The Jacobite Murders

by G. M. Best

  10

  JACOB’S LADDER

  Tom Jones spent the days immediately after Sophia’s flight gradually regaining his strength after the ordeal that he had faced. Lady Overbury insisted on staying in his room most of the time and personally nursing him, despite the protests of her maid that it would have been a role better played by her. However, on 11 November, even such a strong-willed person as her ladyship could not prevent him eventually rising from his bed in order to resume his duties, although by then Henry Fielding was beginning to conclude that, in the absence of any further incident in the house, whatever danger had existed was over. Sir Robert Benson had already returned to London with the body of his son, infuriated that no progress had been made on either finding the whereabouts of the man with no thumb or discovering his identity.

  That evening Beau Nash brought information that had just arrived in the city. There were reports that the army of the Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie, had entered England three days earlier. The news had clearly rattled him. ‘I fear these Highlanders will prove a difficult enemy,’ he concluded, after telling them what he had heard. ‘They stick close to their ancient ways and, because they are inured to hard living, they are strong and highly dangerous. That is why they think themselves superior to any man living south of their wild hills. They will not easily turn back because ties of blood and name bind them together and they will follow their chieftains to the death.’

  ‘I am not so sure that they will pose a long-term threat, sir,’ responded Henry Fielding. ‘These Highlanders may be very brave but all the reports indicate that they lack discipline and they are not as well armed as our soldiers. Facing them in open battle should pose no problem. If our soldiers keep their courage and stand their ground then they will not penetrate our line of blue, white and scarlet and we will destroy them easily.’

  ‘Why are you so confident?’ asked Lady Overbury.

  ‘We have superior firing power. We will use our cavalry to protect our flanks and in the centre we will place our infantry in serried ranks so that they can fire their muskets in rolling volleys rank by rank until the Highlanders are stopped in their tracks by the sheer number of dead and wounded.’

  Jones, who had been listening to this conversation with mounting interest, now spoke up. ‘There is not a true-blooded Englishman who will not rise up to repel these invaders. I for one will sign up and join our country’s defenders rather than go to America. It is up to every able-bodied man to show these wretched Jacobites that there is no support for their cause.’ He turned to Burnett and added, ‘Why don’t you join me in this cause?’

  ‘I have no love for a soldier’s life, Tom. When they are not fighting, it is nothing but drinking, cursing and fornicating.’

  ‘But on this occasion they will fight for the true faith. Does that not matter to you?’

  Burnett looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone. ‘I wish them success but why should I join when it might lead to my death?’ He paused and, looking up, added more defiantly, ‘Besides, I am sure that the scriptures are against fighting. You can never persuade me that a man can be a good Christian while he sheds Christian blood.’

  These statements did not impress Jones, whose patriotism had been thoroughly roused. ‘We might fall in battle but does that matter? We know not what lies before us any more than a miser knows the path to Heaven. And, if we die young, then at least we will have died for a good cause. Did not our schoolmaster teach us when we were young that none can escape the grave?’

  Burnett frowned. ‘I do not deny that all must die, but I prefer to think I will live for many years to come. It is wicked to tempt death before a man’s time.’

  ‘Not even if it protects us against papist heresy and brings our king victory?’

  ‘What matters a royal victory if I am dead? What will all the ringing of victory bells and lighting of celebratory bonfires signify if I am buried six feet under the ground?’

  Jones’ face showed his anger at this reply. ‘I think, sir, you speak as a coward.’

  His companion merely shrugged his shoulders. ‘If wishing to preserve my life makes me a coward, then I profess to being one. I prefer to think that I simply speak as a man of common sense.’

  ‘Common sense tells me that there will be enough soldiers to defeat this rebel Prince without either of you getting involved!’ interposed Lady Overbury, who had no desire to see either man risk his life. ‘Is that not so, Mr Nash?’

  ‘I fear it is too early to say, your ladyship. Like Mr Fielding I am sure that victory will be ours but as far as I know our forces are not yet gathered in sufficient numbers to quickly crush these traitors. It is taking too much time to move our troops from the Continent where they are currently engaged in fighting. It is possible that our country will require some volunteers of Mr Jones and Mr Burnett’s calibre, but I think they should not be importunate and make unnecessarily precipitate decisions about enlisting. It is easy to be rash and usually one then ends up deeply regretting the outcome. Though it was over a completely different matter, I did that once with one of my servants, a good Irishman named Bryan.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘A fellow gambler said he would bet me two hundred pounds that Bryan could not run to London and back in just two days. I rashly took up the challenge and ordered Bryan to undertake the venture. He succeeded in winning the bet for me but died three days later as a result of the over-exertion involved. I gave my winnings to his widow but it did not make up for the folly of my action.’

  ‘I also advise you, Tom, to think carefully before immediately joining the army,’ interjected Fielding. ‘We still require your services here. I recommend that you at least delay your decision about joining the militia until Lady Overbury has returned to London. It is only a few days and by then we may well know more about the danger posed by this invasion. It may even be the case that by then our current fears may have proved false and the prince will have already returned to the north, disappointed at the lack of English support shown for his cause.’

  ‘I will do as you say, sirs, but I confess that I chafe under the strictures that you lay on me.’

  Beau Nash laughed. ‘The only way to rid yourself of restraint is to persuade Lady Overbury to make you her coachman. Then you’ll have the whip hand,’ he joked.

  Fielding saw that this jest was taken ill, and, judging that a more considered response was necessary, intervened to give further sound reasons as to why Jones should accept their advice. ‘Tom, I beg you not to think that a soldier’s life is a glamorous one. Think what enlisting actually means. As a soldier you will have to abandon all your freedom for a mere sixpence a day and, though your scarlet uniform may look wonderful when first donned, it will shrink at the first shower of rain, making you look like some ill-garbed scarecrow. You will eat bread and water for breakfast and slops for the remainder of the day and, if you seek to drown your sorrows in beer, you can expect to awake robbed of whatever money you had. You will have to march endlessly where you are told and any disobedience will be met with flogging by the nine-tailed cat, anything from twenty-five strokes upwards. You will have to stand in battle against all that is meant to destroy you – from the deadly thrust of a sword to the sweep of grapeshot and cannonball. If you decide you have had enough and try to leave, you will be hanged for desertion, and, if you stay, you will more than like be eventually mutilated or maimed in conflict, at which point you will be cast out to become a beggar. No, sir, there is no point in rushing to become a soldier!’

  ‘You paint a bleak picture, sir, and one that omits comradeship and loyalty and pride in one’s country, but rest assured that I will indeed heed your advice for the moment.’

  Even as he said this the sound of raucous shouting could be heard in the square. Jones looked out of the window and saw hordes of drunken young men pouring past. That the news of the Jacobite invasion had spread rapidly was evident because they were singing a patriotic song whose chorus inclu
ded a rousing call to arms. ‘As you can hear, there will be enough cannon fodder without you adding to the number!’ said Nash grimly.

  ‘I’ll go downstairs and check the house is safe,’ replied Jones, annoyed by Nash’s cynicism. When he got to the kitchen he found no one in it except for Joseph Graves because the housekeeper and Sarah Darr were upstairs tidying up Sir Robert’s bedroom after his departure. Graves was sitting crouched in a chair next the fire and Jones was shocked to see the intense agony that was writ on his face. He laid his hand on the troubled man’s shoulder. ‘What’s the matter? Are you fearful of this news of an invasion, or are you afraid of the mob outside?’

  ‘No, sir.’ Graves tried to smile but there was no pleasure behind the action and there was a cold and tormented look in his eyes.

  ‘So what is the matter? You look as if the Devil himself was about to seize you!’

  ‘I think he may, sir, because I deserve no better.’ The poor man’s sense of hopelessness was palpable as he said this.

  ‘Do not be ridiculous, man!’ responded Jones.

  Graves took in a deep breath and bit his lip. Then he groaned and there was in the sound such a heart-rending agony that Jones knew not what to say or do. The old man looked at him. ‘I am a traitor to my country, sir, and there’s not a man out there who wouldn’t tear me to pieces if he knew what I’ve done!’

  ‘Tell me what all this is about.’

  ‘I can’t, sir. I dare not!’

  ‘Does it concern what happened in this house to Miss Grey and Lord Kearsley?’

  Graves nodded and covered his face with shaking hands. Again he gave a groan that came from the depths of his tortured soul. ‘I meant no ’arm, sir. Truly, I meant no ’arm.’

  Jones pulled away the man’s hands and stared him in the face. ‘Then you need not fear telling me the truth,’ he said gently.

  Graves wept soft tears of utter despair and began massaging his eyes with the lower palms of his hands as if somehow he could wipe away the imaginings and fears that were generating tension in every nerve of his body. Finally he looked up and, between gritted teeth, whispered, ‘I told the truth, sir, when I told yer all that I thought this ’ouse was ’aunted. I did think that. For days I eard noises in rooms that were supposed to be empty and sometimes doors that I locked at night were mysteriously unlocked in the morning. But I lied when I made Lady Overbury believe that I still thought the ’ouse was ’aunted when she first came ere. I didn’t. I simply ’oped to scare her from staying ’ere. By then I knew the true secret of this place.’

  Graves paused as if he was suddenly unwilling to say more. Jones was desperate to hear what the old man knew, but he waited quietly for him to continue, somehow intuitively recognizing that it would be foolish to say anything that might deter him from continuing with his confession. His patience was rewarded when, with a jerk of his head, the servant resumed his tale. ‘I discovered that a papist priest was olding secret meetings in this ’ouse with those who were considering betraying their country and I confronted Miss Grey over what she’d done in enabling this to ’appen. She told me to ignore what was going on and I agreed on one condition.’ Again he paused.

  This time Jones could not refrain from speaking. ‘And what was that?’ he asked.

  ‘That I should be paid for my silence.’

  ‘You should not have lied to us about this.’

  ‘That was not the worst I did, sir. Before Lady Overbury arrived I helped Miss Grey dispose of the priest’s body. She hadn’t wanted to tell me about his death but he was beginning to smell and so she was forced to seek my aid. I helped her wrap up the corpse and I carried it away at dead of night, telling her that I would bury it where none would find it.’

  ‘And where was that?’

  ‘I didn’t do as I had promised. You see, I’d recognized some of ’em that had attended the priest’s meetings and so I took the body to ’em. I knew it was wrong of me but I ’oped for a reward.’

  ‘And did you get it?’

  ‘They gave me some money and told me that there was more if I could assist them get ’old of any documents that had belonged to the dead man. I said that only Miss Grey would know where they were.’

  Jones could scarce believe what he was hearing. This stupid, greedy man had taken a bribe to betray his country and then taken another to betray his fellow servant. Graves saw the revulsion in his face and grabbed his hand.

  ‘I promise you, Mr Jones, I didn’t know they would wreak revenge on poor Miss Grey. I was as shocked as anyone when I saw ’er dead. That’s why I lied to Mr Nash and Mr Fielding. I feared that them that had killed ’er would kill me next if I told the truth. So I invented the tale of the man without a thumb.’

  ‘You did what!’ shouted Jones, wrenching his hand away. ‘You mean that for days you have had us pursuing a man who never existed?’

  ‘I meant no ’arm, Mr Jones. Truly I didn’t. I jist thought it would stop ’em thinking I’d a hand in what ’appened. Believe me, I love my country. I want no papist as king! The news of this invasion is tearing me apart! I should never have aided the men that I did. My one consolation is that I’ve stopped them getting their ’ands on what they sought.’

  ‘Getting their hands on what, Joseph? And which men are you talking about?’

  Panic flared up in the old man’s face. ‘I daren’t say, sir. Truly, I daren’t. They’ll torture me and kill me.’

  ‘I think it likely that Mr Nash and Mr Fielding will kill you if you do not. Stay here while I go and fetch them. You can only make amends by telling us all you know, every single thing.’

  Graves nodded his assent meekly and Jones rushed upstairs. His news was met with a mixture of astonishment and anger. ‘Damn it,’ said Fielding, ‘We have been seeking someone who never existed whilst all the time we had the man who could tell us what happened here beneath our very noses. We must have been fools not to question him more thoroughly!’ He and Nash immediately accompanied Jones back downstairs to the kitchen. However, when they entered the room there was no sign of the servant. ‘The man’s courage has obviously failed him and he has fled the house!’ yelled Fielding in frustration. ‘We must give chase!’ He and Jones ran out into the street but they could see no sign of Graves in any direction. This news was relayed back to Beau Nash, who immediately left to give orders for the old man to be hunted down. The others remained in the house, hoping that Graves would swiftly be taken. Only when two hours had passed and it was clear that his capture was going to prove a longer affair did they reluctantly retire for the night.

  The next morning Tom Jones rose very early because he was determined to join in the hunt for the missing man. Even though it was still only semi-light, he set off to wander Bath’s streets and so he was one of the first to see the strange sight in front of Bath Abbey. The beautifully carved Jacob’s ladder on the left-hand side of the façade of the church was supposed to contain only God’s angels making their way between earth and Heaven, but now some of the lower rungs, normally golden bright, were streaked with dark reddish marks. The source of these was a dangling corpse that hung from the parapet that ran at the roof level of the abbey’s side aisle on that side of the building. It was customary for the carving on the abbey to draw all eyes upwards, but it was all too apparent that this poor man had stared his last looking down. He had been lowered upside down from the roof with his feet facing the skies and his head the pavement below. His arms had been firmly tied behind his back and his legs had been bound tightly together and a gag had been placed in his mouth to prevent him summoning human assistance.

  His murderers had left their victim with no recourse but to seek divine aid but it was obvious no guardian angel had come to his rescue. Once he had been firmly hung in position one of his killers had pulled the gag down onto his chin and sliced across his throat with a sharp blade, severing his vocal cords and making any cry for help impossible. Blood had splattered across a wide area, including onto the lower rungs of the n
earby stone-carved ladder. His mouth had gaped open in screamless agony as blood from his split throat had poured down his bruised cheeks and into his eyes, before dropping onto the wall beneath him and onto a section of the flagged pavement of the abbey’s courtyard. No one had heard the struggles of his final death throes and now the only movement was caused by the wind ruffling those hairs on his head that had not been reduced to a black sticky mess by his congealing blood.

  News of the dangling corpse soon spread and it did not take long for a substantial crowd to gather and its members took a grim delight in the unexpected scene. A black-garbed cleric, looking bewildered and pale, tried in vain to make the spectators depart, saying that they should leave it to the authorities to attend to the matter. No one paid him any attention, though at first the nature of the tragedy made them unusually quiet except for that hum of noise that is so often associated with a gathering – the shuffle of feet, the coughing and blowing of noses, the occasional exchange of voices, the inevitable posturing and jostling for position. Those at the front fixed their gaze on the body as if their own lives depended upon it, while those who were unable to obtain such a close view because they were at the back stood on tiptoe and stretched out their necks as if somehow they could draw themselves nearer. A thin and sallow-faced youth who desired a closer inspection so exceeded his balance that he virtually tumbled on top of his squat neighbour, a man almost as broad as he was high. The fat man cursed the boy’s stupidity, saying he deserved to be beaten and then strung up on the other stone ladder as a twin to the murdered man. This incident evoked some mirth and initiated a change in what until then had been a rather sombre attitude among the crowd.

  Jones felt the back of his coat being tugged and, turning round, found himself gazing at what he could only surmise was a nymph drawn from the waters of the city. Tall and slender, the young girl was golden-skinned and golden-haired with a supple, lithe figure that her simple clothes did not mask. He gazed into her dark eyes and then recoiled slightly because only then did he realize that she was blind. Her hand again tugged at his coat. ‘Will you tell me what you see?’ she asked. ‘I have heard a man hangs from Jacob’s ladder.’