Dark Matter

“But how can you tell, Doctor?”

“I have paid some attention to the reported details of these particular murders. In all cases, the victim’s arms were broken. But it was not so with our anonymous friend from the moat. This man’s injuries were exclusively to the torso. If he had been held in the embrace of this Mighty Giant, as is already rumoured, I should have expected broken arms as well as ribs. You may box him now, if you wish.”

“Thank you Doctor.”

“I think, Ellis,” said Newton, spitting the remains of his chaw on the ground, “that you and I need a drink, to take away the taste of this damned tobacco and, perhaps, to settle our stomachs.”

It was only as we started back along Water Lane toward the Stone Kitchen, which was the name of the tavern in the Tower, that the implications of Newton’s lying began to impinge upon my Christian conscience.

“Sir, you are quite sure it was George Macey?” said I, as we started back along Water Lane. “I could barely determine that it was a human male, let alone have identified the poor fellow.”

“There can be no doubt about it. I met him but once or twice; however, it did not elude my notice that Mister Macey lacked several teeth on his upper jaw. But, more importantly, the upper joints of his second and third fingers were missing from his left hand. It is an injury most peculiar to this Tower, and more precisely this Mint.”

“It is?”

“Perhaps, when you have become better acquainted with the practice of coining, you will recognise that the moneyer who feeds the coining press with blanks must be mighty nimble-fingered. There can be hardly one of them who has not lost one or more finger joints. Prior to his clerkship, Macey was himself a moneyer. These observations, added to the dredger’s expert opinion as to how long the body had been in the water, and the finding of two new-minted shillings on the victim’s person, such as the ones I myself gave the two dredgers, must equal the conclusion I have described. Even though the coins had been a long time in the water, the milled edges were quite unmistakable.”

“Why, then, sir, if it is George Macey—.”

“You may rest assured of it.”

“Then what of his eternal rest in Christ? Does he not deserve a good Christian burial? What of his family? Perhaps they would wish a stone to remember him by? To say nothing of this matter would surely be wrong.”

“I can’t see that it matters very much to him, can you?” He smiled, as if vaguely amused by my outburst. “I believe there was a whore in Lambeth Marsh he liked to visit. But I shouldn’t think she would want to pay for a funeral. And as for his rest in Christ, well, that would all depend on whether or not Macey was a Christian, would it not?”

“Surely there can be no doubt of that,” said I. “Did he not, as I did, lay his hand upon the Bible and swear the oath of secrecy?”

“Oh, he may have done. Not that that proves anything, mind. After all, most of the Bible was written by men who had no knowledge of Jesus Christ. No, the plain fact of the matter is that Macey was no more a Christian than was the prophet Noah. I told you that I only met Macey once or twice. But on each occasion I discoursed with him long enough to learn the true nature of his religious views. He was of the Arian persuasion, which is to say that he believed that Jesus Christ and our Lord God are not of one substance, and that there was no human soul in our Saviour. Therefore he would hardly have wanted a Christian burial, with all its attendant idiosyncrasies.”

“But that is heresy,” said I. “Isn’t it?”

“Indeed, many would say so,” murmured Newton. “But you should concern yourself more with why Macey was killed and where, than with the fate of his immortal soul. For it is plain that he was murdered in the Tower, and by people from the Ordnance who were in a great hurry to be rid of his body.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“For the present I would merely ask you to recall the knot that was tied around poor Macey’s feet. Common enough, you thought. But in reality, much more singular. It is made by twisting two parts of rope in opposite directions, forming two side-by-side eyes through which the base of a hook may be passed so that a sling or weight may be hung from the hook. The knot, called a cat’s paw, is used to attach a rope to a hook and is quite versatile, but I have seldom seen it used outside of this Tower. I have other reasons, also, for believing the Ordnance was involved, which we will investigate as soon as we have wet our whistles.”