The Unburied (12 page)

‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘I beg your pardon for interrupting you, but can you tell me the identity of that lady?’

The woman I had seen as I was leaving the Library just before luncheon had been walking along the other side of the Close on a course convergent with that of Dr Sheldrick and at the right-angle where they met, she had stopped to speak to him.

‘That is Mrs Locard,’ he said with a smile. ‘An awfully pleasant woman and a great friend of my wife.’

‘And of Dr Sheldrick, as far as I can judge.’ I added rather naughtily: ‘He is actually smiling.’

Dr Sisterson looked back and laughed and we walked on. ‘You are quite right. It is impossible not to like her.’

In the next moment we were in the Sacrist’s office where he handed me a thick sheaf of manuscript which I could see was written in a very neat though somewhat inelegant hand.

I could not resist saying, ‘I wonder why Dr Locard did not mention Dr Sheldrick’s work when I asked him about the history of the Foundation this morning?’

Dr Sisterson smiled and wagged a finger at me playfully. ‘Now, now, Dr Courtine. You mustn’t try to tempt me into indiscretion.’

I laughed and, thanking him for the fascicle, tucked it under my arm and took my leave. By two o’clock I was back at work in the dusty undercroft. It was not long before Pomerance reappeared and gave me half an hour of his time but he was so clumsy and forgetful that he was more trouble than he was worth and I was relieved when he went off for his tea.

At about three o’clock Quitregard came down to tell me that Dr Locard wondered if I would care to come up and take a cup of tea with him. I accepted, relieved to get out of the dusty atmosphere.

The Librarian stood up when I entered his room. A pot of tea and two cups and plates were on his desk beside a dish heaped with sandwiches and another filled with cakes.

‘Since we were talking of Freeth this morning,’ he said, ‘you might be interested to see his portrait.’ He indicated a canvas hanging near the window and I crossed to look at it.

‘It was executed a few months after he became Dean.’

To my surprise the face was not that of an ambitious and unscrupulous man but sensitive and even delicate. I turned to the Librarian: ‘If you had told me this was Burgoyne, I would not have been surprised. This is the face of an aristocratic scholar rather than a worldly sensualist.’

‘Unfortunately Burgoyne never troubled himself to have his likeness taken, or if he did, it has not survived. But Freeth was a man of considerable merit, despite his weaknesses. He was able and industrious and did much for the Foundation. What has survived of Burgoyne is not his image but his scholarly work.’ He indicated a row of volumes in the ancient book-press. ‘That is his edition of certain Syriac manuscripts – still the authoritative text. But, on a very different note, let me show you one of the Library’s more ambiguous treasures.’ He crossed to a glass case against a wall, unlocked it and withdrew a large vellum document. ‘What would you say this is?’

I looked at it carefully, anxious not to make a stupid blunder. It looked like a medieval deed engrossed on vellum in a fine Chancery hand. ‘It’s surely a legal instrument of some kind and dates, I would say, from the early fifteenth century.’

‘Indeed. Well, Treasurer Burgoyne wanted to raise money to save the fabric of the Cathedral which was then in a very poor way. He conceived the idea of suppressing one of the institutions of the Foundation in order to pay for it.’

‘What was it?’

‘It was a college of vicars-choral. A school of church music which trained boys and young men not merely for this cathedral-choir but also for the choirs of other cathedrals. Burgoyne managed to win a majority of the Chapter over to this but Freeth opposed him and characteristically refused to accept defeat. He and my predecessor in this office – a man called Hollingrake – made an extensive search of the Foundation’s ancient records and a week or two later produced a document which frustrated Burgoyne’s design. (Please help yourself to the sandwiches and cakes, by the way. My wife made them. ) This was the document you are holding now – the original deed of endowment dated 1424.’

‘So I was right!’ I could not help exclaiming.

Dr Locard paused for a moment and then resumed: ‘The deed endowed the Foundation with a nearby manor comprising a handsome dwelling and a number of farms for the support of the college. But it stipulated that if the college were suppressed the land should be sold and the proceeds put at the personal disposition of the Dean of the day. Freeth had no difficulty in persuading the old Dean to confirm that in that event he would take the money and put it to his own use. So Burgoyne’s proposal was rejected after all.’

‘How strange that the terms of the endowment should be so generous to the Dean.’

Dr Locard smiled. ‘Strange indeed. You have not perceived that the document is a forgery?’

I felt my face flush. ‘Of course, but it’s a very convincing one.’

‘That’s because it was, presumably, copied from an original document. The forger merely added – in very respectable bad Latin – a clause investing title personally in the holder of the office of Dean.’

‘Does the original document exist?’

He smiled. ‘The best proof of a forgery is the original on which it is based. Since it would have proved this to be a counterfeit, you can be sure that it was destroyed.’

‘Do you suspect that Hollingrake was the forger? Incidentally, these cakes are quite delicious.’

‘When Freeth became Dean he gave Hollingrake the office of Treasurer – a generous reward since it permitted him to enrich himself. But I’m afraid that Freeth led the way in that regard for, ironically, he made use of the forged deed to close down the institution, sell the land and pocket the proceeds.’

‘After his bitter opposition to Burgoyne? What a greedy hypocrite! How could the other canons have agreed to such a thing?’

Dr Locard gazed at me with mild curiosity. ‘I assume that Freeth found a way to quiet their consciences.’

It took me a moment to understand what he meant. ‘They were bought off?’

‘Freeth became a very wealthy man. He was now the owner of a considerable acreage of land and a handsome manor-house a few miles from the town. He was able to be generous.’

‘And Hollingrake?’

‘Strangely enough, the records of Chapter meetings show that there was open ill-will between the two men so I suspect that they fell out over the division of the spoils.’

‘How sad that posterity lost the college of music.’

‘It would not have survived the Protectorate anyway in view of the hostility of the Puritans to church music. In fact, it continued to exist in a reduced form for it shrank to become the choir school, occupying the same building on the north side of the Upper Close – the Old Gatehouse.’

‘I saw it this afternoon on my way back from luncheon at the Dolphin.’

‘My dear fellow,’ Dr Locard exclaimed. ‘Did you take your luncheon there? I’m sorry to think of you living like a commercial traveller. My wife and I would be very pleased if you would do us the honour of dining with us while you are here.’

‘That would be a very great pleasure.’

‘Are you here with your wife, Dr Courtine?’

‘No, I’m not. She’s ... That is to say, no I’m not.’

‘How long do you plan to stay?’

‘Only until Saturday morning. My niece and her family expect me that day.’

‘Until Saturday? That is very soon. But I rather think that my wife and I have no engagement tomorrow evening.’

‘You’re very kind.’

‘I will ask her later this afternoon and send you word immediately.’

I thanked him for the tea and said it was time for me to return to my labours.

‘After your morning’s work, do you feel more or less confident of finding the manuscript?’

‘It would be the merest stroke of luck. If it is still in existence, I think you will find it, Dr Locard, during the process of cataloguing the material down there – though that may be some years in the future.’

‘That is most unfortunate from your point of view, since I imagine that finding it would increase your chances of the new Chair.’

I laughed uneasily. ‘I’m not even a candidate.’

‘But you must be a very serious contender, especially now that Scuttard seems likely to withdraw.’

‘Scuttard is to withdraw? Why, has something discreditable emerged about him?’

Dr Locard smiled. ‘Nothing of that kind. I understand he is likely to be offered the Presidency of his own College.’

‘At his age?’

‘He is highly regarded by the present administration, as his recent appointment to the Cathedral Commission indicated. He is a very able man of sound views and will go far.’

‘He has powerful friends, I agree. And he will certainly repay the government’s confidence in him.’ I stood up. ‘I should keep you no longer, Dr Locard.’

My host likewise rose to his feet. ‘Where can I send you word to confirm that my wife and I are not engaged for dinner tomorrow? I take it you are staying at the Dolphin?’

‘No, I’m putting up with an old college friend. I believe you know him. Austin Fickling.’

‘Of course I know him.’ He went across to the glass case and, with his back turned to me, put the document back in its place while he spoke. ‘I had no idea you were visiting a friend when I spoke of your dining with us. I imagine Fickling will have other plans for you. I don’t want to place you in an awkward situation.’

‘You’re very considerate,’ I muttered. ‘Yes, I believe Fickling said something about our dining together tomorrow.’

‘I hope that, perhaps, on another occasion you might ...’

‘Certainly, certainly. You’re very kind, Dr Locard. I will, however, have the pleasure of seeing you tomorrow morning at half-past seven. I very much look forward to that.’ He gazed at me without saying anything but then nodded suddenly.

I thanked him again for the tea and returned to the undercroft. As I resumed my labours I reflected wrily on the complexities of cathedral politics. Clearly my being a friend of Austin’s placed me firmly in the camp of the Evangelicals.

About half an hour later, just as I had given up hope that Pomerance would return, he suddenly came down the stairs and approached with a lamp.

‘Ah, there you are,’ I said. ‘I was expecting to see you earlier.’

‘The guv’nor decided he needed me upstairs this afternoon.’

‘Well, now that you’re here, would you be good enough to get those big bundles down from the top shelf?’

‘Sorry but I’ve just come to say that it’s nearly twenty past four and the Library is about to close.’

‘I had no idea so much time had passed!’ During the course of the day I had examined the contents of four shelves out of about seven or eight hundred. The utter pointlessness of my undertaking was borne in upon me as I picked up my lamp and the manuscript Dr Sisterson had lent me and followed the young man up the stairs.

The Library was in almost complete darkness apart from a single light by the door, and it seemed deserted.

‘Is Dr Locard in his room? I should like to take my leave.’

‘No, he has gone home.’

‘And Quitregard?’

‘He has gone with him. He often goes to his house to help him with his Chapter business.’

The young man opened the door for me and I bade him goodbye. There was something I intended to do and, anxious that it would soon be too dark, I hurried along the length of the Cathedral to the back of the New Deanery. It was a big rambling old place with gables and mullioned windows and tall chimneys like twisted candy. A high wall separated it from the Close and I went up to the gate and peered through the bars at the rear elevation. I could just make out a large tablet of black marble inserted into the brickwork. There were words incised upon it, but in the thickening dusk they were impossible to decipher at this distance. In order to see it, I had to lean on the top of the gate and crane forward, conscious of the absurd spectacle of myself I must be making – though fortunately there was nobody to see me – and worried that I might lose my footing, for I was encumbered by Dr Sheldrick’s manuscript which was pinned under one arm. I could see that the gate was not locked but I was unwilling to slip it open and go in.

Suddenly I saw a moving light a few yards away as a lantern swung and I realized there was somebody in the back-yard. I was surprised as well as dismayed for Austin had promised me that at this hour there was sure to be nobody at home! Before I had time to move, the beam turned in my direction and I heard a high-pitched voice which was so distinctive that I would remember and think about it a great deal: ‘I see you. Don’t be shy. Pray come in. The gate’s not locked.’

I apologized profusely and declined the invitation but the old gentleman – as my interlocutor seemed from the voice to be – came to the gate saying: ‘Don’t be shy. Come right in.’

He pushed the gate open and smilingly made way for me to enter and so, still flushed with embarrassment, I did so.

He was below middle height and slender though since he was muffled up in a heavy greatcoat with a thick comforter round his neck it was hard to be sure. Beneath an old-fashioned hat I saw a strong face bearing an expression that was both watchful and amused, whose features were delicate, the skin pale and the cheeks smooth. The most striking element was a pair of bright blue eyes that never seemed to leave my face.

‘I do most sincerely beg your pardon, sir. I had no idea anybody was here.’

‘I’m a foolish old man to be out here in this weather but I couldn’t resist putting more straw round the plants. I’m sure the frost is going to bite even harder tonight.’

I noticed that there were flower-boxes on all the sills of the windows.

‘I saw that you were trying to read the inscription,’ he said, still smiling.

‘It was unpardonable of me to intrude on your property like that.’

‘Not at all, not at all. I am very proud of that inscription. And of this ancient place altogether. I am fortunate enough to live in a very quaint old house in which many strange and terrible things have happened, and it seems a small price to pay that I should occasionally have strangers exhibit an interest.’