Authors: Paul Finch,Neil Jackson
Craddock (20 page)
Craddock tried to recollect what he knew about Jake Charnwood, the notorious robber and murderer, who, even by the standards of the London stews, was regarded as highly dangerous. He’d started off life as a soldier, but had been discharged on the grounds of insanity. After that he’d drifted into crime, first as a violent house-breaker, then as a highway man haunting the secluded lanes on the outskirts of the city. He’d finally found full-time employment among the capital’s criminal gangs, whom he worked for as an enforcer and assassin, a man who killed and tortured for pay. His crude likeness adorned ‘wanted’ posters everywhere from Birmingham to the South Coast, but little ground had been made. On one occasion, three London detectives had tracked him to a hideout on Jacob’s Island, on the south bank of the Thames. But Charnwood had killed them all.
“
What the devil are you doing out here?” Craddock demanded.
What the devil are you doing out here?” Craddock demanded.
“
At the moment, disposing of you.”
At the moment, disposing of you.”
“
Did you kill those two clergymen?”
Did you kill those two clergymen?”
Charnwood laughed. “I’m quite prolific, as you know. But it’s always been my curse that every murder the London peelers can’t solve, they pin on me. Are you northern filth no different?”
Unlikely though it was that Jake Charnwood would ever tell the truth about anything, on this occasion he probably was. Craddock had seen him arriving in the district several days
after
the Reverend Allgood and his deacon had been attacked.
after
the Reverend Allgood and his deacon had been attacked.
“
They’ll have a hangman’s rope for you, Charnwood,” Craddock warned him. “But things might not get that far. There’s something else out here. And it’s even more adept at taking life than you are.”
They’ll have a hangman’s rope for you, Charnwood,” Craddock warned him. “But things might not get that far. There’s something else out here. And it’s even more adept at taking life than you are.”
“
I’m really scared.”
I’m really scared.”
“
You ought to be.”
You ought to be.”
“
So should you!” Charnwood barked. He glanced east along the estuary “Turn o’ the tide’s imminent, I reckon.”
So should you!” Charnwood barked. He glanced east along the estuary “Turn o’ the tide’s imminent, I reckon.”
He backed away, towards higher ground. His men accompanied him.
“
Charnwood, you’re a hopeless case!” the major shouted. “A lunatic beyond redemption! But the rest of you are making a serious mistake!”
Charnwood, you’re a hopeless case!” the major shouted. “A lunatic beyond redemption! But the rest of you are making a serious mistake!”
“
Save your breath, major,” Charnwood replied, as he and his gang ascended to a ridge. “You’ll need it in the next hour.” One by one his men vanished, but Charnwood lingered. “I’d love to stay and watch, but we’ve got other work to do, and we don’t get paid by the hour.”
Save your breath, major,” Charnwood replied, as he and his gang ascended to a ridge. “You’ll need it in the next hour.” One by one his men vanished, but Charnwood lingered. “I’d love to stay and watch, but we’ve got other work to do, and we don’t get paid by the hour.”
“
You’re dead men, you know that?” Craddock said.
You’re dead men, you know that?” Craddock said.
Charnwood winked. “You first.”
And then he was gone.
Craddock hung there, helpless. Struggle as he might, he couldn’t loosen his bonds. He slumped down, gasping, wondering why Charnwood had gone to all this trouble, why he hadn’t just pulled a trigger and been done with it. But no, that would have been too simple. Murdering in this dramatic fashion was much more to Charnwood’s taste; a sure-fire method, but also elaborately sadistic, so that it would serve both as punishment and warning. Craddock gazed through bleary eyes over the rippled sand-flats – and now saw a line of foam approaching.
His spine stiffened.
Only seconds seemed to pass before wavelets were swirling around his feet. They were numbingly cold. The next thing, they were half way up his legs, slapping first his knees, then his thighs, then his groin. The cold deepened to an astonishing level. He fancied that he wouldn’t have time to die from drowning out here; that hypothermia would claim him first. By the time it was rolling around his waist, he was calling desperately for help. But his mouth was so beaten and bloodied, his teeth chattering so violently that he could barely get a word out. In any case, who would hear him in this forgotten place? If nothing else, he supposed, the authorities would know that he’d been murdered. Fastened to this stump, no undertow would carry him away. Of course, that was assuming he hadn’t rotted to carrion before someone came along.
The tide crept steadily up his body, now muddy with sand and debris. Craddock’s sense of perception slowly altered. It was almost as though he was sinking, the world towering above him with all its tumbling storm clouds and high, grass-topped sandbanks. The sea surface, though pouring past him in great gushes of white foam, seemed flat, rolling smoothly off to an immense horizon. Wavelets were now slopping around his chin. He battled to lift his head, but swallowed mouthfuls of brine. His body was frozen through, and though he continued to fight against his restraints, they were clumsy, vain efforts. The tree-trunk meanwhile remained fast in the ground, a rock-solid fixture that had resisted the elemental might of the ocean for centuries. A wave now hit his face full on, cutting a prolonged V-wash around it, boiling up his nose. Craddock knew he was doomed. There was nothing else he could do.
And, startlingly, someone was alongside him.
His first demented thought was that it was Abigail, come in ethereal form to guide him to the other side. But then he realized that dirty, whitish locks hung around her head in a drenched mop; that she wore working-clothes, the ragged skirts and shawls of which billowed about in the flood; that her face – a mask of determination as she fought hard to get a grip on him – was strong and lined, but aged far more than Abigail’s had been when she’d finally relapsed into death.
Just before Craddock’s head went under completely, he saw a metallic glint in the woman’s submerged fist. It was a blade, and it was moving back and forth, sawing vigorously at his bonds.
They made a bedraggled pair as they assisted each other along the footpath. With a combined age of over a hundred years, they’d worn themselves to a point from just beyond which there’d perhaps have been no return. They trudged wearily, leaning on each other’s shoulders, the icy wind lashing at them in their wringing-wet clothes. It was sheer torment. But it was life.
“
I … I was looking for the first coltsfoot of the year,” Madam Godhigfu gasped, fingering the garden-knife now tucked in her belt. “I suffer from bad coughs.”
I … I was looking for the first coltsfoot of the year,” Madam Godhigfu gasped, fingering the garden-knife now tucked in her belt. “I suffer from bad coughs.”
“
Thank God for coltsfoot,” Craddock stammered.
Thank God for coltsfoot,” Craddock stammered.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back in the parlour of her cottage. Craddock sat on the armchair, wrapped in plaid blankets. The grate had been freshly stacked with logs, which burned feverishly. An iron guard had been set up in front of it, and his sodden clothes were draped over this. He clutched another mug of sweet mint-tea, the hot fumes of which, themselves alone, were proving sufficient to revive him.
He peered into the orange flames. Without doubt, that was the closest he’d come to death since his army days; so close in fact that even now he was having difficulty accepting that he’d survived it. This was a feeling he’d experienced once or twice before, but it was a feeling no man could get used to – when you’d missed death by such a hair’s breadth that, the more you dwelled on it, the more it occurred to you that you’d somehow cheated God, that you’d actually been supposed to die and because you hadn’t, fate would come to call again in the very near future.
“
How are you now?” Madam Godhigfu asked.
How are you now?” Madam Godhigfu asked.
She was standing by the door, also bundled in blankets and drinking one of her potions. Her damp hair was combed out to inordinate length. It fell almost to her waist.
He nodded. “I’m well. Thanks to you.”
“
Dare I ask how it was you came to find yourself in that position?”
Dare I ask how it was you came to find yourself in that position?”
“
You can ask, but I think you already know the answer.”
You can ask, but I think you already know the answer.”
“
The fabled treasure?”
The fabled treasure?”
He took a sip of tea. “Initially, I wasn’t sure whether to take you seriously. But I can’t think of anything else that would have attracted the gentlemen I met today to a place like King’s Fen.”
“
No-one knows where the treasure is,” she said. “If it exists at all.”
No-one knows where the treasure is,” she said. “If it exists at all.”
“
But there’s been some excavation. I’ve seen it for myself … in a second chamber beyond the crypt. Curate Hendricks thinks it an old working, a leftover from before the renovation, but I’m not so sure. If it was, it doesn’t seem to go anywhere.”
But there’s been some excavation. I’ve seen it for myself … in a second chamber beyond the crypt. Curate Hendricks thinks it an old working, a leftover from before the renovation, but I’m not so sure. If it was, it doesn’t seem to go anywhere.”
“
And you think these men are responsible for it?”
And you think these men are responsible for it?”
“
Well someone’s been visiting the crypt at night. On the other hand, it could have been the work of Reverend Allgood.”
Well someone’s been visiting the crypt at night. On the other hand, it could have been the work of Reverend Allgood.”
She looked surprised. “The one who died?”
“
I’m told he volunteered to re-open St. Brae’s. I’m also told he was given to good living.”
I’m told he volunteered to re-open St. Brae’s. I’m also told he was given to good living.”
“
That would certainly explain how these scoundrels knew where to dig.”
That would certainly explain how these scoundrels knew where to dig.”
Craddock pondered that. He’d come to suspect that Allgood might have been looking for the gold, but he’d never considered that the vicar would actually have been in league with criminals; not criminals of the Jake Charnwood variety.
“
St. Brae’s is a large church,” Madam Godhigfu added. “ An opportunist thief would have his work cut out getting anywhere near the treasure. Allgood, on the other hand, would probably have made a detailed study of the building before taking up his post. He’d have memorised every scrap of information … historical, archaeological.”
St. Brae’s is a large church,” Madam Godhigfu added. “ An opportunist thief would have his work cut out getting anywhere near the treasure. Allgood, on the other hand, would probably have made a detailed study of the building before taking up his post. He’d have memorised every scrap of information … historical, archaeological.”
The major tried to recall what he knew about the Reverend Allgood. By reputation, he’d been an old and ample man, and would certainly have needed assistance with any heavy work down in the crypt. But then he’d had the young athlete, Arrowsmith, with him. And surely a scholar and cleric, formerly of York Minster, wouldn’t have had any truck with a London crime syndicate? Would he even know who they were, not to mention how to contact them?
More puzzling still was the unresolved question of how the two clerics had died. If the criminals had been responsible, they would hardly have left the bodies on the altar. Craddock thought again about the Spectre of St. Brae’s, and shuddered.
“
I need to go back over there,” he said. “To the church.”
I need to go back over there,” he said. “To the church.”
Madam Godhigfu was now standing in front of the fire. She glanced round at him as if doubting his sanity.
“
Those people need stopping,” Craddock added. “I don’t know in what way yet, but they’re involved in something hideous. Unleashing something they can’t even comprehend.”
Those people need stopping,” Craddock added. “I don’t know in what way yet, but they’re involved in something hideous. Unleashing something they can’t even comprehend.”
“
But if there are as many of them as you say, and they’re all armed, how can you do anything on your own?”
But if there are as many of them as you say, and they’re all armed, how can you do anything on your own?”
“
I too am armed … or rather, I
was
.” This was an ugly thought. “Highly likely my revolver is now in their possession. But I still need to get to the inn at King’s Fen. There, I can either round up assistance from the locals, or send a message to the nearest telegraph office, requesting more police officers.”
I too am armed … or rather, I
was
.” This was an ugly thought. “Highly likely my revolver is now in their possession. But I still need to get to the inn at King’s Fen. There, I can either round up assistance from the locals, or send a message to the nearest telegraph office, requesting more police officers.”
“
You shouldn’t go back over there, unarmed.”
You shouldn’t go back over there, unarmed.”
“
Do
you
have a gun?” he asked.
Do
you
have a gun?” he asked.
“
I have this.” She lifted something from behind one of the bookcases. “It’s an early medieval hunting-lance, from around the period of the Conquest.”
I have this.” She lifted something from behind one of the bookcases. “It’s an early medieval hunting-lance, from around the period of the Conquest.”
Craddock gazed doubtfully at the weapon. It had a long black shaft, probably cut from ash, and a spearhead of flat, beaten iron, which tapered to a vicious point. It was about four feet in length, and still solid, but it looked primitive in the extreme.
“
As you can see, it’s been customised into a weapon,” she said, pushing it into his hands. “The haft shortened, the blade honed for greater penetration. Many of the Englishmen who sought refuge out here were little more than peasant farmers … they resisted the Normans with the basic tools of their trade. My father ploughed this one up from the bogs about sixty years ago. If nothing else …”
As you can see, it’s been customised into a weapon,” she said, pushing it into his hands. “The haft shortened, the blade honed for greater penetration. Many of the Englishmen who sought refuge out here were little more than peasant farmers … they resisted the Normans with the basic tools of their trade. My father ploughed this one up from the bogs about sixty years ago. If nothing else …”
“
I appreciate your help, Madam Godhigfu,” Craddock interrupted, handing the implement back, “but I don’t think you understand the sort of opposition we’re facing.”
I appreciate your help, Madam Godhigfu,” Craddock interrupted, handing the implement back, “but I don’t think you understand the sort of opposition we’re facing.”
“
I understand that any man going up against a villainous crew responsible for several murders, needs to be armed in
some
way.”
I understand that any man going up against a villainous crew responsible for several murders, needs to be armed in
some
way.”
He knew that she was trying to help. Lord God, he already owed her his life. But she really
did
live in another era. “Don’t think I’m being rude,” he said, “but this antiquated pig-sticker doesn’t constitute being armed in the nineteenth century.”
did
live in another era. “Don’t think I’m being rude,” he said, “but this antiquated pig-sticker doesn’t constitute being armed in the nineteenth century.”
She shrugged. “As you wish. I suppose you’re also too modern a man to consider making use of my horse?”
“
Your horse?”
Your horse?”
“
Of course, it’s neither as fast nor as tireless as a steam train, but we appear to be out of steam trains down here in the fens at the present time.”
Of course, it’s neither as fast nor as tireless as a steam train, but we appear to be out of steam trains down here in the fens at the present time.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You have a horse?”
A short while later, fully dressed again – Madam Godhigfu in another basic, work-a-day outfit, Major Craddock in the outdated ‘Cossacks’ frock-coat and Hessian boots, once sported by his hostess’s father – they went into a paddock at the rear of the cottage, where a dozen apple trees grew.
“
This is Fireflax,” Madam Godhigfu said. “She isn’t a young animal, but she’s sturdy and she knows this region well. She won’t get lost or stumble into the mire.”
This is Fireflax,” Madam Godhigfu said. “She isn’t a young animal, but she’s sturdy and she knows this region well. She won’t get lost or stumble into the mire.”
A handsome mare, with a delightful burnished coat, stood tethered to a stump, tossing her tawny mane. Craddock spent a few minutes making friends with her, then glanced around at the trees. “Don’t you find she eats the apples?”
“
Not if I tell her not to.”
Not if I tell her not to.”
“
I see. Well … she’s ideal, I must say.”
I see. Well … she’s ideal, I must say.”
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