‘Sacred heaven!’ whispered Galliott. No-one moved for several heartbeats. Then Mulgrave urged his horse on. The gelding was uneasy with the smell of blood, and Mulgrave dismounted, tethering the beast to a bush.
He approached the first of the heads. It was of a man close to middle age. Scratch marks could be seen on the greying skin of his left cheek. His right cheek was torn away, exposing several smashed teeth, and one eye was open. Something had been carved into his brow. Mulgrave looked at it, but flowing blood had obscured it. He could make out a J and an S. Moving to the second head he saw that this was a younger man. He too had the marks of savage cuts on his forehead.
Galliott came alongside the officer. Taking a cloth from his pocket, he wiped away the blood on the youth’s brow. Now the word could be seen clearly: JUSTICE.
Galliott threw aside the cloth and stepped out onto the bridge itself. ‘Bindoe was gutted like a fish,’ he said, ‘and castrated. The youth has no marks on his body that I can see. I would imagine his throat was cut.’
Two horses were grazing on the far side of the river. Stepping carefully to avoid the slippery blood, Galliott crossed the bridge and led the horses back before he searched the saddlebags, removing a heavy pouch, which he opened. ‘Bindoe was carrying a deal of silver,’ he told Mulgrave. ‘He was not robbed.’
Mulgrave was lost in thought. He was staring at Bindoe’s head. It looked as if he’d been shot in the face before being knifed. The killer – or killers – had been waiting here to exact revenge for the murder of Chara Ward. But why? How could they have known that Bindoe would take this road at this time? He glanced at Galliott. The man seemed infinitely more relaxed now than he had been some moments before.
Did Galliott send men to have Bindoe murdered?
Mulgrave dismissed the idea. Had the Borderer done so then the bodies would have been merely buried somewhere, never to be found. Hacking and mutilating the corpses had been the work of someone filled with fury, and a burning desire for revenge.
The officer moved out across the bridge. There was a bloody footprint on the earth below him, pointing down to the river. Mulgrave climbed down to the water’s edge. There were more footprints here, and marks of blood upon the earth. Struck by a sudden realization, Mulgrave looked more closely. The killer had waded into the river in his shoes.
Shoes. Low-heeled shoes. Not a rider, then.
Mulgrave sat back on his heels and thought the evidence through. The killer had been covered in blood and had splashed into the river to clean himself. He had not removed his shoes first, which indicated he was acting instinctively, without conscious thought. He was, therefore, probably in a state of shock.
Mulgrave saw where the killer had walked back up to the bridge. He followed the prints and saw that the man had walked away to the north-east. Towards Old Hills.
‘This is the work of a clansman,’ said Galliott, as Mulgrave returned to his horse.
‘What brings you to that conclusion?’
‘Look around you, man. Would any civilized man commit such a barbarous act?’
‘Let us not get into a debate about civilized behaviour,’ said Mulgrave. ‘How civilized was it to rape a young virgin then hang her from a tree?’
‘That too was appalling,’ said Galliott, ‘but since Sergeant Bindoe was offered no opportunity to explain his scratches there is no evidence to convict his memory. He died innocent according to the law.’
‘Aye, he did,’ admitted Mulgrave. ‘More’s the pity.’
Excitement mounted in the week that followed. Eldacre had not known such a turbulent period for a great many years. An assassination attempt on the Moidart, the drama of the fixed fight between Gorain and the highlander, then the murder of a young girl and the savage slaying of two Varlish travellers. These events were discussed endlessly in the bars, taverns and meeting places. And there was the continuing hunt for Chain Shada. Stories and theories abounded. Did Chain kill the girl? Was the murder of the (now) well-loved Sergeant Bindoe the first hint of a new clan uprising?