“Because losing is a part of life. It’s how we learn to do things, don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t understand.”
“Well, the first time we played draughts, you and I, you lost. But you learnt something from losing. You learnt something in that game. Every time you lose, you ask yourself, Now why did I lose? What can I do next time to see that I don’t?” Dylan paused and looked David in the eye. “Let me ask you a question, David. Would you rather go to a party or a funeral?”
“I’ve never really been to a funeral, but I think I’d rather go to a party.”
“Ah,” Dylan said and sat back in his chair. His glossy black hair needed trimming, and a lock of it fell down over his forehead. His cornflower blue eyes were wide-spaced and deep-set, and his wide mouth was able to express his thoughts simply by a twist. Now he smiled and said, “The Bible says it’s better to go to the house of mourning—that’s the funeral—than it is to go to the house of feasting.”
“I’d rather go to a feast.”
“Most of us would, but you don’t learn anything from partying. You learn from losing and having hard times. When I went in the Army, you think they gave me a soft bed and a maid to bring me food every day cooked especially for me? Not a bit of it, old man, not a bit! I slept on the floor, and I hate to tell you the things I had to eat. But it made a soldier out of me.”
David listened intently then said, “Tell me a story, Dylan.”
“Your mother doesn’t like me to tell you stories, at least not the kind I know.”
“I don’t see why. They’re fun.”
Dylan was not ready to argue the point with a ten-year-old. “Now, listen to me. We’re going to play a game, and you’ll learn something from it.”
David’s eyes sparkled. “What kind of a game?”
“Come over here to this bed. Get up on it now, boy. That’s the way. That’s the lad!” Dylan moved to make room for David rather slowly, but he pulled his feet in, tucking them underneath his knees on the bed. “Now, I’m the captain of this ship, my name is Odysseus, and you’re the crew.”
“It takes more than one man to be the crew for a ship,” David protested. “No ship has just a one-man crew.”
“Well, you’ve got lots of mates there. Look,” Dylan said, pointing to the empty space beside David, “there’s Oscar. See him sitting right beside you? Look, he’s got a black patch over his right eye. Probably lost it in a battle. His father was a blacksmith who made armor for kings. You see him now?”
Falling into the game, David laughed and said, “Yes, I see Oscar.”
“Well, look on the other side of him. That’s Punch. He was in prison for refusing to bow down to the king, but he escaped. He’s a good sailor now.”
David said, “Look, old Punch has a long scar on the side of his face.”
“Now you’re seeing it, you are.” The two went on, David’s eyes bright, and he laughed from time to time, but when his mother came in, he suddenly looked guilty.
“What are you doing in that bed, David?”
“It’s not a bed, Mum, it’s a warship. Dylan’s the captain, and I’m the crew. This is Punch, and this is Oscar, and that’s Jarrell sitting over there. Come on, Mum, get on the bed. You can be part of the crew.”
“I most certainly will not.” Serafina gave Dylan a sharp look. “More fanciful games, Captain?”
“Just a bit, but I’m doing it this way to teach David about great literature.”
“It doesn’t look like any literature to me. I don’t see a book.”
“Oh, we remember things we act out much longer than things we read in a book.”
Serafina shook her head, displeasure on her face. “You’re not well enough for such antics as that, Dylan.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Now, if you’ll help, Lady Trent, we can give David a lesson he’ll never forget.”
Despite herself, Serafina was intrigued by the behaviour of Dylan Tremayne. He was like no man she had ever known before. When they had first met, she had been displeased by his fanciful thoughts and his belief in the supernatural, especially in religion. But she couldn’t resist a sudden surge of gratitude, knowing that David’s desire for a father was, in part, being fulfilled by the black-haired actor.
“All right, I’ll play. What part of the crew am I?”
“Oh, you’re not part of the crew,” Tremayne said. “Sit over there in that chair, ma’am.”
Serafina went over and sat down and said, “Now what?”
“I’m Captain Odysseus, the great Greek soldier. David here is Marvin the Spike. He is a rough fellow.”
“And what am I then?” Serafina asked.
“You, my dear lady, are one of the beautiful Sirens who lure seamen to their deaths.” Dylan’s eyes were sparkling, and he used his hands to gesture as he said, “When a ship goes by the Island of the Sirens, these beautiful women come out, and they begin to sing. The sailors, of course, are lonely men. They’ve been at sea forever, it seems, without seeing a woman. When they hear the beautiful voices of the Sirens, and when they see the beauty of their faces and forms, they are entranced.”
“And what happens then?”
“Why, the sailors steer the ship toward the Sirens to get closer, so they can see their faces and hear their voices better, but they’re so entranced they don’t see the rocks. And the ship, inevitably, crashes into the rocks, and the sailors always die.”
“What does this have to do with literature?” Serafina demanded.
“Why, it’s from The Odyssey, ma’am. Don’t you remember?”
“I never read it.”
“Well, every schoolboy and every student at Oxford and Cambridge has read it. You see, David, I’m a Greek king. Odysseus is my name. A very clever fellow I am, and I am also a very curious man. I want to see and hear new things. So, when my ship gets close to the Sirens and we begin to hear their voices, I know the story of many men who have died because of those beautiful women. So, I want to hear a Siren and see her face, but I don’t want to die along with my crew. How can I do both, hear the Sirens and yet not die?”
“I don’t know,” David said.
“Do you know, Lady Trent?”
“I’m not interested in such things.”
“Well, you should be. It’s great literature. Here’s what happened. Tie me to the mast, Spike.”
“With what?”
“Pretend you’ve got a rope. Tie me tightly to the mast.”
David immediately began going through the motions, and Dylan asked, “Am I tied so tight I can’t break lose?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good. Then I want you to take wax and put it in your ears and in the ears of every crew member.”
David began actively moving around the bed. “Here’s for you, Punch. Get your ears full of it. Here’s for you, Oscar, and you, James.” He went through the list of imaginary crew then said, “Now what, Captain?”
“You sail close but stay away from the rocks.”
“What about you?”
“You put wax in your ears, boy, and then, in effect, the whole crew will be deaf, but I’ll be able to hear.”
“Yes, sir.” David pretended to put wax in his ears.
“Now, everybody’s deaf who’s sailing by the Sirens except me.” He turned and smiled at Serafina. “Why don’t you sing something, Siren?”
“Sing what?”
“Oh, anything. The Sirens’ voices were so beautiful that it didn’t matter what they sang.”
Serafina, despite herself, entered into the game. She sang an old song that she remembered from her childhood, and when she had finished, Dylan said, “Now, Spike, you can turn me lose. We’re past the Siren.”
David jumped up and pretended to turn the captain lose. “Now take the wax out of your ears.” Sitting there cross-legged on the bed, Dylan Tremayne said, “There, you see, I’m the only man who ever heard the Sirens sing and lived to tell about it.”
“What did the S
iren sound like, Dylan?” David asked.
“Dull you are, old man! I can never tell that!”
“Did you ever get back home?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Is this what they teach the boys at Oxford and Cambridge?” Serafina demanded.
“Indeed, it is, and in every private school. Every schoolboy has to know The Odyssey. ”
“I don’t see what good it does. It’s just a story.”
“Ah, but there’s more in it than you might think, Lady Serafina.”
“What’s in it, Dylan?” David demanded.
“Here’s what’s in it. You’ve got to take risks in life, see? Odysseus didn’t have to listen to those Sirens, but he wanted to experience it.”
Serafina shook her head. “He could have gone around them, couldn’t he?”
“But then he would never have heard the Sirens’ song. He would have missed out on a great experience. There are things you can’t go around, Lady Serafina. If your life is to be complete, you have to risk all to experience them.”
“Like what?” David asked, his eyes bright.
“Well, like love. Love is a wonderful thing, but it has risks.”
“What kind of risks?”
“Well,” turning to the boy, Dylan said, “you know when you love someone, you run the risk of getting hurt. Sorry I am to tell you, but those you love can hurt you more than anyone else. If you don’t want to get hurt, go live in a cave and don’t let anybody in. You won’t have much of a life, but you won’t get hurt.”
Serafina was fascinated at the workings of Dylan’s mind. She put her gaze on her son and saw that he had that familiar expression of thinking deeply. “Would it hurt for me to love you, Dylan?”
“It might. What if I failed you?”
“You would never do that.”
“I hope not, but sometimes those we love hurt us.”
“But not you.”
Serafina listened quietly but said nothing. She was thinking of her love for her husband and how he had failed her so terribly and hurt her almost beyond endurance. She suddenly said, “I’d rather you learn from books, David.” Her voice was strict, and both David and Dylan looked at her with surprise.
“Some things can’t be learnt that way,” Dylan said.
At that moment Dora came in with Matthew Grant. “What are you doing sitting on the bed, David?” Dora asked.
“We’re learning about things,” David said. “I’m Spike, and Dylan is Captain Odysseus. We’ve just been on a voyage, and Mum there is the Siren.”
Grant suddenly laughed, his eyes filled with humor. “I wish I could have studied The Odyssey that way. I learnt by getting my knuckles rapped by the schoolmaster.”
Serafina asked, “How are you, Inspector?”
“Very well, and you?”
“We’re all very well.”
“And how’s your patient?”
“He doesn’t pay attention to the doctors. Dr. Goldsmith gave him a strict diet and a list of things not to do.”
“I hate lists of things.”
“He can walk with a cane now.”
“Is that Dr. Goldsmith’s idea?” Grant inquired.
“No,” Dylan said, “it’s Dr. Serafina Trent’s idea. She won’t let me pick up a toothpick,” he complained.
They talked for a while, and Serafina finally asked, “What about Superintendent Winters? I see he escaped the noose.”
“Yes, ma’am, deported for life. I’ve been to see him. He’s a broken man.” He turned and said, “Dylan, when will you be able to go back to work?”
“Oh, soon enough, I suppose.”
“What will you be doing? A new play?”
“I’ve been asked to play the lead in an eighteenth century Restoration drama. It has the title The Unfaithful Wife. Isn’t that terrible?”
“Is it a good part for you?” Grant asked.
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t like Restoration dramas.”
“What is a ‘Restoration drama’?” Serafina asked curiously.
“Well, when Cromwell came to power during the Commonwealth, the theatres were all closed. But when Charles II was restored to the throne, that era is called ‘the Restoration.’ The theatres reopened, for Charles was a wicked man indeed, very sensual, and the plays are . . . sensual to say the least. I just don’t feel comfortable playing a man without morals.”
“I don’t understand.” Serafina shook her head. “It’s only a play. You’ve played other roles of people who weren’t really you.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I’m not certain I can do it as a Christian.”
“Are there many Christians in the acting field, Dylan?” Grant asked curiously.
“Very few. It’s a hard life, and I’m afraid there is much immorality that goes on.”
The door opened then, and the tweeny maid Ellie came in. “A note just came for you, Miss Aldora.”
“Thank you, Ellie.”
Taking the note, she read it quickly and said, “It’s from Gervase Hayden.” She looked at the two men and said, “She’s a good friend of mine. Her uncle is Edward Hayden, the Earl of Darby.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know the gentleman,” Grant said. “I wouldn’t be likely to unless he’s committed a crime.”
“Oh, he would never do that,” Dora protested then read the rest of the note. “Her uncle is giving a ball for her, and she wants me to come, and you too, Serafina.”
“I don’t like balls.”
“But you have to! Our families are so close.” Indeed, the families were close. Their properties adjoined, and Edward Hayden was the godfather of Dora. “You’re invited too, Dylan.”
“Me? I don’t know that family.”
“Gervase knows you though. She saw you in Romeo and Juliet. I’m afraid she’s developed a tremendous admiration for you.” She laughed aloud. “She’s very passionate. Quite pretty too. The ball will be in two weeks. Do you think you’ll be able to dance by then, Dylan?”
Serafina said, “He’d dance now if I wasn’t watching him every minute, so he’ll be able to dance by then. But,” she said, staring directly at Dylan, “I’ll have to keep you from straining that leg.”
Matthew felt strangely out of place and got up, saying, “I must go. I have work to do.”
“I’ll show you to the door,” Dora said. The two left the room, and when they reached the front door, she stepped outside. “I wish you could go to the ball. I’d invite you if I could, Inspector, but it’s not my place.”
“I’m not an aristocrat, Dora. I don’t fit in.”
She saw the unhappiness in Grant’s eyes. “At least you can invite me to something. Next Friday there’s a performance at the Imperial Theatre,” she said. “Melody Fords will be singing. I’d like very much to go.”
A sudden desire sprang up in Grant. “I’d love to take you, but what if Lady Mulvane or your parents object?”
“Oh, Aunt is going to object to anything I do, but my parents will let us go, I think.”
“Then I’d like it very much. Is it formal?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said with a smile. “I’ll look forward to it, Matthew.”
“Good day, Miss Aldora. It’s been a pleasure.” Turning, Matthew Grant left the house, and his thoughts were disturbed. I must be losing my mind—falling in love with Aldora. Her family would never accept a policeman into their ranks. He walked toward the carriage then smiled. But at least we’ll get to hear some fiddles playing at that musical.
THREE
Septimus Newton had no use for most public officials, although he was a medical examiner, often called on by police and Scotland Yard to help identify any clues that might come from a dead body. He spent a large portion of his life in his laboratories, and at the present moment, as the sun streamed in through the window of his outdoor quarters, he paused from his task—the dissection of a tiny shrew captured in his garden—and absentmindedly reached behind him for a cucumber sandwich. He bit
off half of the small sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then turned. Picking up a pen, he dipped it in ink and made a notation in his notebook.
Just as Septimus finished making his note, the door opened, and his wife entered. Alberta was wearing a simple, modest pearl-grey dress with delicate white lace. It was edged with green around the neckline and at her wrists. Her cheeks were bright, for the wind outside had brought colour to them, and as she stepped closer and saw what her husband was doing, she said, “Septimus, you can’t do that!”
“Do what, my dear?”
“You can’t mess about cutting up those animals and eating at the same time. It’s not genteel.”
“Isn’t it?” Septimus looked surprised. He cast a look at the remains of the small shrew and then at the platter of cucumber sandwiches. “A man must eat, you know.”
“But not while you’re doing that nasty business!” Alberta exclaimed. “Come now and wash your hands.”
Obediently Septimus got up and allowed his wife to lead him to a table where she filled a basin with water out of a pitcher and watched as he soaped his hands and dried them off. “Now, is it all right if I finish my sandwiches?”
Alberta shook her head. “Septimus, I don’t know why in the world you have to eat out here. We have a perfectly good dining room, or Cook would be glad to fix you something in the kitchen.”
“But, my dear, I would have to quit work to do that.” Septimus put his arm around Alberta and gave her a hug. His wild hair gave him a startled look, and he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He whispered, “But I’ll try to do better in the future. All right, Wife?”
“Oh, you’ll never change,” Alberta sighed. She leaned against him, for she knew very few women in her station received such attention from their husbands. Septimus might forget most things, but he usually remembered to speak well and compliment her. “That’s a new dress, isn’t it?”
“It was new two years ago.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ve seen it before.”
“Not over fifty times I would think. Septimus, I want to talk with you.”
“Why, certainly. Come and sit down over here. Have some of my sandwiches.”
A Conspiracy of Ravens Page 4
