Spectred Isle (Green Men #1)(76)

Sam was sitting forward. “What was on this page?”

“A map of ‘Camelot Moat’,” Randolph said. “Camlet Moat when the buildings still stood, and with the well marked as the location of, I quote, crux antica regis. The ancient cross of the king.”

Saul remembered the feel of the lead thing on his palm, the hard straightish edges. “That was what was in the well? A cross?”

“A king’s cross,” Barney repeated thoughtfully. “Which king? Hang on, hang on. Camelot?”

“Christ, don’t you start.”

“Did you get hold of this paper?” Sam demanded.

“I did not,” Randolph said, “because Peabody did. He offered Abchurch a large sum for it, which that rather decent gentleman refused since it wasn’t his to sell. Whereupon I regret to say that Peabody concealed it in his luggage and departed. That was why he abandoned you to the Fens, Saul; he was making away with the loot. He saw his chance for a great discovery, and he took it.”

Sam steepled his fingers, frowning. “This sounds awfully convenient, doesn’t it? He happens to receive a book about de Mandeville and a lead to Abchurch, who happens to have received a peculiar and untraceable document?”

“If you were going to tailor a trap for him, it would look just like this,” Saul said. “An anonymous correspondent, someone taking him seriously. A rare and mysterious book. Proof of its truth when the Southcott Oak burned—”

“If someone set fire to the Oak purely in order to lure Peabrain, I am going to do violence.”

“And after that, he was ready to listen to anything that supported his ideas,” Saul went on. “He’d follow any path on which this marvellous anonymous correspondent chose to lead him—particularly one that led to the Fens, of course. And if he then saw some ancient treasure map linking de Mandeville to his Arthurian fantasies— You’re right, Sam, it’s far too convenient. Someone wound him up, and set him off.” He remembered the dead face, despoiled earth in the slack mouth. “God. Why?”

Sam made a face. “We have to assume, to get their hands on what was in the well. The cross, if that’s what it was. If someone wanted to find it while hiding their tracks—well, Peabody was easily hid behind. I’ve had the Trent Park people looking into it while you’ve been away, Randolph. It seems that Peabody bribed a couple of their groundsmen to do the work off the books, the damned fools.”

“Do they know anything more?”

“No. Isaacs and I had a chat with them this morning,” Barney said. “They’d have told us more if they could. People usually do.”

Max grinned mirthlessly. “It’s the Captain’s natural charm what does it.”

“So our theory is that some blighter set up Peabody to raid the Moat, then took the cross off him,” Sam said. “What about the business in the Fens with you two? How does that fit?”

“Something stirred up de Mandeville in the Fens the first night Saul was there,” Randolph said. “Herbert, the Vicar, panicked, as usual. He’s never been up to the job. My father always used to hold his hand, but he’s dead so Herbert called me.”

“Some bugger was up to something in Temple Church. That set off a fuss in the Fens, and you trotted up and got caught,” Max said. “Doesn’t sound like chance, does it? They set you up too, Mr. G.”

“That’s really quite irritating.” Randolph’s drawl was casual, ironic, and held just a slight promise of burning buildings and ground sown with salt.

“Although they didn’t quite manage to get you out of the way,” Sam pointed out.

“But nearly. You know what it’s like: we could have been gone for weeks or months, or not have returned at all. They took a chance, a daring one. And it worked, thanks to those imbeciles at the Ministry arresting Saul at precisely the wrong time.”

“Are we worried about that?”

“They didn’t know he was the Walker. If they had, it would suggest collusion, but I can’t see any way they can have. And their efforts to get in my way were no greater than usual. It is possible that was simply a stroke of luck for our thieving friends. Regarding whom...” Randolph grimaced. “I suppose we all realise what this means.”

“I don’t,” Barney said.

“It’s someone in the know.” Sam’s voice was flat. “Someone who knew about Camlet Moat, even knew there was something in the well, and that seems to be a deep secret so far as we can tell from Saul. Someone who knew Randolph had to be got out of the way, and was able to summon up that business in the Fens. This isn’t an enthusiastic treasure-hunter blundering in. This is the arcane equivalent of a cashier robbing the bank.”

“Any occultist who knew all that would know the importance of Camlet Moat,” Randolph said. “It’s a cornerstone of London’s protections, and someone ripped it apart to get their hands on treasure? Christ, I hate people.”

“You sure it’s that way round?” Max asked.

“Meaning?”

“Camlet Moat’s like a machine-gun nest for London, right? What if this was someone trying to take it out? They didn’t rip the Moat apart to get the cross; they took the cross to rip the Moat apart.” Max shrugged. “Just a thought.”