The House of the Wicked

15





Soulful Chimes





The man stepped aside reluctantly and swung open the door to let her in. “Mr Hendra will not be best pleased if he found out I let you in to see him,” he said, nervously looking over his shoulder.

She glowered at him and he shrank back from her. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, keeping the poor man locked up like this.”

Jowan Connoch sat huddled in a dark corner of the cellar, his legs and wrists bound with serpent-like coils of thick rope, which in turn was fastened securely to an iron hoop embedded in the wet stone wall. The place reeked of damp and fish. There was no window; the only light fell in through the half-open doorway. The stone flags were puddled with rank-smelling water.

“What have they done to you, Jowan?” she said, going over to him, putting a soft hand to his bloodied cheek.

The scent of her wafted over him and he raised his head. At first he appeared not to recognise her, then his lips stretched into a frail smile. “You will get dirt on your fine dress, Jenna,” he said, and coughed painfully.

“They cannot do this, truss you up like some wild animal.” She rose indignantly to her feet. “Release this man at once!” she cried. “At once, do you hear me?”

“I hear you miss, but I cannot do as you bid. I am under orders from your father.”

“Damn my father’s orders!” she said. “Do as I tell you or you will pay dearly.”

“Then I will pay dearly whichever way I take things, miss, but it’s a case of balancing which Hendra would be worse for me and in this instance your father wins out.” His face hardened. “Say your piece to him and then leave, as soon as you can, miss.”

“Jenna, please…” said Jowan. She returned to his side and began to unpick at the tight, resisting knots. She failed. “It is no use, Jenna. They want me dead. Didn’t you see the people outside? They would hang me. At least in here I am safe and comfortable, after a fashion.” He attempted a laugh, but his head sank to his chest, as if his neck were too weak to hold it up. “I am too feeble to care. I just need to sleep.”

“You didn’t do it, did you Jowan? Tell me you didn’t do it.”

He blinked, swallowed hard. “You need me to tell you? Do you too have your doubts just like everyone else? Is the entire place against me, you included?”

“I will find out the truth, Jowan, about your mother and father. I will do all in my power to help you.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why would a Hendra help a Connoch?”

“I have my reasons,” she said softly.

“Then you will have to fight against an entire village to do so. Tunny has them set against me. It has been so before I ever set foot back in this place. He has poisoned their minds.”

“That man has done irreparable harm. This nonsense about Baccan must end if this is the sad result. I will not stand to see this injustice.”

He coughed and his entire frame shook. “Baccan? Jenna, I have to tell you something, but you will think me mad.” He uttered a frail, glass-like chuckle. “I begin to think myself mad also.”

She wiped away blood from his wrists with her handkerchief. “Madness?” she said. “It is all around. I know not what this village is coming to.”

“When I arrived in Porthgarrow, and was beaten up there on the cliff, I saw in the gloom below, at the base of Baccan’s Maw, a figure. A strange, animal-like figure. Jenna, I swear it looked up at me. I swear it was Baccan.”

“That is rot. You imagined it.”

“And if Baccan is real, then might it not be true that the old tales of the Connochs are true? Might I not be cursed, as all Connochs have been cursed?”

She shook her head. “You ramble because of your fever. You are not well.”

“You will have to go now,” said the man at the door.

“Don’t worry, Jowan; I will help you,” she said, going to the door. “See to it that this man’s bonds are loosened,” she ordered the guard. “Make him more comfortable. I shall arrange for a doctor to tend to him.” She brushed past the man. “You are callous brutes!” she said.

“He is a murderer!” he retorted, then regretted it on seeing her fiery expression turned on him.

She left the palace. Outside, a small group had gathered, the hatred on their faces clear to see. “Go home!” said Jenna angrily. “Why must you hound this man so? Enough of this nonsense. Where will I find Tunny?”

They backed off a little, a woman informing her that he was seen headed to his cottage. She lifted her skirts and stormed off at a pace with the small crowd staring at her back.



* * * *



He reached the door to his house, his mind swamped with recent events, and was about to enter when a shadow appeared at his shoulder. He turned to see an anxious-looking young man.

“Can I help?” he asked wearily, but the man remained silent, transfixed. Biddle swung open the door, took a hold of the tripod and camera. “I’m sorry, you will have to excuse me, I am very busy.”

“Please…” said the man, the word gushing from him. “I must speak with you.”

“Perhaps it can wait? I have to stow this away and seek out the relatives of the poor unfortunate girl in the ruins.” He made a decided move to enter.

“Please, Reverend, this is important. It concerns the girl and the prisoner Jowan Connoch.”

Biddle studied the man intently over the rim of his spectacles. “What is your name?”

He looked about him, almost nervously. The words appeared to stick in his mouth. “My name is Percy Cotter – one of the clifftoppers, here for the work…” he faltered, blinking rapidly. “I work – worked - for Mr Hendra. We’re leaving Porthgarrow.”

Biddle bade the man enter the house with a sweep of his hand. He followed him in, closing the door. “Let me put this over here,” he said, going to a crowded corner of the room and resting the equipment against the wall next to a grandmother clock. “Pray, what is it that’s giving you such concern?”

“I was there when Mr Hendra knocked over your box of tricks,” said Cotter uncertainly, removing his hat and holding it firmly between both hands.

“An accident,” said Biddle. “Please, don’t stand on ceremony, take a seat.”

“Sir, it is not my intention to stay.” He was obviously finding it increasingly difficult to speak. “Listen, sir, you are a man of the church, are you not?”

“You are a keen observer,” he said.

“I can trust you?”

He frowned. “But of course.”

“Not to reveal who it was that told you what I’m going to tell you now?”

“The conversation remains between us, if that is your wish. You have my full confidence. What is it that troubles you?”

“You are friends of Mr Hendra?”

He raised a brow. “We have been so for many years. Where is this leading, Mr Cotter?”

“Jowan is being blamed for something his father is supposed to have done – that’s what’s at the heart of this.” He motioned to the door, to the world outside. “They find him guilty purely because he is a Connoch. Mr Hendra, he will not listen to any other version of events. It’s as if his mind is made up.”

“And what if he is right?” he said, but his conviction wavered.

“My family have been coming to Porthgarrow most every year since I was very young. So too the year of the murder, thirteen years ago. The very night that Jowan’s father was said to have killed his mother, my elder brother and father were out drinking with his friends. I was only nine years old, and so not allowed out of camp beyond a certain time. I waited till late and then decided to go out and spy on them, being of a mischievous disposition, as children are at that age and eager to see what the older men got up to. I crept out of camp and had reached the graveyard on the way down when I saw a man, standing alone by one of the headstones in the dark. At first I thought nothing of it, but that he was a little drunk, and I was about to leave him to his maudlin mumblings when three men came rushing through the grounds towards him. There was a scuffle and the man was sent to the ground and knocked all but senseless. They then did the strangest thing and pulled him to his feet and proceeded to drag the man through the ruins and onto the cliff top. I retreated under the cover of bushes as they passed me. I heard the man swearing at them to let him go, but they beat him into silence and bundled him along. I was both horrified and confused at what was happening, so I followed them, afraid they may harm the man further. They reached the cliff, above Baccan’s Maw…”

He stumbled into silence, as if he knew he had said too much already. “Mr Cotter, please go on, tell me what happened next,” Biddle urged.

“They took the man to the edge of the cliff…” He paused again. “Then they calmly pushed him over the edge, to his death. They killed him, Reverend.” His eyes darted nervously. “Next day we found out that Jowan Connoch had murdered his wife, and had supposedly admitted to it before throwing himself off the cliff. But, Reverend, that bit isn’t true. He was beaten and murdered without saying a word.”

He stared at him. “Why didn’t you say something at the time, Mr Cotter? Why did you keep it a secret till now? Your story has tremendous implications.”

He shook his head. “Remember, I was very young. Nobody pays much heed to a boy. I kept it a secret at first, because I wasn’t supposed to be out anyhow. But I told my father as soon as I could, when I heard about the woman’s murder, and the falsehood that he had admitted to it and cast himself over the cliff. I told him that Jowan had instead been dragged to his death. But he insisted I had been mistaken and beat me first for disobeying his wish I stay in camp, and again for making such a thing up. I was not to say another word on the subject. And anyhow, the man was a murderer, so no matter how he died justice had been done. Over the years I almost came to believe that I had imagined the entire night, nothing more than a young boy’s flight of fancy. And maybe it was after all.” He appeared to struggle with himself. “The other day, when my brother and I came to young Jowan’s rescue, almost at the same spot his father died, that terrible night came back to haunt me. And here was the same thing happening all over again, I thought.”

“But who were these men you speak of? The ones that pushed Jowan’s father to his death? They must be brought to justice if what you say is true.”

“That’s it, Reverend. I recognised a couple of them. They were Mr Hendra’s men, in his hire at the time.”

Biddle’s head cocked to one side, his eyes widening at the inference. “Do you know what it is you say?”

“All I’m saying, sir, is that it ain’t right that the man’s being blamed for this, and Mr Hendra’s all but shouting it from the headland to anyone that will listen that young Jowan is guilty. His word is law around here. For too long it has remained so. If anyone can speak to him and help put this right, it’s you, Reverend.” He slapped his hat back on and went to the door.

“Wait!”

“I’ve said too much already. Remember,” he said, his face shaded by the brim of his hat, “do not let on who told you. I have your word as a man of God.”

And with that he left Biddle contemplating what had just been revealed. At that moment the tripod slid down and clunked against the clock case. A deep, soulful chime, like the tolling of a distant bell, echoed around the room.



* * * *



Tunny sat and stared at the empty chair, the very chair Keziah had been in when she received his instructions. He ran a scraggy hand across his face. His mind was in turmoil, his very beliefs now tested to their limit. He felt that all through his life he had been living a lie, that he had been betrayed by the one person he had trusted. He could not bear to think that he had been nothing more than Yardarm’s cruel tool, and that his overwhelming desire to believe in the Baccan legend had been used in some way to put the blame of murder on an innocent man. If this were true, then what kind of a man was he; he that purported to have the interests of others at heart? Was there another innocent man being held prisoner, in danger of his life because of him? What should he do? He groaned deeply.

There was a sharp rapping at the door. He opened it to Jenna Hendra. She did not wait for an invite but brushed by him and stood in the centre of the room with her arms folded.

“Come in,” he said sullenly. “You wanted to see me?”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

He gave a shrug. “Fire your bullets, Miss Hendra. I will not be a moving target.”

“How could you? Jowan is kept tied like an animal, accused of murder, and all because you continue to pedal those absurd, old-fashioned and quite ludicrous stories. This has to stop, Tunny. I insist you hold that tongue of yours. Jowan is innocent.”

“You are young, Miss Hendra. You are of the age when you think you know the answers to everything. It is so easy for you to dismiss all with a swipe of your finely manicured hand. There is still much for you to learn.” He motioned to a chair. Again, the one Keziah had sat in. “Please, Miss Hendra, take a seat.”

She remained fixed, arms crossed, face pale and cold. “I have no intention of staying, Tunny. I only wish to say that I will do all in my power to discredit you, to drive you from Porthgarrow if need be. I will not stand for it. Your tales have damaged lives and continue to do so. ”

He did not rise to her bait, but calmly nodded, indicating the chair again. She gave a grunt, turned and sat brusquely down. He sat opposite her, his eyes staring somewhere to the left of his boot. “I believe Jowan to be innocent too,” he said quietly. “And, I add in my defence, I am not the one who sent men to have him beaten, to drive him away. I am not the one who lays the blame for Keziah’s death at his door. For this you need to look closer to home.” She shuffled uncomfortably at this. He drew in a breath that rattled in his throat. “More than that, I have the suspicion his father also took the blame for something he did not do.”

She gasped, her arms finally unfolding slowly, her body leaning forward. “You do? Why? What makes you say this now, after all this time?”

He raised a hand, his fingers moving to rub the loose skin at his temple. “I have been much troubled, Miss Hendra. Much troubled by what I have recently learnt. It has thrown many of my beliefs into the air. You do not know how it pains me to say all this.” His eyes steeled again. “But I will not, like you, readily dismiss everything that I know – that I feel.” He jabbed a thumb to his heart. His mind went back to what passed through him when he gripped Gerran Hendra’s resisting wrist. The future he saw played out for him.

“That does not excuse the harm you have caused.”

His pale, watery eyes were rimmed with red, as if he had not slept for days. “That is true enough. There are no excuses but that whatever I did I did in the best interests of the people of Porthgarrow.”

Seeing his crestfallen face, like stony ground blown dry by a harsh wind, she softened a little. “You said you have come into possession of knowledge that has changed your mind about Jowan’s father…”

A lone gull wailed agonizingly overhead and his chin rose a little to the chilling sound. “On the night of the murder young Jowan was at my sister’s house. She was told to look after him, keep him there. She never thought much about it, for it is common practice for children to be looked after by others in the village.”

Her smooth brow crumpled into a frown. “His mother must have had a good reason to want to send him to your sister. Perhaps she anticipated something terrible happening.”

“Yet fail to protect the baby too, which remained in the cottage? In any event, Miss Hendra, I have recently found out that she didn’t ask my sister to fetch him; it was John Carbis, your father’s secretary, who came to my sister to tell her to go and take Jowan from the cottage.”

Her eyes widened. “The same man that gave Jowan this old key…” She reached into a pocket in her coat and produced the ancient-looking iron key still threaded with its necklace of string. She had been to the ruins and searched frantically in the long grass for it. “Then it is the case that Mrs Connoch instructed this John Carbis to ask your sister.”

He averted his eyes. “No, Miss Hendra, it was your father who gave the order to John Carbis.”

She thought hard about this for a moment. “I don’t understand. Why would father want such a thing? Was he trying to protect Jowan, from his own father perhaps?”

“It is a possibility, Miss Hendra. I cannot make sense of it.” His fingers knitted together before him. “We have but one thing in common, John Carbis and I. We were both sent by your father – he to my sister to have the child Jowan removed from the cottage; and me to find his father and tell him to leave Porthgarrow forever or face prison. Instead I find the body with Jowan kneeling over it. I never questioned this before, but now I wonder why he sent me, of all people, to tell him.”

“Because the common people listen to you.”

“Jowan hated me with a vengeance, as I loathed all Connochs. He would have taken the message badly enough, but coming from me it would have been like poison to him.”

He saw the blood drain from the young woman’s cheeks, her lips pale. “What is it you imply, Tunny?”

He delivered a heavy sigh. “The more I think on it the more I cannot shake off the thought that I was sent by your father not simply to give Jowan his ultimatum, but that he had other motives besides.”

She rose to her feet sharply and in her hardening features he saw plainly those of her father. “You are a spiteful man, Tunny. You never tire of spreading malicious rumours and untruths. So now you accuse my father of being involved with the murder? That is preposterous! He is my father; he would never be party to such a thing, for he is a kind and gentle man!” Then her hand went unconsciously to her bruised cheek and she became aware of Tunny watching the movement. “Why do you seek to ruin him with these tales?”

He shook his head. “I only wish to find out the truth. I accuse no one, Miss Hendra. But it has troubled me ever since Jowan came to see me. I am now no longer certain what happened that night thirteen years ago and I need to know. No one was brought to trial for the murder; everyone was convinced Jowan had done it. I played my part in helping everyone believe that. But, as his son says, what if he were innocent? Then what really happened that night?”

“If that were the case the killer would still be at large.” She ran fingers through her hair as she paced the room in agitation. “Do you suppose it is a possibility the same person might have killed Keziah?”

“I am not convinced that young Jowan murdered her, Connoch or no. But do you not think it strange that your father fans the flames of blame so strongly? He is the one who ordered Jowan to be kept a prisoner. He also had a hand in trying to force Jowan out of the village. Why is this?”

“That is wild is speculation on your part. My father is no brute.”

But Jenna recalled the burning anger in her father’s eyes when she spoke of Jowan; his insistence she never speak to him again. Yet if she were honest there was also a look of crippling fear beneath the anger. “He has been acting strange of late,” she said quietly, staring silently at the cold, rusting metal of the key sitting large in the palm of her hand. “This is supposed to be the key to the Jacobite Bolt. Jowan cast it away in anger when I told him it did not exist anymore. After speaking with him I have been to the ruins and retrieved it.”

“Jowan spoke of this Jacobite Bolt but it did not mean anything to me.”

“It is an old escape tunnel long thought lost with the building of the new stables. But I believe it is still there, beneath a locked trapdoor to which I am certain this is the key.” She looked up at him. “I do not believe my father was involved in that ghastly murder, but I think he is in some kind of trouble now. For some obscure reason the Jacobite Bolt is at the centre of all this. I intend to find and go down this Bolt.”

“Let me come with you.”

She appraised him cautiously but his expression was one of sadness. He looked frail and worn out.

“Meet me at the stables tonight. Wait till dusk. Do not tell anyone about any of this. Bring a lantern with you but do not light it. You should be very careful not be seen by anyone at the house.”

“And if the Bolt truly does not exist?” he asked.

She rose, smoothed down her dress and placed the key firmly in her pocket. “It exists,” she said with certainty. “That’s where the truth to all this lies and I will find it out, so help me God.”



* * * *