Death is a Welcome Guest: Plague Times Trilogy 2

by Louise Welsh

Malachy raised the megaphone to his mouth. ‘Hello, fellow survivors.’ There was a mumble of hellos from the crowd and Malachy nodded in acknowledgement. He looked sure and solid. ‘My name is Malachy Lynch. I’m not here to make a long speech. We have all suffered. We have lost the people most dear to us and our hopes and dreams have gone with them.’

  Some heads were nodding. Malachy had a strong voice and Magnus wondered why he continued to use the loudhailer for such a small crowd, but then he saw him glance towards the perimeter and knew that he hoped there were other survivors lurking beyond the lawn, listening.

  ‘Our task is to honour those we have lost by building a new England, one they could be proud of.’ Malachy left a pause for people to contemplate the dead and the kind of world they might have wanted. ‘Law and order are at the heart of a civilised society. Without the rule of law all we have is chaos.’ More heads were nodding. ‘We are here today to take a step towards re-establishing justice. A few days ago Father Jacob Powe, a man who gave his life to peace and who, despite his own hard losses, was determined to build a community here, in the English countryside, was brutally shot in the back.’

  Jacob had been shot in the head, his fine brain full of hopes, plans, pain and memories, blasted across the lawn.

  Malachy paused again, leaving space for the crowd to react, but they had experienced too many outrages of their own to be easily shocked and stood in silence, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘The murderer is a man called Jeb Soames. Jeb Soames was a new member of Father Powe’s small community, a man who Father Powe had rescued from certain death, a man who he had sheltered and was nursing back to health.’

  Raisha was standing with her back to the house, her hands resting lightly on the boy’s shoulders. She lifted a hand and stroked his hair. Magnus wanted to tell her to take the child away, before they brought Jeb to the stage.

  Malachy’s voice was rising. ‘What Father Powe did not know was that Jeb Soames was a convicted killer, a man who had brutally murdered his wife and daughter and was serving life for the crime when the sweats gave him the chance to escape prison.’

  Father Wingate was smiling beatifically. Magnus followed his gaze towards the refreshments tables and saw that more of Malachy’s men were helping themselves to the brew. A few of the crowd had joined them. The drinkers grimaced as the liquid passed their lips. On some other occasion their contortions might have been comic, but now they underlined how desperate people were to escape reality.

  Malachy’s voice dropped. ‘Sometimes fate gives us a second chance. It took the deaths of millions, but Jeb Soames was given just such an opportunity. He used it to kill a good man in cold blood.’ Malachy raised his voice again. It reached across the lawn and out into the woods beyond. ‘I say that a man like Jeb Soames, a child-killer, a murderer, has no place here. Why should he live, when so many good people have died?’

  Malachy’s men clapped loudly and one of them shouted, Hear, hear. A few heads in the crowd nodded and some people joined in the applause, but there were others who stood with their hands at their sides, or looked silently at their feet.

  ‘Our country has a long and proud history of democracy. This small community has decided to send out the message that murder will not be tolerated.’ Malachy’s men were clapping again. ‘If you agree that Jeb Soames should be executed for the murder of Father Jacob Powe, say Aye.’

  AYE!

  The shout was loud and masculine, but Magnus had the impression that not everyone had joined in.

  Malachy said, ‘The ayes have it. In a moment we will bring Jeb Soames to the platform, but before we do I would like to ask Father James Wingate to lead us in a prayer.’

  The priest stepped forward and Magnus caught him in his gun sight. Father Wingate had been awake, concocting his refreshment until the small hours of the morning, but his skin had a pink glow and Magnus would have sworn that he looked younger than when they had first met. He whispered, ‘Fucking vampire.’

  Father Wingate did not bother with the megaphone. He raised his head and his voice carried, thin and high-pitched, across the crowd.

  ‘Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name …’

  Some of the crowd joined in – Our Father, which art in heaven … – but others were drifting away. Raisha took the boy’s hand and walked in the direction of the drive. Belle followed her.

  Father Wingate’s hands were clasped together. ‘Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven …’

  Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done …

  ‘Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us… .’

  … them that trespass against us.

  A movement caught Magnus’s eye. Jeb was being led across the lawn towards the platform. His back was to the house and so Magnus could not see the expression on Jeb’s face, but his leg was still in plaster. His steps were limping and awkward and he was supported on either side by Malachy’s men. Will walked behind them, slow and sombre in a black suit. Jeb’s head flopped forward, as if he were drunk or drugged.

  ‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’

  … lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil …

  The crowd was smaller, but the responses of those who remained seemed louder.

  ‘For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory …’

  … the kingdom, the power, and the glory …

  The small execution parade had walked the length of the lawn and was level with the platform. They turned right, but the escort blocked Magnus’s view of Jeb.

  Magnus muttered, ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.’

  ‘For ever and ever, Amen.’

  … Amen.

  The execution party turned and faced the depleted audience. Magnus could see them clearly through the sight of the gun. Will’s face was parchment white. He had what looked like a samurai sword in his hand.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Magnus whispered. It was real. There was to be no reprieve, no backing down, no shout of Fooled you. They intended to go through with the execution. He focused the gun sight on Jeb. His chin was resting on his chest, as if his head were too heavy for his neck. ‘C’mon, Jeb, chin up, help me out,’ Magnus whispered. His vision was blurred. He had shot almost as many barn-rats as Hugh, but it was a different thing to shoot a man, even when you had promised to save him. ‘Lift your head, boy. Don’t let them have the satisfaction.’

  It was as if Jeb heard him. He raised his chin slowly and turned it sideways to look at the platform. Magnus’s finger was on the trigger, Jeb’s head caught in the crosshairs. The prayer was in his head, Our Father, which art in heaven …

  There was a shout from the other side of the lawn, a thrashing noise and smash of breaking glass.

  Father Wingate snatched up Malachy’s megaphone and announced, ‘Refreshments are being served. Please help yourself to alcoholic refreshments.’

  One of the men was lying on the grass by the trestle tables, his body caught in the grips of a fit. The people around him were frozen, but all of a sudden Raisha was there, turning him on his side, making sure that he did not bite his tongue, issuing instructions. Magnus looked for the child and saw him on the edge of the lawn, his legs wrapped around Belle’s waist, his face pressed into her shoulder.

  There was another shout, the crash of an overturning table. Raisha went to a second man, who was writhing on the ground, his mouth frothing.

  Father Wingate said again, ‘Everyone, please help yourselves to refreshments.’

  Malachy had his hands in the air and was saying something that was lost in the hubbub. Raisha was shouting too, but there was too much noise for her to be heard. She shouted again and then ran across the lawn and on to the stage. She was yelling something at Father Wingate who merely smiled and raised the loudhailer to his lips. ‘While these poor gentlemen are being helped I suggest that everyone avail themselves of —’


  Raisha wrested the megaphone from him. ‘Nobody touch that drink, it’s poi—’

  Father Wingate took a gun from beneath his cassock and shot her in the chest. And then all hell broke loose.

  Forty-Four

  Magnus strained his ears as he hurtled down the succession of servants’ stairs that led to the ground floor. All he could hear was the rasp of his breath and the frantic echo of his footsteps.

  Raisha.

  Suddenly he was at the tradesmen’s entrance. He plunged into the open; out into an assault of screams and shouts, the gun still in his hand. Sunlight seared his eyes. Magnus ran into the blindness. His vision adjusted and he saw that more people had fallen to the ground. Others were trying to make themselves sick or were tending to the dying. He ignored them and raced across the lawn. He had never seen such green grass; greener than any football pitch, any cricket ground or pampered bowling green. He had thought people’s clothes muted, but now he saw that even shades of black were bright and glowing. A woman he did not know grabbed him by the arm. Magnus shoved her away, barely registering the rake of her nails against his bare skin, and sprinted towards the platform.

  Father Wingate was still standing over Raisha’s body, his white robe streaked with red. The men who had been guarding Jeb had wrested the gun from the priest. They stood stunned and awkward either side of the old man, holding him by the arms, though he offered no resistance. Jeb was nowhere to be seen. Malachy was blood-spattered and shouting at Father Wingate, ‘Why? Why did you shoot her?’ as if there might yet be a good reason.

  Magnus reached the platform and heard one of the guards say, ‘Was it her who put the poison in the drink, Father?’

  His companion muttered, ‘I looked to see who was shooting and when I turned back the murdering cunt was gone. How did he get away so fast, the state he was in?’

  Belle stood by the platform, cradling the boy as if he were a much younger child. She put out an arm to stop Magnus, but he ignored her and charged up the steps. Will was crouched by Raisha’s body. Magnus pulled him away. Will said, ‘She’s gone,’ and Magnus punched him.

  A woman stood below the platform shouting about poison. Most people were too caught up in the confusion of dead and dying to focus on the cause of the tragedy, but she was beginning to attract a few dazed looks. One of the men holding the priest said, ‘We need to get indoors.’

  Malachy took Father Wingate by the shoulders and shook him. ‘Why did you shoot her?’ He pointed towards the people lying on the lawn. ‘Did she have something to do with this?’

  Magnus was kneeling beside Raisha’s body. He touched her face and his hand came away red. He said, ‘Don’t try and pin it on Raisha. This is all him.’

  ‘I am a servant of God.’ Malachy’s shake seemed to have roused Father Wingate. ‘The end of all flesh is come before me.’

  Will was crying. He whispered, ‘I would have done it. I would have brought the sword down. I was ready to. I would have brought it down on his neck.’

  Magnus smoothed Raisha’s hair away from her face. She was still warm, but her features had slackened and whatever had made her a person was gone.

  Paul was suddenly crouched beside him. ‘They’re going to lynch us.’ He caught Magnus by the elbow and hauled him to his feet. Magnus made a half-hearted effort to bat the tall man away, but the fight had gone out of him. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling you might need this.’ Paul shoved Mr Perry’s rifle back into Magnus’s hand.

  Malachy’s men were jostling Father Wingate down the platform steps. The old man recited, ‘The Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air …’

  Belle was running on ahead with the child. Magnus wanted to catch her, but he heard a shout behind him and turned to see a man armed with Will’s sword tearing towards the priest. Magnus stood in his path and aimed Mr Perry’s rifle at him. ‘There’ll be no more killing today.’

  The stranger faltered to a halt. His eyes were wild. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’

  ‘You volunteering to be next?’ Paul stepped to Magnus’s side and pointed a revolver at the man.

  The stranger said, ‘You murdering fuckers are outnumbered,’ but he fell back.

  ‘Come on.’ Paul pushed Magnus’s shoulder, urging him on.

  They jogged towards Tanqueray House, their weapons in their hands. Magnus scanned the lawn for Jeb, but it was as the guard had said, the condemned man had vanished. It hurt Magnus to leave Raisha alone on the stage. Wherever her soul had gone, he had held her body and it strained his heart to abandon it. He looked back at the platform where she lay and wondered again where Jeb had vanished to.

  Malachy locked the kitchen door after them and collapsed on to a chair. He tossed the keys at one of the guards. ‘Make sure the other doors are locked.’

  The man lobbed the keys back at him. ‘Do it yourself.’ He left the room, slamming the door behind him, and a moment later they heard the sound of a motorbike disappearing up the drive.

  Paul said, ‘I’m gone too.’ He looked at Magnus. ‘You should get out of here.’

  Magnus ignored him. Father Wingate was hunched on a chair by the door to the hallway. Magnus put a hand on each of the chair’s arms and leaned into the priest, so close he could see the pores of his skin, the three white hairs sprouting on the bulb of his nose. He was not sure why he had saved him from the stranger with the sword. It was an effort not to put his hands around the old man’s neck and squeeze. Magnus whispered, ‘Did you kill the others too?’

  It seemed impossible. The priest was too frail to force a young woman’s head into a noose or make a grown man slash his wrists.

  The flight across the lawn had tired Father Wingate. His skin was grey, but he raised his face to Magnus’s and looked him in the eye. ‘Melody recognised that the good Lord wanted to bring an end to the corruption in the world and so she offered her life up to Him.’

  ‘Melody wasn’t corrupt.’ Belle was perched on the kitchen table, cradling the boy on her lap. ‘You brainwashed her.’ Her voice was loud and the child whimpered. ‘Shhhh.’ She rocked backward and forward, stroking his forehead, and said more softly, ‘Melody spent hours with that bastard. We thought he was trying to help her, but all the time he was convincing her to kill herself.’ She pulled the boy closer.

  A stone smashed through the kitchen window. The child cried out and somewhere in the floors above the dogs set to barking. Paul said again, ‘I’m gone.’ He went into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.

  Malachy looked bewildered. He made an effort to reassert himself. ‘We should all go and leave him to his fate.’

  Will was leaning against the kitchen cabinets. He muttered, ‘I was going to do it. I would have killed him.’

  Belle shushed the child and gave a crazy little laugh. ‘I don’t know why I ran. This has nothing to do with me.’

  Magnus grabbed Father Wingate by the scruff of his bloodied cassock. The old man’s bones were sharp beneath their thin covering of flesh. ‘I’ve not finished with you yet.’ He shoved the priest into the hall. They followed Paul through the house to the front door where the dogs were whining to be let out. Magnus peered through the hall window. Around a dozen men and a couple of women were standing on the drive. They reminded Magnus of groups he had seen on television, silently waiting outside law courts for the arrival of a child-murderer. They had been robbed of Jeb’s death, more than robbed, had innocent deaths forced on them in its stead. They would start shouting soon, working themselves up to do what needed to be done.

  Magnus said, ‘We’re too late.’

  The priest whispered, ‘It is the end of days.’

  Malachy’s voice wavered. ‘Do you think they’ll let us go if we give him to them?’

  Paul said, ‘I wouldn’t like to bet on it.’

  Malachy said, ‘Why don’t they storm the building?’

  ‘They’re just ordina
ry people like us.’ Paul ruffled the dogs’ heads, trying to quiet them. ‘Maybe they don’t know what to do.’

  Magnus said, ‘They know what to do. They just don’t have the courage to do it yet.’ He pressed the priest into a chair and squatted on the ground, so that he could see his expression. ‘What happened to Henry?’

  Father Wingate said, ‘We have been a terrible disappointment to God—’

  Magnus slapped him hard across the face.

  Father Wingate touched his reddening cheek with his hand. ‘I am a man of God.’

  Magnus whispered, ‘Do not doubt that I will slice you to pieces slowly and make a fucking martyr of you, if you don’t tell me what happened.’

  Paul said, ‘We should go upstairs and barricade ourselves in one of the rooms.’

  Malachy shook his head. ‘It’s the priest they want. Let’s give him to them.’

  Magnus snapped, ‘What I just told him goes double for you. He’s going nowhere until I say so.’

  Father Wingate touched his cheek with his fingertips again, as if he had never been slapped before and was amazed at the sensation. Tears had sprung to his eyes, but his voice was resolute. ‘Henry was a worldly man. I knew there was no point in trying to make him see what our Lord God intended for him … what He intends for us all. But the Lord came to my aid. He gave Henry toothache. Raisha would have been able to prescribe something, but she was absent and Henry was nervous of taking anything stronger than an aspirin without her advice. I told him I had a natural remedy that would help. It was the first time I had tried to make the infusion. I must have got the quantities wrong, or perhaps he didn’t drink as much of it as I’d intended.’ The priest’s smile was wistful. ‘I believe it does taste rather foul.’

  Magnus said, ‘Why did you take his body to the barn? How did you get it there?’

  ‘The body walked there all by itself.’ Wingate smiled as if he had said something clever. ‘We were looking for harvesting equipment, just as you were on the day you and Jacob found him. I gave Henry the medicine and he drank it as we drove to the farm. He was overcome in the barn, but I could tell that he was still breathing. I was afraid he had merely sunk into a deep sleep and would wake, so I secured his wrists with some packing ties I found in the barn. I went back to the house, took a knife from the kitchen, and then I sent him to paradise.’