Paul Lawrence - The Sweet Smell of Decay

Prynne stared at me, his lips twisted into a gnarled scar. His eyes were a watery light blue, pinhole black pupils aimed at me. Clenching his fists, he breathed noisily through his nostrils. ‘Then now you know it all.’

I picked up a scroll and blew the dust off it. So many secrets. ‘I am not so sure. The trail was laid so carefully. There is one thing that troubles me.’

‘Speak!’

‘While at Epsom, both Mary Ormonde and William Ormonde himself let it be known that Ormonde and Keeling were once great friends.’

‘It’s well known. That is no great mystery.’

I looked into Prynne’s poisonous face. ‘Aye, but they were both Baptists.’

Prynne’s body stilled. ‘They told you this?’

I nodded. ‘Mary Ormonde did so with great deliberation, William Ormonde seemed to speak it more casually. But why should either of them tell us, strangers, that the two of them were once dissenters? Even if it is known widely, and I know not whether it is the case, why make particular mention of it to the strangers?’

‘Why indeed?’ Prynne put a hand to his chin, his brow lowered as he paced the floor in puzzled thought. ‘Why indeed?’ He found an old stool buried beneath a pile of parchment and sat on it, sending the records flying through the air. ‘Give me time to think.’ With his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, all I could see was the back of his old head.

It was silent in the chapel. The bright white light that shone through the long narrow windows turned to grey, and shadows crept out from the ends of the aisles. I sat down on the floor, my back against a shelf and waited. I would wait all night if necessary.

Prynne sat straight then pointed at me. ‘Ye said that Ormonde was not father of the girl’s child?’

‘No,’ he could point at me all he liked. ‘I said that I was not sure that he was .’

‘Then why did Keeling kill Anne Ormonde, if it were not so?’

‘Perhaps he didn’t.’

‘Oh no. He killed the girl, that much is clear.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Shrewsbury believes it to be so. Shrewsbury is the Devil himself, the serpent that winds itself about the tree in the garden of England. He that is deceitful and self-serving.’

‘Oh.’ That was my beloved patron he was talking about.

‘Both Ormonde and the girl tell thee they were Baptists. Keeling kills the daughter. There must be something that Ormonde did in the past, or something that Ormonde knows that Keeling would not have him divulge — aye, that’s it!’ Prynne stood suddenly. The stool slowly toppled over and rolled away. ‘That must be it.’ He descended upon me with his arms held wide — a fearsome sight. ‘They were Baptists together. They were involved in some plot, some malicious scheming. Ormonde has threatened to divulge it so Keeling has killed his daughter.’

‘Would that not make him more determined to tell what he knows?’

‘No!’ snapped Prynne, tight-lipped. ‘For he has two daughters!’

Keeling murdered Anne Giles as a grisly threat that Mary Ormonde might suffer a similar fate? It explained William Ormonde’s agonised writhings, his determination to do and say nothing though his daughter lay butchered.

‘I am suspicious,’ Prynne prowled the floor again, his tail up like an arthritic goose.

‘Suspicious of who?’

‘Some misguided wretches were convinced that the execution of Charles I was a sign from God that the resurrection was at hand, the coming of the Fifth Kingdom. They were the Fifth Monarchists. Some of those were Baptists.’

‘Lord Keeling was a Fifth Monarchist? How could he keep such a thing secret?’

‘There are many secrets at Court, Mr Lytle. Sorting out truth from mischievous gossip is nigh impossible. That’s why the King encourages it to the extent that he does. He builds a haystack in which he may hide his own needles. Also, there were many that chose to conform upon the Restoration, and Charles was tolerant and forgiving. So!’ Prynne held up his arms aloft. ‘Were Keeling and Ormonde among those that plotted the new King’s downfall? For until the King was once more dispatched, then there could be no Fifth Kingdom.’

‘Plotted the King’s downfall?’

Prynne’s bright blue eyes fixed on mine, his expression lively and bright, all primness now dissipated. ‘The revolt of Thomas Venner. The King made merry of it and used it to advance his own agenda. In the end it was hardly a revolt.’

The revolt of Thomas Venner? A rabble that tried to storm Parliament. It lasted a few hours and Venner was hung. ‘Sir, forgive me, but this seems fanciful.’

‘So!’ Prynne waved his arms in the air, unable to restrain himself. ‘Now I will tell you of William Ormonde.’ He clasped his hands and took stage in the middle of the room. ‘Ormonde and Keeling both started off as Baptists. Ormonde espoused radical views for a while, until the Protector persuaded him that the radical agenda was a distraction to the commonwealth and endangered Godly reformation. Ormonde was still a close friend to Keeling, who continued to regard him as a like-minded fellow.’ Prynne wagged a finger. ‘But it wasn’t so. They remained friends until after the Restoration. What changed things was the death of Thomas Harrison.’

‘Major-General Harrison?’ Harrison was one of those that signed Charles I’s death warrant. He had been hung, drawn and quartered by Charles II shortly after the Restoration.

‘Verily. The leader of the Fifth Monarchists. It was about that time that Ormonde changed his views. I doubt if Keeling did, for he is a fanatic. I doubt that Ormonde supported the Venner affair, though it may have been his great misfortune to be privy to it.’

‘But how can you be sure that this concerns the Venner’s Revolt? It was such a pitiful affair.’

‘Keeling and Ormonde are at loggers. Remember that Keeling killed Ormonde’s daughter in bestial fashion. We know that they were both Baptists and I know that something happened between them shortly after the Restoration.’

I was far from convinced. ‘If this is the case and Shrewsbury knows of it, then why would he not expose it, rather than go to the trouble of having the world believe another motive?’

‘He has no evidence of it. Were he to make such an accusation without being sure that it would stick, then Keeling would kill him. Sooner or later, by whatever means, Keeling would have his head. For the same reason he cannot bring forward witnesses. None would provide testimony against Keeling.’

It was bemusing and fantastic, yet I knew Prynne well enough to know that he would not be dissuaded. His chin gently rose, his lips thinned and his blue eyes glazed over with their customary stern disdain. That icy, patronising smirk returned. Slipping his fingers under his locks, he lifted them up so that the grisly stumps that served for ears were fully exposed. I didn’t want to look, yet he would not stop staring at me with his hair held up. ‘Do I look like a humorous fellow — or a fool?’

‘Neither, sir.’

‘Mr Lytle. Last time we met I told thee that thou art effeminate and whorish, a bawd Godless ruffian, that thee haunt plays and indulge in lust-exciting dancing, all of which is to Christ’s dishonour and sin’s advantage and that thee art abominable. Now I am hopeful for thee. Thine efforts have been noble and for that I commend thee. May God have mercy on thy soul.’ He held out his wooden cane by the tip. On the end of it was a silver handle, cast in the shape of a sheep. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’ He pressed the cane into my hand. ‘If I am right, then consider; Keeling will want you silenced, and Shrewsbury besides if you pull Keeling’s tail too hard. It is in Keeling’s interests that this whole affair is put to bed. Shrewsbury would have the world believe that Keeling killed Ormonde in revenge.’