Andrew Swanston - The King's Spy

Inside his room at last, Thomas stripped off his foul clothes, washed himself down with water from the jug and tried to examine his shoulder. It hurt, but he could see no signs of a wound. Tomorrow he would be fine.

At dawn, the vague idea stirred again. In a longer text, there would be more than one letter sequence repeated. If he took the letter measurements between all repeated sequences of the same letters, he should find a common factor, suggesting the length of the keyword. To test this theory, he started by counting the number of different repeated sequences in the text, ignoring those of less than three letters. He found ten of them, including three repetitions of IFS. He could not be entirely sure that he had not missed any, but ten should be enough for a test. He drew a line under the repeated sequences and counted the letters separating each repetition of each sequence.

URF UBD HE XQB TF KGA OEMD RRFUO TLC WMG LRB WHT R XHGORKZ IO KPW769 WA MQFV BVMF HPL ZFTD RVV57 4SEWMFREJ VGL SVKMGE 852 GTSC WZTD QE TIJG IVL GJT RA KDOE IK EOJAAQLV GGJR MQU IOIGSI GRQF HBFZG JGY ALG EE OLWEEA GJR YIFS1 82AEL2 64SGE SC AAD ZVY JP KP WXR JB JTN XBZ77 5XNW WJBS LA LWAK371 EAIH TPA AD RVV BAP TWPVV AGDN WWJ URR VUT IW EW HTI QCT WY QDT37 1IE852 769UMHT RKC CONT WSGV WMG IEN DJEE KW IHV ZW PNU EAIH371 ZV GJR YIFSS NQ DA BV NGGCVL LD SVMC IRLKW DN KMJ BS WINDU IITAE KW42177 5OX LCIVK IJM LXMV IFS PCI UT FFZ SEPI MZTNJQGCOW3 71E ZDWZTD QE SZGJ GYB LD 574SKIFS RVIV N GFL OX LC QFV WV AZPLCJJX NX IF TNU BG IHZA OP RJWGC

The results he wrote on a table, with the sequences in the left column, the letter distances he found for each in the second column, and the numbers three to ten across the top row, working on the assumption that the keyword would be more than two and less than eleven letters long.

Only the number five divided into all ten separations. The keyword must have five letters.

So delighted was he at the first hint of progress that Thomas almost forgot to hide his papers before hurrying to tell Abraham. He prised up the floorboard, put the papers in the space below it and replaced the pisspot on top. Then he picked up the pot and filled it up. Oddly, it reminded him of the king’s musketeers pissing down the barrels of their muskets to cool them down. That should keep prying eyes at bay. He locked his door and went to give Abraham the good news.

Expecting to be summoned straight in, he knocked loudly on Abraham’s door. When there was no response, he knocked again. Still no response. He tried the door, which was locked. Odd. Perhaps Silas would know where he was. He found Silas at his post. ‘Silas, Master Fletcher’s door is locked and he appears to be out. Do you know where he is?’

‘No, sir. Master Fletcher never goes out unaccompanied, and I haven’t seen him today. Perhaps he’s asleep.’

‘Have you a spare key to his rooms?’

‘I have, sir,’ replied Silas suspiciously, ‘but I’d prefer not to lose it. If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you and unlock the door myself.’ He took a large bunch of keys from a drawer and followed Thomas to the room. They knocked again, but there was still no response. Silas found the right key and unlocked the door. Thomas entered first, and gasped. The room had been ransacked. Every one of Abraham’s books had been torn from its spine and thrown on the floor. His chair and table were in pieces, and his few clothes and other possessions were strewn about everywhere. Thomas went cold. What in the name of God had happened here?

He called out. ‘Abraham? Where are you?’ There was no reply. They went cautiously in, and tried the door to the small chamber where Abraham slept. It was unlocked. Thomas entered. On his blood-soaked bed lay the naked body of the old man. His face and chest bore the signs of torture, his eyes had been gouged out and his throat cut. Thomas’s stomach heaved. He put his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes. Silas looked past him into the chamber, and vomited. For several minutes, neither man could speak. Both stood with hands on knees, trying to breathe. Thomas was the first to recover. ‘What manner of human filth could have done this? And why?’

Silas, too, was recovering. ‘I’ll fetch the coroner, sir. You’d best stay here.’

‘Be quick, Silas. The coroner must see this at once.’

When Silas had gone, Thomas sat on the floor by the door. His old friend, a gentle man who had never harmed a soul and had helped many, foully murdered in this monstrous, sickening, obscene way. His tears flowed and he howled in anguish. God in heaven, how could any man commit such an act? What could drive a man to inflict such suffering on another? Why take the eyes of a man who could not see?

For an hour, Thomas barely moved. The strength had gone from his legs and his mind was numb. He sat staring at the room and thought of nothing but Abraham’s premonition. Somehow the old man had known. God forbid that he had known it would be like this.

He was still on the floor when Silas returned with the coroner, a fussy-looking little man with a red-veined face and a pair of pince-nez perched on his nose. Thomas took a deep breath and rose to meet him. ‘Henry Pearson, sir, coroner. It is my duty to investigate all unnatural deaths in the city and in cases of murder to identify and bring to trial the murderer.’

‘Thomas Hill, sir. An old student of Master Fletcher, and an old friend.’

‘Did you find the body?’

‘I did. Master Merkin was behind me.’

‘Have you left everything as you found it?’ The coroner was brusque.

‘I’ve touched nothing. The body is in the bedchamber.’ Pearson bustled past him and into the chamber. When he emerged, he was ashen.

‘Master Fletcher suffered greatly before he died. Judging by the state of rigor mortis, I would say he has been dead for a good seven hours.’

‘So he was murdered in the night?’

‘That is my opinion. Have you any idea why anyone would do this?’

Thomas had no intention of disclosing Abraham’s position, or his own, to Henry Pearson, coroner or not. ‘None, sir. Abraham was a quiet, scholarly man. I can conceive of no reason for this barbarity.’

‘Have you seen anything suspicious?’ he asked Silas.

‘No, sir,’ replied Silas firmly. ‘Both college gates are locked from midnight to six in the morning. Anyone wishing to enter must ring the bell. I only let them in if I know who they are.’

‘Then the murderer was already in the college before you locked the gates. Either he’s still here or he must have slipped out again this morning. Have you been at your post all the time?’

‘Yes, sir, except when I came to unlock the door for Master Hill.’

‘Then if he left, that was when. He would have been watching, knowing that sooner or later the door would be found locked. Alternatively, he is living here.’ Pearson changed direction. ‘You say the door was locked. Could the murderer have had a key?’

‘No, sir,’ replied Silas firmly. ‘Master Fletcher had his key. I have the other two.’

‘Could one have been stolen, and later returned?’

‘No, sir. I’d have noticed. I check all the keys every morning.’

‘Then either Master Fletcher opened the door to his murderer, or the door was unlocked. The murderer took his key and locked the door when he left. Master Fletcher probably knew the man.’

‘Not necessarily, Master Pearson,’ pointed out Thomas. ‘Abraham Fletcher was blind. He could have opened the door to a stranger without knowing it.’

‘In that case, he would have been an easy victim and the murderer’s motive will be more difficult to establish. Had he any relatives in Oxford?’