Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 23

There was a peace to be found in graveyards. Sebastian had always felt it as a gentle acceptance of the passage of time and the cycles of life. A peace tinged with sorrow, perhaps, but rarely with violence.

Standing beneath an ancient elm tree near the south transept of the ancient Norman bulk of St. Andrews, Sebastian looked out over a churchyard of neatly scythed grass dotted with moss-covered headstones and crumbling gray tombs. Bees buzzed a nearby scarlet rosebush that was scattering spent petals across the grass. Yet there was no peace to be found here, Sebastian thought; the very air seemed charged with expectation and unassuaged anger.

Sir Henry cleared his throat. “This one, wouldn’t you say?”

Sebastian turned to find the magistrate peering at a low tomb that lay just off the worn path leading from the rectory to the ancient iron-banded door of the south transept. Sebastian walked over to stare down at the simple stone monument formed of gray stone sides some eighteen inches high surmounted by a cracked flat slab. Its inscription was so weathered and encrusted with lichen as to be virtually unreadable.

“Probably.” He glanced up. From here he could see the High Street and the village green, and beyond that, the stone bridge that arched over the stream. “A rather public spot for a killing, wouldn’t you say?”

Sir Henry nodded. “According to the Reverend, the boy disappeared in the afternoon while fishing. They searched the woods and fields behind the rectory to no avail. It wasn’t until early the next morning that his body was discovered here. Which would suggest the boy was killed, then taken to an out-of-the-way spot to be butchered before being brought back here to be found by the Reverend at first light.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Nicholas Thornton’s throat was slit. If the boy had been killed beside the stream, the men who searched for him that evening would have seen blood. They didn’t. Whoever killed the boy might have overpowered him in the wood, but I suspect he was killed wherever he was butchered.”

“Yes, of course.” Sir Henry stared off across the churchyard, lost deep in thought. “I wonder how many others there have been,” he said after a moment, half to himself. “There could be a dozen or more such killings scattered across the length of England and beyond. How would we know? I learned of this one only by chance.”

“I suspect this was the first,” said Sebastian.

Sir Henry swung to look at him. “How could you possibly assume that?”

Sebastian squinted against the bright sunlight. “Are you familiar with the poetry of John Donne?”

“Somewhat. Why? Whatever has Donne to do with any of this?”

“The objects left in the victims’ mouths,” said Sebastian.

Sir Henry shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”

“They’re from a poem.” Sebastian hunkered down to search the grass beside the weathered tomb. “‘Go and Catch a Falling Star.’ Do you know it?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“I don’t remember all of it. Only the beginning. But listen…

“‘Go and Catch a Falling Star

Get with child a mandrake root,

Tell me where all past years are,

Or who cleft the devil’s foot,

Teach me to hear mermaids singing,

Or to keep off envy’s stinging,

And find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.’”

“Merciful heavens,” said Sir Henry. “The killer is following the poem. First the star, then the page from the ship’s log, and now the goat’s hoof. Only the mandrake root is missing.” His lips tightened into a grim line. “There must have been another murder. A murder that took place at some point between April and June that we have yet to discover.”

Reaching out, Sebastian traced the faded, incised cross on the tomb with his fingertips. “Perhaps. Or perhaps the killer simply skipped that line for some reason.”

“Skipped it? What possible reason could he have for doing such a thing?”

“I suspect he has a reason for everything he’s doing.” Brushing off his fingertips, Sebastian pushed to his feet. “The objects left in each man’s mouth. The different ways in which each was mutilated. The manner in which each body was displayed after death. It’s all been very deliberate. This killer has a reason for it all. And if we’re to have any hope of stopping him, we need to find out what that reason is.”