(2011) What Lies Beneath

by Sarah Rayne

  Gil fell into the way of lending a hand in the hospital block, which was bracing itself for an influx of wounded men. On several occasions he was found to be absent from his bedroom all night; challenged by Crispian, Gil demanded to know where did Crispian think he had been.

  ‘Helping in the infirmary, I suppose.’

  ‘You have such a beautiful innocent nature,’ said Gil. ‘Don’t you know that nurses work in infirmaries, and nurses are frequently attractive and very affectionate.’

  ‘You’re spending some of the nights with a nurse?’

  ‘Several of the nurses. I’ve never practised exclusivity.’

  ‘Gil, there’s a war raging within a few miles of us!’

  ‘All the more reason for a little light entertainment,’ said Gil.

  Jamie had spent more time in the town than the other two; he got to know some of the Jewish community, and talked with the scholars, printers and musicians.

  ‘He’ll end in converting to Judaism, if you’re not careful,’ said Gil.

  ‘I think he’s just interested in their culture and knowledge,’ said Crispian. ‘He’s very like his father, my uncle Colm. You never met Colm, did you?’

  ‘I did, actually. Those Christmas house parties at Cadence Manor. I was asked to a couple, if you remember. Colm generally shut himself away from the frivolities, but I met him.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that,’ said Crispian. ‘Colm’s spiritual home is probably an Oxford college or a library somewhere, and Jamie’s the same. He shouldn’t really be working at Cadences at all.’

  ‘At the moment I’d give a good deal to be cleaning the lavatories at Cadences,’ said Gil. ‘Anywhere but here.’

  Once or twice they accompanied Jamie to performances by one of the choral societies within Edirne. Seeing Jamie rapt and silent in the cascades of the unfamiliar music, Crispian thought: I shouldn’t have let him come on this mad voyage in the first place. And then, as the music poured out, he gave himself up to it, finding it moving and beautiful. Like balm anointing the soul, he thought. Like a silencing hand laid over a discordance. The images of home came strongly and painfully to him: London with its clatter and bustle and impatience; the oak-panelled rooms of Cadences Bank, with their air of quiet activity; Priors Bramley and the old manor house; the scents of the Oxfordshire meadows; the village street, with the smell of freshly baked bread; the serene old church behind the lich-gate, with dappled sunlight lying across the grass . . .

  He spent a large part of each day with his father, but he was not sure if his father knew who he was – or even if he knew Crispian was there. One of the attendants found an old Bath chair and wheeled Julius outside to enjoy the sunshine, even taking him into Edirne’s centre. Crispian was grateful for this, and several times wheeled the Bath chair himself, sitting in one of the ancient squares with the mosques and the glimpses of onion domes, trying to describe the surroundings to his father using the skin-writing. Sometimes he thought there was a flicker of understanding, and once or twice he thought he saw a glint of sly malevolence in the sightless eyes.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any sight left to him,’ said Raif, with whom they had become friendly by this time. ‘I think the disease is too deep into his brain now.’

  ‘But you can’t be sure there’s no sight?’

  ‘Not completely, no.’

  For most of the time Julius lay on his narrow bed in a side room of the infirmary, staring blindly up at the ceiling. But as the weeks went by he became prone to fierce rages, rearing up from the bed and blundering round the little room, clutching wildly at whatever came within reach and hurling it from him. Sometimes the rages lasted for several hours, after which he would subside in a corner of the room, crouching in a huddle, covering his face with his hands, and sobbing.

  The second time this happened Raif came in search of Crispian.

  ‘I regret,’ he said, ‘that you won’t like the methods we’ve used to restrain him. But last time we were afraid he would injure himself and we wouldn’t be able to get near enough to treat him. Certainly we couldn’t get near him to administer any kind of sedative. The strength of a person in the grip of genuine mania—’ He broke off and shrugged. ‘You will have experienced that for yourselves already, I suppose. The strength of the insane can be as much as the strength of three men put together.’

  Crispian said, ‘What, exactly, have you done?’

  ‘You had better see. He’s not in his usual room, because . . . well, you will see. Perhaps you would prefer one of your companions to come with you?’

  Crispian was deeply grateful for Gil’s presence that evening, but, as they went along the narrow corridors and down a flight of shallow stone steps, he was aware of a churning apprehension and he was very conscious that they were inside a place whose history stretched back into the days when caliphs and sultans had thought nothing of inflicting what was called exquisite torture on anyone transgressing their laws.

  The passages were lit by flaring torches thrust into wall sconces. Edirne had some electricity but it was erratic and this was one of the times it had failed. Dark shadows danced grotesquely across the walls as they went deeper.

  As the doctor opened a door halfway along a stone corridor, Edirne’s dark past seemed to surge forward and to Crispian’s first horrified sight it was as if Julius had fallen into the hands of those long-ago avengers. He was seated on the floor; there were blankets and cushions for him, but thick iron gyves with chains attached had been clamped round his wrists and ankles and the ends of the chains were driven into the wall behind him.

  ‘He’s chained up,’ said Crispian, turning to Raif. ‘Did you have to do that to him?’

  But even as he said the words, Julius made a snarling bestial sound, and lunged forward as if aware of their presence, as if he intended to attack whoever was there. The chains tautened at once, scraping across the floor with a sound that made Crispian flinch.

  ‘It’s not often we’re forced to make use of the fort’s ancient equipment,’ said Raif defensively, ‘but we could see no other way. Truly, we shall release him as soon as this seizure passes. We’ll have to keep him more heavily sedated from then on.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Gil quietly. ‘There was nothing else they could have done. Crispian, come away. He’ll come out of this – he’ll become docile again.’

  ‘But we can’t leave him down here in the dark . . .’

  ‘It’s dark for him anyway,’ said Gil. ‘It’s forever dark, as far as he’s concerned,’ and this time there was such infinite pity in his voice that Crispian looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Mr Martlet is right,’ said Raif. ‘The mania will work itself out, and Sir Julius will be submissive again.’

  Submissive. That dreadful, almost childlike, obedience. Crispian said, ‘Can I stay with him until he comes out of it?’

  The doctor hesitated, and it was Gil who said, ‘Better not. It won’t make any difference to him.’

  ‘Again, Mr Martlet is right,’ said Raif.

  ‘All right. Will you tell me when he’s taken back to his own room?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They went out and, without speaking, walked back along the dim passageways. But when the doctor left them to go to the main infirmary, Gil reached for Crispian’s hand, and for the first time Crispian did not push him away.

  He said, ‘Are you spending tonight with one of your nurse friends?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Gil paused and turned to look at Crispian. They were much of a height; in the flickering light, tiny red pinpoints of light seemed to dance in Gil’s eyes.

  Like the eyes of a devil, thought Crispian. Or is he? After a moment, he said, ‘I’d better find Jamie and tell him what’s happened.’

  Gil made a gesture with his free hand as if to say, it’s up to you, but he released Crispian’s hand and went to his own room without speaking.

  Chapter 26

  Edirne, October 1912

  The false securi
ty soon ended. At the beginning of October martial law was proclaimed in Edirne, and Mehmet Sükrü Pasha, who was to command the military operations from Edirne, arrived at the fort. With him came soldiers and a hybrid crowd of people fleeing to the relative safety of the city. Crispian, with Gil and Jamie, went out to help with the influx of exhausted people whose villages had been ransacked and burned by the invading Bulgarians. Crispian found it heartrending to see how they clung to the few belongings they had managed to save, and even more heartrending that none of them complained. They hoped to return to their homes soon, they said. Migration was a legacy of the Prophet.

  ‘It’s a legacy I wouldn’t want,’ said Gil, when Crispian reported this. ‘And I’ve just heard that they’re going to impose a curfew on the city. It’ll come into force two hours after sunset each day.’

  ‘They’re saying the Pasha is trying to arrange for women and foreign visitors to leave,’ said Jamie. ‘In case we find ourselves in a siege situation.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘Could we possibly leave with them?’ said Gil at last.

  ‘We’d have to do it soon, while trains are still running,’ said Jamie. ‘If we leave it much longer we’ll really be trapped. Some of the soldiers are already saying they’re expecting orders to requisition wagons and carts. But where would we go?’

  ‘I don’t know. Presumably deeper into the Turkish countryside until we got to a British Embassy. And what about Sir Julius?’ said Gil. ‘He couldn’t make that kind of journey, or any kind of journey. Personally, I think we’re as well here as anywhere.’

  Crispian said, ‘You two could leave. I’d have to stay here with my father.’

  ‘If you stay, I’m staying,’ said Gil at once. ‘Jamie?’

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t leave either of you here.’

  ‘There you are then,’ said Gil to Crispian. ‘All for one and one for all. And as Jamie says, where would we go? We’re a hundred miles from the coast, and even if we got there, we’d never get a ship, not now.’

  At night, as they sat in the courtyard, they could hear gunshot. It sounded frighteningly near, but Gil thought that was just an illusion of the heat and stillness of the night. Several days later, wounded Turkish soldiers began to arrive, brought on carts and wagons, some of them already dying. Gil worked with the doctors, and Crispian and Jamie tried to help where possible, acutely aware of their ignorance, but at least able to act as messengers. Crispian organized a small team who knew the town and could fetch supplies. ‘While supplies still last,’ said one of the doctors, rather grimly.

  It was around then that some of the soldiers began to use what Raif told Crispian and Gil was sulphur mustard.

  ‘Don’t let it get near you,’ he said. ‘Don’t even breathe the air. We don’t know very much about it yet, and we aren’t sure which side is using it. What we do know is that it causes the most horrific burns.’

  ‘What can we do for them?’ asked Gil.

  ‘Not very much. The poor wretches don’t even know they’ve been burned until hours later, by which time it’s often too late to do much to help them. We can’t bandage the burns – we can’t even touch them. Soldiers are a stoic race,’ said Raif. ‘But the men suffering from these burns cry out in agony for hours on end.’

  ‘But they recover eventually?’ said Crispian, listening with horror.

  Raif shrugged. ‘It depends on the degree of the burn and the length of time they’re exposed to the stuff. It can lead to death, usually because the lungs become damaged. Also it can destroy the sight. There’s also a belief that even if they recover, they’re vulnerable to growths later in life.’

  ‘Cancer?’

  ‘Yes. It’s appalling stuff,’ said Raif, sounding angry. ‘Vicious and often fatal.’

  The escalation of the war was a massive blow, but there were two more to come.

  The first of these fell in early November when the Bulgarians, determined to take the stubborn town of Edirne, cut off the town’s water supply.

  ‘But there’s a river and there are wells,’ said the doctors firmly. ‘We’ll use those.’

  The second blow was very different, and Crispian thought none of them could have foreseen it.

  A Bulgarian plane had just flown over Edirne, showering leaflets, which Raif translated. It read, ‘We have surrounded Edirne with a thousand guns. Come and surrender.’

  ‘Will Edirne surrender?’ asked Crispian.

  ‘Not without a strong fight.’ Raif frowned, then in a voice Crispian had not heard him use before, said, ‘Mr Cadence, there is a different matter I have to raise with you.’

  ‘Yes?’ Crispian waited, expecting to hear something about his father.

  ‘It’s about your cousin. Mr James Cadence.’

  ‘What about him?’ said Crispian, slightly startled.

  ‘These last weeks he has often gone out by himself. Do you know where?’

  ‘In a general way. He’s got to know several people in the Jewish Quarter. He’s interested in their way of life, particularly their music. Why?’

  ‘An hour ago I was asked to talk to you. This is very difficult, but it seems it’s not only the Jewish people of Edirne your cousin formed friendships with. If the information is right, he’s made some very unwise acquaintances.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘In any country, any city, in a time of war, there’s a very particular kind of occupation,’ said Raif, ‘undertaken by people who appear to be ordinary civilians. They would say, those people, that they contribute as much to a war as men fighting on a battlefield. They . . .’ he paused, apparently searching for the right words, ‘they give information about the people among whom they live. They give it to the enemies of those people. You understand what I’m trying to say?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Crispian. ‘Clearly you’re talking about spies, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with Jamie.’

  ‘Mr Cadence, your cousin was this morning caught passing information about the military activities inside this fort to a known agent of the Bulgarian armies.’

  Crispian felt as if an invisible hand had flung icy water into his face. He said, ‘That’s impossible. There must be some dreadful misunderstanding. You must have the wrong information – or someone’s playing a cruel trick.’

  ‘The Pasha’s men who brought in the intelligence do not think there is a trick. They are sure the charge against Mr James Cadence is based on sound fact. They will try to find out more, but you must understand there are larger issues for them to deal with. One Englishman . . .’ Raif made a gesture, indicating that Jamie’s transgression, if transgression there had been, was not very high in the pecking order. ‘I will ask them to talk to you,’ he said.

  ‘I think you’d better, and as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’m very sorry indeed about this,’ said Raif, ‘and I hope it will be found a mistake. All of us here like you. We have come to respect and trust you.’

  ‘Jamie wouldn’t act as a spy,’ said Crispian. ‘It’s a ludicrous idea. He’s a gentle person. Someone must have misunderstood something he said or did. The language difficulties could have caused a genuine error. Or perhaps someone even wanted some kind of revenge on him – or on me or my father.’

  ‘That is certainly possible. Rich Englishmen are often targets for the unscrupulous.’

  ‘Where is Jamie now?’

  ‘This is where we have a problem,’ said Raif slowly. ‘We’ve been told that a small group of people on the outskirts of Edirne have him.’

  ‘You mean they’re keeping him prisoner? But that’s not permitted.’

  Raif spread his hands. ‘In wartime rules can change. And we know of these people. They work in secrecy but the Pasha’s men know they exist.’

  ‘Who are they? How many are there?’

  ‘In the main they are Turks. There could be a fifty or so of them, perhaps more. Some are guerrilla fighters but all are fiercely loyal to their c
ountry and their race. But they are all what I think you would call extremists.’

  Extremists. Fierce men – probably also some women – who changed the rules of war. And Jamie, quiet unassuming Jamie, whom Crispian had regarded as a brother, was in their hands.

  ‘Can we get to him? Get him back here?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘God, man, we must! The British Embassy—’ Crispian stopped, remembering how very isolated they were, how virtually impossible it would be to even get a message to an embassy. ‘Do they intend to keep him prisoner until the war is resolved?’ he said. ‘Until Edirne is no longer under siege?’

  ‘Mr Cadence, it is not just a matter of imprisonment for your cousin. The people who are holding him follow the old ways of the Turks. And there is a very particular punishment they reserve for spies.’

  * * *

  A very particular punishment.

  The doctor’s words went through and through Crispian’s brain as he and Gil made their way to the small square on the edge of the city. Neither of them was sure of their own safety, but two of the Pasha’s soldiers had been rather grudgingly allotted to escort them, which Crispian thought was probably as safe as they could get.

  ‘Which is to say not very safe at all,’ said Gil.

  They had managed to persuade Raif to accompany them, to act as interpreter. At first he had refused. ‘There is too much here I must do,’ he had said. ‘So many injured people who need me.’

  ‘We need you,’ said Crispian. ‘We need you to interpret for us. Please. If it’s a question of money—’

  ‘It is not a question of money,’ said Raif coldly. ‘It is a question of who has more need of me and at the moment that is the injured soldiers. Also, I do not care to be seen assisting a spy against my people.’

  ‘My cousin isn’t a spy,’ began Crispian hotly, but Gil broke in, laying a hand on Crispian’s arm.

  ‘We’ll do it by ourselves,’ he said. ‘We’re outcasts here, that’s very clear. Somehow we’ll manage, though.’ He turned away, but before he got to the door, Raif said, ‘Wait. That was discourteous of me. I will come with you and I will translate what’s said by the captors. But my name must not be used. These people who hold your cousin must not know who I am.’