He looked at me hopefully, as if expecting me to come up with some sudden and brilliant insight as to the identity of the unknown guest, but I was obliged to disappoint him. No flash of inspiration illumined my somewhat clogged and dull early morning mind. In fact, if the truth were told, I was growing weary of the whole unpleasant business and wanted nothing more than to forget it and enjoy what was left to me of Christmas. Tomorrow, with the Mass celebrating the coming of the three wise men to the stable in Bethlehem and the showing to them of the Christ Child — the Epiphany — the days of celebration would be over. Life would return to its normal, humdrum course until the next feast day. The twelve days would be gone and I should have spent them searching for a sadistic killer. No doubt Richard Manifold felt the same way, but that, after all, was his job.
Some of these thoughts must have conveyed themselves to James Marvell, for he rose abruptly from his stool, saying, ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you, Master Chapman. I realize that there is nothing either of us can do without knowing Dog Head’s identity, but I needed to tell someone and you are the only person I could think of. I cannot talk to either my mother or Patience or Bartholomew, and if my father refuses to confide in me-’ He broke off looking lost, then went on: ‘I hate to see him look so unhappy. He’s a good man who has had much to vex him in his life.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I have a feeling that this business must touch the family honour. Father has always been proud of our name.’
As he moved towards the kitchen door, I asked, ‘Do you think Master Marvell’s unknown visitor might have been Miles Deakin?’
He paused, his hand on the latch. ‘The thought has occurred to me, I must admit. The knowledge that Baker Cleghorn thinks he saw the man in Bristol not so long ago makes me feel sure the rogue is indeed hiding somewhere in the city and is threatening to make known his affair with Great-Aunt Drusilla. Father would find that hard to stomach and may well be paying him to keep his mouth shut.’
I considered this for a moment, but almost immediately dismissed the theory.
‘Master Marvell looks to me to be a sensible man,’ I said. ‘He must know that the story is common knowledge already in the town, among certain members of the population, at least. I heard the tale from my former mother-in-law and her cronies, one of whom supplied me with Miles’s name. The fact that no one mentions the story to your father doesn’t necessarily mean ignorance on the part of the general populace — only that they have too much respect for him to do so. And I don’t suppose anyone would have dared to throw it in your grandfather‘s face.’
That brought a momentary smile to his lips, but then he frowned. ‘So what are you saying to me? That if the unknown visitor was Miles Deakin, he must have a stronger hold over Father than anything we already know of?’
‘I’m saying that Master Marvell is surely too practical a man to pay good money to suppress a story he must realize is common currency. So, yes, I suppose if his visitor was Miles Deakin then the rogue must have some other hold over your father.’ I unhooked my leg from the corner of the kitchen table and stood upright. ‘But this is all pure speculation. The sad truth is that we know nothing definite. After twelve days and two murders we are just as far from the truth as we were at the beginning. Perhaps it’s time we shared our suspicions concerning Miles Deakin with the proper authorities. Let the sheriff and his men find him — if, that is, he is to be found.’
But James would still not permit it. His scruples forbade his great-aunt’s former suitor being thrown to the wolves, as he put it, until we had more proof of his guilt than we had at present. I thought him overscrupulous, but when he had gone, I decided he was right. My own desire to be free of the whole unhappy business was clouding my judgement.
I tried to forget about it for the rest of the day and, to a large extent, succeeded. When dinner was over, we had our own cake-cutting ceremony. Nicholas and Elizabeth were duly crowned with trailing wreaths of greenery as king and queen of the feast after finding the pea and the bean in their slices carefully given to them by Adela.
‘Cheat! Cheat!’ cried Adam, but without any real rancour. He was too excited by the prospect of going to see the mummers’ last performance that afternoon and of being allowed, for the very first time, to take part in the wassailing that evening. On previous occasions he had been regarded as too young and had been looked after by Margaret Walker who, this year, would come to take care of Luke. Our son was puffed up with self-importance at no longer being the baby of the family.
The townsfolk had turned out in force to see the mummers’ final presentation of St George and the Dragon. We got to the castle early and consequently managed to find places beside the waggon, which served as the stage. We had barely taken our places when we were joined by Jenny Hodge and her boys, Jack and Dick trying not to look too eager now that they were grown-up men of the world, but failing dismally. The latter was wearing my old grey cloak and looking very smart. I felt a pang of envy and wished I had never agreed to part with it.
‘Burl not coming?’ I enquired.
Jenny shook her head, her lips tightly compressed, and I saw the two lads glance at one another.
‘Trouble?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘He found out about the cloak.’ She drew an angry breath. ‘Oh, I could shake our Dick, I really could. I’d dinned it into his silly noddle not to tell his father where it came from. Say it’s from one of the neighbours, I said. And he promised faithfully to do so.’
I smiled. ‘But being Dick …’ I left it there.
‘But being Dick,’ Jenny finished for me, ‘with a head full of dreams and cobwebs and about as long a memory as a newborn gosling, he lets the cat straight out of the bag. “It’s Master Chapman’s old one,” he says. “He has a new one and doesn’t need it any more, so Mam asked him if I could have it and he agreed.” Well, you know how Burl feels about you, Roger, and no one’s sorrier for it than I am. You could have heard him shouting three streets away.’
I grimaced. ‘But Dick’s wearing it, for all that.’
Jenny’s eyes lit with laughter. ‘It’s one thing that can be said for Dick. He may be a bit slow-witted but he can be obstinate. He’s a will to match Burl’s own when it comes to it. He wasn’t going to part with that cloak, not if Burl ranted and sulked until Doomsday. Burl threatened to whip him, but Dick’s bigger than he is now. He just took the whip out of his father’s hands and threw it out of the door. After that, Burl realized there was nothing he could do. And Jack took Dick’s side, of course. He always does. So, here Dick is, wearing your old cloak.’
Jenny looked round for her younger son as she spoke, but Dick had drawn back into the crowd behind him. He never relished being an object of attention.
‘Well, I’m glad he stuck up for himself,’ Adela chimed in from Jenny’s other side. ‘He’s grown into a fine young man, Jenny, and you should be proud of him.’
Jenny’s reply was lost in the sudden braying of the mummers’ trumpets as they made their appearance from the inner ward of the castle. Ned Chorley was dressed as the Doctor, and Adam began to jump up and down with excitement in anticipation of the comic scenes to come. But first, of course, there was the more serious business of St George slaying the Dragon, rescuing the Fair Maid and then being slain himself by the wicked Saracen Knight.
But, finally, Good triumphed over Evil, St George was restored to life by the Doctor, the wicked Saracen Knight was slain and it was time for the mummers to make their final bow. They did so, to much cheering and loud applause, and Toby Warrener made a speech thanking the citizens for their warm welcome and hospitality throughout their stay.