Mercury Rising - part 2

Two days later, having contacted the English Department at the University, Mary, accompanied by inspector Tom, knocked on the door of her old philology lecturer, Dr Hamish Buchanan. His vaguely remembered Scottish voice bade them come in, and they found themselves in his warm, brown-toned, book-lined study.

“You probably don’t remember me very well”, Mary began. “But I am Mary Cummings. I rang earlier. And this is Inspector Bailey of the CID”.

“Oh yes, I remember you”, Dr Buchanan replied. “Not so much for your academic attainments, which were middling, but as a generally pleasant, intelligent participant in my tutorials. I must day, this is the first time I have been visited by the CID. Have I done something wrong?” This last was said with a confident chuckle.

“Oh no”, said Tom. “It’s just that Mary – Mrs Cummings – though that you might be able to help us with a strange piece of evidence in a case. It’s a murder, so you expertise might be very important”.

“Mmm”, was the scholar’s initial response, but uttered with obviously awakening interest. To be asked for specialist advice in a murder case, particularly one where you had no connection with the deceased and would not therefore be unduly distressed, was enough to flatter anyone’s ego.

Tom produced the photo of the mysterious characters and handed it with an explanation to Dr Buchanan, who examined it closely.

“Well”, he said at last, “I can tell you what this is. The characters are Germanic runes, probably Anglo-Saxon, and they spell out the name of the pagan god Woden. Woden was worshipped in England before the conversion to Christianity, in fact he was regarded as the chief of the gods. He also appears in Scandinavia, where his name took the form Odin. Most of what we know about him comes from there, although there are references in England and Germany too. Woden or Odin was a rather sinister, violent figure, associated with war, death and frenzy, as well as with poetry, sorcery and the runes. In Scandinavian mythology he rode an eight-legged horse called Sleipnir, and was accompanied into battle by fearsome warrior maidens, the Valkyries, whose name means “choosers of the slain”. You may be familiar with them from Wagner’s Ring Cycle”. Why Woden’s name should be carved into the flesh of that poor murder victim, I have no idea”.

“Would he have any significance for an Italian immigrant in modern Manchester?”

“Not, that I can see”, Buchanan replied after a pause for reflection. “I can only imagine that you are dealing with a deranged person – a psychopath perhaps – who must have some elementary knowledge of things Germanic”.

As they left the building, Mary turned to Tom: “Do you think that gets you anywhere?”

“No immediate illumination, but I’ll make a note of what he said and add it to the records. Thanks anyway for getting me that expert help”.

“Don’t mention it”, Mary said, “I enjoyed that visit to old haunts. Dr Buchanan is an odd character, isn’t he? I suppose somebody must spend their time looking into these abstruse matters”.

“See you later?”

“Yes, I’ll look forward to it”. Or was that saying too much at this stage? Mary blushed.

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Back home, Mary made herself a cup of coffee and sat down to think. The situation in her parish didn’t seem as reassuring now as she had come to feel. In fact, for there to have been a murder, on church premises, and of one of her own congregation too, was downright troubling. She could pray of course, for Ray and his family, for peace in the parish, and for strength herself to be the priest she wanted to be in this situation. But beyond that, she couldn’t see the way forward. If only she could talk more to Tom.

That evening she made her regular call to her son Alistair in Orkney.