Dazed, he had gone home.

In the morning the package had been brought to him by his maid.

‘The butcher said to tell you there are more where those came from,’ she said. ‘He thought you should know, sir.’ She’d bobbed a curtsy and left him to open the package.

He’d seen that the three letters were clearly written in his son’s hand. Love letters – and for a moment he’d felt relief. No harm in a boy of his age having an affair. He’d read the second letter and turned to the third when he stopped. For the first time he saw who they were addressed to. It made no sense. The love letters were addressed to the miller’s son. At the end of each the mayor’s son begged that he burn it so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

The mayor had laughed mirthlessly at that. If this matter should ever come to light the consequences were too terrible to contemplate. His position, his reputation, the family name would be ruined. His son would not graduate, would not practise law. With every thought the mayor felt himself one step closer to the precipice. It would take only a careless word and he would fall.

Since then he’d been unable to exert his authority over the butcher or, for that matter, the priest.

Sons, he thought now, reading the merchant’s letter again. And again he felt powerless. He went to the window to close the curtains. This should be done for me, he thought, would be done, if all the women weren’t cooking for this farce of a wedding. He had his hands on the heavy fabric when he looked out. He couldn’t think what his wife was doing standing outside the house, staring up the road.

Lena, who was dusting the cabinet maker’s parlour, had a good view of the street. Her cry brought all the women rushing to the window.

The cobbler was mending the butcher’s cuckoo clock. He stepped out for some fresh air and thought he was seeing a ghost. Nevertheless, he ran towards it.

Thin, bearded but defiantly alive, Misha was pulling a makeshift sleigh down the icy street.

Vanda was the first out of the door. She ran to her son, blind to the sleigh and its cargo. Edith, close behind her, saw only the body of Demetrius lying on the sleigh, his violin on his chest. She fell to her knees. In his frozen fingers was her gold coin.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Dark Stain