cried Sarah, who had been
listening carefully to these exchanges. ‘Mr Piltdown and Sergeant Sutch – you must shake hands on it at once.'
‘Just one moment, Miss Brockletower,' said Mallender, stepping forward with his arm and fat hand extended, as if to carve a way back into the dispute. ‘I hold the bailiff's commission, and I would advert you that we are not—'
‘Oh, I doubt the bailiff can hold sway here, Constable. Are we not on a gentleman's property? Are they shaking hands, Titus?'
‘Yes, Sarah,' I told her a moment later, ‘they are shaking.'
And so, though with no great warmth on either side, they were.
‘Good work, Titus,' whispered Sarah as she took my arm to walk away. ‘That was a parley you can be proud of.'
‘Not me, Sarah,' I said, with feeling. ‘I only drew up the treaty. It was you who prevented the war.'
 
‘Is it possible that it is really there?' asked my wife, straightening her bonnet and picking up her basket. We were preparing to go together to our garden to stock up the vegetable larder.
Immediately after Sarah Brockletower's successful démarche at Garlick Hall I had returned to town for discussions with my client, Mr Septimus Patch, about certain complicated entailments to his will. For a while, therefore, my mind was entirely unoccupied with the affairs of Garlick Hall – a considerable relief – and I did not go through to the domestic side of the house until near four o'clock. It was then that Elizabeth proposed we walk out together to gather leeks and carrots.
Opening the front door, I sought clarification.
‘That what is where?'
‘That the missing body is hid in this temple?'
‘For all I know, my love.'
We left the house and struck out across Market Place. This funnels at its north-western corner into Friar Gate, and we were soon walking along that street, which curves in a shallow S-shape as far as the town Bar, where it continues as the Fylde road. Our garden lay to the left of this road, one of three thoroughfares that fork away from the Bar across undulating terrain towards the north and west of the town.
‘Well, in my opinion, to hide the body like that is a barbarous thing! And why, in heaven's name?'
We were passing Talboys's shop and I caught a glimpse of the dressmaker at the counter speaking earnestly with a customer, scissors in his hand and a tape-measure draped around his neck. I reminded myself I had not yet told Furzey to place Abigail on our witness list for the inquest.
‘I didn't say it
was
there. I said—'
‘But, if it is, everything is explained, Titus. The workmen blocked the soldiers from entering the temple because they knew it contained exactly what the soldiers were seeking.'
‘Yes, but I was given a perfectly plausible—'
‘Titus, they were ready to
fight
the soldiers.'
We had left Talboys's behind us and were making good progress down the gentle slope of Friar Gate.
‘Even if they were,' I replied, ‘which I doubt, the likelihood is they only wanted to prevent their work on the temple being undone.'
‘Building works undone! Is that a cause to give your life for? Is it something to make you face muskets with those spikes stuck on their nozzles?'
‘Bayonets,' I said mildly. ‘Fixed to their muzzles.'
‘It would have been carnage. Blood running on Squire
Brockletower's lawn. Wounds beyond the skill of any surgeon, even of Dr Fidelis. And more work for the coroner directly after.'
‘As a matter of fact that is just what Timothy Shipkin foresaw while it was happening in front of our eyes. “The churning of milk bringeth forth butter” is what he said.'
‘
Butter
? That's an odd remark. What has butter to do with it?'
‘Well, it's from the Book of Proverbs.'
Elizabeth gave me a slightly wounded look.
‘Oh, Titus! You know very well that I have not been brought up to know the Old Testament as well as you, or Timothy Shipkin.'
So I completed the quotation for her.
‘“And the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood. So the forcing of wrath bringeth forth strife.” So Timothy was right, in his way. Someone was indeed forcing wrath, but I think it was Sergeant Sutch and his men with their method of searching. The building men had seen the damage soldiers do when they go over a place; they'd been over their camp, after all. And any damage to the temple would have to be put right before Woodley paid out any wages. Then, one of them was struck by a soldier, and not as a joke. Their ire was up against the militia, but they knew the limits of their power. No, if you ask me, this was no more than a case of chained dogs barking.'
‘Well, you were on the spot, Titus. But I do wonder if they were about to let slip their chains.'
‘That would mean they were all party to the conspiracy. And for what reason? Do you think they murdered her too? What have they to do with this affair? Why would they steal and then conceal a body?'
‘Why, to sell it later to an anatomist.'
We were getting close to the limit of the town now, the Friar
Gate Bar, near which stood the remains of the Friary itself, which had been adapted as our House of Correction.
‘Perhaps we should talk of other things now,' I protested, marvelling at my Elizabeth's readiness to discuss any matter without blushing.
‘No, Titus, if you please, let us talk of this. Did you yourself not believe that selling to an anatomist is the likely motive for the body's first removal from the Ice-house at the Hall?'
‘I am led to believe, if that were the case, it would not have been buried or concealed, but handed on immediately. Freshness, you know. I really cannot go into detail. But, anyway, besides this fact, I am not aware of any ready purchasers for that sort of merchandise in this town, or anywhere around here.'
‘Yes, you are!' she retorted fiercely. ‘Dr Dapperwick is a notorious anatomist.'
I had already given Elizabeth an account of Thursday's visit to Jonathan Dapperwick.
‘Dapperwick is too reclusive,' I stated. ‘And too crippled in the hands. He could not profit by this.'
‘Then this young assistant of his, the one that he mentioned to you. We do not know who he is, or where he comes from, or anything about him.'

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