Pyke nodded. He’d had the same thought. A Baker’s rifle was the weapon of choice for Her Majesty’s infantry. ‘There’s a barracks near here, isn’t there?’
‘That’s right. The Pennywenn barracks in Dowlais.’
‘Maybe you could go there, see if any of the faces are familiar?’
Johns seemed uncomfortable with this suggestion but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pointed towards the dead man. ‘Did he say anything to you before they shot him?’
‘He took one look at me and fled. That’s when he was shot.’
The blood had now seeped into the mud. Pyke knelt down next to the body and rummaged through the man’s pockets. Apart from a few coins, the only item was a notebook. Standing up, he flicked through it. It was a rent book. The address had been handwritten on the first page.
‘Where’s Irish Row?’
Johns frowned. ‘Dowlais, just around the corner from the Morlais works.’
Pyke held up the rent book. ‘According to this, that’s where he lived. Are you feeling strong?’
Johns wiped his hands on his coat. ‘How far do we have to carry him?’
They took it in turns to carry the dead body and made it as far as a public house on the Pennydarren Road. There, Pyke paid a man a couple of shillings for the use of his horse and cart and they rode the additional mile to the Castle in silence. Pyke had decided to take the body to the Castle in the first instance because he wanted to know whether there had been news about the Hancock boy.
Johns just nodded.
As they neared the entrance, Pyke turned to Johns. ‘So how well do you know Cathy?’
‘Mrs Hancock? I met her after I left the regiment and decided to come here to Merthyr to live.’
Waiting a moment, Pyke said, ‘Most people in your circumstances would’ve fled back to England.’
‘A couple of the men left the regiment at the same time as me. Got out of Wales as fast as they could.’
‘But you wanted to stay?’
‘I think I saw it as my penance.’
‘And what kind of welcome did you receive?’
‘Most people didn’t know; not at first. Not until old man Hancock let it be known who I was and what I’d done.’
‘What you’d done on his orders.’
‘That didn’t seem to matter. I’d pulled the trigger. The blood was on my hands.’
‘Why would he do a thing like that?’
Johns shrugged. ‘I don’t think he liked the notion of me settling in his town. It made him nervous. He tried to force me to go elsewhere. Catherine came to my rescue. I think she heard the two Hancocks discussing my situation and took pity. Managed to convince Jonah that I wasn’t a threat.’
‘And are you?’
‘What… me? A threat?’ Johns turned to face him, his hands gripping the reins. They were nearly at the top of the hill, the Castle right in front of them.
They looked up and saw Jonah Hancock standing on the front steps. As soon as he saw the horse and cart, he rushed down the steps, his face creased with worry. ‘Superintendent Jones has just paid us a visit.’
Pyke saw Cathy emerge from the entrance. Her hair was loose and blowing in the gusty wind.
‘They’ve found a body under Jackson’s Bridge, a young boy.’ Jonah gasped for air. ‘Jones thinks it might be William.’
PART II
EIGHT
SUNDAY, 10 JANUARY 1847
Dundrum, Co. Tipperary
At the previous day’s constabulary meeting Sub-inspector Hastings had read out new crimes that had been perpetrated. The post-car from Cashel to Thurles had been held up and robbed; a home in Mullinahoue had been burgled by a gang of masked gunmen; a man had been set upon about a mile from town and relieved of his purse and his double-barrelled fowling piece; and worst of all, a policeman had been shot and seriously wounded when he had tried to prevent a pay clerk being robbed in Caher. Hastings had told them that the situation was unacceptable and it was their job to find and punish those responsible. He’d slammed his fist on his desk and told them that if they were doing their jobs properly, people would be too scared to commit any crimes. Knox hadn’t dared point out this was utter nonsense and crime was rising for the simple reason that people were desperate.
After the meeting, the sub-inspector had asked Knox how his murder inquiry was progressing. Knox had already decided not to tell Hastings that he’d identified the dead man and so he gave only a vague answer. The sub-inspector had grunted and reiterated his demand that Knox was to return to normal duty first thing on Tuesday morning. Cornwallis wanted the whole matter to go away and what Cornwallis wanted, men like Hastings endeavoured to make happen.
Therefore, when a note arrived at the barracks from the landlord of the New Forge in Dundrum requesting that Knox go there at his earliest convenience, he didn’t mention it to the sub-inspector.
After breakfast on Sunday, Martha and James set off to visit her sister in town and Knox picked up a ride from a shopkeeper who was on his way to Dundrum Hall to deliver some provisions. They exchanged a couple of pleasantries and then lapsed into silence. The air had a wintry feel and halfway between Cashel and Dundrum rain started to fall as sleet, the sky grey and threatening like gunmetal.
Knox found the landlord sweeping damp sawdust into piles in the taproom of the New Forge Inn. This time the man’s greeting was a little warmer. He offered Knox a nip of poteen, which Knox declined.
‘The maid was cleaning the room we were in the other day and found these stuffed under the mattress.’ He walked across to the counter and retrieved what turned out to be a thin bundle of letters.
Knox thanked the landlord and asked whether he could sit in a quiet corner and read them. ‘And I’ll take that poteen now, if you don’t mind.’
He settled down at a table at the far end of the narrow room and laid out the envelopes in front of him. In fact, there were just three. Carefully Knox removed the letters and scrutinised their contents. Penned by the same hand, they were addressed to Pyke and signed by someone called Felix. The first and second letters had been sent to an address in London; the final one, to the station-house in Merthyr Tydfil in Wales. In each letter, the return address had been given as St John’s church in Keynsham, Somerset. Knox took the earliest one, dated the fourth of August, and read it carefully once more. The author announced that he’d arrived safely and that he had been met at the train station by ‘Martin’ and was settling into his new accommodation very well. Everyone had been welcoming, he wrote, and he was looking forward to beginning his studies. He hoped that everything was fine at home and asked Pyke to pass on his best wishes to Mrs Booth and to give Copper — presumably a dog — a pat on the head. The letter was signed ‘With love, Felix’.
Knox put it back in the envelope. The tone was warm but not overly familiar. Felix was clearly the younger party and the reference to ‘home’ made Knox think that Felix might be the dead man’s son.
The second letter, dated the fourteenth of October, was longer and, Knox felt, more intimate. He focused on a passage from the middle.
I know you don’t want me to but I pray for you every morning. You sounded sad in your last letter. I know you claim no affiliation or belief but this must mean you feel terribly alone and even lonely at times. When I am lonely or afraid I pray to God and He helps comfort me. I know, of course, that you are never afraid but I worry that your sadness is something you won’t be able to alleviate on your own. You always told me that turning to someone outside of our family in times of need is a sign of weakness. I know Godfrey was a great support to you — and I hope I was too, though I was probably a burden as well — but now he has gone and I have moved here, who is there to help you? Who can you turn to in your hour of need?