The Medieval Murderers - The First Murder

He placed his hand on the book before them, patting it affectionately like the head of some favoured grandchild. Malinferno could bear the suspense no longer.

‘But what is it that makes you value it so much?’

There were no words embossed on the front of the book or the spine to give away its secret. And Bromhead was clearly determined to keep his companion in suspense a little longer. He was also keen to impress Malinferno with the marvellous bargain he had come across, so he ignored the question and continued his tale.

‘I could tell from the edges of the pages that it was old, because they are not made of paper but of vellum. Sheets of vellum stitched together at the edge, and bound in leather. I knew it would be something rare, but did not wish to reveal my interest to the old man in the shop. However, I could not resist a peep. I idly lifted the cover, and looked inside.’

He mimicked his action in the shop for Malinferno’s benefit. But as Malinferno bent down to examine the contents thus half-revealed, Augustus snapped the cover shut again. A little puff of dust flew out from the edge of the tome, causing Malinferno to sneeze. Apparently, he was to be kept in suspense a while longer.

‘What I saw convinced me I had to purchase the book. I lifted it up, aware for the first time of its weight, and walked across to the old man, who sat on his bench at the door like the guardian of Hell. When he saw what I had found, he sniffed disdainfully.

‘“Why should you want that old thing? It’s only some original manuscript for a set of plays my forebears printed off years ago. I was even told that bad luck follows those who enact the plays, especially that of ‘Cain and Abel’. However, I can sell you a fair copy of the eleventh edition set in Baskerville. Here, I will find it for you.”

‘Before I could protest, he rose creakily from his post, and wove his way through the piles of books that rose like accretions of sea-eroded rocks by the shore. He disappeared for a quarter of an hour in the back of the shop, and I was all for grabbing the manuscript and running. But finally he returned, even more dust-covered than he had been when he left. In his hand he held an old book, poorly bound with gold blocking on it that had faded over the years. But it was still possible to read it. It was called The Play of Adam . He thrust the printed book at me.

‘“Here it is. I knew we had a copy somewhere.”

‘Though I didn’t want it, I saw that I was not going to leave without the book he had found for me. So after some dickering we agreed a price that included both the printed text, and the manuscript. And it was a rare bargain, I can tell you.’

Bromhead finally sat back with a smug look on his round face. Malinferno took his chance, and opened the book at last. Thinking he was going to see the crabbed hand of some Jacobean writer, he was filled with curiosity about the contents. What he saw astonished him, and he turned the crackling pages with great care. Finally, he dared to speak.

‘It’s a medieval manuscript, isn’t it?’

Bromhead nodded eagerly. ‘In a very educated hand. It is not illuminated, but must be the- Take care, you idiot!’

His cry of anguish was not due to Malinferno’s handling of the book, but for the careless waiter who had finally brought Malinferno’s meal. The man dumped the chops and boiled potatoes in gravy heavily on the table, spattering the brown, greasy concoction in which the chops swam perilously close to the precious manuscript. He grunted an apology and would have compounded his error by wiping the surface of the manuscript with his dirty apron. But Bromhead managed to stay his hand, and he retreated grumbling about gentlemen treating the eating-house as if it were a library. While Malinferno tucked into his meal, Bromhead explained his plans for The Play of Adam .

‘I am seeking a theatre that might put on the plays included in this manuscript. It must be hundreds of years since they have last been performed. I have a little money available to me, though I shall need a rich sponsor too. I am to talk to Will Mossop, the manager of the Royal Coburg, this very day.’

Malinferno, who until this point had not paid much attention to what his friend had said, suddenly perked up. If Bromhead was prepared to pay to mount this play, maybe he would take on Doll in one of the parts. It did not need to be a major role, simply enough to assuage her desire to be an actress. Frankly, he thought she would not stick at it once she discovered how hard and repetitive the work was. He just needed to ensure she got the madcap scheme out of her system.

He swallowed a rather gristly piece of pork chop and, once recovered from the coughing fit it induced, enquired of Bromhead how far he had progressed in selecting a cast. The little man swayed on his seat, shaking his overlarge dome in such a way that Malinferno thought he might topple from his perch.

‘I have not yet settled on the theatre, let alone thought of actors. That is why I am seeing Mossop. Anyway, I would leave the choice of actors to the theatre manager.’

Malinferno grimaced. It would not be so easy to persuade an experienced theatrical person to go along with choosing Doll. On the other hand, the money man should carry some weight, so it was as well to keep in with Bromhead.

The Egyptological expert pushed his empty plate to one side, scrutinised the first page of the manuscript, and read the opening words out loud.

‘“I am gracious and great God without beginning.

I am maker unmade; all might is in me.

I am life and way, unto weal winning.

I am foremost and first; as I bid, shall it be.”’

They were obviously the words of God, so that wouldn’t be a part for Doll Pocket. He wondered if there was some small part for her to play. And as he turned the heavy, stiff pages he saw it. The next play was ‘The Fall of Man’, and he read aloud the dialogue down to the seductive words spoken by Eve to Adam as she offered him the apple.

‘“Bite on boldly, for it is true;

We shall be gods, and know everything!”’

He looked at Bromhead with a winning smile on his face.

‘I know just the actress for the role of Eve.’

The very person he had in mind was at that moment not thinking at all of her career as an actress. Doll had become engrossed in the puzzle of the Egyptian hieroglyphs that had so exercised Malinferno’s brain. She had read his notebook, where he had recorded the discoveries of Thomas Young concerning the name Ptolemy. It had astonished Doll to learn from Malinferno that this ruler of Egypt wasn’t really Egyptian, but Greek. And his name, according to Young, appeared on the Rosetta Stone at least three times. The mathematician had even tentatively identified some of the symbols as spelling out Ptolemy’s name sound by sound. And as Ptolemy had wed Berenice, Young assumed the next cartouche was her name, and identified some other sounds. But Young and many others still considered the signs and symbols on obelisks and papyruses as representing ideas not words. It was only the foreign Greek names that were different. So Doll spent the morning comparing Young’s translated sounds with the cartouches in Joe’s papyrus texts. The most promising name was frustratingly close to completion, and yet so far away. She looked at the word she had scribbled down in Joe’s notebook inserting dashes for the letters Young could not supply.

– OLE I P KE-KE

It was not very promising, but it had fired her imagination. She could see another possibility if only the bird symbol was not the ‘ke’ sound from the end of Berenice. Just as she began to try other sequences of symbols, she heard the creak of the stairs up to the first-floor rooms that Joe rented from Mrs Stanhope. She knew his gait, and the way he took two steps at a time when he was excited. She pushed the pen and ink aside, and turned round in the chair that was one of only two in the sparsely furnished parlour. The door burst open, and Malinferno entered with a look of the deepest pleasure on his face.