An Instance of the Fingerpost (52 page)

I remembered the visions I had seen the previous night, and shuddered at the implication of the words, and willed myself to ignore its importuning. I tried crossing my fingers and holding them up to its face, but this symbol of our Lord’s suffering occasioned no more than a snigger of dismissal. I began to recite the Lord’s prayer, but my dry mouth and parched lips allowed no sound to escape.

And so, in blind terror, I retreated back up the path, keeping my eyes on the beast stalking me and fearing that it might at any moment grab hold of me and tear my soul out of my body.

I told it to leave me in peace, but there was no response except a hideous laugh and a sucking sound like that of a bog pulling a sheep under the surface, and I felt a cold, clammy sensation on my arm as it reached out a skinny hand to grip me. I leapt back, and swung my dagger round, more in the hope of indicating my intention of resisting than with any expectation of mounting an adequate defence. But my stout-heartedness and immunity to the creature’s blandishments seemed to have an effect, for the devil relies on willing submission, and cannot easily force those who genuinely repudiate his blandishments. The monster fell back, gurgling with surprise at my forthright movement, leaving an opening. Using the same hand to push it further away from me – an error, for it had a foul, putrid, smell which was hard to wash off – I ran past, up the path to the gate.

I do not know where I ran, I was simply concerned with putting as much distance between myself and the hideous deformity as I could. Eventually, I came to the river that runs near by, and walked down to
the water’s edge to bathe my hand and clean it of the smell that still filled my nostrils. I was panting hard from terror and the running, and must have stayed there, crouched down and huddled against a boat drawn up on the shore for the night, looking at the water for upwards of an hour or more. Then, eventually, I roused myself, convinced that the danger must surely be passed, and began to walk once more, calm but on the alert for more attacks.

I heard the dogs some half an hour later. They caught up with me shortly after that and, after I was manhandled to the ground, kicked and abused, I was informed to my absolute astonishment and disbelief that Sir William Compton had been brutally attacked, and that I was being held responsible for the deed.

I NEED NOT,
I think, dwell too much on these events. My treatment was abominable, and the accusations levelled against me a disgrace. While it is necessary and reasonable that criminals be treated in such a fashion, to incarcerate and humiliate gentlemen in such a brutal manner is beyond comprehension. The period I spent awaiting trial was one of the deepest distress and, in my weakened state, the Blundy girl sensed her opportunity, and I was driven near mad by the constant pains and visions that she sent to me, night and day.

I had been ready for the witch to launch another attack, but did not realise she had such strength and evil purpose. It took some thought to grasp the full cunning of what had happened, and once understood the explanation is straightforward. It cannot be doubted that Sir William heard me leave the house and came to investigate, and at that moment his form was taken over by a demon so effectively that my eyes could not penetrate the disguise; after I stabbed it with my dagger, the spell dissolved and the fiendish cloak evaporated. It was a devilishly evil attack, for the witch must have realised by then that she could not destroy me. So she thought instead to have others act for her: having me hanged would accomplish the task perfectly.

When I was thrown into the gaol cell, and shackled with chains to its wall, I quickly came to realise that, without extraordinary fortune, she would succeed. For I had indeed stabbed Sir William and brought him near to death and, what was more, he had survived and would undoubtedly say that I attacked without warning. My defence was no defence at all, for who would believe me if I told the truth?

And for many days, I could do little but sit in my loathsome cell and wait. I was not without visitors and messages, but they were of little comfort. My dear uncle wrote to say that he washed his hands
of me entirely, and would not help my cause in any way. Thomas tried his best, although I could see his disapproval very clearly on his face. But he tried, at least, when he could tear his mind off the fact that the final contest with Grove for the living was nearing, and would take place when Lord Maynard came to dine in the college.

Then came Lower, accompanied by Marco da Cola.

I will not repeat a description of Lower’s impudent (and premature) demands for my corpse; Cola’s account is accurate enough. On that first occasion, the Italian did not acknowledge me, and I pretended also not to know him as he clearly wished it. But he returned, alone, that same afternoon on the pretext of bringing me some wine, and we had a conversation in which he told me of what had transpired that terrible night.

For himself, he said, he spoke from hearsay alone; he had heard and seen nothing of importance. It was only the sudden commotion, of people shouting, women wailing and dogs barking that aroused him and brought him from his bed to investigate. From then on his whole occupation was with Sir William and his wound, for he had laboured hard throughout the night and was alone responsible for the fact that he had not died. He assured me that Sir William would recover, and had already made so much progress that he felt free to leave him in the care of his wife.

I told him my heart was glad. Although I knew it would not yet be welcome, I begged him to deliver a message assuring Sir William of my joy at his safety, telling him of my total innocence, and asking whether he was conscious of the fraud perpetrated on his body. This he undertook to do, and then (having formed my plan for escape) I urgently repeated my request that Dr Grove come to see me as soon as possible.

I was astonished when Wallis turned up in his stead the next evening, but my mind quickly saw that this happy chance presented fresh opportunities. He questioned me about Sir William, and asked a huge raft of inane and pointless questions about Marco da Cola which were so imbecilic I will not trouble to record them here. Naturally, I told him as little as possible, but subtly kept the conversation going with little hints and suggestions until I was sure the gaoler would be too drunk to pay much attention. Then I overpowered him, trussed
him up – I confess I tied the knots tighter than I would have done for Grove – and left. He was so surprised and indignant, I almost burst out laughing with pleasure. It was so very simple, I could scarcely believe my good fortune.

Knowing that Wallis was safe and sound gave me an opportunity I could scarcely dared have hoped for, as I knew that his room would be open to my attentions. So I crossed the town to New College, and used his key to get through the main gate. Again, the simplicity of the task made me believe that I was under special protection: the door to his room was unlocked, the bureau was easily opened, and the folio of documents – even labelled ‘Sr Ja: Prestcott’ – were in the second drawer; half a dozen sheets of papers all so incomprehensible I assumed they must be the coded missives I sought. These I stuffed under my shirt for safe-keeping, and prepared to leave, delighted with my success.

I heard the low, but horrible scream when I was on the landing about to descend. Instantly I froze, convinced first that the devils had come for me once again and, when I was reassured on that point, worried that my luck had changed, and that the noise would draw attention and lead to my discovery. Hardly daring to move, I held my breath and waited; but the quadrangle remained as quiet and deserted as it had been before.

I was also perplexed; it was a noise of great pain, and clearly came from Dr Grove’s room immediately opposite Wallis’s. With some trepidation, I knocked on the inner door – the great outer door was not closed – then quietly pushed it open and peered inside.

Grove was still alive, but only barely so, and the sight tore at my heart and drew anguished protest from my mouth. His face was contorted with the most excruciating pain, his limbs twitching and fluttering, as he thrashed about on the floor like a madman in the throes of an attack. He looked at me as I lit a candle in the grate and held it over him, but I do not think he recognised me. Rather, with an unsteady hand he indicated something on the table in the corner, then, with froth and spittle gurgling from his gaping mouth he fell back on the floor and expired.

I had never witnessed such an agony, and pray with fervour that such a sight should never again assault my eyes. I was petrified by
the sight, and dared not move; half afraid he was dead, and half that he would come back to life again. It was only with the greatest of effort that I stirred myself and looked to see what he had pointed at in that last, pathetic gesture. The bottle and glass on the table still contained a great deal of liquid. I sniffed cautiously and it gave no hint of mortal danger, but it seemed at the very least likely that poison lay behind what I had just witnessed.

Then I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, and terror gripped my heart as tightly as my hand gripped a knife I saw on Grove’s desk.

Louder and louder they grew, up one pair, pausing on the landing, then the other. It could not be Wallis, surely, I thought. He could not have escaped. And I knew that if any man came into this room, I would have to kill him.

The steps grew louder, and stopped on the landing, and there was a long pause before the thunderous knocking came on the door to Grove’s room. Perhaps it was not; perhaps it was simply the lightest of tapping, but it seemed to me loud enough to waken the dead from their graves. I stood there in darkness, lit only by the flickering of the fire in the grate, and prayed desperately that the visitor would think that Grove was not there, and go away. But in my nervousness and efforts to be quiet I accomplished the opposite, for I brushed against a book on his table, and sent it crashing to the ground.

All my prayers and wishes were of no avail then; there was a pause, and then I heard the latch of the door moving, the unmistakable sound of the door itself creaking open, then a footfall on one of the loose and creaking oak floorplanks.

When I saw that the visitor had a lantern, and would soon see both myself and Grove’s body, I knew I could hide no longer, so I reached forward and grabbed him by the neck, and pushed him backwards out of the room.

My antagonist had little strength, and put up almost no resistance to me in his surprise and terror. It took scarce a second or two to wrestle him to the ground on the landing, stop the lantern from setting fire to the entire building, and then see who he was.

‘Thomas!’ I cried in the greatest surprise when the feeble light played across his ashen, frightened face.

‘Jack?’ he whispered hoarsely with even greater astonishment. ‘What are you doing here?’

I released him quickly, and brushed him down, and apologised for manhandling him. ‘What I am doing is very simple,’ I said. ‘I am escaping. But I think maybe you have some explaining to do.’

His head fell when I said that, and he looked as though he was about to burst into tears. It was very strange, all this conversation: a priest and a fugitive, huddled close together on the landing, talking in whispers while in the next-door room only feet away there lay a still-warm corpse.

The look on his face, I may say, would have hanged him in any courtroom in the land even had the jury not known the long and bitter story which had led up to this event. ‘Oh, dear God, help me,’ he cried. ‘What am I to do? You know what I have done?’

‘Keep your voice down,’ I said testily. ‘I have not gone to all the trouble of escaping just to be caught by the sound of your wails. What’s done is done. You have been stupid beyond belief, but there is no going back. You cannot undo it now.’

‘Why did I do it? I saw the warden standing there, and even before I knew it, I had accosted him and told him a complete pack of lies about that servant of his.’

‘What? Thomas, what are you talking about?’

‘Blundy. That girl. I told the warden that Grove had gone back on his word, and that I’d seen her creeping into his room tonight. Then I realised . . .’

‘Yes, yes. Let’s not get into that. What did you come here for, anyway?’

‘I wanted to see him before it was too late.’

‘It is too late.’

‘But surely, there must be something I can do?’

‘Stop being childish,’ I snapped back at him. ‘Of course there isn’t. Neither of us have any choice. I must run; you must go back to your room and sleep.’

Still he sat there on the floor, clutching his knees. ‘Thomas, do as I say,’ I commanded. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘It was his fault,’ he moaned. ‘I couldn’t stand it any more. The way he treated me . . .’

‘He’ll not make that mistake again,’ I replied. ‘And if you keep calm, we’ll both survive to see you with a bishop’s mitre. But not if you panic, and not unless you learn how to keep your mouth shut.’

I could not bear to remain on that landing any longer, so I pulled him to his feet. Together we crept down the stairs and at the bottom I pointed him in the direction of his room.

‘You go back to your room and sleep as best you can, my friend. Give me your word you will say nothing and do nothing without discussing it with me first.’

Again, the wretch just hung his head like a schoolboy.

‘Thomas? Are you listening?’

‘Yes,’ he said, finally raising his eyes to look at me.

‘Repeat after me, and swear you will never mention anything of this evening. Or you will hang us both.’

‘I swear,’ he said in a dull voice. ‘But Jack . . .’

‘Enough. Leave everything to me. I know exactly how to deal with this. Do you believe me?’

He nodded.

‘You will do as I say?’

Another nod.

‘Good. Go away, then. Goodbye, my friend.’

And I pushed him in the back to get him walking and waited until he was half-way across the quad. Then I went back up to Grove’s room, where I took his key, so I could lock the door, and his signet ring.