‘He called out?’ Nelson prompts.
Romilly Smith takes a deep breath, holding her handkerchief to her eyes. Caroline pats her arm rather ineffectually.
‘I heard him shout something. I went to his room and he seemed to be having the most dreadful nightmare. He was pouring with sweat and his eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to be able to see.’
‘Did he say anything? Anything that you could understand?’
‘He was ranting on about a coach and horses. Afterwards I realised what that meant. Dan had an Irish nanny when he was little. Niamh she was called. She sounds like a real ghoul but he was devoted to her. She told him about this black coach that’s meant to come for people when they’re dying. It’s pulled by six black horses and the coachman’s headless.’
‘It’s called the Coach-a-Bower,’ says Caroline. ‘The black coachman knocks three times on your door and when you open it he throws a bucket of blood in your face.’
‘I thought it was a banshee in the coach,’ says Randolph, still standing by the drinks trolley. ‘You heard her voice and you knew your time was up.’
‘So you know this story too?’ asks Nelson.
‘Dad used to tell it to us’ says Caroline. ‘At bedtime.’ Charming, thinks Nelson. Nothing like a banshee and a bucket of blood to make children sleep well. He’s glad that he was just a working-class dad who stuck to Winnie-the-Pooh.
‘So your husband was talking about this coach,’ says Nelson. ‘Was he delirious?’
‘I think so. He kept saying that the coach was coming for him and he kept talking about a snake.’
‘A snake?’
‘He said a snake was there on the bed with him. He said he could see its eyes. They’re burning, he kept saying.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I felt his forehead. He was boiling hot so I called the doctor. I tried to sponge Dan down, to get him to have some water, but he was beside himself, yelling and… and crying.’
‘What time was this?’
‘About midnight.’
‘Was anyone else in the house?’
‘I was out,’ says Randolph, sounding rather sheepish. ‘I arrived back at the same time as the doctor. I couldn’t believe the state Dad was in.’
‘You should have called me,’ sobs Caroline.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her mother touches her hand. ‘But we just didn’t know how serious it was. Everything happened so quickly.’
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘He said that we should get Danforth to hospital. He was dehydrated and needed liquids intravenously. He called for an ambulance. They were very quick but Dan died on the way to hospital.’
Just like Neil Topham, thinks Nelson. Another man in apparently good health one minute, dead the next. And he doesn’t like the mention of the snake. He doesn’t like it at all. A line from one of the letters comes back to him. We will come for you. We will come for you in the Dreaming.
‘Did they offer a cause of death?’ he asks. ‘I’m sorry if this is hard for you.’
‘Heart attack, the paramedics said, but someone at the hospital said it might have been a lung infection.’
There’ll have to be an autopsy, thinks Nelson. Of course, Danforth Smith could have died of natural causes – heart attacks can happen to anyone – but two suspicious deaths in six days, both connected to the museum?
‘Did Lord Smith have any heart problems?’ he asks.
‘No.’ Romilly seems exhausted by her account. She leans back against the sofa cushions and shuts her eyes. ‘He always seemed as strong as a horse.’ She laughs sadly. ‘Of course, the horses were his life. Maybe he worked too hard. I don’t know.’
‘He was diabetic wasn’t he?’ asks Nelson.
Romilly looks surprised, almost angry. ‘How did you know that?’
‘He told me. When I came to speak to him about Neil Topham’s death.’
‘You don’t suspect that there’s any link between Dan’s death and that chap at the museum,’ says Romilly. ‘I mean, it’s preposterous to suggest-’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ says Nelson, ‘but I’ve got two unexpected deaths in a week. I’m sure you’ll agree that I need to investigate. Likely as not, your husband’s death was from natural causes. I’ll leave you alone now, I’m sure you’ve all had enough questions. My sergeant will be here in a few minutes. Could you show her any CCTV footage from last night? I believe you have CCTV?’
‘Yes,’ says Caroline. ‘But I’d know if anyone came in. My cottage is by the gate.’
‘Did you hear the doctor and the ambulance?’
‘No. They came the other way. By the house.’
‘So it’s possible that someone could have got in that way?’
‘Do you really think that someone could have got in and… and poisoned him or something?’ asks Caroline.
Interesting assumption, thinks Nelson. Never assume, that’s his motto.
‘It’s unlikely,’ he says. ‘I just want to make sure that we leave no stone unturned.’
And what do you find under stones, he reflects, as he walks back through the yard, watched by the curious horses and impassive stable lads.
Snakes.
CHAPTER 14
As soon as Ruth meets Janet Meadows she realises why Cathbad said that she was the perfect person to ask about Bishop Augustine. Janet, a tall elegant woman in black, is clearly a male to female transsexual. She tells Ruth as much, as soon they sit down in the refectory, a striking modern building built next to the medieval cathedral.
‘Think it’s best to get this out of the way. I used to be Jan Tomaschewski. I published quite a lot under that name. Five years ago I became Janet. It’s better to say so straight away, otherwise you’ll be thinking to yourself “Isn’t she tall? Hasn’t she got big hands?” I used to be a man. End of story.’
Ruth, who had been looking at Janet’s hands, blushes. ‘Why Meadows?’ is all she can think of saying.
‘Well, Tomaschewski was such a mouthful and it was very patriarchal. Comes from the name Thomas. I was fed up with being named after someone called Thomas so I decided to name myself after something I liked. I live near the water meadows so I thought – meadows.’
‘It’s lovely,’ says Ruth. ‘I used to hate my name. Too plain and biblical. Maybe I should change it.’
‘No,’ says Janet decidedly. ‘Ruth Galloway suits you. I understand you’re a friend of Cathbad’s? There’s another one who changed his name.’
‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘I can never think of him as Michael.’
‘Well, Michael was an archangel,’ says Janet. ‘A rather ambivalent figure.’
Ambivalent in what way, thinks Ruth. Angels are famously sexually ambivalent, of course, and Lucifer was an angel before going over to the dark side. Again the line between saints and sinners is rather blurred.
‘So you want to know about Bishop Augustine,’ says Janet. ‘He’s the flavour of the month with you archaeologists. I wanted to be at the opening of the coffin. I came to the first event but it was cancelled. They wouldn’t let me come to the second, said it was private.’
‘You would have enjoyed it,’ says Ruth. Briefly, she tells Janet about her discovery. It goes down big. Janet gasps, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! I can’t believe it.’
‘Can’t you?’ asks Ruth, rather disappointed.
‘Well, I suppose I can,’ Janet is recovering. ‘Augustine is a fascinating figure but there are some gaps in his biography. Or her biography. My God! I’m the last person who should start getting stuck on personal pronouns.’
‘What do we know about the bishop?’ asks Ruth tactfully, finishing her (delicious) coffee. The refectory really is a very pleasant place. It’s all glass and polished wood with high soaring ceilings, rather like a cathedral itself. A cathedral of food; that’s Ruth’s kind of worship.
‘We know a fair amount thanks to Prior Hugh. He was the prior when Augustine was bishop. The pri
or would have been responsible for the day-to-day running of the cathedral and Hugh left an incredibly detailed account of his work – how many candles were used, what the monks ate, how much was given in alms – all that sort of thing. But he was also a chronicler and he wrote about prominent figures of the times, principally Bishop Augustine.’
‘Do we know anything about Augustine’s childhood?’
‘Well he… I’m going to call him “he” if that’s OK, it’ll take some time to get used to the other… he came from a relatively humble background. The Smiths weren’t nobility then. They made their money in the 1500s, they were one of the families that got rich from the dissolution of the monasteries, but in the 1300s they were just ordinary craftsmen, guild workers. Augustine’s father was a stonemason. Augustine was an only child, something that was quite unusual then, though he may have had siblings who died in infancy. Now I’m wondering whether there was a son who died and that Augustine in some way assumed his identity.’
‘We’ll never know I suppose.’
‘I suppose not. Hugh writes a lot about Augustine’s holiness but there are no physical descriptions, no clues about his sexual inclinations.’
‘Sounds as if Prior Hugh was quite a fan.’
‘He’s almost Augustine’s hagiographer. I think he really felt that Augustine was a saint. There’s a lot about his good works, his visions, his battles with the devil.’
‘His battles with the devil?’
‘According to Hugh, Bishop Augustine was constantly tormented by the devil. Sometimes in the morning he was black and blue after having tussled with the devil all night. Augustine used to have terrible dreams apparently. His housekeeper used to hear him crying out with pain but no one was allowed to enter his private apartments.’
‘Perhaps that was because they would find out his secret,’ suggests Ruth.
‘Maybe. Prior Hugh also says that Augustine refused to have a body servant. He sees it as evidence of Augustine’s humility but, of course, there could have been another reason.’
‘Is there anything else about Augustine’s private life?’
‘Not really. In his will he left money to pay for masses for his soul, nothing else. Prior Hugh mostly writes about Augustine’s spiritual life – the torments, the visions – it’s all quite apocalyptic at times.’
‘I heard something about a great snake,’ says Ruth.
‘Well, his statue in the cathedral shows Bishop Augustine with his foot on a snake. It was thought to represent the devil, and during one of Augustine’s many exorcisms Hugh reports seeing a huge snake, a “mighty worm”, appear in the sky. Hugh thought it was the devil being vanquished.’
‘Have you met Ted from the Field Team? He says there was a curse on the coffin. Whoever opened it would be destroyed by the great serpent.’
Janet nods. ‘That’s in Hugh’s account. It was always believed that Augustine was buried in the cathedral and there’s a stone with an inscription saying “vex not my bones” and a warning about the snake. But when they excavated in the 1830s they found that the vault was empty. No bones at all.’
‘Because Augustine was buried in the other church? St Mary’s Outside the Walls?’
‘It’s possible. There was a family connection with St Mary’s. Augustine was christened there and it’s thought that his parents were buried in the graveyard. Of course, he might have left instructions to be buried there for precisely this reason, to prevent his body being examined after death.’
‘When did Augustine die?’
‘In 1362, the year that the great spire was destroyed by fire. Prior Hugh, of course, thought that was another omen. The devil getting his revenge. In fact, the cathedral was in for a rough few years. There was the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381 and Augustine’s successor, Bishop Henry Despenser, the so-called “fighting bishop”, led the troops against the peasants.’
‘Very charitable.’
‘Bishops weren’t necessarily very charitable or even very religious in those days. They were usually the younger sons of great noblemen, only interested in power or money. That’s what makes Bishop Augustine so interesting. He was genuinely spiritual. Of course, we can laugh at it now, all the visions and the battles with the devil, but Augustine was obviously rather a tormented soul. He was a true friend to the poor though. He doubled the amount of alms given by the monks and he founded schools and hospitals. Prior Hugh really thought he was a saint. There are stories of Augustine being able to heal the sick, even of bilocating, being in two places at once. Hugh recalls watching him praying by the Lady Altar at the same time that he was apparently administering last rites to some old woman in the village.’
Ruth has been listening with the kind of trance-like interest that she remembers from her best lectures at university. She has almost forgotten about the coffin, Ted’s warning, the dead body of Neil Topham. Janet brings her back to earth by asking, rather abruptly, ‘Why are you so interested? Apart from the gender thing.’
The gender thing, Ruth muses, that’s one way of putting it. Aloud she says, ‘There were a few other odd things about the coffin. The body was wrapped in silk which had been coated with beeswax. There were the remains of a ceremonial crosier and a single shoe made of leather, very intricate. Why would the Bishop be buried with a single shoe?’
Janet looks at her consideringly for a minute, then she says, ‘There are two legends that might be linked to it. One is a bit like the Saint Nicholas story – Santa Claus, you know – he was a bishop too. In Turkey. Well, anyhow, in this story there are some penniless children and Bishop Augustine fills their shoes with money. Prior Hugh writes that children would leave their shoes outside their door and the Bishop would go through the town at night, filling them with coins.’
‘And the second story?’
‘Well, this one’s about the devil. You know that the statue shows Bishop Augustine with his foot on the snake? Well, in one of Hugh’s accounts, the devil in the form of a snake bites through Augustine’s shoe so he stamps on him with his foot. Henceforward, Augustine often walked barefoot. A form of mortifying the flesh possibly, especially when you think of the state of the roads in those days. There’s an inscription on the statue: You will tread on cubs and vipers. You will trample lions and asps.’
‘Psalms,’ says Ruth. ‘He will order his angels to guard you wherever you go.’
Janet looks surprised.
‘My parents are Born Again Christians,’ Ruth explains. ‘I know the Bible.’
‘Do you have any faith yourself?’
Ruth shakes her head. ‘There are people I respect who do believe but I don’t. What about you?’
Janet laughs. ‘I was brought up a Catholic. A Polish Catholic too, which is like being Catholic cubed. I’m a historian, I like evidence but… I don’t know. I think there are things that can’t be proved.’
Once Ruth would have disagreed violently with this, but after the last few years she isn’t so sure any more. About anything.
Janet stands up. ‘Let’s go and have a look at the old boy. Or girl, as the case may be.’
Judy arrives at the yard to find the gates open and Nelson nowhere in sight. She walks through the archway and comes face-to-face with a large chestnut horse whirling around on the end of a lead rope. Judy makes a wide arc round him. The stable girl is trying to get the horse into his box but he’s having none of it, throwing up his head and clattering round in furious circles. As Judy watches, two lads come up to help subdue the horse. ‘Steady, steady…’ she hears one of them say. The girl is almost in tears. ‘I can’t…’ she’s saying. ‘Don’t be such a girl,’ says one of the men, seemingly without irony. The horse continues to plunge and snort.
Judy makes her way towards the office where an older man is on the phone. He covers the handset and looks up enquiringly.
‘Detective Sergeant Judy Johnson,’ says Judy.
‘Len Harris, Head Lad. Can you excuse me a moment? I’m just getting the declarations done.�
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Judy nods and settles down to read the Racing Post. Unlike Nelson, she does not feel at all out of place in these surroundings. Her father is a bookie and she comes from a horse-loving Irish family. She used to ride as a child and once even had ambitions to be a jockey. What was it that stopped her, she wonders now. Was it discovering boys or getting boobs? Come to think of it, the two things probably happened at the same time.
‘Sorry about that,’ says Harris. ‘Everything’s a bit frantic at the moment.’
Judy looks up from the paper. ‘Jumping Jack hasn’t got a hope in the 2.10 at Newmarket.’
For a second, Len Harris looks angry, then he grins. ‘No, but we don’t want him handicapped too heavily for Cheltenham. Do him good to lose a few races.’
‘What will the owners say?’
Len Harris shrugs. ‘They’re in Dubai. They won’t know.’
Judy stands up. ‘I’m sorry about your boss.’
Harris’s face doesn’t show emotions very easily but, for a second, he looks genuinely bereft. ‘It’s hard. He was a one-off, the governor. Some people thought he was stuck-up, but around the yard he was one of the lads. And he loved the horses, he really understood them.’
‘What will happen with the yard now?’
Harris’s face darkens. ‘That’s up to the kids, I suppose. Caroline would probably like to take over but she hasn’t got the experience. Randolph’s a waste of space. Tamsin’s up in London. I suppose the yard’ll be sold. Owners are already taking their horses away.’
‘Already?’
‘Oh yes. There’s not much sentiment in racing, you know.’
Judy does know. She wonders what will happen to Len Harris if the business is sold. Plenty of racing stables in Norfolk but he looks a little old to go job hunting.
‘I’ve been asked to look at the CCTV footage,’ she says. ‘Is there anywhere I can do that?’
‘Yes. There’s a room in Caroline’s cottage. I’ve got the key.’ He fumbles through sets of keys hanging over the desk. Not a very secure system, thinks Judy.
A Room Full Of Bones Page 12
