A Study in Revenge (10 page)

Read A Study in Revenge Online

Authors: Kieran Shields

BOOK: A Study in Revenge
13.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“And yet …” Lean rolled his eyes at the statue that loomed over them.

“The effort returned to life years later under Horsford’s sponsorship. He’d become enraptured with the Leif Eriksson story. Since he was retired, time and money were no object. Horsford turned his full attention to the Viking explorations and, in particular, the idea that the Vikings were the founders of the legendary lost city of Norumbega.”

“Norumbega?” Lean asked.

Justice Holmes gave a subtle tilt of his head, enough to convey he was only reciting facts of the case, not declaring them to be credible. “It’s something of an odd tale. Perhaps it would help if you told me exactly what it is you’re searching for.”

[
 Chapter 12 
]

I
N SHORT,
” G
REY ANSWERED THE JUSTICE

S QUERY,

WE HAVE
reason to believe that a criminal element may have taken an interest in some aspect of the late professor’s more recent research. The exact nature of that interest remains a mystery. So anything you could tell us about Professor Horsford’s scholarly endeavors might help resolve the question.”

“Eben Norton Horsford’s archaeological research sought by some nefarious criminals. Wouldn’t he be terribly excited? And even more puzzled to hear it than I am.” Justice Holmes tapped the fingertips of both hands together as he contemplated a starting point.

“I shall do my best to provide a thorough assessment of the topic. Despite what schoolchildren might hear, the coast of North America was already well known to European sailors long before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620. In the French and Spanish maps of the 1500s, the name of Norumbega appears frequently, under a multitude of spellings. It’s not so famous now, but in its day it ranked alongside El Dorado as a fabled lost city of gold. This one was reputedly located somewhere in the Northeast. Verrazano designated the whole area as Norumbega and sailed up the Hudson in 1524, looking for the supposed capital city.

“The stories gained new life in the late sixteenth century after publication of the tale of an Englishman, one of three who’d been marooned along the coast of Mexico. He claimed to have crossed the eastern half of the United States on foot, along with two other men, before being rescued by French traders in Nova Scotia. Among other fanciful claims, the sailor reported visiting the city of Norumbega, somewhere near present-day Boston Harbor. He told of kings decorated with giant rubies and borne aloft on silver thrones. Pearls strewn about as common as pebbles. Streets wider than those of London and houses with pillars of crystal.”

“So you do come from old family money after all,” Lean whispered to Grey.

Grey stifled a chuckle. “Pardon the interruption, Your Honor. You were describing European efforts to locate Norumbega.”

Justice Holmes had a smile on his face as he continued. “Yes. Champlain searched thirty or forty miles up the Penobscot River in Maine in the early 1600s but discovered no indications of a city or of civilization, just an old moss-grown cross in the woods. Perhaps it was a marker left by those three sailors. If so, it was the most concrete element of that fantastic story. Over time even the most hopeful of travelers finally came to accept that no such fabled city ever existed.

“Leap ahead to the nineteenth century and bear with me a moment. In the 1830s the Danish historian Carl Christian Rafn published his theory that the old Norse sagas were not mere legends. He argued that some of these were factually based accounts showing that the Viking explorer Leif Eriksson had completed a voyage to North America in 1000
A.D
. In those ancient Norse sagas of the discovery of Vinland, Leif Eriksson first sailed up a river that broadened into a lake. Crossing that, he headed up another river as far as his ship could float. Don’t think Eben Horsford was alone in such fanciful ideas of Viking visitors in his backyard. The saga’s description is vague enough that after Rafn’s theory came out, folks up and down the coast proposed dozens of locales as Eriksson’s landing place.

“Decades later, after poring over old maps and Viking sagas and whatnot, Horsford became convinced that the last part of Leif Eriksson’s description of his journey matched the Charles River. But, placing validity in the old tale of the wayward sailor, the professor took his hypothesis a step further. He argued that not only was Vinland located along the Charles but that it was this same Norse settlement that would prosper and become the historical basis for what would later be known as the fabled lost city of Norumbega.”

Grey had been quietly absorbing the information but now interrupted. “I assume that Horsford’s rather inventive theories were refuted by other, more established scholars.”

“Thoroughly. But he persisted in his search for proof of a Viking presence here.”

“Why would Vikings give their settlement that name?” Lean looked to Grey. “Isn’t Norumbega an Indian word?”

Grey nodded. “The generally accepted origin of the name Norumbega is from the Algonquin term meaning ‘a quiet place between the rapids.’ ”

“And Eben Horsford certainly knew about the Indian origin of the name,” Justice Holmes added. “He was the son of a missionary among the Indians and acquainted with various dialects and vocabulary. But he was nothing if not imaginative. He interpreted the name of Norumbega as being an Indian corruption of the word ‘Norvege’—that is, Norway.”

Lean cleared his throat. “Not meaning to brazenly announce my confusion on the subject, but could there be any validity at all to the professor’s idea of a Viking settlement in these parts?”

“While it’s not outside the realm of possibility, there is no evidence to support the event. Consider the matter for yourself,” Holmes said. “As Horsford envisioned it, a thousand Norsemen settled along the lower reaches of the Charles River over a few hundred years, building forts, canals, and churches. Surely there would be vestiges of this sizable settlement that we could still recognize. Now, Horsford conducted small excavations in Cambridge and did succeed in finding stone house foundations, but the only artifacts to be found in the area were from the Colonial age. Rather than taking this for proof that the foundations were those of English colonists, he dismissed those artifacts as simply having being left during a later period. He ignored the evidence and concluded that he had unearthed Leif’s house.

“Three years ago Horsford claimed that he’d found Norumbega up the Charles, close by Weston. What Horsford in fact found was a somewhat orderly scattering of rocks in what is generally rocky terrain. You can argue many points, but the deciding question really is this: Where are the artifacts and remains? The tools, animal bones, building timbers, charcoal residue in the old soil from cooking fires and forges?”

Justice Holmes paused briefly, as if either of the detectives might actually possess information with which to refute his rhetorical challenge.

“The indisputable truth is that when a group of people occupy a place, they simply do not leave it in a pristine condition. Even transitory Indian tribes left traces—arrowheads, bones, shell heaps, and whatnot.
There’s no proof found of any Norse settlement, let alone the extensive, centuries-long sort of colony that Horsford propounded. Still, he insisted that he’d uncovered a Viking settlement and the fabled city of Norumbega all in one. He built a massive stone tower upriver to commemorate the site. Must have cost him tens of thousands of dollars.”

“Surely people pointed out to the man the flaws in his reasoning,” Lean said.

“I have spent enough years among lawyers to assure you that otherwise reasonable men will cling with all their life’s blood to a solitary piece of evidence if it supports their claim, regardless of a mountain of facts to the contrary,” Justice Holmes said.

“Clearly, the professor was never dissuaded, as indicated by our large bronze friend here,” Grey said.

“The man’s fervent beliefs persisted, and despite the renewed rebuttals the idea caught on. With Horsford’s financial backing and a growing interest in the Vinland theory, the distinguished sculptress Miss Anne Whitney was commissioned and the Leif Eriksson statue was finally dedicated in 1887.”

Lean shook his head. “So he’s nothing more than a misled soul who squandered years and a fortune on this crackpot theory?”

Holmes paused for a moment before adding, “No, Horsford was definitely not just some deluded old fool. The Vikings weren’t his only passion in life. Apart from his contributions to science and chemistry, he was a philanthropic soul. Extremely generous when it came to issues of public health and education, especially higher education for women. This particular theory may amount to a wild-goose chase, but it shouldn’t sully the name of a great and kind man.”

Justice Holmes checked his pocket watch. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, that I wasn’t able to be of much use in illuminating any dark criminal secrets in the research of Eben Horsford. Though if I have whetted your appetite for further historical discourse, I recommend you visit the Athenaeum tonight. There’s a reading of a new paper by an up-and-coming historian, Frederick Jackson Turner, on the American frontier and its defining role in our history. I’ve heard it’s quite a fascinating work, though maybe a touch dry.”

“Perhaps a dry recitation of the facts is best for historical discussions,”
Grey said. “Otherwise you risk blurring the line between history and fiction. The effort to add bold color and allure to the facts of the past can too easily cause one to stumble and produce mere illusions. Then what are we left with, other than bronze statues of Vikings on innocent city streets?”

Holmes weighed this and squinted at Grey. “A valid concern, perhaps, when you consider that history has always been, and by necessity will always be, only what the men who come after make of it. Yet I for one will rue the day when history ceases to be anything more than empty words on a page.”

The justice leaned forward just a few inches, ready to impart some wisdom. “The danger is not in seeking to give inspiration to events. Rather, men court futility and peril when they allow the desire for history as they wish it had been to overpower the truth.”

“But why?” Lean wondered aloud. “What in the world would possess an otherwise sensible, scientific man to do something like this?”

“It strikes me as an instance of that phenomenon where a mind once stretched by a new, alien idea can never again manage to recapture its original dimension,” Justice Holmes said.

“When one looks at the image chosen to represent the Viking settler, the reasons start to become apparent,” Grey said. “This figure never actually existed as he appears before us. We don’t see the rough, fur-clad pillager that would be recognized in 1000
A.D
. He looks more like some overgrown Northern European altar boy, and believe me, that altar would be located in a Protestant church. Leif Eriksson might not be Anglo-Saxon, but he could certainly pass for it with greater ease than could the likes of Columbus, who sailed under the flag of papist monarchs.”

“You’re looking for shadows on a cloudy day, Grey,” Lean said.

“It was less than a decade ago that Boston elected its first Irish mayor,” Grey said. “I’d be skeptical to hear that the Protestant elite of the old city on the hill haven’t watched the rising numbers of Irish and Italian immigrants without a certain measure of alarm.”

“We are all tattooed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe, and for better or for worse it is a basic human reaction to battle for the survival
and primacy of one’s own band,” Justice Holmes said. “Sadly, you cannot educate a man wholly out of superstitious hopes and fears that have been ingrained in his imagination and so often prove to be indelible marks, no matter how strongly reason may strive to reject them.”

The judge waved toward the bronze statue of the Norseman. “To the victors go the spoils. It applies to the writing or rewriting of history as much as it does to gold or land. It may be what drove Horsford.”

Lean took his hat in his hand and shook his head. “Despite all we’ve learned of Professor Horsford, we haven’t gained any real clue as to just why Chester Sears was interested in the man. If we can’t lay our hands on the fellow tonight at the Tremont House, I fear the trail will be lost. Frank Cosgrove’s murderer may well go free.”

Justice Holmes stepped forward and clapped a hand onto Lean’s shoulder. “I can’t speak to that, Deputy, but don’t lose heart. While our acquaintance has been brief, I find comfort in your clear determination to see the villain brought to justice. If this should prove our farewell, then I would speak these few final words to you: Have faith and pursue the unknown end.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“And, Grey, it would sadden me to have our latest endeavor together be so brief. You really should join me tonight for that reading on the American frontier. It’s supposed to be quite good.”

“Unfortunately, I think I shall have to …” Grey paused and stared for a moment at the bronze Viking looming over them. “You know, I may do that. It could prove to be just the sort of welcome distraction that I need.”

“Very good. I shall see you tonight then.”

Lean waited until Justice Holmes departed before speaking. “Something Justice Holmes said made you give up on the Tremont House? Do you think the Athenaeum is a better lead?”

“No, you and McCutcheon should still go ahead at the Tremont,” Grey said in a distracted voice. He began to pace back and forth beside the tall statue of Leif Eriksson. “Nothing about Professor Horsford has given me any insight into Sears’s interest in the man, or anyone’s motivation for shooting Frank Cosgrove. I don’t see any firm link to the
Boston Athenaeum either. But there might be something there, and if not at least I have the chance to further extend our gratitude to Justice Holmes for his valiant efforts to assist our inquiry.”

“We don’t even know for certain that Chester Sears was after Professor Horsford’s work on Leif Eriksson and ancient Indian cities of gold. Maybe he was having a secret love affair with one of the scullery maids or something? That would make more sense.”

Other books

Blossom by Andrew Vachss
Ghost Times Two by Carolyn Hart
Take a Breath (Take 1) by Roberts, Jaimie
Forget Me Not by Ericka Scott
Bloomsbury's Outsider by Sarah Knights
Infinity by Sarah Dessen