C.J. Sansom - Revelation

'I have,' he said quietly.

I stared at him.

'Obsession,' he said. 'It is a type of madness we did not discuss at the Bedlam. A man may have a strange, bizarre obsession in one part of his life. And yet seem normal, or pass for normal, in others. Obsessions have been known since Greek and Roman times. I had a case myself last year of a merchant who from his youth had had an obsession with collecting shoes. Men's shoes, women's shoes, old shoes past repair he plucked from dungheaps. He filled his house with them. Only his wife knew, and when she challenged him, he would say only that shoes came in useful. By the time she consulted me he was travelling all over London looking for them, neglecting his business.'

'But what has this strange story to do with this killer?'

'Bear with me, Matthew. I met with the merchant, and eventually he told me that when he was a child he had had no shoes. Somewhere in his mind he was frightened of that happening again. He had had his obsession so long he had almost forgotten how it started.'

'Did the knowledge help him?'

Guy shook his head sadly. 'No. He would not let it go, or could not. He was made bankrupt and ended penniless, where he began. He is probably dead now, he could not have borne the hard life of a beggar. And so, because of his obsession, that which he most feared came true.'

'A sad story.'

'And obsessions can take many forms. Love is the commonest. Someone convinces themselves that they must have the beloved, even if that person is utterly unsuitable, does not care for the lover at all.'

'Everyone has heard of cases like that.'

'And if a life can be dominated by fierce, twisted love, may it not equally be ruled by fierce, twisted hate?' He leaned back in his chair, fingering his cup, which he had emptied. 'It has happened before,' he added bleakly.

'Where; When?'

Guy hesitated again, then spoke very quietly. 'You should know why my studies once took a certain direction. When I was a young man in Paris, studying to be a physician, I fell in love.' He smiled. 'Oh yes, this brown, twisted old stick. I loved the daughter of a wine merchant, she was beautiful and clever, of Spanish origin, like me. The kindest person I ever knew. We were in love, and I wanted to marry her, but at the same time felt drawn to becoming a monk.' He looked at me, bleakly. 'And God decided the matter, or so I felt at the time. She was sitting by her fire one winter's night when a spark flew out and set her dress alight. She died of burns and shock the next day.'

'I never knew,' I said. 'I am sorry—'

'It was long ago. But for a while it made me deny God, deny any goodness working in the world. I raged. I had been studying diseases of the mind, and now I probed the darkest regions of that study with a sort of angry relish. That was my time of despair, but, as Aquinas tells us, that can be a step on the ladder of mystical love; in time, I felt God's love again, came back to the Church. Though in truth part of me still finds it hard to forgive Him, sinner that I am.' For the first time ever I saw tears in his eyes, and I realized that Guy was troubled, deeply troubled, by something. I opened my mouth, but he spoke over me.

'There was one case that was talked about in Paris when I was young. Though he had been dead then for sixty years, people still spoke of the Marshal Gilles de Rais when they wanted to curdle their blood.'

'Who?'

'He was a French knight and landowner. A successful military commander, who served with Joan of Arc against the English, to all appearances a normal man. But when he retired to his estates in Brittany he began abducting and murdering children in the most terrible and sadistic manner.'

'Children?'

'Yes. He did things I would not wish even to speak of. The local people knew what he did but he was a powerful man, beyond the law.' He fixed me with a bleak gaze. 'De Rais would get the local barber to come and style the hair on the heads of murdered boys that he had placed on stakes in his hall, and invite him to judge which looked the best. That is the type of thing he did.'

Jesu.

'Eventually, after five years, de Rais made the mistake of annoying the church in some dispute, and the local bishop stepped in at last. De Rais was tried and hanged for his crimes, which sent a wave of horror throughout the land when they were known. At his trial he said he had committed his crimes purely because they pleased him.'

'Dear God.' I remembered three years before, the case of a young boy I had encountered who had tortured animals and killed a beggar- boy shortly before his own violent death. I actually felt my skin crawl, as though some insect were on it.

Guy's look at me was bleak. 'I think there have been more monsters like this creature than we know.'

'Someone brutally killing people for no reason. Yet I have never heard . . .' I hesitated, frowning, as I recollected something from a long time ago. 'No, wait. I think there was a case . . .'

Guy leaned forward. 'Yes:'

'When we were students, we were given legal problems to solve, which involved looking up cases in the law books. We spent half our time delving through the dusty old books in the Lincoln's Inn library. I remember one of the students coming across a murder case from — oh, it must have been a hundred years ago — about a man who was executed for killing several young women. Where was it — in Norwich, I think.' I smiled wryly. 'There was nothing about the trial to create a legal precedent, but some lads passed it round because the trial report was full of gruesome detail. You know what students can be like.'

Guy smiled. 'But not you?'

'No. Coming to London from Lichfield, I thought there were more than enough gruesome things to see in the city, even then. I was more interested in finding new precedents to dazzle the benchers with. I will look for the case in the library.' I frowned. 'But I am not sure this man was such a killer as you describe. And even if he was, they must be rare indeed. How could anyone get away with it? How would the whole region where such a thing happened not turn all their energies to finding such a killer? From what you say, De Rais was a powerful man. Surely an ordinary person would be swiftly hunted down, even in a large city.'

'You know how difficult the detection of crime is, Matthew. In England, more than most of Europe. Each city and parish enforcing the law through Justices of the Peace and coroners who are often corrupt, with the aid of a few constables who are usually stupid men.'

'And who investigate killings with little or no reference to what may be happening in neighbouring districts. Yes. I have been talking about these things with Harsnet and Barak. And how most killers who are caught are impulsive and stupid—'

'Whereas this one plans, obsessive as a lover, careful, meticulous, patient. He puts his whole self into his terrible work — the expression perhaps of a limitless rage.'

And this man has chosen apostates from radical reformism.'

He must have an utter devotion to his twisted passions, above anything else in the world. He can have no conscience. In his world only he matters. And it is perhaps not so large a step from there to persuading yourself that God himself has set you the task you so enjoy. Bringing forward the good and holy work outlined in the Book of Revelation.' Guy's face was drawn. 'Obsession,' he said quietly. 'It is a wicked, wicked thing.'

'He is mad, then?'

'He cannot be sane as we understand the word. But it may be that his cleverness means he is able to pass himself off as normal, perhaps even work. Although I would have thought there must be signs. Such a gross distortion of the soul must leave outward signs. . .' He shook his head again, then fixed me with intense brown eyes full of pain. 'That pilgrim badge,' he said.