What Lies Beneath

Chapter 25

London, 1912

‘Trust madam to choose the most troublesome way of travelling,’ said Flagg crossly, dragging two large wicker hampers from the big larder into the kitchen. ‘No consideration for other folks, as per usual. And why are we jaunting off to the wilds of nowhere all of a sudden? That’s what I’d like to know.’

Hetty, who had been directed to help him, said most likely madam wanted to shut herself away at Cadence Manor until after the birth.

‘More like she’s shutting herself away because she contracted you-know-what from the master, the old rogue,’ said Flagg, straightening up from the hampers, one hand to the small of his back.

‘Flagg, I’ll thank you not to refer to such matters while I’m cooking madam’s lunch.’

‘I speak as I find,’ said Flagg. ‘We all know what ailed Sir Julius, and why Mr Crispian and Mr Jamie took him off to foreign parts before he could go completely mad and ruin the bank altogether.’

‘I don’t know about ruining the bank, I call it tragic what happened to him,’ said Mrs Flagg, stirring the caper sauce, which was to go with the halibut.

‘Tragic my foot. He sowed the wind and now he’s reaping the whirlwind,’ said Flagg, who had been making an inventory of the wine cellar and was always inclined to quote the Old Testament when he had taken a nip of Sir Julius’s port.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Flagg, who could not be doing with Flagg when he became biblical, ‘I don’t care for Cadence Manor, and I don’t mind who hears me say so. It’s the back of beyond, that place; no shops to hand and never a soul to exchange a bit of gossip with. I’d much rather madam stayed in London, with Dr Martlet scampering round every five minutes to make sure she hasn’t suffered a finger ache. Dora, if you’ve nothing else to do at the moment, you and Hetty had better see there’s plenty of greaseproof paper for packing the provisions. I’m taking as much as we can manage, for if Mr Colm’s kept the larders at the manor properly provisioned it’ll be the first time ever.’

Serena had not realized she wanted to leave London until she had actually said the words aloud to Dr Martlet. But as soon as they were out, she thought, yes, of course that’s the answer. Away from London, away from the annoying noises and people plying the door knocker, and Flagg and Hetty having to turn them away because she did not want to see anyone, not like this. And perhaps at Cadence she could find a way to think of this child, this lone little survivor of twins, as an ordinary baby.

Dr Martlet had at first been doubtful about her leaving London, but finally he agreed. ‘Perhaps after all it would be best. It will be quieter and I can make sure you’re looked after by a doctor in Bramley. If you’ve completely made up your mind?’

‘I have. My husband’s cousin, Colm Cadence, lives in one wing of the place. He looks after it for us.’

‘Yes, Gil’s mentioned him.’

‘He’s painfully shy, poor Colm. Very scholarly. He lives for his work and I wouldn’t want to disturb that, but I suppose some arrangement can be reached. Cadence has more than one wing.’ It pleased her to say this, to visualize the manor house behind its high walls. One of Julius’s ancestors had built it and the Italian influence was evident, even though it was slightly battered nowadays – in fact very nearly shabby.

Dr Martlet was of the opinion that her health was sufficient to withstand the journey, which Serena would make by car, since she could not face a train journey, even with a private railcar. ‘The child’s heartbeat is steady and good,’ he said, having listened to it during one of the rare examinations Serena permitted.

‘Mr Jex said that about the heartbeat a few hours before the other child was lost,’ said Serena, rather acidly.

‘Yes, but…’ Martlet straightened up, folding the stethoscope into his bag. ‘Lady Cadence, the heartbeat Mr Jex would have heard was that of the twin who was still alive. This one you’re still carrying. We can be reasonably sure that there was only the one heartbeat for him to hear that day. The other twin – the lost one – was already dead.’

Already dead, thought Serena, her mind going back to that day. That lurch of panic and distress I felt when they brought in the mercury apparatus. It happened then, of course. That’s when it died. Of fear? Could unborn babies feel fear?

‘And,’ Dr Martlet was saying, ‘we hadn’t realized you were carrying twins, mostly because—’

He broke off, and Serena said coolly, ‘Because I wasn’t permitting the examinations you wanted to make? Yes, I understand that.’ She would not apologize, but at least this would make acknowledgement of the facts.

‘As for the other – ah – problem, the mercury treatment seems to have alleviated a great many of the symptoms,’ said Dr Martlet. ‘Better than I dared hope, in fact, particularly since it was not as long a session as Mr Jex wanted. But perhaps after the birth we can try again.’

Try again. A second spell of being enclosed in the bad-smelling wooden contraption, the hot stench of tin in her nostrils, the feeling that her entire skin was being scraped raw, the sensation that her bones were blistering. Never, thought Serena. Even if this disgusting disease tears me into tatters, all hell’s furies won’t force me to endure that a second time. In a vague voice she said they would have to see.

‘Have you been able to write to Sir Julius or Crispian to tell them what’s happened?’ asked Martlet.

‘If you’re referring to the loss of the child, I haven’t told them anything at all,’ said Serena. ‘None of them knows about the pregnancy.’ The thought that Julius might never know, hovered unspoken. Serena said firmly, ‘And in the light of what has just happened I’m inclined to be cautious about telling them even now.’

‘Ah. Yes. Perhaps you’re right.’

‘But I’ve written to let them know I’ll be at Cadence Manor for the next few months. I’ve sent the letter to the shipping office at Athens. The ship was due to call there in a few weeks’ time, did you know that? They’re going a little way along the western coast of Greece, Crispian says.’ The places Crispian wrote about had an exotic ring; Serena would not have cared to travel so far herself, but she looked forward to Crispian’s letters. He wrote vividly and well.

‘As long as they don’t get too close to the Turkish coastline,’ said Dr Martlet, frowning slightly. ‘That area’s been in a state of turmoil for years. The Ottoman Empire has had sovereignty over the Balkan Peninsula for centuries and now the Christian countries are trying to oust them, that’s what it really boils down to.’

‘Crispian asked the man from Thomas Cook if the area was safe before they left,’ said Serena, who had not really followed the complicated squabbles of the people in these outlandish places. ‘He told Crispian the trouble – the fighting – had died down.’ She had not been especially concerned, because Thomas Cook could presumably be trusted to know what was happening in most parts of the world.

She added comfortably, ‘And I dare say Crispian and your son – Jamie, too – are more than a match for any foreign quarrels. And Thomas Cook were quite definite that the – what is it called? – the guerrilla warfare had died down.’

‘Yes, the Balkan League was hailed as the solution to all the problems,’ nodded Dr Martlet. ‘It’s a complex business, though, and I wouldn’t trust the present peace, not if a dozen Leagues had been formed. The Turkish people are quite warlike, although they have an interesting culture, I’ve always thought.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Serena vaguely. ‘Anyway, Crispian said as long as they didn’t actually go ashore in Turkey they would be perfectly safe.’

Edirne, October 1912

Crispian knew they were very far from safe in Edirne. Even so, he thought they were as comfortable as they could be, given the circumstances. Their rooms in the fort were a bit sparse and facilities were basic but adequate.

‘I think we’re lucky to have somewhere to sleep at all,’ Jamie said. ‘I’d been imagining bedding down in a ditch.’

‘As far as I’m concerned,’ Gil said later to Crispian, ‘I’m perfectly happy with any bed, providing I have a glass of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou beside me in the wilderness.’

‘I think there’s a book in the original poem’s list,’ said Crispian, who had taken a minute to recognize the quotation.

‘Oh, bugger the book, as long as I’ve got the bread and wine. And,’ said Gil with a sideways look, ‘I’d quite like thou beside me, as well.’

‘I wish you’d stop this,’ said Crispian angrily.

‘Stop what?’

‘Making these – these stupid mischievous flirting remarks.’

‘What makes you think it’s only mischievous flirting?’ said Gil very quietly, and walked away before Crispian could think how to respond.

Despite the war being waged beyond the city, none of them had any real sense of danger. Various reports of battles fought and won or lost filtered through, but the thick walls of the old fort and the presence of soldiers created a sense of security.

‘It’s false security, though,’ said Jamie. ‘At any minute we could be faced with hordes of marauding Balkan armies.’

‘But the war’s nothing to do with us,’ said Crispian. ‘It’s Serbia, Greece, Montenegro and Bulgaria who’re fighting against the Ottoman Empire.’

‘Try telling that to the Balkan armies when they erupt into this courtyard,’ said Gil. ‘And before you start any of that damn-it-chaps-we’re-British stuff, let’s remember we’re actually inside the ancient Ottoman capital. Personally, I think we’ve been lucky to escape unscathed this long.’

But the sprinkling of English civilians in the fort – most of them doctors or journalists, or simply other stranded travellers – did not agree with Gil’s views. They told one another it would soon be over. Mark their words, they said firmly, the troubles would die out, normal life would be restored, and one would be allowed to get on a ship and go home. They talked wistfully of England, and wrote letters intended for their families, which they optimistically took to the shipping office. Gil said the letters would not even get as far as the Aegean Sea, never mind across Europe and into England.

‘The Greek navy’s had control of every island in the Aegean for nearly a month. It won’t let so much as a postage stamp out.’

For nearly three weeks what Jamie called ‘the false security’ continued. They explored the town in their various ways, often not seeing one another until they met for dinner. After dinner, along with some of the other English civilians, they gathered in the largest of the courtyards to drink the thick sweet coffee that was brewed, and eat the tiny honey-and-nut pastries served with it. The fierce glow of the dying sun sent banners of crimson across the skies and bathed the ancient stones with rose and gold. Jamie found this deeply moving, and talked about Kubla Khan’s ancient sacred Alph or the fire-streaked skies of Aegia, and likened himself and the others to the pilgrims who had set foot on the golden road to Samarkand. Told by Gil that Samarkand was at least a thousand miles further east, he said he was talking metaphorically, if not even metaphysically, and Gil had no romance in his soul.

Gil fell into the way of lending a hand in the hospital block, which was bracing itself for an influx of wounded men. On several occasions he was found to be absent from his bedroom all night; challenged by Crispian, Gil demanded to know where did Crispian think he had been.

‘Helping in the infirmary, I suppose.’

‘You have such a beautiful innocent nature,’ said Gil. ‘Don’t you know that nurses work in infirmaries, and nurses are frequently attractive and very affectionate.’

‘You’re spending some of the nights with a nurse?’

‘Several of the nurses. I’ve never practised exclusivity.’

‘Gil, there’s a war raging within a few miles of us!’

‘All the more reason for a little light entertainment,’ said Gil.

Jamie had spent more time in the town than the other two; he got to know some of the Jewish community, and talked with the scholars, printers and musicians.

‘He’ll end in converting to Judaism, if you’re not careful,’ said Gil.

‘I think he’s just interested in their culture and knowledge,’ said Crispian. ‘He’s very like his father, my uncle Colm. You never met Colm, did you?’

‘I did, actually. Those Christmas house parties at Cadence Manor. I was asked to a couple, if you remember. Colm generally shut himself away from the frivolities, but I met him.’

‘I’d forgotten that,’ said Crispian. ‘Colm’s spiritual home is probably an Oxford college or a library somewhere, and Jamie’s the same. He shouldn’t really be working at Cadences at all.’

‘At the moment I’d give a good deal to be cleaning the lavatories at Cadences,’ said Gil. ‘Anywhere but here.’

Once or twice they accompanied Jamie to performances by one of the choral societies within Edirne. Seeing Jamie rapt and silent in the cascades of the unfamiliar music, Crispian thought: I shouldn’t have let him come on this mad voyage in the first place. And then, as the music poured out, he gave himself up to it, finding it moving and beautiful. Like balm anointing the soul, he thought. Like a silencing hand laid over a discordance. The images of home came strongly and painfully to him: London with its clatter and bustle and impatience; the oak-panelled rooms of Cadences Bank, with their air of quiet activity; Priors Bramley and the old manor house; the scents of the Oxfordshire meadows; the village street, with the smell of freshly baked bread; the serene old church behind the lich-gate, with dappled sunlight lying across the grass…

He spent a large part of each day with his father, but he was not sure if his father knew who he was – or even if he knew Crispian was there. One of the attendants found an old Bath chair and wheeled Julius outside to enjoy the sunshine, even taking him into Edirne’s centre. Crispian was grateful for this, and several times wheeled the Bath chair himself, sitting in one of the ancient squares with the mosques and the glimpses of onion domes, trying to describe the surroundings to his father using the skin-writing. Sometimes he thought there was a flicker of understanding, and once or twice he thought he saw a glint of sly malevolence in the sightless eyes.

‘I don’t think there’s any sight left to him,’ said Raif, with whom they had become friendly by this time. ‘I think the disease is too deep into his brain now.’

‘But you can’t be sure there’s no sight?’

‘Not completely, no.’

For most of the time Julius lay on his narrow bed in a side room of the infirmary, staring blindly up at the ceiling. But as the weeks went by he became prone to fierce rages, rearing up from the bed and blundering round the little room, clutching wildly at whatever came within reach and hurling it from him. Sometimes the rages lasted for several hours, after which he would subside in a corner of the room, crouching in a huddle, covering his face with his hands, and sobbing.

The second time this happened Raif came in search of Crispian.

‘I regret,’ he said, ‘that you won’t like the methods we’ve used to restrain him. But last time we were afraid he would injure himself and we wouldn’t be able to get near enough to treat him. Certainly we couldn’t get near him to administer any kind of sedative. The strength of a person in the grip of genuine mania—’ He broke off and shrugged. ‘You will have experienced that for yourselves already, I suppose. The strength of the insane can be as much as the strength of three men put together.’

Crispian said, ‘What, exactly, have you done?’

‘You had better see. He’s not in his usual room, because… well, you will see. Perhaps you would prefer one of your companions to come with you?’

Crispian was deeply grateful for Gil’s presence that evening, but, as they went along the narrow corridors and down a flight of shallow stone steps, he was aware of a churning apprehension and he was very conscious that they were inside a place whose history stretched back into the days when caliphs and sultans had thought nothing of inflicting what was called exquisite torture on anyone transgressing their laws.

The passages were lit by flaring torches thrust into wall sconces. Edirne had some electricity but it was erratic and this was one of the times it had failed. Dark shadows danced grotesquely across the walls as they went deeper.

As the doctor opened a door halfway along a stone corridor, Edirne’s dark past seemed to surge forward and to Crispian’s first horrified sight it was as if Julius had fallen into the hands of those long-ago avengers. He was seated on the floor; there were blankets and cushions for him, but thick iron gyves with chains attached had been clamped round his wrists and ankles and the ends of the chains were driven into the wall behind him.

‘He’s chained up,’ said Crispian, turning to Raif. ‘Did you have to do that to him?’

But even as he said the words, Julius made a snarling bestial sound, and lunged forward as if aware of their presence, as if he intended to attack whoever was there. The chains tautened at once, scraping across the floor with a sound that made Crispian flinch.

‘It’s not often we’re forced to make use of the fort’s ancient equipment,’ said Raif defensively, ‘but we could see no other way. Truly, we shall release him as soon as this seizure passes. We’ll have to keep him more heavily sedated from then on.’

‘He’s right,’ said Gil quietly. ‘There was nothing else they could have done. Crispian, come away. He’ll come out of this – he’ll become docile again.’

‘But we can’t leave him down here in the dark…’

‘It’s dark for him anyway,’ said Gil. ‘It’s forever dark, as far as he’s concerned,’ and this time there was such infinite pity in his voice that Crispian looked at him in surprise.

‘Mr Martlet is right,’ said Raif. ‘The mania will work itself out, and Sir Julius will be submissive again.’

Submissive. That dreadful, almost childlike, obedience. Crispian said, ‘Can I stay with him until he comes out of it?’

The doctor hesitated, and it was Gil who said, ‘Better not. It won’t make any difference to him.’

‘Again, Mr Martlet is right,’ said Raif.

‘All right. Will you tell me when he’s taken back to his own room?’

‘Of course.’

They went out and, without speaking, walked back along the dim passageways. But when the doctor left them to go to the main infirmary, Gil reached for Crispian’s hand, and for the first time Crispian did not push him away.

He said, ‘Are you spending tonight with one of your nurse friends?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Gil paused and turned to look at Crispian. They were much of a height; in the flickering light, tiny red pinpoints of light seemed to dance in Gil’s eyes.

Like the eyes of a devil, thought Crispian. Or is he? After a moment, he said, ‘I’d better find Jamie and tell him what’s happened.’

Gil made a gesture with his free hand as if to say, it’s up to you, but he released Crispian’s hand and went to his own room without speaking.