Borders.’
‘I can imagine,’ said Motram, and he could. The image of Black Death breaking out in a hugely crowded military camp in the forest, turning it into a hell of squalor, filth and infection, filled his mind. Deserters would be running off in all directions but would only spread the infection rather than escape it. Bodies would pile up and be left to rot. The stench of filth and decomposition would fill the air, accompanying the moans of the sick, the groans of the dying…
‘When news spread north to the cities, the families of some of the more noble Scottish participants were adamant they did not want their loved ones left to be rolled and tumbled into the communal pits and pyres of the forest. The Le Clerk family were tasked with preserving the bodies of those of noble birth they could find and transporting them up to Edinburgh and beyond for proper burial.
‘This never happened: Black Death beat them to it. It had already spread north by the time the bodies had been preserved and was wreaking havoc throughout Scotland. The embalmed corpses remained in the Borders, where they were buried in a secret chamber at Dryburgh Abbey — the papers I mentioned earlier tell us where that chamber is. Sixteen Black Death victims, preserved by masters of the craft, lie waiting there. Are you interested, doctor?’
John Motram’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘I feel as if Christmas has come early this year,’ he said. ‘What a fascinating story, and what an intriguing prospect… although…’ The smile faded. ‘There’s a bit of a cloud on the horizon, I’m afraid. It seems my research funding in this area is not going to be renewed, and without it the cost of mounting an excavation would be prohibitive.’
Harvey leaned back in his chair as if master of all he surveyed and said, ‘You know, I think we might be able to help there.’
‘Really?’
‘Have you heard of the Hotspur Foundation?’
Motram shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Neither had I until a few weeks ago, but we, among certain other academic institutions across the land, have been asked to recommend suitable candidates for funding — what the newspapers might call “top scientists” — in certain fields. You fall into one of the categories.’
‘Bygone plagues?’ said Motram with a look of incredulity.
‘It’s more your expertise in the mechanics of viral infection they’re interested in,’ said Harvey with a smile. ‘Your broader area of expertise — but two birds with one stone and all that, eh, doctor? It’s up to you how you spend the money.’
‘Sounds too good to be true,’ said Motram. ‘Who’s behind this foundation?’
‘It’s not clear,’ replied Harvey, ‘but that isn’t unusual in these cases — probably a reclusive billionaire atoning for the past misdeeds which got him the fortune in the first place, I shouldn’t wonder. He’ll be bidding for a late entry pass through the gates of heaven — if you’ll pardon my cynicism.’
Motram smiled. ‘And what exactly would these people expect from me?’ he asked.
‘The only stipulation is that your expertise can be called upon without too much notice if and when the occasion arises during the next few months. Nothing more specific.’
‘Pretty vague,’ said Motram. ‘Still, if this enables me to carry on with my work and lets me unlock the secrets lying in the Scottish Borders, I’m all for it.’
‘Good. Then I can put your name forward?’
‘Please do.’ Motram hesitated, then asked, ‘At the risk of sounding rude and perhaps even ungrateful, might I ask what you and the college are getting out of all this?’
Harvey smiled. ‘Prestige, doctor — what we value most. After all, if you are successful, we would be instrumental in bringing about the resolution of an important academic argument, would we not?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Motram.
‘Excellent,’ exclaimed Harvey. ‘Then I think we should put our collaboration on a more formal basis. I’ll send off a letter to your university suggesting that we make you an honorary research fellow of the college for the duration of the investigation and put forward your credentials for funding from the Hotspur Foundation. Perhaps you’d care to join me for some lunch?’
Motram was entertained to the kind of lunch that had him thanking fate that he hadn’t driven down to Oxford but had opted for the train instead. He wondered how people who lunched like that regularly could possibly function in the afternoon, although he had to admit that Harvey seemed perfectly alert. One thing was still intriguing him, so he asked, ‘What made you decide to approach me?’
Harvey smiled. ‘We didn’t pick your name out of a hat, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ he said. ‘When the papers from the house in the Borders came into our possession, we did some research to find out who might best benefit from the new finding. Your reputation and expertise — not to mention the publicity given to the current academic argument — put you at the top of the list. I have to admit that the appearance of the Hotspur Foundation on the scene was something we hadn’t anticipated, but why knock serendipity? Bringing all these factors together for mutual benefit is, well… what I do.’
‘And very well too,’ said Motram. ‘I must say I’m intrigued by the Hotspur Foundation.’
‘As I said, individual benefactors are by no means unusual, although I understand that in this case the funds are really quite substantial.’
‘Perhaps those sorts of benefactors are not unusual in Oxford University.’ Motram deliberately accentuated his northern accent. ‘For us folk up north it’s quite a different matter. How does it work? I mean, who makes the decisions? Who holds the purse strings?’
‘In this instance, I understand it’s a firm of London solicitors, although it would be naive to imagine that they actually make the decisions. They’ll be charged with maintaining their client’s anonymity while relaying their instructions and advice.’
‘I seem to remember you saying that funding was being provided for researchers in “certain fields”,’ said Motram. ‘Can you be more precise?’
Harvey nodded. ‘Broadly speaking, within the compass of viral infection, immune response, transplantation technology and post-operative care.’
‘Sexy science,’ said Motram. ‘No one ever puts up funding for research into arthritis, deafness or the stuff that makes life a misery for so many in later life. Unfortunately, old age is usually a case of never mind the quality, count the years.’
‘Sadly true,’ nodded Harvey. ‘Death is seen as the great enemy.’
‘And we’ll all live for ever if only we can wipe out killer disease. It’s a peculiar mindset.’
‘Born out of fear,’ said Harvey. ‘Fear of the great unknown: it’s the way it’s always been. The grave’s a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace.’
‘About sums it up,’ said Motram.
Harvey replenished their glasses from a crystal decanter that had a Latin inscription on it which Motram kept trying to see in its entirety but fate kept denying him. ‘Tell me more about your belief that Black Death was caused by a virus and not plague,’ he said. ‘I’m led to believe that you know more than perhaps anyone else about how viruses attack us. I read one of your papers as part of my homework on you and was most impressed. As I said, I’m not a scientist, but I came away knowing a lot more than I had before. That says much about your abilities as a teacher. You are more concerned with imparting knowledge than achieving self-promotion through complexity, a curse that afflicts so many.’
‘Kind of you to say so.’
‘One thing worries me, though…’
‘What’s that?’
‘A short while ago you mentioned the possibility of Black Death’s having been caused by a virus unknown to us today?’
‘Just as a possibility,’ said Motram.
‘All the same, if that did turn out to be the case, wouldn’t there be a chance of opening Pandora’s box when it comes to breaching this vault in the Scottish Borders and bringing a killer back to life? I’d hate the college to be responsible for unleashing a new pandemic on the world.’
‘I really don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ said Motram. ‘Viruses can’t exist outside living tissue and these corpses have been lying there for seven centuries.’
