The Black Book of Secrets (19 page)

As soon as the crowd heard that Ratchet was dead they had
turned tail, one and all, and run down the hill. Joe went
straight through to the shop and began to beat out the
flames with an old coat from the window. To be honest, it
was more smoke than fire and it didn’t take long to put it
out. Despite that, the damage was extensive. Everything
was charred or blackened with smoke and the acrid smell
made breathing quite unpleasant. There was little worth
saving. Gradually the air was clearing with the biting wind
that now blew through the broken window and the shattered
door. I helped him without knowing why. Eventually
Joe stamped out one last stubborn flame and rested, panting
from the effort.

‘What a dreadful shame, so unnecessary,’ he murmured.
‘But I suppose it could have been worse. At least I still have
this.’ He bent down and pulled the wooden leg, miraculously
unharmed, from the rubble and went to the back
room. When I looked in he was dressed in cloak and scarf
and struggling to force the leg into the satchel.

Suddenly everything was happening far too quickly. I
was angry with Joe for the way he behaved, for the murder
I was so sure he had committed, but I was frightened too,
because he was leaving.

‘Is that it? You’re just going to go?’

‘There’s not much more I can do now,’ he said. ‘I have
no reason to stay.’

‘What about the shop?’

‘The shop is finished. We can start again somewhere
else.’ He slung the bag over his shoulder and came through,
stepping carefully over the wreckage on his way to the door.
‘You are coming with me?’

How could he be so calm? My heart was racing.

I hesitated. ‘I don’t know if I can.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded as if he hadn’t considered this and
frowned. ‘I thought you knew we couldn’t stay here forever.
Perhaps I should have said something before. My work
compels me to move on.’

‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘I would have gone anywhere with
you but –’ I couldn’t say it. I felt as if I was choking. We
faced each other wordlessly until the silence was gently
broken by a soft voice that made us both look up. It was
Perigoe.

‘Mr Zabbidou,’ she said. ‘Mr Zabbidou.’ She came
through the remains of the door and when she saw the
destruction she looked distraught. ‘I want to say sorry,’
she whispered. ‘Everyone wants to say sorry. We know
we were wrong to treat you the way we did. We should
have trusted you. It was the letter that frightened us all.’

‘Ah,’ said Joe, ‘the letter.’

Perigoe looked as if she was about to burst into tears.
‘It was the oldest Sourdough boy who wrote the letter,
blackmailing his own father to line his pockets. He found
out that Elias had been to see you and he knew we
would blame you. Ruby found another letter he was going
to send to Dr Mouldered. Everyone feels terrible, Mr
Zabbidou. You were right: all we had to do was wait a little
longer. Are you a doctor too? Did you know about his
heart?’

I could have laughed out loud. Now they thought Joe
was a hero again. What was it then that bothered me so
much? Jeremiah had so many enemies he was always going
to meet a sticky end one way or the other; did it really
matter how? But I couldn’t bear the thought that Joe was
involved in such a wretched business. All those times I had
worried about having sneaked a look in the Black Book.
There were far greater sins being committed than that!

‘His heart?’ repeated Joe. ‘Yes, I suspected something
was amiss with the fellow.’

Perigoe’s eyes went to the bag on his shoulder. Her
eyelid flickered rapidly and she blushed.

‘Are you leaving?’

‘Indeed I am. I think Pagus Parvus can do without me
now.’

A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye, but she
wiped it away quickly and sniffed. ‘Then I am glad I caught
you. I want to give you something.’ She handed over a small
book. ‘It doesn’t matter any more, now that Jeremiah’s
gone. Too many bad memories. I mean, who cares about
sheep?’

Joe hesitated. ‘You do realize what this is worth, don’t
you?’

Perigoe nodded. ‘I couldn’t take the money. You
deserve it, after all you’ve given us.’

‘If it is your wish, I accept.’ Joe tucked the book into his
cloak but not before I managed to catch the title:
The Loneliness
of the High Mountain Shepherd.

‘And there’s this too. I nearly forgot. Dr Mouldered
found it. I thought it might be important.’

She gave him a piece of paper and he kissed her hand.
Then she whispered goodbye and hurried away.

‘You see,’ said Joe as he pocketed the folded page,
‘inheritance. When I sell the book, the money will keep us
going for many months.’

‘Inheritance?’ I scoffed. ‘You mean you get your money
from dead people.’

Joe smiled. ‘I suppose that is close enough to the truth.’

‘People you have killed.’

‘I have never killed anyone for money, Ludlow. It is not
in my nature.’

‘You’ll be telling me next it’s against the rules.’

Joe sighed and put down his satchel. ‘All these weeks
you have been such a help to me, Ludlow, and I am
immensely grateful. You have been honest and loyal and I
know it wasn’t easy for you. But more than that, I had
thought I saw something in you, something I have been
seeking for years. That first night when I found you outside
in the snow, you reminded me of myself when I was a young
man and I could see a future for you. That is why I want
you to come with me. I have such hopes for your talent. I
want us to continue to work together. I can show you the
world. Tell me, why won’t you come?’

Why not, indeed? Of course I wanted to go, desperately.
If he had asked a day ago, even hours ago, I would have
had no hesitation. But now things were different. I wasn’t
sure he was the person I had thought him to be. I wasn’t
even sure who I was any more.

‘You could have a marvellous future, Ludlow. There is
so much I could teach you.’

‘Like murder?’ At last I said it, and the relief was
indescribable – as was the fear that came with it.

‘Ah,’ he said and his face lit up knowingly, ‘I wondered
when you would come out with it. Presumably you believe
I murdered Jeremiah?’

I nodded slowly. ‘Can you prove to me that you didn’t?’

‘I . . .’ began Joe but then another voice hailed us from
the shop door. It was Horatio, breathless and sweating from
running up the hill.

‘I had to come,’ he said as he crashed through the debris.
‘I have to tell you, Joe, before you go, I’ve done something
terrible. It wasn’t his heart. It was me that did it. I killed
him.’

Joe took him by the arm and sat him down.

‘What is it, Horatio? What do you think you have done?’

‘I killed Jeremiah Ratchet. I poisoned his pie and had
Polly give it to him. I know I swore I’d never cook up such
a dish again but I just had to do something. Dr Mouldered
said you weren’t going to help us. I couldn’t stand it any
more.’

‘Listen to me,’ said Joe, ‘you mustn’t blame yourself.
What’s done is done. Dr Mouldered said he had a heart
attack and it is best to accept that. Don’t say anything about
this to anyone, but make sure the remains of the pie are
taken away in case someone else eats it. There are plenty
who are hungry enough.’

‘Are you sure, Mr Zabbidou?’ Horatio looked up with
red-rimmed eyes.

‘Certain. Just get rid of the pie before someone innocent
comes to harm.’

‘I don’t know how to thank you, Mr Zabbidou,’ said
Horatio. ‘I don’t deserve your help.’

‘The pie,’ repeated Joe. ‘Fetch the pie.’

As soon as Horatio was gone Joe put his hands on my
shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. ‘So, Ludlow,
now do you trust me?’

I was speechless. I had been so certain. ‘S-so you d-didn’t
do it?’ I stammered. I could hardly look at him. ‘Can
you forgive me?’ Then a terrible thought struck me. ‘Do
you still want me to come with you?’

Joe laughed. ‘Ludlow, my dear fellow, of course I do.
How could you possibly think otherwise? Come with me
now and I promise if you don’t like what you see, and think
you cannot live with what you know, then you and I can go
our separate ways and our paths need never cross again.’

My heart swelled to bursting point with excitement
and I grinned so widely I could feel my skin stretching. I
wasted no more time. I collected my purse from the
fireplace and pulled my cloak tightly around me. But there
was still something I had to say.

‘I haven’t always been honest with you,’ I began, but Joe
shook his head.

‘It’ll keep,’ he said. ‘Now we must go.’

We slipped out through the shattered door, carrying no
more than we had when we arrived in the village all those
weeks ago. I looked over my shoulder, but the street was
empty. A single light shone in Jeremiah’s window, but other
than that the houses were dark and we left as we came,
unseen.

We journeyed on foot for two days and two nights. All the
time we were climbing and all the time it was snowing. We
had no chance to talk. Our efforts were concentrated on
ploughing through the drifts and fighting against the wind.
It was vital that we stayed together. If we had become separated
I had no doubt we would have been lost to each other
forever. I did not know if we were going north or south,
east or west. There was no sun to guide us and no moon at
night.

As we travelled I had a chance to think, to mull over the
recent past. Although I was elated that Joe had not murdered
Jeremiah (and ashamed that I could have accused him
of such a thing), I still felt that had Joe not arrived in Pagus
Parvus when he did, Jeremiah would probably still be alive.
There was also the matter of Joe’s ‘inheritance’ as he liked
to call it. Joe had said, and I believed him, that he never
killed for money. But money and death seemed inextricably
linked when he was around.

There were other unanswered questions of course, and
I had come on this trip for those answers, but as the temperature
dropped and the snow became thicker, I wondered
if I had been so wise. But there was nothing left for me in
Pagus Parvus and I soldiered on, trying to stay cheerful.
Towards the end of the journey I was so tired I could hardly
lift my feet and Joe carried me on his back, tucked under
his cloak, for the last few miles. I could still hear the storm
howling but the steady rhythm of his footfall, even with the
limp, sent me into a delicious slumber. I remember very
little after that until I woke up again to find that I was
stretched out on the ground.

I was lying under my own cloak on a bed of leafy
branches on a hard floor. There was no snow, no wind, no
chill in the air. I lay for a few minutes unmoving, enjoying
the warmth and comfort. I stared up at a ceiling of rock and
when I put my hand out I could feel that the floor was sandy.
I sat up and looked around cautiously. I was in a low-roofed
cave lit by orange-flamed torches jutting out from the walls.
The last time I had seen such burning brands, the night Jeremiah
died, they had not cast such a comforting light. If I
concentrated I could just hear the wind crying outside, but
it sounded very far away. There was a fire at my feet, over
which hung a blackened kettle. I could smell something
familiar bubbling within. Joe was sitting cross-legged on the
other side holding out a bowl.

‘Soup?’

After we ate it was time to talk. For once Joe seemed happy
to answer my questions. He looked different somehow,
relaxed, as if he was in a familiar place.

‘It is time for the truth,’ he said. ‘If we are to continue
our journey together you must trust me. If there is anything
you wish to know, now is the time to ask.’

Where to begin! I was so nervous I was shaking, but I
knew what I wanted to say. I had rehearsed this moment for
days. ‘Tell me your rules.’

Joe nodded and began,

‘There are only two, both simple, but it is their
simplicity that makes them so difficult to follow. I think you
know the first.’

I did. ‘You must not change the course of things.’

‘Exactly. That is not to say I have no influence. The very
fact that I arrive in a place affects the future in some way
but, wherever I go, each person is responsible for his own
actions. Of the two rules, I think this is the harder to obey.
I have seen some terrible things, Ludlow, and it makes it so
difficult not to interfere. Nigh on every day in Pagus Parvus
I was tempted to ignore the rule. The villagers needed my
help so badly but I had to be deaf to their pleas. I don’t really
know what they wanted me to do – perhaps they wished
me to murder Jeremiah (here he smiled wryly) – but I could
only carry on as normal and hope they could wait. To
behave in any other way would have led to disaster. “
Dura
Lex Sed Lex.
The law is hard but it is the law.”’

‘And the other rule?’

‘You are familiar with that one too. Everyone, no
matter who they are, deserves a chance to redeem themselves,
to say sorry, to ask for mercy. Even people like
Jeremiah Ratchet. You will remember I gave him that
opportunity when he came for the book.’

I remembered the sight of Jeremiah pleading for help
and I shuddered.

‘Of course, he didn’t really want my help,’ continued
Joe, ‘but still I had to offer it to him. You were afraid that
if he confessed I would use his secret against him. It broke
my heart to see your faith in me waver, although I was
immensely pleased that you were so concerned for the fate
of the villagers. I knew then I hadn’t misjudged you. Your
loyalty to them is a quality to be admired. We act for the
people, Ludlow. Never forget that.

‘I will not deny that Jeremiah’s own fate was sealed one
way or the other when I came to Pagus Parvus, but he killed
himself long before I ever turned up: by his selfishness, his
avarice, his cruel nature.

‘These are the rules, Ludlow, and I live by them regardless.’

He looked at me expectantly and I was ready. ‘The
money you used in Pagus Parvus, where did it come from?’

‘A dead person, as you suggested, but before you accuse
me of foul play let me assure you it was all perfectly
legitimate. Before I came to the village I spent some time
in a small town near the border. Business was good. In fact,
you will find some of their secrets at the beginning of the
Black Book. There is an interesting one about a coffin
maker . . .’

My heart sank and I flushed bright red and covered my
face with my hands. ‘You knew.’

Joe grinned. ‘Of course I knew. It was written all over
your face when I came back.’

‘Aren’t you angry?’

‘I was, I suppose, at the time. More with you than with
Polly. But at least you started at the beginning.’

‘We wouldn’t have read any more,’ I said. ‘We both felt
terrible afterwards.’

‘I’m glad,’ replied Joe, laughing. ‘So you should. It
would have been easy enough to make you confess, but I
thought I should let you live with your guilt. And the book
under your cushion – I’m sure to feel that every night was
punishment enough. As I said, “
Quae nocent docent.
”’

The Latin words at the end of the story.

‘It means, “Things that hurt also teach.”’

Now I felt even worse. ‘So what happened in that small
town,’ I said, anxious to know everything.

‘After some weeks it came to my attention that the local
physician was deliberately poisoning his patients and stealing
their money and belongings. After he died the locals
rewarded me quite handsomely with a share of his stolen
wealth. And then I moved on.’

‘But how did he die?’

‘Not by my hand, I swear it.’

‘Then how? More poisoned pie?’

Joe laughed. ‘No, it was an accident, I promise. But let’s
not dwell on that. There’s more important business to
attend to. Follow me.’

Joe picked up his satchel and crossed the cave to
the opposite wall, where I noticed for the first time the
entrance to a tunnel. I hesitated at the opening, it was
narrow and dark, but Joe had already stepped through, so I
took a torch from the wall and ran after him.