Philip Pullman: Once Upon a time in the North

Pierre McConville was a hired killer with at least twenty murders to his name. Lee had come across him in the Dakota country. In the summer before he won his balloon in the poker game, Lee was working for a rancher called Lloyd, and there was a boundary dispute that erupted into a minor war, with half a dozen men killed before it was settled. In the course of it Mr Lloyd's enemy hired McConville to pick off Lloyd's men one by one. He had killed three men by the time the Rapid City gendarmes caught up with him. He shot two of the ranch hands from a distance, undetected, and then he made a mistake: he provoked a quarrel with young Jimmy Partlett, Lloyd's nephew, over cards and drink, and shot him dead in front of witnesses who could be relied on to testify that the dead man had started it. The mistake was that one of the witnesses changed his testimony, and told the truth.

McConville allowed himself to be arrested with the air of someone fulfilling a minor bureaucratic formality. He was tried for murder in front of a corrupted and terrified jury, and acquitted; following which he promptly shot the truthful witness dead in the street, with no attempt to hide what he was doing, as the gendarmes were riding out of town pleading urgent business in Rapid City. But that was another mistake. With the utmost reluctance the gendarmes turned round and arrested him again, after a brief exchange of lead projectiles, and this time set out to take him to the capital of the province. They never got there. In fact they were never seen again. It was assumed that McConville had somehow killed the officers and made off, and soon afterwards Mr Lloyd, sickened by the whole business, sold his ranch cheaply to the disputatious neighbour, and retired to Chicagoa.

Lee had appeared in the witness box during the trial, because he had been present when one of the ranch hands was killed, and he was asked to testify to the character of youngjimmy Partlett too. McConville's bony face and lean frame, his deep-set black eyes and giant hands, were unmistakable, and the way he stared across the court at the witnesses for the prosecution - with a measuring sort of look, a look of cold, slow, brutal calculation with nothing human in it at all - was unforgettable.

And now here he was on Novy Odense, guarding a politician, and Lee had been damn fool enough to provoke him.

In the middle of the night, Lee got up to visit the bathroom. As he felt his way down the corridor in the dark, wrapped in his long coat against the cold, Hester whispered, 'Lee - listen

He stood still. From behind the door on his left there came the sound of muffled, passionate sobbing.

'Miss Lund?' Lee whispered.

'That's her,' Hester said.

Lee didn't like to leave anyone in distress, but he considered it might distress her even more to know that her trouble had been overheard. He continued on his way, shivering, and then tiptoed back, hoping the floor wouldn't creak and disturb her.

But when he reached his door he heard the sound of a handle turning behind him, and a narrow beam of candlelight shone into the corridor as a door opened.

He turned to see Miss Lund in a nightgown, her hair unpinned, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. Her expression was inscrutable.

'Apologies if I disturbed you, Miss Lund,' he said quietly. He looked down so as not to embarrass her.

'Mr Scoresby...Mr Scoresby, I hoped it was you. Forgive me; but may I ask for your advice?' she said, and then, awkwardly, 'There is no one else I can...I think you are a gentleman.'

Her voice was low - he'd forgotten that; and it was steady and sweet.

'Why, of course you may,' Lee said.

She bit her lip and looked up and down the empty corridor.

'Not here,' she said. 'Please could you...?'

She stood aside, opening her door further.

They were both speaking very quietly. Lee picked up Hester and entered the narrow bedroom. It was as cold as his, but it smelt of lavender rather than smokeleaf, and her clothes were neatly folded and hung instead of being strewn across the floor.

'How can I help you, miss?'

She put the candle on the mantelpiece over the empty grate, and closed the journal that lay next to the pen and bottle of ink on the little round table with the lace cloth on it. Then she pulled out the one chair for Lee to sit on.

He did so, still not wanting to look her in the face

in case she was embarrassed by her tears, but then he realised that if she had the courage to initiate this strange encounter, he should honour that by not patronising her. He lifted his head to look at her, tall and slender and still, with the dim light glittering on her cheeks.

Lee waited for her question. She seemed to be wondering how to frame it. Her hands were clasped in front of her mouth, and she was looking at the floor. Finally she said:

'There is something I have been asked to do, and I am afraid of saying yes in case it would be better to say no. I mean, not better for me, but better for - for the person who asked me. I am not very experienced in such matters, Mr Scoresby. I suppose few people are, before it happens. And I am alone here and there is no one to ask for advice. I am not putting this very well. I am so sorry to trouble you.'

'Don't apologise, Miss Lund. I don't know if I can give you advice that would be any good to you, but I'll sure try. Seems to me that this person who asked you to do something hopes you'll do it, or they wouldn't have asked. And...and it seems to me that the best judge of whether it would be good for them is them. I don't think you should worry yourself about giving

a particular answer when that answer might suit your personal preference. It ain't dishonourable to consider your own interests. It might be more dishonourable to do what you think is the right thing for someone else when it ain't the right thing for you. This is about honour, ain't it?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Hard thing to get right.'

'That's why I asked for your advice.'

'Well, Miss Lund, if this is a thing you want to do...'

'I do very much.'

'And it won't harm anyone -'

'I thought it might harm...the person who asked me.'

'You must let them be the judge of that.'

'Yes, I see. Yes.'

'Then it would be honourable enough to do it.'

She stood still, this tall bony gawky girl in her white nightgown and her bare feet, her face so unguarded it was almost naked, a face where intelligence and honesty and shyness and courage and hope all blended into an expression that touched Lee's heart so strongly he all but fell in love with her there and then. He saw her soft hands holding her daemon to her breast. And he saw her grace, the sweet overcoming of her young body's clumsiness - for she was young; and he thought how proud she would make any man who gained her approval; and he thought if once he was privileged to hold this treasure of a girl in his arms, he would never again look at a vapid doll like Miss Poliakova.

Suddenly she held out her hand to shake. He stood up and took it.

'I am most grateful,' she said.

'Happy to help, miss, and I wish you very well,' said Lee. 'I truly hope you can stop worrying about this.'

A few chilly seconds later he was in his own bed, with Hester beside him on the pillow.

'Well, Hester,' he said, 'what was that all about?'

'You don't know? She had a proposal of marriage, of course, you big fool.'

'She did? No kidding! How about that. And what did I advise her to do?'

'To say yes, of course.'

'Sheesh,' said Lee. 'I hope I got that right.'