A Room Full of Bones: A Ruth Galloway Investigation

at it now, all the visions and the battles with the devil, but Augustine was obviously rather a tormented soul. He was a true friend to the poor though. He doubled the amount of alms given by the monks and he founded schools and hospitals. Prior Hugh really thought he was a saint. There are stories of Augustine being able to heal the sick, evenof bilocating, being in two places at once. Hugh recalls watching him praying by the Lady Altar at the same time that he was apparently administering last rites to some old woman in the village.’
    Ruth has been listening with the kind of trance-like interest that she remembers from her best lectures at university. She has almost forgotten about the coffin, Ted’s warning, the dead body of Neil Topham. Janet brings her back to earth by asking, rather abruptly, ‘Why are you so interested? Apart from the gender thing.’
    The gender thing, Ruth muses, that’s one way of putting it. Aloud she says, ‘There were a few other odd things about the coffin. The body was wrapped in silk which had been coated with beeswax. There were the remains of a ceremonial crosier and a single shoe made of leather, very intricate. Why would the Bishop be buried with a single shoe?’
    Janet looks at her consideringly for a minute, then she says, ‘There are two legends that might be linked to it. One is a bit like the Saint Nicholas story – Santa Claus, you know – he was a bishop too. In Turkey. Well, anyhow, in this story there are some penniless children and Bishop Augustine fills their shoes with money. Prior Hugh writes that children would leave their shoes outside their door and the Bishop would go through the town at night, filling them with coins.’
    ‘And the second story?’
    ‘Well, this one’s about the devil. You know that the statue shows Bishop Augustine with his foot on the snake? Well, in one of Hugh’s accounts, the devil in the formof a snake bites through Augustine’s shoe so he stamps on him with his foot. Henceforward, Augustine often walked barefoot. A form of mortifying the flesh possibly, especially when you think of the state of the roads in those days. There’s an inscription on the statue: You will tread on cubs and vipers. You will trample lions and asps.’
    ‘Psalms,’ says Ruth. ‘He will order his angels to guard you wherever you go.’
    Janet looks surprised.
    ‘My parents are Born Again Christians,’ Ruth explains. ‘I know the Bible.’
    ‘Do you have any faith yourself?’
    Ruth shakes her head. ‘There are people I respect who do believe but I don’t. What about you?’
    Janet laughs. ‘I was brought up a Catholic. A Polish Catholic too, which is like being Catholic cubed. I’m a historian, I like evidence but … I don’t know. I think there are things that can’t be proved.’
    Once Ruth would have disagreed violently with this, but after the last few years she isn’t so sure any more. About anything.
    Janet stands up. ‘Let’s go and have a look at the old boy. Or girl, as the case may be.’
    Judy arrives at the yard to find the gates open and Nelson nowhere in sight. She walks through the archway and comes face-to-face with a large chestnut horse whirling around on the end of a lead rope. Judy makes a wide arc round him. The stable girl is trying to get the horse intohis box but he’s having none of it, throwing up his head and clattering round in furious circles. As Judy watches, two lads come up to help subdue the horse. ‘Steady, steady …’ she hears one of them say. The girl is almost in tears. ‘I can’t …’ she’s saying. ‘Don’t be such a girl,’ says one of the men, seemingly without irony. The horse continues to plunge and snort.
    Judy makes her way towards the office where an older man is on the phone. He covers the handset and looks up enquiringly.
    ‘Detective Sergeant Judy Johnson,’ says Judy.
    ‘Len Harris, Head Lad. Can you excuse me a moment? I’m just getting the declarations done.’
    Judy nods and settles down to read the
Racing Post
. Unlike Nelson, she does not feel at all out of place in these surroundings. Her father is a bookie and she comes from a horse-loving Irish family. She used to ride as a child and once even had ambitions to be a jockey. What was it that stopped her, she wonders now. Was it discovering boys or getting boobs? Come to think of it, the two things probably happened at the same time.
    ‘Sorry about that,’ says Harris. ‘Everything’s a bit frantic at the