The Merry Devils

'I rode past a cottage in the woods.'

'Jack Harsnett lives there, sir.'

'Harsnett?'

'Your forester.'

'Dismiss him forthwith. I do not like the fellow.'

'But he has worked on the estate all his life.'

'He goes today.'

'For what offence, sir?'

'Incivility.'

'lack Harsnett is a good forester," said Glanville defensively. 'Times are hard for him just now, sir. His wire is grievously ill.

'Clear the pair or them off my land!'

Francis Jordan brooked no argument. Having issued his command, he marched the full length of the Great Hall and stormed out. Glanville's face was as impassive as ever but his emotions had been stirred.

One of the carpenters came across for a furtive word.

'Here's a change for the worse!'

'We must wait and see,' said the steward tactfully.

'Jack Harsnett turned out. The old master would not have done it.'

'The old master is not here any longer.'

Mores the pity, say I!' The carpenter put the question that was on all their lips. 'Where is the old master, sir?'

'He has gone away.'

*

The hospital of St Mary of Bethlehem worked to an established routine. It could not be changed by one man, however much he might desire it. Kirk had been at Bedlam only a matter of days before he realised this. What he saw as the cruel and inhumane treatment of lunatics could not easily be remedied. Though he tried to show them more compassion himself, it did not always meet with their gratitude and he had been attacked more than once by impulsive patients. What distressed Kirk most was that he had himself reverted to the very behaviour he criticised in the other keepers. Bedlam was slowly brutalising him.

At the end of one week, he was given a new assignment by Rooksley. He was to take over the care of some of the patients who were locked away in private rooms and did not consort with the others. They were sad cases. One emaciated man was convinced that he was on the point of freezing to death. Even on the hottest days, when his face was running with sweat, he would lie in bed and shiver uncontrollably beneath the thick blanket. Kirk fed him on warm soup and tried to talk him out of his delusion.

Another of his charges was a querulous old woman, the wife of a wealthy glover. Her husband committed her because of her obsession. Barren throughout her life and now well past the age of childbirth, she believed that she was pregnant and feared that she was in imminent danger of bringing a black baby into the world. Kirk learned to humour her and promised not to tell her husband about her imagined affair with a handsome Negro.

But it was the young gentleman who most interested the keeper and engaged his sympathy. In the grim surroundings of Bedlam, the patient in the white shirt and the dark breeches still had an air of distinction. To all outward appearances, he was a normal, healthy, educated young person from a good family. Kirk was not told his name. All he knew was that the patient was incarcerated there by someone who paid a weekly rent and who stipulated that he was to come to no harm. He was supposed to be possessed by the Devil but Kirk saw little sign of this during his daily visits.

'Good morning!'

'Ah!' The man looked up with childlike happiness.

'I've brought you some food, my friend.'

'Oo!'

'Shall I sit down here beside you?'

Kirk lowered himself to the floor where the patient was sitting cross-legged. The young man had been humming a song. He could make noises of pleasure and pain but he was unable to form words properly. It did not seem to bother him. He had an amiable disposition.

Kirk lifted the plate from the tray across his lap.

'It's meat,' he said.

'Ah.'

'Warm and tasty to tempt the palate.'

'Ah:

'Will you feed yourself today, my friend?'

The patient grinned and shook his head violently.

'Would you like me to help you again?'

There was frantic nodding. The young man inhaled the aroma of the meat and his grin broadened. He thrust his head forward.

'Open your mouth,' said Kirk.

The keeper offered him the first spoonful. It was a slow, methodical process. The young man liked to chew his meat lor a long time before he swallowed it and the other had to be patient. Eventually, the meal was almost over. Kirk loaded the spoon for the last time and raised it to the young man's lips but the latter had had enough. Shaking his head to indicate this, he caught the spoon with the side of his jaw and knocked the meat down the inside of his shirt. It threw him into a panic.

'Ee! Ah!'

'Calm down, sir. I'll Find it for you.'

'Yah! Oh! Nee!'

The patient grabbed his shirt and tore it open down to his navel. Three small pieces of meat were resting on his body and Kirk plucked them off at once. The young man gave a cry of relief.

'Leeches!' he said.

It was the first word that Kirk had ever heard him speak and it was an important one. The patient was afraid of leeches which had obviously been used on him in the course of some bloodletting treatment. Kirk was sorry for the distress that had been caused but grateful to have made a discovery. The young man could talk after all. It was a distinct advance and it was followed by another when the keeper glanced at the bare chest in front of him. Scratched across it in large, fading letters was a name.

David.

'Is that you?" he asked. 'Are you David?'

The young man looked down at his body as if seeing the letters for the first time. Using a finger, he traced each one very carefully and tried to work out what it was. When he finally succeeded, tears of joy rolled down his cheeks.

'David!' he said.

They had given him back his name.

*

Anne Hendrik could not bear to be idle. Though she had money enough to live a life of relative leisure, she preferred to keep herself busy and took an active part in the running of her husband's business. After initial resistance from her employees, she won them over with her acumen, her commitment and her willingness to learn every last detail about the art of hat-making. Anne Hendrik revealed herself to be a highly competent businesswoman--and she could even speak a fair amount of Dutch. There was another value to her work life. It gave her something to chat about with Nicholas Bracewell.

'And that is how Preben came to design the new style.'

'Has the hat found favour with your customers?' he said.

'We have had a number of orders already.'

They were in the little garden at the rear of the Bankside house. Nicholas was carrying a basket and Anne was cutting flowers to lay in it. Taking care not to prick herself on the thorns, she used her shears to snip through the stem of a red rose.

'But enough of my tittle-tattle,' she said briskly. 'What of Westfield's Men?'

'Happily, there is nothing to report.'