‘Oh, call me Charlie, please. And I didn’t do anything much. I just told him what I knew about Thomas Henchard.’
‘The Victorian gentleman whose diaries you have?’
‘Yes. Henchard’s family lived in the same village in England as my people did. Henchard came out here in 1865, coincidentally the year of my grandfather’s birth. After poor Henchard died, his widow remained in the village. She had no children, and when my grandfather was a boy, she became very fond of him. When he developed an interest in archaeology, she gave him her late husband’s diaries.’
‘How old would your grandfather have been then?’ asked Jane.
‘About sixteen, I believe.’ Frobisher pushed a lock of fair hair out of his eyes. ‘My father died in the Great War, and my mother needed to work, so I spent a lot of my childhood with my grandparents. It’s from my grandfather that I get my interest in archaeology. He never managed to come to Ceylon, although he took a great interest in the country because of the connection to Thomas Henchard. He was very excited when he heard I had the chance to work here. He brought out the diaries and other papers he’d been given by old Mrs Henchard. We talked about them and Henchard’s travels. My grandfather was convinced that if Henchard had lived, he would have unearthed marvellous things in the Nuala area.’
They reached the place where Velu’s body had been found. The shallow grave still gaped at the sky.
Jane shuddered. ‘What a dreadful place,’ she whispered. ‘I hate to think of that poor man dying such a violent death out here.’
‘Your sentiments do you credit, my love, but I think I’ll save my sympathy until we know why he was killed. There might be someone else more deserving of it.’
Clutterbuck sifted through a pile of dead leaves near the grave with his stick. De Silva noticed that it was rather a splendid one with a silver finial in the shape of a Labrador’s head.
‘I take it you’ve searched pretty thoroughly round here, de Silva?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then we’ll stand in a circle round the spot. On my signal, take forty paces out then begin.’
Solemnly, they took their stations and waited. A picture de Silva had seen of a stone circle in England that was reputed to date from the time of the Ancient Britons flashed into his mind; for a moment, he felt as if he was about to take part in some primitive pagan rite. There was something potent in the idea of circles. Maybe they would receive a sign that would lead them to the answer to the riddle of Velu’s death. After all, hadn’t the Buddha taught that life and death were part of one great circle?
‘Shanti!’ hissed Jane, glancing sideways at him. ‘Do pay attention.’
‘I am.’
‘Really? I know that look. You were miles away. Everyone else has started walking.’
‘Ah, then we must catch up.’ He stepped forward briskly; he must remember that today wasn’t the day for meditating on eternal truths.
It was slow going through the jungle, and the air was hot and thick, like wading through soup. Soon, sweat soaked de Silva’s shirt and he could have cooked eggs under the crown of his hat. Astonishingly, Jane looked cool and composed; he attributed it to her usual calm, methodical approach to most problems.
He looked at his watch. Barely an hour had passed. A pity it wasn’t time to go back and sample some of their picnic. Jane nudged him and passed the water bottle she was carrying. ‘Drink some of this, dear. In this heat, it’s important not to get too thirsty; far more important than going hungry.’
‘You must have read my mind.’
He grinned and took a gulp from the bottle then handed it back to her. They moved on a little further. After every few steps, he investigated the ground with his stick. The memory of the unfortunate Mr Henchard sent a shiver down his spine. Snakes were sure to be close by – Ceylon had more than ninety species of them, mostly poisonous – and he had no desire to come upon one unawares. It was no use Jane telling him that a snake was likely to be more alarmed than he was. It would bite if it felt threatened. What appeared to be a mound of leaves might at any moment turn out to be a krait or a cobra. He had encountered one in a rough patch in his garden a few months previously: a magnificent creature with its mosaic of gold and black scales, but deadly poisonous. He shivered as he remembered the reptile’s hooded head and baleful eyes; the long blue tongue that darted from venomous jaws.
Preoccupied with this vision of horror, he missed his footing on a mossy root and stumbled. He let out a loud yelp.
‘What is it, dear?’
‘My ankle!’
‘You’d better sit down and let me have a look.’
He hobbled to a nearby log and slumped down. Jane knelt beside him and carefully inspected the offending ankle.
‘You’ve grazed it badly, and I’m afraid you may have sprained it too. It feels very hot. Here, give me your handkerchief.’
She found the water bottle, soaked de Silva’s handkerchief and carefully cleaned the graze, then she tied the handkerchief round his ankle as best she could and anchored it with his torn sock.
‘There, that should hold it in place. I’m afraid you’ll have to walk though. Perhaps it’s time we started back.’
Tentatively, de Silva tested the foot.
‘No, I’m alright. I don’t want to be invalided out and leave my junior officers to uphold the honour of the police force.’
‘Very well, but if the pain gets worse, we’re going back to the car.’
They continued their wearisome progress for another hour then decided to return to the place where Velu had been found to see if the others had fared better. Clutterbuck was ahead of them, sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, wiping his forehead with a large linen handkerchief. The stick with the silver Labrador’s head lay aslant next to him. Darcy was close by in a patch of shade, his chin resting on his paws, and his tongue lolling.
‘Any luck?’ asked Clutterbuck.
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’
‘Frobisher said he’d go on a bit longer. Bags of stamina these young ones. By the time one gets to our age, it’s best to know one’s limitations, eh, de Silva?’ He smiled at Jane. ‘Although you look as if you’ve done nothing more strenuous than take a gentle stroll in the garden, Mrs de Silva.’
Jane laughed. ‘You’re very gallant.’
Looking at de Silva’s torn, bulging sock, Clutterbuck frowned. ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘Only a minor accident.’
‘More than minor, dear,’ Jane interposed. ‘You scraped a lot of skin from your ankle and you’ve probably sprained it.’
‘We don’t want it getting infected,’ said Clutterbuck briskly. He reached for his stick and unscrewed the finial. ‘Put some of this on it.’
De Silva smelt brandy. It burned when Jane applied some to the graze and he winced. ‘We have a first aid kit in the car,’ she said. ‘I’ll fetch it.’
‘We may as well all come, Mrs de Silva. It’s high time we had a spot of lunch.’
Back at the cars, they were unpacking the hampers when they heard the others coming. ‘Anything to report, Frobisher?’ shouted Clutterbuck.
‘No, sir. We all ended up at a ravine where the sides are so steep, there’s no climbing down. If there’s anything to be found at the bottom, I’m afraid it’s going to stay hidden.’
As de Silva anticipated, Prasanna and Nadar looked askance at the sandwiches, gratefully accepting the familiar food de Silva offered.
It was the hottest part of the day and a lethargic air settled over the party. De Silva couldn’t shift the fear that the expedition was a waste of time. What on earth had given him the idea that they would find anything to help the investigation out here? They didn’t even know for sure what they were looking for.
‘We may as well make use of the hours we have left before it gets dark,’ said Clutterbuck when the meal was over. ‘Do you want to stay here, de Silva?’
‘No, I’ll carry on.’
‘I sugges
t we retrace out steps to that clearing where I met up with you and Mrs de Silva and go on from there.’
But it wasn’t long before de Silva’s ankle felt very swollen. When he pressed his fingers against the hot skin, it gave under the pressure like an overripe mango.
‘I’ll have to give up,’ he said, wincing.
‘Do you want to rest for a while before we go back to the car?’ asked Jane.
He nodded and sank down on a log close by. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you out on this wild goose chase,’ he said glumly.
‘We had to try, dear, and it’s not over yet. One of the others might still find something.’
‘I doubt it.’
She looked at him sympathetically. ‘It’s not like you to give up so easily. We can still take the pieces we have down to Colombo for a second opinion.’
‘There’s not much to show anyone. I don’t hold out a lot of hope that they will advance the case.’
‘Something’s bound to come up.’
De Silva tried to rotate his ankle and flinched. ‘At the moment, all that seems to be coming up is this dratted ankle.’
‘Poor dear. Let’s stay here for a while. Why don’t you go and sit in that patch of shade over there and have a nap?’ She pointed to an overhanging rock a little way off. ‘That will make you feel better.’
‘If you say so.’
But he had to admit, when he settled down under the overhang, the shade was very pleasant. Resting his back against the cool stone, he tipped his hat over his eyes and closed them. It was a skill he had learnt from his years in the Colombo force: the ability to catnap when an investigation entailed irregular hours and the lack of a good sleep. The sounds of the jungle lulled him into drowsiness: birds calling high up in the canopy; the crackle of leaves falling to the ground, and the patter of rain…
He pushed back his hat and looked up at the patches of sky that were visible through the trees. They were the colour of pewter.
‘I think we’d better get back to the car. No point staying here for a soaking.’
Walking as fast as his ankle allowed, they set off, but after a while, Jane stopped. ‘Are you sure we’re going the right way? Nothing looks familiar.’
De Silva frowned. He didn’t like to admit that he was lost, but she could be right, and the rain was getting heavier by the minute. Veils of mist blurred the trees. Birds that had been calling to each other or singing to warn off intruders on their territory were silent. Animals had scuttled away to find shelter; the only sound left was the steady thrum and gurgle of rain.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said firmly. ‘I have everything under control.’
‘I’m not sure about that, dear.’
A few steps further on, she stopped and cupped a hand to one ear. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’
‘There’s someone up ahead of us.’
‘Are you sure? This rain’s making such a noise, I don’t see how you can hear anything over it.’
‘But there is someone. I’m sure of it. Over here! We’re over here!’
Intently, they both listened, then she called again. This time, an answer came back.
‘It’s Constable Nadar!’ exclaimed Jane.
A rotund figure appeared in the distance, dimly at first, then assuming the outline of the young constable. Jane waved frantically. ‘Thank goodness he’s found us.’
‘Found us? You mean we found him. I was never lost.’
Jane gave a little snort. ‘You could have fooled me, dear.’
She peered into the rain. ‘Poor boy, he looks like a drowned rat, but then I don’t suppose we look any better.’
Reaching them, Nadar dashed the rain out of his eyes. His raincoat flapped in the wind like a sail on the high seas, but he looked jubilant. ‘We’ve found something, sir! Mr Clutterbuck sent me to fetch you.’
**
At first, de Silva saw nothing unusual about the place that Nadar led them to: the same thick tangle of rain-laden trees, their branches hung with glistening lianas, as they had been trudging through all afternoon. The soggy mulch of leaf litter under their feet gave off the same smell of decay that was everywhere in the jungle.
‘Nadar! Are you certain this is right?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Nadar shouted back. ‘Almost there.’
He dived into a particularly dense thicket of undergrowth, and, reluctantly, de Silva followed. Vegetation clawed at his trousers. When he turned to ask Jane if she needed help, her answer disappeared in the sluicing rain. The struggle seemed endless, but at last Archie Clutterbuck came into view. He stood near a pile of roughly-dressed stone blocks. As de Silva came closer, he realised that they must have formed part of a building of some kind. Whatever it had been though, it was a ruin now. Trees had grown up where the roof should have been; creepers and mosses swathed what was left of the walls as if they were determined to drag everything down to oblivion.
Despite his bedraggled appearance, Archie was buoyant.
‘Good show, Constable!’ he boomed. ‘Come and look at this, de Silva. I doubt we’d have spotted it without your chap, Prasanna. He noticed a monkey disappear into the ground, followed to see where it had gone and found some steps. There’s a doorway at the bottom. Bit of a tight squeeze getting through but then… Well, you’d better come and see for yourself. You too, Mrs de Silva if you don’t mind dirtying your clothes.’
‘I don’t think they can get in any worse state than they are now. And please don’t try to say anything gallant. I’m having great fun and that’s all that matters.’
Clutterbuck laughed. ‘Bravo, ma’am. That’s the spirit! Frobisher and Prasanna are already down there. Shall we join them?’
With Clutterbuck leading, they started off down the steps. Jane followed, picking her way carefully on the slippery stone, then de Silva, with Nadar bringing up the rear.
Blessedly, the rain was beginning to slacken. A gleam of sunshine even filtered through the dripping trees, however it took several seconds for de Silva’s eyes to accustom themselves to the gloom as they descended to a doorway that looked as if it had been rather fine before tree roots and creepers did their work of destruction. Now, however, the fluted doorjambs stood aslant like drunken men and the carved lintel was cracked. Apprehensively, de Silva glanced up at the keystone; it was a foot lower than it should have been. He hoped it wasn’t going to choose today to fall the rest of the way.
Ferns and other vegetation grew in the gaps between the stones. Once again, thoughts of snakes flashed into de Silva’s mind; this was just the kind of dark, quiet spot they liked. He placed his feet with extra caution, watching for flickers of movement. Feeling for the truncheon on his belt, he tightened his grip. If they did disturb a representative of his least favourite reptilian species, the truncheon would be better than no weapon at all.
Clutterbuck squeezed his bulky frame through the doorway, and de Silva and the others followed. They were in a narrow passage that made it necessary to walk in single file. Shafts of sunlight coming through the fallen roof illuminated the walls. In places, words were incised in the stones, but they were too worn and encrusted with mosses to make it possible to work out what they meant.
The light grew stronger as they neared the end of the passage and emerged into a circular chamber that was open to the sky in the places where the roof had fallen in. For a moment, de Silva’s eyes played a trick, and he stood aghast, as Allan Quatermain and his companions had done. He saw the monstrous figure of Death, presiding over the skeletons of men who had been rash enough to venture into the fabled King Solomon’s mines. A shudder went through him, and he had to force himself to stand his ground, then the vision dissolved, and he saw that the only occupants of the chamber were Prasanna and Charlie Frobisher; both were covered in dust and cobwebs.
Hoping no one had noticed his moment of weakness, de Silva looked around him. The chamber was large enough to hold at least twenty people. Why had someone wanted to build a place of su
ch a size in the middle of the jungle?
Charlie Frobisher straightened up and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘We’ve moved most of the rubble from where the roof fell in, sir,’ he said, addressing Clutterbuck. He pointed to a small pile of objects. ‘That’s what we’ve found so far.’
‘Anything of interest?’
‘A few shards of pottery and some bones. Animal bones most likely. They may be the remains of creatures that came in here to die. Apart from that, we found a few coins like this one.’
He held out a small, dented piece of tarnished metal.
‘Would you like to hazard a guess as to how old it is? You’re the archaeologist among us.’
Frobisher gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘I’m far from being expert, sir. My grandfather was the archaeologist in the family. As I told Inspector de Silva, he never came to Ceylon, but he had some antiquities from the region in his collection. Looking at these coins, they do resemble some of the ones he owned. If I remember rightly, he said that they were from the time of the Kandyan kings, but I’m afraid that doesn’t give us a very precise date. The Kandyan kings ruled this part of Ceylon from the end of the fifteenth century up to the beginning of the nineteenth when the Kandyan kingdom became part of the British Empire.’
Clutterbuck nodded. ‘It gives us a vague idea though. How do you think the coins ended up here?’
‘The Kandyan kings didn’t always rule peacefully. They fought against the Portuguese and the Dutch as well as their own rebellious chiefs. This place might have been used by people trying to escape a conflict by hiding in the jungle.’
‘Hmm. Interesting. If that was the case, I imagine they would certainly have brought more than a few coins and pots with them. Gentlemen, I believe we can assume that this place has been looted at some point in time. But I’ve yet to see evidence that it happened recently and, until I do, I’d prefer not to make assumptions that it has anything to do with the murder of this man, Velu.’
A rumble made them all look up at the places where the roof should have been. Fat, hot drops of rain quickly followed, making dark patches on the dusty ground.
Fatal Finds in Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 4) Page 7
