Skeleton Hill

26

That evening Peter Diamond stood in shadow at one end of a disused aircraft hangar watching and hearing the clash of pikes as three pairs went through their movements. The ash-wood weapons, some sixteen feet in length, looked and sounded dangerous, even though the moves were being choreographed by an expert, an officer of the Sealed Knot. Knowing Ingeborg’s steely resolve to be at least as capable as any man, Diamond wasn’t surprised to see her wielding her pike with gusto. Like the others she was wearing casual clothes except for a metal helmet and leather gauntlet gloves.

‘We’ll try that again,’ the officer said. ‘First positions. Pikes at the advance.’

They stepped back, hoisted the cumbersome staves to waist height and rested them on their shoulders.

Diamond was thinking he wouldn’t have gone into battle armed only with one of those. Engrossed in all this, he failed to notice he was not alone.

‘Thinking about enlisting?’ The voice at his side made him jerk in surprise. The speaker was a woman with a silver ponytail. Her stylish black suede jacket and pale blue jeans projected self-confidence, as did the voice. Definitely not an interloper, as he was.

‘Hasn’t crossed my mind,’ he said.

‘It’s good for fitness.’ She seemed a fine advert herself, over seventy, he reckoned, yet with the figure of a woman thirty years younger. ‘You could do a lot worse.’

‘I do,’ he said, patting his pot belly. ‘All the time.’

She smiled.

He asked, ‘Am I in the way here?’

‘You’re welcome to watch. Is it the young lady who interests you?’

He couldn’t get away with anything here. ‘Not specially.’

‘These days the female recruits insist on doing everything,’ she said. ‘When I joined more than thirty years ago we delicate creatures didn’t think about joining in the fighting. We were angels of mercy, ministering to the dying and wounded. And if that sounds wimpish – is that the word? – it was actually rather bold, wearing low-cut frocks and leaning over fellows. That’s how I met my husband.’

‘Nice work.’

‘The modern generation want to wear armour and carry pikes for liberation’s sake. They don’t know the half of it.’

‘You’ve been a member how long?’

‘Still am. An active member, too, out on the battlefield. The neckline is more modest these days, but I’ll carry on as long as my knees allow me.’

‘You did say more than thirty years?’ People often exaggerate about spans of time. However, this sprightly lady might be a useful witness if she’d been a Sealed Knot member for that long.

‘I can tell you precisely when I joined. It got going in Bath in 1971 with a commemorative parade, as they called it, got up by Count Nicolai Tolstoy – handsome man – and his King’s Own Army, which was based in Sherborne. I saw them lined up, wonderfully gorgeous and magnificent, with their horses and banners, and vowed to join at the first opportunity. Next year we had a skirmish on the battlefield and I was part of it.’

‘Comforting the fallen?’

She laughed. ‘They seemed to appreciate it.’

At the end of the hangar another order was shouted. The soldiers lowered their pikes to the horizontal, all pointing to where Diamond and his companion were standing.

‘Advancing at point of pike,’ she told him. ‘It’s a fearsome sight in battle. Just imagine.’

‘It’s pretty scary from here. Are they about to charge us?’

‘I don’t think so. You’re not from Cromwell’s lot, are you?’

‘Not when I last checked.’

‘If you were, you’d be wishing you had your own pikestaff at least as long as theirs and fifty others with you. And even then, you’d probably not survive. The front men are usually impaled, but the others behind them still push. Dreadful for men and horses.’

‘You’re talking about the real thing. You don’t injure each other when you’re putting on one of your mock battles?’

‘Thankfully, no. The pikeheads look like metal, but they’re wood or vulcanised rubber painted silver.’

‘You wouldn’t want a poke in the eye with one of them.’

‘You wouldn’t want ‘Preferably not.’

The officer shouted another order. The pikes were raised.

‘You see?’ she said. ‘That’s the difference between real war and re-enactment. Our pikemen fight with points upwards when they clash. Safety first. We’re disciplined. The officers have to pass a series of safety tests, and that goes for the enemy as well as ourselves.’

‘And who are the enemy?’

‘The parliamentarians, of course. We’re fighting for the King.’

‘Doesn’t everyone want to be a cavalier?’

She shook her head. ‘If you’re left wing in your politics you probably want to join the other lot. Suits me. I don’t want to listen to all that rubbish about the minimum wage and the right to strike.’

He sidestepped the politics. ‘And do the roundheads meet in a hall somewhere and drill separately?’

‘They use this place on the nights we’re not here.’ She gripped his arm. ‘Ah, now they’re putting the pikes away and they’ll do some swordplay, just for fun. Our pikemen don’t carry swords in battle. The young lady’s done some fencing before. I’ve watched her. She can take on any of the men.’

He could believe Ingeborg was a fencer. She’d never mentioned it, though.

‘It sounds to me as if this is a big part of your life,’ he said.

‘The best part, believe me. And it isn’t only battles. We do a huge amount for charity.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ he said, deciding this might be the moment to raise the matter on his mind. ‘I dare say you remember most of the women who’ve enlisted.’

‘Since I joined, certainly.’

‘Was there ever one from East Europe?’

‘In the King’s Army? Not to my knowledge.’

‘Her name might have been Nadia.’

‘Rings no bells with me, dear.’

Disappointing.

Ingeborg had put on a fencing mask and was clashing swords with a young man who had the swagger of one of the Three Musketeers, but without the skill. A parry, a lunge and Inge whipped the sword out of his hand. It clattered on the concrete and slid across the floor, leaving him as hors de combat as Diamond’s latest theory.

‘If she carries on like this, she’ll be picked for single combat,’ his companion said. ‘That’s a massive honour. I’m glad she’s joined.’

‘She’s no angel of mercy, that’s for sure.’

She laughed. ‘I hope you’re not mocking old-timers like me.’ ‘I’m not. She won’t get a husband beating up the guys.’

She turned to look at him ‘You’re not her father, are you?’

‘Lord, no.’

‘Grandfather?’

He grimaced at that. Old people lose all concept of age.

‘A roundhead spy?’ She was not giving up.

‘You’re safe there. I’m a policeman. Peter Diamond, Detective Superintendent.’

‘I wasn’t far out, then.’ She sighed. ‘I should have guessed. You’re something to do with that dreadful murder of one of our members, the lecturer from Bristol.’

‘A detective on the case, yes.’

Her posture changed. She became defensive. ‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with us. Pure coincidence that he happened to be a new recruit.’ Sensing apparently that this sounded unfeeling, she added, ‘We’re all very upset, naturally. We support each other like family.’

‘Did you know the victim personally, then?’

‘In point of fact, no. He would have done his arms drill in Bristol.’

‘Distant family, then?’

She gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I suppose you could say that.’

She’d been so generous with information that he decided to lay out his game plan. ‘I came here hoping to find out more about what goes on. Do you keep a list of members?’

‘A muster roll. I don’t, but I’m sure there is one.’

‘What about former members? Are they listed somewhere?’

‘I expect so, but it may be restricted information. I’m not a spokesperson for the Knot. I’m sure they have a policy about such things. You’ll have to do it the official way and talk to the senior officer.’

‘Good advice, ma’am. And is your name restricted information as well?’

She laughed. ‘Agnes Swithin.’

Swithin. It clicked into place. ‘Married to Major Swithin, golfer and member of the Lansdown Society?’

‘And one-time handsome cavalier,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately the golf took over. You can’t serve two masters and I’m sorry to say Reggie prefers the little white ball to good King Charles.’

‘So you met Rupert Hope.’

She turned to face him, puzzled. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You and your husband saw him trying to break into cars. You called out the police.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Was that the man who was murdered?’

‘The same.’

‘I had no idea. Didn’t make the connection at all. Why was he doing such a stupid thing? We spotted him behaving suspiciously and thought it our public duty to report him.’

‘Did you speak to him?’

‘No, we kept our distance. At our age you don’t tangle with car thieves. I kept him under observation through my field glasses until your people arrived. I had no inkling that he was a fellow Knotter. What on earth possessed him to behave like that?’

‘He’d been hit on the head. We think he’d lost his memory.’

She thought about it with a troubled expression. ‘Oh dear. You’ve made me feel guilty for reporting him.’

‘No need, ma’am. You did the right thing as you saw it.’

At the other end, Ingeborg was fencing with another of the squad, a young man with a better technique. The exchange was longer this time, the blades flashing under the strip light. She took a couple of steps backwards and appeared to be on the retreat. A sudden forward movement signalled the riposte, a clever feint, drawing the opponent’s defence. He’d committed and she lunged again and had the point of her sword at his chest. He lowered his sword.

‘Good on you, girl!’ Agnes Swithin said, clapping.

The instructor wasn’t so delighted. ‘It’s not meant to be compet-i tive,’ he told Ingeborg. ‘You could cause damage like that. We’re exercising here, not trying out for the Olympics.’

‘Sorry.’

Agnes clicked her tongue and told Diamond, ‘He’s putting her down because she’s a woman. They hate it if you show any talent.’

‘You’ve obviously fenced with the foil before,’ the instructor was saying to Ingeborg. ‘Have you used a backsword?’

She shook her head.

‘You’d know it better as a rapier, the Civil War weapon of choice, but you won’t get to use one in battle unless you transfer to the cavalry. Can you ride?’

‘A bit.’

‘You might like to make enquiries.’

At Diamond’s side, Agnes took a sharp, accusing breath. ‘There speaks an infantry officer. Doesn’t want her showing him up. Actually she’d look good on a horse. At least a third of our cavalry are ladies.’

‘Really?’

‘Think about it. You see far more horsewomen than men out and about, don’t you?’

After losing one of his team already this week he wasn’t sure he wanted Ingeborg fighting duels on horseback. ‘She looks more like infantry to me. Do you have a say in these decisions?’

‘No, I’m a minor player.’

‘Were you there for the big one, in 1993?’

‘All these questions. This is about the skeleton they dug up on Lansdown, isn’t it? Yes, I was there for the major muster and I remember it well. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and I can assure you I didn’t see any foul play. I was too busy with my casualties.’

‘Real casualties?’

She flapped her hand. ‘A few dents and bruises. Nothing serious. If there is, I wave to the St John Ambulance man. There’s always one on hand.’

‘So you didn’t spot anyone behaving suspiciously in the battle?’

‘I’d remember if I did. It all passed off very smoothly and we had a lovely write-up in the paper. If you ask me, the Sealed Knot had nothing to do with that skeleton, whoever it is.’

If that’s the truth, he thought, I’m wasting my time here and so is Ingeborg. Soon after, he slipped out of the building and drove home.