The brutal crack of the rattan cane echoed against the canvas of the autopsy tent, mingling with the pathetic, terrified sobs of Deputy Will. The illusion of his tough, corrupt persona had been completely shattered, leaving only a desperate coward pleading for his life.
"Stop! Please, I'll tell you everything!" Will wailed, his face buried in the dirt beside the wooden hitching post. "Just don't hit me again!"
Arthur Pendelton raised a single, commanding hand. The enforcer stepped back immediately, lowering the bloodied cane. The silence that followed was heavy and expectant, broken only by the buzzing of the green flies drawn to the nearby corpse.
Arthur walked slowly over to the weeping deputy, his black Magistrate robes brushing against the dry earth. He stood tall, a looming figure of absolute authority. "Speak, Will. And remember, the cane is still warm. If I hear one more word about ghosts or whirlwinds, I will have you beaten until you can no longer remember your own name."
Will gasped for air, tears and sweat streaming down his sickly pale face. "I... I took a bribe, My Lord. I confess it. But I swear, I didn't kill the boy!"
"Then who did?" Arthur demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "And how did this aristocratic youth end up on my examination slab?"
Will swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the canvas tent where the butchered body lay. "It happened late last night, My Lord. I was standing guard over the mule driver's body, just as Warden Samuel ordered. Around midnight, a man approached the camp. It was a local drunkard, a scoundrel named 'Tipsy' Tom. He is known for doing dirty work for the wealthy merchants when he needs coin for ale."
Will shuddered, the memory of the night clearly terrifying him. "Tom wasn't alone. He was pulling a wooden handcart, and there was a heavy sack in the back. He walked right up to me and handed me a heavy pouch. It had ten silver shillings in it. He told me he was acting on orders from Zachary Vance, the Viper."
At the mention of Vance's name, Arthur's jaw tightened. The pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking into a horrifying picture.
"Go on," Arthur commanded.
"Tom said Vance had a... a 'problem' that needed to disappear," Will continued, his voice trembling. "He said Vance had killed a boy in his private orchard earlier that evening, and they needed a place to dump the body where it wouldn't be found or investigated. Tom saw the canvas tent. He knew I was guarding a dead man."
"So they decided to swap the bodies," Arthur concluded, disgust practically rolling off his tongue. "They leave the butchered boy here, under my jurisdiction, hoping I would just sign the death certificate without looking too closely, and they take the mule driver to bury in the woods."
"Yes, My Lord! Exactly!" Will nodded frantically. "Tom said it was the perfect crime. The Magistrate expects a dead body in the tent, so he finds a dead body. By the time anyone realizes it's the wrong corpse, Vance will have disposed of the driver's body, and the trail will be completely cold. I... I took the silver, My Lord. I let them make the switch. I was scared of Vance! Everyone is scared of Vance!"
Arthur closed his eyes for a brief moment, suppressing the urge to strike the corrupt deputy himself. The sheer audacity of Zachary Vance was staggering. He had murdered a young aristocrat and used a royal Magistrate's crime scene to cover it up.
"You fool," Arthur whispered. "You aided a murderer, and you obstructed the Crown's justice for a handful of silver."
Arthur turned to Captain Carter. "Captain. Drag this man to his feet. Bind him tightly. He is no longer a deputy; he is an accessory to murder."
As Carter hauled the weeping Will away, Arthur paced the dirt path outside the tent, his mind racing. "We have a butchered boy in the tent, and the corpse of a mule driver missing in the woods. We need to find the driver's body to prove the swap occurred, and we need to identify this dead youth."
Just as Arthur turned to issue orders to Inspector Graves, a sudden, chaotic commotion erupted from the dense tree line bordering the dirt road. There was the sound of snapping branches, rustling leaves, and heavy, stumbling footsteps.
The local constables immediately drew their swords, forming a defensive line.
"Halt! Who goes there?" Warden Samuel shouted, raising his heavy wooden cudgel.
Bursting from the underbrush, covered in dirt, dried leaves, and looking thoroughly disoriented, was a man. He wore ragged, filthy canvas trousers, a torn undershirt, and was completely barefoot. He had a bristly, unkempt yellow beard and small, bewildered eyes.
Arthur stared in absolute, unadulterated shock. He rubbed his eyes, thinking the oppressive heat was playing tricks on his mind.
It was Pete. The grubby mule driver. The man Charles had supposedly killed the day before. The man whose corpse was supposed to be missing.
"Don't shoot! Don't stab me!" Pete yelled, throwing his hands in the air and stumbling onto the dirt road. "I'm unarmed! I'm just looking for my bloody mule!"
The entire camp fell dead silent. Warden Samuel's jaw dropped. Inspector Graves dropped his quill for the second time that morning. Even Dr. Aris stepped out of the tent, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he stared at the resurrected man.
"By the heavens..." Samuel whispered, making a protective sign over his chest. "He's alive. He's back from the dead!"
"I ain't back from nowhere!" Pete grumbled, dusting himself off. He looked around the camp, thoroughly confused by the drawn swords and the staring faces. "And I ain't dead! Though I have a headache that feels like a horse kicked me in the skull."
Arthur quickly recovered from his shock, the sharp gears of his analytical mind turning rapidly. He stepped forward, lowering his hands to show he was unarmed.
"You are the mule driver from yesterday," Arthur stated, stepping into Pete's line of sight. "The man who fought with the shopkeeper, Charles."
Pete squinted at Arthur's black robes. "Aye, that's me. Name's Pete. I remember the fight. That soft-handed city boy clocked me good. Next thing I know, I wake up a few hours ago in a shallow ditch in the woods, covered in dirt and smelling like a brewery! Somebody stole my mule, and my pockets are empty! I want justice, Magistrate!"