Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done…
‘Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us….’
… them that trespass against us.
A movement caught Magnus’s eye. Jeb was being led across the lawn towards the platform. His back was to the house and so Magnus could not see the expression on Jeb’s face, but his leg was still in plaster. His steps were limping and awkward and he was supported on either side by Malachy’s men. Will walked behind them, slow and sombre in a black suit. Jeb’s head flopped forward, as if he were drunk or drugged.
‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’
… lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…
The crowd was smaller, but the responses of those who remained seemed louder.
‘For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory…’
… the kingdom, the power, and the glory…
The small execution parade had walked the length of the lawn and was level with the platform. They turned right, but the escort blocked Magnus’s view of Jeb.
Magnus muttered, ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.’
‘For ever and ever, Amen.’
… Amen.
The execution party turned and faced the depleted audience. Magnus could see them clearly through the sight of the gun. Will’s face was parchment white. He had what looked like a samurai sword in his hand.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Magnus whispered. It was real. There was to be no reprieve, no backing down, no shout of Fooled you. They intended to go through with the execution. He focused the gun sight on Jeb. His chin was resting on his chest, as if his head were too heavy for his neck. ‘C’mon, Jeb, chin up, help me out,’ Magnus whispered. His vision was blurred. He had shot almost as many barn-rats as Hugh, but it was a different thing to shoot a man, even when you had promised to save him. ‘Lift your head, boy. Don’t let them have the satisfaction.’
It was as if Jeb heard him. He raised his chin slowly and turned it sideways to look at the platform. Magnus’s finger was on the trigger, Jeb’s head caught in the crosshairs. The prayer was in his head, Our Father, which art in heaven…
There was a shout from the other side of the lawn, a thrashing noise and smash of breaking glass.
Father Wingate snatched up Malachy’s megaphone and announced, ‘Refreshments are being served. Please help yourself to alcoholic refreshments.’
One of the men was lying on the grass by the trestle tables, his body caught in the grips of a fit. The people around him were frozen, but all of a sudden Raisha was there, turning him on his side, making sure that he did not bite his tongue, issuing instructions. Magnus looked for the child and saw him on the edge of the lawn, his legs wrapped around Belle’s waist, his face pressed into her shoulder.
There was another shout, the crash of an overturning table. Raisha went to a second man, who was writhing on the ground, his mouth frothing.
Father Wingate said again, ‘Everyone, please help yourselves to refreshments.’
Malachy had his hands in the air and was saying something that was lost in the hubbub. Raisha was shouting too, but there was too much noise for her to be heard. She shouted again and then ran across the lawn and on to the stage. She was yelling something at Father Wingate who merely smiled and raised the loudhailer to his lips. ‘While these poor gentlemen are being helped I suggest that everyone avail themselves of —’
Raisha wrested the megaphone from him. ‘Nobody touch that drink, it’s poi—’
Father Wingate took a gun from beneath his cassock and shot her in the chest. And then all hell broke loose.
Forty-Four
Magnus strained his ears as he hurtled down the succession of servants’ stairs that led to the ground floor. All he could hear was the rasp of his breath and the frantic echo of his footsteps.
Raisha.
Suddenly he was at the tradesmen’s entrance. He plunged into the open; out into an assault of screams and shouts, the gun still in his hand. Sunlight seared his eyes. Magnus ran into the blindness. His vision adjusted and he saw that more people had fallen to the ground. Others were trying to make themselves sick or were tending to the dying. He ignored them and raced across the lawn. He had never seen such green grass; greener than any football pitch, any cricket ground or pampered bowling green. He had thought people’s clothes muted, but now he saw that even shades of black were bright and glowing. A woman he did not know grabbed him by the arm. Magnus shoved her away, barely registering the rake of her nails against his bare skin, and sprinted towards the platform.
Father Wingate was still standing over Raisha’s body, his white robe streaked with red. The men who had been guarding Jeb had wrested the gun from the priest. They stood stunned and awkward either side of the old man, holding him by the arms, though he offered no resistance. Jeb was nowhere to be seen. Malachy was blood-spattered and shouting at Father Wingate, ‘Why? Why did you shoot her?’ as if there might yet be a good reason.
Magnus reached the platform and heard one of the guards say, ‘Was it her who put the poison in the drink, Father?’
His companion muttered, ‘I looked to see who was shooting and when I turned back the murdering cunt was gone. How did he get away so fast, the state he was in?’
Belle stood by the platform, cradling the boy as if he were a much younger child. She put out an arm to stop Magnus, but he ignored her and charged up the steps. Will was crouched by Raisha’s body. Magnus pulled him away. Will said, ‘She’s gone,’ and Magnus punched him.
A woman stood below the platform shouting about poison. Most people were too caught up in the confusion of dead and dying to focus on the cause of the tragedy, but she was beginning to attract a few dazed looks. One of the men holding the priest said, ‘We need to get indoors.’
Malachy took Father Wingate by the shoulders and shook him. ‘Why did you shoot her?’ He pointed towards the people lying on the lawn. ‘Did she have something to do with this?’
Magnus was kneeling beside Raisha’s body. He touched her face and his hand came away red. He said, ‘Don’t try and pin it on Raisha. This is all him.’
‘I am a servant of God.’ Malachy’s shake seemed to have roused Father Wingate. ‘The end of all flesh is come before me.’
Will was crying. He whispered, ‘I would have done it. I would have brought the sword down. I was ready to. I would have brought it down on his neck.’
Magnus smoothed Raisha’s hair away from her face. She was still warm, but her features had slackened and whatever had made her a person was gone.
Paul was suddenly crouched beside him. ‘They’re going to lynch us.’ He caught Magnus by the elbow and hauled him to his feet. Magnus made a half-hearted effort to bat the tall man away, but the fight had gone out of him. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling you might need this.’ Paul shoved Mr Perry’s rifle back into Magnus’s hand.
Malachy’s men were jostling Father Wingate down the platform steps. The old man recited, ‘The Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air…’
Belle was running on ahead with the child. Magnus wanted to catch her, but he heard a shout behind him and turned to see a man armed with Will’s sword tearing towards the priest. Magnus stood in his path and aimed Mr Perry’s rifle at him. ‘There’ll be no more killing today.’
The stranger faltered to a halt. His eyes were wild. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’