Arthur and Gabriel Webber

1667 – 1721

Study to show thyself approved unto God,

a workman that need not to be ashamed,

rightly dividing the word of truth.

‘Gabriel chose the epitaph himself.’

I turned to find Father Popov standing at a discreet distance. Either the young Father moved with some stealth, or I was in danger of losing my hearing. Both were disconcerting propositions.

‘With his day-brother’s blessing, of course,’ the Father continued. ‘He and Arthur were in agreement in so many things. I admired them for that. Though my day-brother is also a man of the cloth, we do not always see eye-to-eye.’

‘They were young to be thinking of such things.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Do you think he knew he was in danger?’

The Father spread his hands. ‘I am not an inspector, Inspector.’ He smiled sadly at his little joke.

‘I had heard there were problems between the constable and Stefan, the framer.’

‘That all happened a long time ago,’ Father Popov said.

‘Given where we are, it feels like recent history to me, Father.’

‘I too saw Gabriel, at the end. Stefan is not a man without his share of sin, but I do not think him capable of such things.’

‘And who would be?’

‘I hope you will discover that, Inspector, for all our sakes. My congregation is worried. Scared, if I am honest.’

‘And Mrs Harsson, is she scared?’ I said.

‘Not in any way you would recognise. But I know Mrs Harsson, and she shares all our concerns.’

‘I see.’

‘You should know that my congregation is mostly scared of you, Inspector.’

‘Of me?’ I said.

‘I have done my best to allay their fears, to speak of your greater purpose, to explain that your very presence is part of our salvation. But fear is the Devil’s blindfold. Take care, Inspector; in such dark times it is all too easy for people to place blame at the feet of an outsider.’

I heard Father Popov’s warning, but I was not unused to such small concerns during the course of an investigation. The gossip, the rumours, the pettiness of the local populace – such as the kind of superstition that Alexsander had already faced – would not stop me. I would find the witch.

24th October 1721

To Alexsander’s surprise, Mr Hennig asked him to play that morning. It may have been his painter friend’s doing, who was the sole patron. Both Marcus and Hennig were dutiful in their applause.

Alexsander kept glancing at the door, until it grew so distracting he dropped three chords in quick succession. If his audience noticed they gave no sign but his professional pride could take only so much. He turned his back to the door, and the hopes she might walk through it, and gave his focus to the music.

When Mr Hennig put a plate on the table in front of him, he started as if from a daze and then finished the song.