Read Online A Christmas Visitor by Anne Perry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Perry
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his hand up and pushed his hair back slowly off his brow. His eyes were unfocused, staring at something within himself.
Benjamin looked at Antonia, then at Henry. There was horror in his eyes and a deep, painful confusion. Death had hurt him, as he had expected it would, asNathaniel’s death had, but hatred and murder were apart from all he had known. They looked to Henry because he was older. He had an inner calm that concealed his emotions, and he did not betray the pain or the ignorance inside him. He had come to terms with it long ago.
“Tomorrow, when it’s light,” he replied. “We should go to the place where Judah lost the knife, and therefore found it, and see if we can learn anything. We can at least see how long it would take anyone to carry a body from there, upstream to the place he was found, and then go back to the village. If we follow in the steps of whoever did it, we may learn something about them.”
“Yes,” Benjamin agreed. “That’s where we should begin. In the morning.”
They set out together after breakfast. The light was glittering sharp, the lake gray, with silver shadowslike strokes from a giant brush. Underfoot the ice crackled with every step, hung in bright strands from the branches of every tree. The wind drifted ragged clouds, tearing them high, like mares’ tails.
They set out walking, Henry and Benjamin ahead, Ephraim alone after them, Antonia and Naomi last, high leather boots keeping their feet dry. No amount of care could keep their skirts from being sodden by the loose snow.
The route to the lower crossing was actually easier. They stood on the bank and stared at the wild, almost colorless landscape. Everything was black rocks, shining water, and bleached snow. Of course it would be possible to fall off the stones, but if one did, it would be far from any jagged edges. There were no rocks, no race or fall to cause the injuries Judah had suffered. The bottom of the stream here was pebbles and larger, smooth stones.
“That proves it,” Ephraim said grimly. “He couldn’t have fallen accidentally and hit his head here. Someone killed him, and then carried ordragged him upstream to where he was found.” He looked along the bank as he said it, and everyone else’s eyes followed his.
“How?” Benjamin asked the obvious question. The ground rose sharply, and a hundred yards away there was a copse of trees straddling both sides. There was no path, not even a sheep track. “How could anyone carry a grown man’s body along there, let alone a big man like Judah?”
“On a horse,” Naomi said quickly. “That’s the only possible way. It’s steep, rough, and uphill.” She looked at Antonia. “A horse would leave marks in the snow, at both places. We can’t find out now about this place, but Wiggins would remember if there were prints of a horse’s hooves where Judah was found.”
“There was nothing,” Ephraim answered for her. “I asked, because I wanted to prove that he went there to meet someone.”
“Did it snow any more on that night to fill them in?” Benjamin asked.
“No.” This time it was Antonia who spoke. “If there were no prints, then there can’t have been anyoneelse there. You can’t walk on snow without leaving a mark, whoever you are.” There was pain in her voice, as if a vestige of sense had been snatched from her just when she had thought she understood.
“But he was killed here!” Ephraim insisted. “Nothing floats upstream!”
“Water,” Henry said aloud.
Ephraim’s face tightened, his eyes as cold and blue as the sky. “Water does not flow upstream, Henry,” he said bitterly. He only just refrained from adding that the remark was stupid and unhelpful, but it was in his expression.
“You can walk in water without leaving a mark,” Henry corrected him. He turned to look up the slope again. “You could drag a body up the river, walking on the bed and letting the water itself help bear the weight. It’s only a
Benjamin looked at Antonia, then at Henry. There was horror in his eyes and a deep, painful confusion. Death had hurt him, as he had expected it would, asNathaniel’s death had, but hatred and murder were apart from all he had known. They looked to Henry because he was older. He had an inner calm that concealed his emotions, and he did not betray the pain or the ignorance inside him. He had come to terms with it long ago.
“Tomorrow, when it’s light,” he replied. “We should go to the place where Judah lost the knife, and therefore found it, and see if we can learn anything. We can at least see how long it would take anyone to carry a body from there, upstream to the place he was found, and then go back to the village. If we follow in the steps of whoever did it, we may learn something about them.”
“Yes,” Benjamin agreed. “That’s where we should begin. In the morning.”
They set out together after breakfast. The light was glittering sharp, the lake gray, with silver shadowslike strokes from a giant brush. Underfoot the ice crackled with every step, hung in bright strands from the branches of every tree. The wind drifted ragged clouds, tearing them high, like mares’ tails.
They set out walking, Henry and Benjamin ahead, Ephraim alone after them, Antonia and Naomi last, high leather boots keeping their feet dry. No amount of care could keep their skirts from being sodden by the loose snow.
The route to the lower crossing was actually easier. They stood on the bank and stared at the wild, almost colorless landscape. Everything was black rocks, shining water, and bleached snow. Of course it would be possible to fall off the stones, but if one did, it would be far from any jagged edges. There were no rocks, no race or fall to cause the injuries Judah had suffered. The bottom of the stream here was pebbles and larger, smooth stones.
“That proves it,” Ephraim said grimly. “He couldn’t have fallen accidentally and hit his head here. Someone killed him, and then carried ordragged him upstream to where he was found.” He looked along the bank as he said it, and everyone else’s eyes followed his.
“How?” Benjamin asked the obvious question. The ground rose sharply, and a hundred yards away there was a copse of trees straddling both sides. There was no path, not even a sheep track. “How could anyone carry a grown man’s body along there, let alone a big man like Judah?”
“On a horse,” Naomi said quickly. “That’s the only possible way. It’s steep, rough, and uphill.” She looked at Antonia. “A horse would leave marks in the snow, at both places. We can’t find out now about this place, but Wiggins would remember if there were prints of a horse’s hooves where Judah was found.”
“There was nothing,” Ephraim answered for her. “I asked, because I wanted to prove that he went there to meet someone.”
“Did it snow any more on that night to fill them in?” Benjamin asked.
“No.” This time it was Antonia who spoke. “If there were no prints, then there can’t have been anyoneelse there. You can’t walk on snow without leaving a mark, whoever you are.” There was pain in her voice, as if a vestige of sense had been snatched from her just when she had thought she understood.
“But he was killed here!” Ephraim insisted. “Nothing floats upstream!”
“Water,” Henry said aloud.
Ephraim’s face tightened, his eyes as cold and blue as the sky. “Water does not flow upstream, Henry,” he said bitterly. He only just refrained from adding that the remark was stupid and unhelpful, but it was in his expression.
“You can walk in water without leaving a mark,” Henry corrected him. He turned to look up the slope again. “You could drag a body up the river, walking on the bed and letting the water itself help bear the weight. It’s only a
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