Neither of us moved.
‘Who told you these things?’ The old man raised his head slowly, his shoulders still tight and hunched.
‘Are they true?’
‘You would imply that I fathered the girl’s child?’ The old man stood and stepped towards me.
‘Would you deny it?’ I replied, edging sideways.
‘Deny it? Naturally, I deny it! You accuse me of the most wicked and foul of all deeds! Who told you that Keeling’s daughter was with child? What maul hath unleashed such arrows? All liars shall have their part in the lake, the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.’ He reached me with two long deliberate strides, his hands held out before him like claws.
I stood my ground without raising my hands against him, praying that either he calmed down or that Dowling would step forward to protect me. ‘If you speak the truth then you have nothing to fear.’
Ormonde blinked, ‘I will ask you one more time, you that speak with black tongue and foul breath. From where did you get these iniquities, this false and vile information?’ He let his arms fall to his side. His face was wreathed in hateful disdain.
‘I told you that I would not disclose it.’
‘Then begone, wretch. But think wisely before you choose to stain my reputation with your vile lies. Put not thine hand with the wicked to be an unrighteous witness. The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’ Ormonde laughed, a deep shallow laugh, with no body to it. ‘The Lord is my helper, and I shall not fear what man shall do unto me, for he is mine enemy.’
I took an instant dislike to all and any that shouted Bible quotes at me.
He clasped his hands in front of his waist, sharp smile beneath now hooded eyes. ‘Keeling will be full of fury when he hears your accusation. It matters not where the rumour starts, if he hears it then he will now assume that it comes from you. Once it is established that in fact she was not with child, then shall he heap piles of coal on your head. In righteousness, therefore, I am safely established. Good day to thee, Mr Lytle.’
He stepped forward, placed a hand on my shoulder, and with a strength that I had not suspected, tried to propel me towards the door. I was not in the mood to be manhandled by decrepit old Baptists and I stood my ground. Once he realised I had no intention of moving he stood licking his lips, neck crooked, a twisted smile on his bitter face. He stood there frozen for a moment before returning silently to his chair. We watched the back of his scaly head again.
‘I was a Baptist,’ he said at last. ‘So was Keeling. The old King used to send men to arrest people like us. I was imprisoned myself for a short time, about twenty years ago. But his Parliament didn’t trust him and after he tried to force money from them to wage war on the Scottish Presbyterians, they killed him. That was the end of it all, I fear, for though those men scoured the Lord’s Book and found some words that they said justified their regicide, it was an evil thing that they did. I said nothing then, for I was too passioned by it all, the possibility that man might be free to indulge the indwelling spirit, that he might find his own salvation at last.’
What that had to do with the smell of bacon I had no idea, but I was loath to interrupt. It was an opportunity to learn more about this strange old man.
‘Cromwell forsook the dream of Godly reformation in the name of compromise. He spoke to me himself, told me that I lacked prudence, that I might think to avoid the fate of the Fifth Monarchists.’
‘What fate?’ I asked.
‘And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever.’
‘Daniel 2: 44. King Nebuchadnezzar’s dream,’ Dowling said softly.
‘Aye, butcher, if butcher is what you be. The Fifth Kingdom. There were many, myself one of them, that believed that the death of the King was a sign from God that the new kingdom was to come. In their eyes Cromwell was God’s instrument, he who hath been ordained to make free the path back to Christ. But he betrayed them. He put their leaders into prison. He warned me that my own energies were misdirected, and again I listened. Others did not, I fear, but more than that I fear that they were right, for where now Godly reformation? Where now the new kingdom?’
The old man stood up and walked to the window, from where he looked out onto the dead, frozen countryside. ‘It was all for nothing that they killed a King. And now his son is returned, and what do we suppose he thinks of it all?’ Ormonde turned to regard me with mocking eyes, looked at my clothes, finer than the old frayed black cloth that he wore. ‘He plays games at Court, sets man against man. Why should this King bear any love for us, his people? For there are many of us that were agin him at one time or another, even if we may regret it now. He put to death only those that signed his father’s death warrant, the rest of us are free to live, as we will. He could not arrest every man that plotted against him, seize their property, remove them from Court, he does not have that influence. Keeling does not proclaim his past, but it is no secret.’ He practically shouted the last two words, for no obvious reason. He slumped back into his chair with his hands limp on his lap.
‘You are hopeless,’ said Dowling.
‘Aye. Indeed I would be left in that condition. Now, maybe you would pay me the kindness of leaving me as you find me.’
‘Sir, we came on an errand, one which for us does carry hope.’
Ormonde sat silently with eyes closed, ignoring us. What sort of man was this? Old and tired.
‘A wicked man hardeneth his face,’ Dowling said, breaking his silence.
‘As the whirlwind passeth, so is the wicked no more,’ Ormonde replied, without looking up. ‘Please leave now.’
We stood our ground a while longer, but Ormonde remained motionless, ignoring our presence. There was little more that we could do without more proof.
As soon as we stepped out of the room the door crashed behind us and the key was turned in the lock. Most unwelcoming. I thought to develop our understanding better with Mary Ormonde, but the old servant said that she had left the house and would not be back until the morrow. That was rum too, but no rummer than anything else that had occurred that day.
We talked all the way home. Could it be true — that Ormonde had deflowered his friend’s own daughter? Was his violent reaction born out of indignation — or sick fear that his deeds would be publicised? Why had the Lord Chief Justice himself taken such a personal interest in condemning Richard Joyce? There was no love lost between Keeling and Ormonde — that much was now clear — so how could Keeling’s involvement be attributed to a desire to help the Ormonde family? Were his efforts instead directed at covering his own misdemeanour? Was it Keeling that killed Anne Giles? Joyce’s description of the man he saw at Bride’s came to mind — big and bear-like. Hewitt was bear-like — but a very short bear. Keeling was large, yet the idea that the Lord Chief Justice would involve himself in such a wicked affair? And what of Hill in all of this? And Hewitt?
At length, and not without trepidation, Dowling volunteered to talk to some that he knew through the Mayor. He would attempt to probe more into the history between Ormonde and Keeling, that we might develop a better understanding upon which to make our assumptions. When all was said and done, though — we still both believed in our hearts that Hewitt was the beast that murdered Anne Giles, and set ourselves to finding out more about his activities.
Chapter Fourteen