К Сэнсом - Revelation

‘Judas’ bowels! What the devil’s happened here?’ He looked red-eyed and smelled of drink; he must have been out all night again. But for all that there was no one I would rather have by me now. ‘Roger Elliard is dead,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘He has been murdered.’

‘Here?’ Barak asked disbelievingly.

‘During the night. Someone cut his throat and put him in the fountain.’

‘Jesu.’ Barak bent gently, twitched back the corner of my coat and stared at the dead face. He quickly replaced the coat. He looked at the fountain. ‘His throat must have been cut in there. There’s no blood on the ground.’ He frowned, puzzled. ‘And no signs of a struggle in the snow. Unless …’ he hesitated.

‘What?’

‘Unless he did it himself. Didn’t you say he feared he was ill?’

‘He wasn’t ill, not seriously. I took him to Guy on Thursday. Do you think anyone would kill himself like this, in the middle of Gatehouse Court?’ I heard my voice rising. ‘Don’t be so stupid! Roger was as content as any man I know. He had everything to live for! He was planning a campaign to build a hospital, he was happily married to the best of women –’ I realized I was shouting, and broke off. I put one hand to my damp brow and raised the other in a gesture of apology.

‘I am sorry, Jack.’

‘It’s all right,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve had a shock.’

‘No,’ I said, and heard my voice tremble. ‘I am angry . This was meant as a terrible display.’

Barak thought for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘If those students hadn’t come by, he would have been found when the resident barristers left chambers to go to the Easter services.’

I looked again at the body. I clenched my fists. ‘Who could do such a monstrous thing to a good and peaceful man, cut his throat and let him to bleed to death in there? On Easter day. And why?’

I heard a murmur of voices. Three or four barristers had emerged from their quarters and were approaching. Perhaps they had heard my shouting. At the sight of the body one cried, ‘By Our Lady!’

A tall elderly man in a silk robe pushed through. I was relieved to see the Treasurer, Rowland. His unbrushed white hair stuck up over his head.

‘Brother Shardlake?’ he asked. ‘What is going on? The porter roused me –’ He broke off, looked at the covered body, then his eyes bulged in horror at the red fountain.

I told him what I knew. He took a deep breath, then bent and uncovered Roger’s face again. I fought an urge to tell him to leave him alone. There was a murmur of horror from the onlookers, a dozen of them now. I saw Bealknap among them. Normally eager for scandal, he stood looking on silently, still pale and sick-looking. I thought, Dorothy will hear their gabbling, I must tell her. Then Barak spoke quietly at my elbow. ‘There is something you should see. Over here.’

‘I must tell Roger’s wife –’ I said.

‘You should see now.’

I stood undecided for a moment, then nodded. ‘Master treasurer,’ I said. ‘Could you excuse me for a moment?’

‘Where are you going?’ he asked crossly. ‘You and those boys, you were the first finders, you must stay for the coroner.’

‘I will be back in a minute. Then I will tell Mistress Elliard what has happened. I am a friend.’

The old man turned as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a newly arrived student approaching the body. ‘Get back, you crawling clerk!’ he shouted. I took the chance to get away.

Barak led me to a point twenty feet away. ‘See these footprints?’ he asked.

I looked down. Around the fountain the students and I had churned the snow to slush, and the onlookers had left a mess of prints converging on the murder scene. But Barak was pointing to a separate double trail, one approaching and another leading away from the fountain, that went round the side of the building where the Elliards lived. It was the spot where I had heard the unknown intruder a week before.

Barak bent to study the footprints. ‘Look how deep the ones leading to the fountain are. Deeper than the ones returning. Like he was carrying something heavy.’

‘I heard someone there on New Year’s Night,’ I breathed. ‘He got over the wall –’

‘Let’s follow the prints.’

‘I have to tell Dorothy –’

‘These will melt soon.’ In truth the morning sun had brought the first real warmth of spring; I could hear meltwater dripping from the eaves. I hesitated, then followed Barak round the side of the building.

‘They look like prints of a man of ordinary size,’ Barak said.

‘Bigger than Roger, anyway.’

The footprints went up to the wall, then turned sharply right. They ended at a heavy wooden door. ‘He got through here,’ Barak said.

‘He came over the wall last time. If it was him the other night.’

‘He wasn’t carrying a body then.’ Barak tried the gate. ‘It’s locked,’ he said.

‘Only the barristers have keys. The orchard is on the other side, then Lincoln’s Inn Fields. I’ve got a key, but it’s in chambers.’

‘Help me up,’ Barak said. I made a stirrup of my hands and Barak climbed up, resting his elbows on top of the wall. ‘The footsteps go on into the orchard,’ he said. He jumped down. ‘He carried poor Master Elliard in from the orchard? Jesu, he must be strong. Tell me which drawer the key’s in and I’ll run and get it.’

I hesitated. ‘I should go back. It should be me that tells Dorothy. The fountain is visible from her window –’

‘I’ll go by myself. But I must go now, before the footprints melt.’

‘You don’t know what you may find at the other end,’ I cautioned.

‘He’s long gone. But I’ll follow the footsteps as far as they go. We need to find out all we can. You know as well as I that if a murderer is not taken quickly, he is often never found.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And this is no normal killing, done for money or lust. The killer knocked him unconscious then carried him into Lincoln’s Inn and put him in the fountain. He was still alive when his throat was cut or he wouldn’t have bled. He must have knocked him out hard enough to keep him unconscious for a good time but not hard enough to kill him. That’s very chancy. What if he had woken and started struggling? It looks like some sort of awful vengeance.’

‘Roger hadn’t an enemy in the world. Was it another barrister? Only a member of Lincoln’s Inn would have a key to that door.’

‘We should go now, sir.’ Barak looked at me seriously. ‘If you are to tell the lady.’

I nodded, biting my lip. Barak squeezed my arm, an unexpected gesture, then began running back to Gatehouse Court. I followed more slowly. As I rounded the corner I heard a woman’s scream. I felt a violent shiver down my spine as I started to run.

I was too late. In the middle of the growing crowd around the fountain, Dorothy, dressed in a nightgown, was kneeling on the wet ground by her husband’s body, wailing piteously, a howl of utter desolation. My coat had been removed from Roger’s head; she had seen that awful face. She wailed again.

I RAN TO HER, knelt and grasped her by the shoulders. Under the thin material her skin was cold. She lifted her face to me; she looked utterly stricken, her eyes wide, mouth hanging open, her brown hair wildly disordered.

‘Matthew?’ she choked.

‘Yes. Dorothy – oh, you should not have come out, they should not have let you see …’ I glared accusingly at the crowd. People shuffled their feet, looking embarrassed.

‘I could not stop her,’ Treasurer Rowland said stiffly.

‘You could have tried!’

‘That is no way to talk to me –’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped, anger bursting out again. The Treasurer’s mouth fell open. I lifted Dorothy up. As soon as she stood she began trembling. ‘Come inside, Dorothy, come –’