HS03 - A Visible Darkness

by Michael Gregorio

  ‘Isn’t this theology rather than science?’ Heinrich asked him with a scowl.

  ‘Are the two so very different?’ Gurten replied. ‘New species are always forming. They are an integral part of God’s universal plan!’

  Heinrich knitted his brow again.

  ‘More perfect in being closer to God’s final design for them? Is that what you are saying, sir?’

  ‘Isn’t that what you Lamarckians are looking for?’ Gurten replied. ‘An understanding of the mechanisms of perfection? Isn’t that what you are looking for in Erika herself? Just as you are trying to trace it in the pieces of amber that she has added to your collection.’

  ‘Amber?’ Heinrich echoed, uncertainly, as if the whirlwind arguments of Gurten had spun off at a tangent.

  ‘Amber containing insect insertions.’

  Heinrich seemed not to know how he ought to answer.

  ‘Such precious amber,’ Gurten raced on, ‘is destined for the Royal Academy of Science in Berlin. The French agreed to send it there, on the condition that Prussian scientists reveal what ever they may learn to the equivalent academy in France. Napoleon’s financial needs are more immediate, however. War costs money. Today, Spain is eating up the profits from his amber, but a great deal more will be required tomorrow when he turns on Rus sia. And yet, there are men in Paris, I have no doubt, who would give their fortunes to establish the primacy of their scientific discoveries. Missing links in the chain of creation preserved in amber may be lost to them because of a treaty hastily signed. That is what they fear.’

  ‘I do not see what that has got to do with me,’ Dr Heinrich protested.

  ‘The amber with insertions does not go to Berlin, sir. The local supply has suddenly dried up. No one seems to know where it is going. Except for Erika Linder.’ Gurten pointed his finger at the doctor. ‘The girl swears that some of the pieces she found are in your possession, sir.’

  I looked aghast at my assistant.

  He had gone too far, too fast.

  That is, I had let him go beyond my control. He was like a strong dog, and I had let out his leash. I should have been conducting the investigation. I should have been asking the questions. If anyone were to threaten and cajole a witness, I would do it, but only if I judged his answers to be reticent or insufficient. But Gurten had stolen the initiative away from me. He had helped me greatly in the past two days, but he had overstepped the mark, and I could not let such interference pass unnoticed. It displayed an irascible weakness of character. In my report to the judicial authorities in Potsdam, I would be obliged to note these excesses.

  ‘Dr Heinrich,’ I said, stepping between them, determined to continue more calmly, ‘let me rephrase the question. Did you purchase amber of a scientific nature from Erika Linder for your private studies? Erika claims that she has given you many pieces,’ I countered, before Gurten should presume to do so in my place.

  ‘Erika Linder is a congenital liar,’ Dr Heinrich replied smoothly enough, ‘along with her more serious congenital problems. It is true that she offered to sell me interesting pieces of amber. As a way of repaying me—so she quaintly put it—for my care and my attention. But the girl gives nothing away for free, I promise you, sir. And I cannot afford to pay what she is asking.’

  Was Erika the congenital liar? Or was the doctor?

  ‘Have you bought amber from any other patients, Dr Heinrich? When I came here the other day I showed you a piece that I had discovered hidden in the corpse of Kati Rodendahl. I know for certain that many other girls are selling pieces such as that one to dealers and collectors here on the coast.’

  ‘I have bought nothing,’ Heinrich said.

  ‘And what about the amber stolen from the local church which once formed part of the collection of Jakob Spener?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you are talking of,’ he said. ‘I did not know that amber had been stolen from the church in Nordcopp.’

  ‘Do you know Ilse Bruen, then, or any girl calling herself Megrete, or Annalise?’ I insisted, despite his continuing denials, hoping to provoke him by the vehemence of my accusations. ‘I suspect them all of having stolen the amber from the church. Such pieces would cut a fine figure in your collection . . .’

  ‘My own is hardly a collection,’ Dr Heinrich replied with a flash of irritation. ‘I do have four or five pieces, but they came to me with my father’s blessing. I did not purchase them from Erika Linder, or from anyone else.’

  ‘May we see this collection, sir?’ I asked.

  ‘Most certainly,’ he replied. ‘I have so few, I keep them here on my desk.’

  He turned away and opened up a little oak casket, from which he extracted a large magnifying glass with a horn handle. Then, he handed me a small orange lozenge.

  ‘Look at it against the light,’ he counselled.

  The amber was less than a quarter of the size of the piece that I had removed from the corpse of Kati Rodendahl, and it was clearly imperfect. One half of it was a mottled, pitted, milky white, like a bad tooth.

  I held it up, and studied it for a moment or two.

  ‘It contains a common ant,’ I stated.

  ‘Quite the opposite,’ the doctor countered briskly. ‘It is uncommon, unlike any ant out there in my garden today. It is undeniable evidence of the progressive improvement which Nature has worked on all the primitive creatures which it first nurtured.’

  He produced a second piece. ‘Compare this one.’

  It was larger, clearer, almost lemon-coloured, and shaped like a tear-drop.

  How long had it taken for that lump to form, I asked myself, as the lymph of the tree imprisoned the miniscule creature that could just be seen as a small, dark blob at the core of the gem?

  ‘Here we see the remains of another little tragedy,’ he commented. ‘This ant was drowned, embalmed, preserved for eternity. Just like the other one, of course. But they are not the same. Not at all! Concentrate your attention on the antennae. They are longer, finer, more similar to the ants that we see today. We may safely assert that the first creature is older in the Chain of Being. With the slow passage of time, something has altered significantly. But what? That is the mystery which perplexes us.’

  If tragedy there had been, as he suggested, the passions and struggles of that event had been transmuted into timeless immobility.

  ‘I think of myself as a scientist,’ he said, ‘yet there is something truly magical in an amber enclosure. These pieces are tiny windows into the past.’

  ‘They show the incredible variety of creatures that God has created since the Flood,’ Johannes Gurten stated more calmly. ‘Amber is God’s gift to Prus sia. It allows us to see the simple perfection of the world as He initially conceived it.’

  I had heard similar sentiments expressed by Edviga.

  ‘What about the rest of this collection of yours?’ I asked sharply.

  Never taking his eyes from mine, Dr Heinrich felt around with his fingers in the casket. He pulled out two more humble pieces of amber, and gently set them down on the surface of his desk. He might have been a man who had just been ordered at pistol-point to drop his own weapon.

  ‘This is it,’ he said with a wry, challenging smile. ‘And you are disappointed, I see. Is this the way you formulate your accusations, Herr Procurator? By taking literally the accusations of a wretch whose second nature is to lie? As if I were the criminal? Col o nel les Halles is convinced that he has caught the murderer, as I am sure you know.’

  ‘The evidence he has gathered is worth as much,’ I said dismissively, ‘as the accusations Erika has made against you. And yet, I believe that you may have added weight to his flimsy arguments. He sent over something for you to analyse, he told me.’

  He looked at me sharply. ‘The bones from the Ansbach farm, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly,’ I replied.

  There we were, three Prussians in the same room, each one vying to provide the French with the guilty party. Gurten would have handed over the docto
r to them without a second thought. Heinrich was in a position to pull the noose tight around the neck of Adam Ansbach. I, on the other hand, was undecided. I wanted definite proof. I would have handed over either one of them, if only I could have demonstrated his guilt to my own satisfaction.

  ‘Those bones are human,’ he said.

  My heart sank.

  How many bodies had been buried in that pigsty? How many women had been slaughtered there?

  Amber was uppermost in the mind of every person in the area, except for Adam Ansbach.

  ‘Human?’ I repeated.

  ‘Without a doubt.’

  Was les Halles right? Was Adam guilty? Or was Heinrich heaping coals on the fire, blowing hard on the flames which seemed intent on consuming the Ansbach farm, and the people who lived there, thus ensuring his own safety from the same accusation?

  ‘Do you know what surprised me most of all?’ Heinrich demanded energetically, as if he believed that the news should surprise me, too.

  ‘What?’

  I fully expected a cata logue of horrors about the way the bones had been smashed, or about the manner in which they had been severed.

  ‘There was not a single female bone among them.’

  I could not speak. My tongue seemed moulded to my palate.

  ‘No female bone?’ I said at last. ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘Quite certain. Men’s bones are quite distinct. And these were the bones of men who had not been walking on the Earth for quite some time,’ he added. ‘Marrow is the principal, nay, the only means of saying anything about the age of bones, whether human or animal. If marrow is still present, the creature died within living memory. By the time they’ve been in the ground for a century, say, all traces of marrow have disappeared. Consumed by worms and mites, presumably.’

  ‘Are you saying that the bones are a hundred years old?’

  ‘At the very least,’ he replied. ‘In ancient times, that pigsty may have been the centre of a battlefield. Or the chosen burial ground of our Teutonic forefathers. I am speculating, of course.’

  In my mind’s eye, I saw Adam Ansbach set free, while the dark shadow of the murderer hovered just beyond the edge of my vision. The presence of Ilse Bruen’s body in the pigsty remained to be explained, but of two things I was certain: no other woman had died there, and Colonel les Halles had sent an innocent man to Königsberg. At the same time, another unavoidable question rose up to confront me. If Adam was not the killer, who was? Could he be standing there before me?

  ‘I am pleased to hear you say so, Doctor,’ I said.

  Despite this compliment, the doctor’s face seemed to lour resentfully.

  ‘And I would be most grateful, sir,’ he said, carefully weighing his words, ‘if you were as scrupulous in your own investigations, as I have been in mine. It is all too easy to sling mud. We are all vulnerable to casual misinterpretation in this place. Our position, vis-à-vis the French, is a fragile one, to say the least. And now, sir, if you have finished, I have work to do!’

  Outside, the street was crowded with amber-traders.

  I turned on Gurten and grabbed hold of his arm.

  ‘Do not dare to interfere like that again,’ I warned him. ‘Never question a suspect with such an open show of vehemence or hostility. If you are to play the part of the bull mastiff, you will do so because I have instructed you to do so, and for no other reason. Do you understand me?’

  I expected a show of penitence, or fright. After all, his career as a magistrate would depend on how I chose to assess his aptitudes, and report them to our masters.

  But Gurten did not excuse himself. He strode along at my side, stepping out of the path of other passers-by at the very last moment, as if daring them to bump into him.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Gurten? You can’t . . .’

  Suddenly, he turned and stared at me.

  ‘The doctor is guilty, sir.’

  It was not a question. He spat the words out in a fury.

  ‘How can you make such a wild suggestion? We have nothing against him, except for Erika’s testimony. And I know well enough what that . . .’ I swallowed back the word child, ‘I know that the girl is able to deceive.’

  ‘That may be true,’ he agreed. ‘But she was terrified, sir. Witnesses tell the truth when terror takes possession of their senses. She was not lying about Dr Heinrich.’

  ‘We have only her accusation,’ I hissed at him. ‘What sort of magistrate will you become if you are prepared to trade one Prussian for another so easily?’

  ‘Prussian?’ he said. His eyes were huge with surprise. ‘That man is in league with the French, sir. They need our amber to sustain their theories, they are carry ing it off to France. That’s why nothing important is reaching the Academy of Sciences in Berlin. They’re stealing our most precious trea sure, taking it to France. Baltic amber contains the history of the world. And Heinrich is giving it to them.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said, prepared to hear him out before correcting him again. ‘But what proof do you have of his involvement in the trade? On what specific evidence do you base your accusations?’

  He did not hear me. That is, he did not heed me.

  ‘It is a perfect triangle,’ he said. ‘The girls smuggle amber out from the camp with the connivance of the French soldiers. Or they steal it from a church. Then, they pass it on to Erika. Those pieces go to men who appreciate them, men like Dr Heinrich, and then they go to the scientists in Paris.’

  ‘It is not a crime to believe in the theories of Lamarck,’ I challenged. ‘Nor to inherit a few poor bits of amber from one’s dying father. Nor is it against the law to study human deformity and attempt to cure it.’

  Gurten did not hear a word. ‘He is blowing smoke in your eyes, sir. He is lying to save his own skin. Those trifling pieces of amber in his study are irrelevant. They are not enough to sustain his theories. And why would Erika lie in this specific case? She says she has sold him many precious pieces . . .’

  ‘No judge would believe her,’ I interrupted him. ‘I do not believe her. No sensible man would take her word as gospel. Now, what other “proof” do we have?’

  ‘The victims were mutilated by an expert hand,’ Gurten replied at once. ‘He is a surgeon, educated in anatomy, skilled with a knife. Perhaps the girls became too greedy in their demands. They may have threatened to tell the Prussian authorities that he was buying up amber which belongs to our country. Perhaps he decided to cut Erika out of the equation, and deal directly with the amber-gatherers. I believe that he is the killer . . .’

  ‘This is too far-fetched,’ I said dismissively.

  ‘As doctor to the French camp,’ Gurten went on relentlessly, ‘he lacks no opportunity to make the acquaintance of the workers from the coast. The French trust him, and so do the girls. Indeed, for some of them it was a fatal mistake.’

  I recalled my first conversation with Dr Heinrich. We had talked about our work, and our shared sense of regretful submission to the French. I would not give him up without convincing evidence of his guilt.

  ‘He has faithfully served the local community for years,’ I replied, playing the Dev il’s advocate. ‘He was here before the French arrived. He amputates limbs, it is true, but his real talent is the making of artificial replacements. Against all odds—despite the obstacles posed by the French occupation—he continues with his scientific studies, as any serious doctor should. It makes me proud to think that there are Prussians who still go about their business as if the French had never come to hinder them.’

  Though I spoke on behalf of the doctor, I realised that I was defending myself.

  ‘Are we—you and I, that is—are we not hampered in our investigative task by the ambiguity of our relations with a foreigner who has possessed himself of us, and all that is ours? Are we guilty of a crime?’

  Gurten did not answer immediately. We had pulled up in a doorway as the argument raged. His eyes were on the people passing up and down the street. �
�Heinrich may believe that his scientific studies are more important than any other thing on earth, sir. That is what I fear.’

  ‘I do not follow you,’ I said.

  ‘He is a Lamarckian,’ Gurten said again. ‘He believes that the Enlightened culture which the French are trying to impose on us is an upward step—an inevitable gain—for Prus sia. An evolution. There, sir! That’s what Heinrich would call it. He would explain himself and his actions by saying that he is working for a better future. But he is still a collaborator.’

  ‘He is not alone,’ I said abruptly. ‘And you should never forget it, Gurten. If we wish to pursue our chosen professions here in Prussia—if we are allowed to do so—it can only be within a context in which the interests of the dominant foreign power are always preeminent.’

  He stiffened, stared at me.

  ‘What if we can find the necessary proof?’ he said. ‘What, then, sir?’

  Was the apprentice throwing out a challenge to his master?

  ‘I would be prepared to bet that he has published something on the subject,’ he rushed on. ‘Heinrich is a believer in the merits of Lamarck, but even in France there is frantic debate going on about the validity of those theories. Heinrich must have given his drawings and writings to someone. Indeed, he spoke openly of the fact that he is in touch with various scientific journals.’

  Was this the stuff of which a magistrate was made? Gurten’s initiative was undeniable, his thoughts were bold. He did not hesitate to posit that a man might kill for the sake of his own advancement in the hierarchy of learning. Was this another one of his good intuitions?

  ‘Where would you look for proof?’ I asked him.

  ‘In the French scientific press,’ he replied at once. ‘That man is passing Prussian amber on to them.’

  I considered this proposal. ‘Isn’t it a bit like trawling in the sea for a rare fish? You might spend your whole life at it, and never catch the species you are fishing for.’