Ngaio Marsh - Death of a Fool

“And that’s what Mrs. Bünz didn’t know about,” Ralph muttered.

“Who is it?” Camilla wondered. “He knows it all, doesn’t he? It’s horrible.”

“It’s that damned young Bill,” Ralph muttered. “There’s nobody else who does know. By Heaven, when I get hold of him —”

Camilla said, “Darling, you don’t think —?”

He turned his head and looked steadily at Camilla for a moment before answering her.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said at last. “But I know damn’ well that if the Guiser had spotted Mrs. Bünz dressed up as ‘Crack’ he’d have gone for her like a fury.”

“But nothing happened ,” Camilla said. “I stood here and I looked and nothing happened .”

“I know,” he said.

“Well, then — how? Was he carried off? Or something?” Ralph shook his head.

Dr. Otterly had struck up a bouncing introduction. The Five Sons, who had removed their bells, took up their swords and came forward into position. And through the central archway jogged the Hobby-Horse, moving slowly.

“Here she comes,” Camilla said. “You’d never guess, would you?”

Alleyn and Fox reappeared and stood inside the archway. Beyond them, lit by the bonfire, was Simon.

The Sons began the first part of the triple sword-dance.

They had approached their task with a lowering and reluctant air. Alleyn wondered if there was going to be a joint protest about the re-enactment of the Fool. Ernie hadn’t removed his gaze from the dolorous mask. His eyes were unpleasantly brilliant and his face glistened with sweat. He came forward with his brothers and had an air of scarcely knowing what he was about. But there was some compulsion in the music. They had been so drilled by their father and so used to executing their steps with a leap and a flourish that they were unable to dance with less than the traditional panache. They were soon hard at it, neat and vigorous, rising lightly and coming down hard. The ring of steel was made. Each man grasped his successor’s sword by its red ribbon. The lock, or knot, was formed. Dan raised it aloft to exhibit it and it glittered in the torchlight. Young Bill approached and looked at the knot as if at his reflection in a glass.

A metallic rumpus broke out on the steps. It was Dame Alice indulging in a wild cachinnation on her hunting horn.

Dr. Otterly lowered his bow. The dancers, the Betty and the Hobby-Horse were motionless.

“Yes, Dame Alice?” Alleyn asked.

“The Hobby ain’t close enough,” she said. “Nothin’ like. It kept sidlin’ up to Will’m. D’you ’gree?” she barked at the Rector.

“I rather think it did.”

“What does everybody else say to this?” Alleyn asked.

Dr. Otterly said he remembered noticing that “Crack” kept much closer than usual to the Fool.

“So do I,” Ralph said. “Undoubtedly it did. Isn’t that right?” he added, turning to the Andersens.

“So ’tis, then, Mr. Ralph,” Dan said. “I kind of seed it was there when we was hard at it dancing. And afterwards, in all the muck-up, I reckon I forgot. Right?” He appealed to his brothers.

“Reckon so,” they said, glowering at the Hobby, and Chris added angrily, “Prying and sneaking and none of us with the sense to know. What she done it for?”

“In order to hear what the Fool said when he looked in the ‘glass’?” Alleyn suggested. “ Was it, Mrs. Bünz?” he shouted, standing over the Hobby-Horse and peering at its neck. “Did you go close because you wanted to hear?”

A muffled sound came through the neck. The great head swayed in a grotesque nod.

“ ‘ Once for a looker,’ ” Alleyn quoted, “ ‘ and all must agree /If I bashes the looking-glass so I’ll go free .’ Was that what he said?”

The head nodded again.

“Stand closer then, Mrs. Bünz. Stand as you did on Wednesday.”

The Hobby-Horse stood closer.

“Go on,” Alleyn said. “Go on, Fool.”

Young Bill, using both hands, took the knot of swords by the hilts and dashed it to the ground. Dr. Otterly struck up again, the Sons retrieved their swords and began the second part of the dance, which was an exact repetition of the first. They now had the air of being fiercely dedicated. Even Ernie danced with concentration, though he continually threw glances of positive hatred at the Fool.

And the Hobby-Horse stood close.

It swayed and fidgeted as if the being at its centre was uneasy. Once, as the head moved, Alleyn caught a glimpse of eyes behind the window in its neck.

The second sword-knot was made and exhibited by Dan. Then young Bill leant his mask to one side and mimed the writing of the Will and the offer of the Will to the Sons.

Alleyn quoted again:

“ ‘ Twice for a Testament. Read it and see/If you look at the leavings then so I’ll go free.’ ”

The Betty drew nearer. The Hobby and the Betty now stood right and left of the dolmen.

The Sons broke the knot and began the third part of the dance.

To the party of three on the steps, to the watching audience and the policemen and to Camilla, who looked on with a rising sensation of nausea, it seemed as if the Five Sons now danced on a crescendo that thudded like a quickening pulse towards its climax.

For the last and the third time their swords were interlaced and Dan held them aloft. The Fool was in his place behind the dolmen, the hermaphrodite and the horse stood like crazy acolytes to left and right of the stone. Dan lowered the knot of swords to the level of the Fool’s head. Each of the Sons laid hold of his own sword-hilt. The fiddling stopped.

“I can’t look,” Camilla thought and then, “But that’s not how it was. They’ve gone wrong again.”

At the same time the gong, the hunting horn and Alleyn’s whistle sounded. Ralph Stayne, Tom Plowman and Trixie all held up their hands and Dr. Otterly raised his bow.

It was the Hobby-Horse again. It should, they said, have been close behind the Fool, who was now leaning across the dolmen towards the sword-lock.

Very slowly the Hobby moved behind the Fool.

“And then,” Alleyn said, “came the last verse. ‘ Here comes the rappers to send me to bed/They’ll rapper my head off and then I’ll be dead .’ Now.”

Young Bill leant over the dolmen and thrust his head with its rabbit-cap and mask into the lock of swords. There he was, grinning through a steel halter.

“ Betty to lover me

Hobby to cover me

If you cut off my head

I’ll rise from the dead. ”

The swords flashed and sang. The rabbit head dropped on the dolmen. The Fool slid down behind the stone out of sight.

“Go on,” Alleyn said. He stood beside the Hobby-Horse. The Fool lay at their feet. Alleyn pointed at Ralph Stayne. “It’s your turn,” he said. “Go on.”

Ralph said apologetically, “I can’t very well without any audience.”

“Why not?”

“It was an ad lib. It depended on the audience.”

“Never mind. You’ve got Mr. Plowman and Trixie and a perambulation of police. Imagine the rest.”

“It’s so damn’ silly,” Ralph muttered.

“Oh, get on ,” Dame Alice ordered. “What’s the matter with the boy!”

From the folds of his crate-like skirt Ralph drew out a sort of ladle that hung on a string from his waist. Rather half-heartedly he made a circuit of the courtyard and mimed the taking up of a collection.

“That’s all,” he said and came to a halt.

Dame Alice tooted, Dulcie banged the gong and Chris Andersen shouted, “No, it bean’t all, neither.”

“I mean it’s all of that bit,” Ralph said to Alleyn.