The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2004

The king’s verderer traveled on a magnificent steed, and carried a sword that by all accounts was far too large to be wielded practicably. The sword, the verder- er claimed, had killed 70 men. Whether the claim was accurate did not matter. The verderer, known to histo- ry only by his surname, Dixon, knew that he could not personally guard the entire perimeter and area of the king’s forest all at once. To do his duty properly, the verderer relied on the reputation of his sword to be where he could not. Jonathan knew that the forest was forbidden territory and that neither fowl nor fawn belonged to him. Jonathan also knew that his family would soon starve unless he took matters into his own hands — and game was only plentiful in the king’s hunting grounds. Jonathan walked to the edge of the forest many times, yearning for some unwitting creature to bound out of the thicket and into his desperate grasp. Though Jonathan had seen the verderer somewhat frequently in his last days, he knew nothing of espionage, and he knew nothing of instigating a crime. He was so simple, in fact, that Jonathan did not think it odd when the verderer himself invited him into the forest to see what game he might find. After all, Jonathan thought, his family was obviously in need and the verderer must have noticed. When Jonathan finally emerged from the forest, he carried two enormous pheasants and new hope for the goodness of life. The blood on his hands was nothing short of beautiful, until the verderer demanded that Jonathan drop his bounty and present his palms. The verderer declared Jonathan guilty of theft, having been caught “red-handed.” The verderer’s blade met its mark, and the very next day Jonathan’s family fled the vicinity, and made plans to begin a new life. The verderer’s cruelty was what forced Anthony Riggs’ ancestors to the British colonies in America, according to the public records and private diaries dredged up by the curious confluence of a mutu- al interest in genealogy — shared by Anthony and one Londoner, Nigel Dixon. After months of Internet communication with Nigel and mutual assistance in constructing two separate family trees, Anthony discovered his connection to that age-old day of deceit and treachery. Thereafter, Nigel wrote but one single, acrimonious e-mail in response to Anthony’s revelation. It is burned forever into Anthony’s mind: “It appears one of mine murdered one of yours. Bloody good show! History shows that yours are the filth of the earth, mine are the gems — and history cannot be undone.” T he muscles in Anthony’s arms are taut, frozen in a powerful isometric contraction. He stands over a gasping Nigel and calmly thinks of how beautifully his yearlong preparation paid off. He added detailed knowl- edge of London bus routes, timetables and weather pat- terns to his already extensive understanding of British history, politics and economics. The hours of secret foot- work, researching Nigel’s background and tendencies, his likes and dislikes, tracking and timing his daily routine — it was all worth it now. Anthony is controlled and deliberate in his work. As Nigel’s body slowly succumbs to its fate, Anthony watches only his wristwatch. Ten minutes is a long time to wait, but he is patient. It will now take him exactly five minutes to walk the four city blocks and catch the 6:45 bus. It is the same bus line Anthony took to arrive at Nigel’s house, but it goes in the opposite direction and has a different driver. It has all been carefully thought out. On the bus again, Anthony wraps his leather gloves carefully in the tissue paper once more. At his stop he buys one dozen roses, and goes directly home to tell Maggie the good news: their tri p to the States will only be temporary, because he is now determined to live in London for good. Anthony has no worries. He is certain his guilt will never be known, for he has left nothing for Scotland Yard to work with. As the lonely city bus winds its way through the dense fog like a submarine in the thickest of brines, Anthony breathes deeply and peacefully. His deed is history now, and history cannot be undone. F O C U S J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 4 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 25 The blood on his hands was nothing short of beautiful, until the verderer demanded that Jonathan drop his bounty.