A Falling Star, page 57
part #3 of Wintercombe Series
‘And what are your answers to the other accusations?’
‘To the pamphlets? Yes, I do have one or two in my possession. But as items of curiosity, no more. Half the gentlemen of Somerset could say the same, from what I’ve heard. As for the other, that surely must be no more than malicious gossip, pure and simple. I served with one of the English regiments in the Dutch army, but when I heard of my father’s death, I left the Prince of Orange’s service and came home to take up my inheritance last February. I don’t think that Monmouth himself knew at that time that he was to lead a rebellion.’
‘How do you know that, if you had no contact with him?’
‘Holland is not a large country, and there are many English people living there — merchants and soldiers, as well as rabid republicans and political exiles. Of course there is gossip, talk, rumour — everyone seeks to know everyone else’s business, and Monmouth was a very frequent topic of conversation.’ He smiled again. ‘And not usually to his credit, amongst the people with whom I consorted.’
‘I see.’ The Justice linked his hands and stared consideringly at Alex, who gazed benignly back. ‘You have a very plausible tongue, Sir Alexander, and I am almost inclined to believe you. However, my task is merely to examine you, and make a note of your answers to these accusations. I cannot recommend that you be set free immediately. In view of the seriousness of the allegations, the Lord Chief Justice is of the opinion that you be conveyed as soon as possible to London, where all these matters can be fully investigated, to everyone’s satisfaction. Do not be alarmed, Sir Alexander — if you are innocent of the charges, then there is no need for you to fear the process of the law.’
‘Then I am to submit meekly to this dislocation of my life, to the extreme inconvenience of leaving my estates and all my business here, because some anonymous person seems to have laid this ridiculous tarradiddle against me out of malice and spite?’ Alex demanded, and for the first time a spark of real anger infused his voice. ‘I can only assume that someone has remembered that I got into bad company in my wild youth — not an unusual situation, and if everyone were prosecuted for such misdeeds, there’d be hardly a man left free in England. But I am now a man of property and substance, and I wish only to enjoy and enhance my inheritance. I would hardly put everything left to me by my father in jeopardy for the sake of such as Monmouth.’
The clerk scribbled urgently on into the silence. The two men, interrogator and accused, twenty years between them, stared at each other intently. Then the Justice sighed, and sat back. ‘I admit, Sir Alexander, that you have my sympathy in this. If, as you think, malice is the motive for these accusations, then no man can consider himself safe. But, as I said, you claim innocence, and state your case convincingly. Of course, full investigation will be made into all the charges. We will be thorough and fair, and if you are not guilty, then you have nothing to fear.’
Alex doubted very much whether fairness would even figure in the plans of such as Jeffreys. If he had already been considered a danger to the government because of his standing and his unruly and politically dubious past, or even if the King or his ministers decided to make an example of him to discourage other gentry from giving full rein to their Whig or radical inclinations, then no amount of proof, no plausible speeches, no denials of guilt, could save him from their revenge. And if that were indeed the case, then he was condemned already, months before any possible trial, and he might as well be dragged out to the gallows immediately to suffer the penalty that faced all convicted traitors.
But it would do his case no good to protest too strongly now. He said at last, ‘It seems that there is nothing I can do — I am in your power, for the moment, and you must send me where you are bid. But I would ask one favour of you. I would be most grateful if a message could be conveyed to my sister, and that I be allowed to speak with her and other members of my family, before I leave. As you can appreciate, I have affairs that must be settled, and she will also be most concerned for me.’
‘Of course, Sir Alexander,’ said the other man. ‘You may have pen and paper now, and a boy will be sent round with your message directly.’
A little later, it lay in Phoebe’s palm, a folded, sealed rectangle of thick paper, bearing her name in Alex’s bold, uncompromisingly individual hand. He had not been gone very long, and no one had expressed any concern: and yet, as she looked down at that unrevealing piece of paper, its contents hidden, a premonition of disaster came over her so strongly that she almost succumbed to the impulse to throw it into the fire.
I am not a fanciful person, she reminded herself sternly. I deal with words, and facts, and figures, things that can be measured and counted, heard and seen. This is ridiculous: why should I feel so powerfully that it is bad news?
There was only one way to prove her foolishness. She opened it, and read, and found that all her worst fears were confirmed.
It must have shown in her face, for Tabby said abruptly, ‘What is it?’ And Louise, warned by some wild intuition, got to her feet, her eyes suddenly wide with alarm. ‘Is it Alex?’
‘It’s Alex,’ Phoebe said starkly. ‘He’s been held at the castle. For questioning. A misunderstanding, he says — but he wants me to go now, to see him.’
She looked up, seeing all her kin, aghast, horrified, disbelieving. Except for one. There was no surprise on Charles’s face, and no matter how he controlled his expression, the sudden, triumphant excitement shone through like the sun behind thin cloud. And suddenly Phoebe knew, with total certainty, what had happened to cause that ‘misunderstanding’ and the terrible danger in which her brother now stood.
25
‘Close designs, and crooked counsels’
‘You are an admitted rebel, and death is the prescribed penalty for your crimes.’ The assize clerk, Andrew Loder, stretched his rather cadaverous face into something vaguely resembling a smile. ‘You have been convicted, and you will soon be sentenced. However, as I am sure you know full well, the King is disposed to be merciful to those whose repentance of their crimes takes, shall we say, a more practical course?’
Bram knew already what he would be asked to do, and his conscience quailed within him. He had given them information weeks ago, everything that they had asked for, also in the expectation of mercy. Which of his unfortunate comrades was marked out for special punishment, that they wanted still more evidence from him?
He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the court that morning, the face of Judge Jeffreys, beautiful but cruel as he had always imagined Judas to be, the inevitable sentence to be pronounced tomorrow, and Louise’s face suddenly familiar and vivid amongst the crowded anonymous ranks along the benches, her smile of encouragement, her raised hand, and his parents and cousins sitting with her…
That life was gone. Whatever happened, death or transportation, he would never again ride the green lanes around Taunton, or smell the dusty, musty, evocative aroma of his father’s shop, or tease and laugh with his sisters and Libby, or talk to Louise of things that no longer seemed to matter. He had been an officer in Monmouth’s army, and mercy was unlikely. Why should he further betray his friends for a fragile hope that was probably cruel illusion?
He looked at Loder’s expectantly greedy face, and said flatly, ‘What do you want?’
‘Information,’ said the clerk. ‘We have evidence laid against a most dangerous and devious traitor, and we require corroboration. Help us to convict him, and you can be assured that the Lord Chief Justice himself will look upon your case with favour. Deny us your assistance, and the full rigour of the law will descend upon you. Is that clear, Loveridge?’
‘Yes,’ Bram said, his heart cold within him. So this was to be the test of his loyalty, his readiness to betray some unfortunate and thereby save his own skin. He added, ‘Who is this man?’
Loder smiled, showing an array of unevenly rotted teeth. ‘Your kinsman, I believe — Sir Alexander St Barbe.’
In complete astonishment, Bram stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘Alex? You suspect my cousin Alex? In God’s name, why? What reasons have you?’
‘We were hoping that you could tell us that, Loveridge.’
‘Well, I can’t,’ Bram said despairingly. He stepped forward to put his manacled hands on the table between them, and as his unwashed stench assaulted Loder’s nostrils, he had the satisfaction of seeing the man recoil. ‘To my knowledge, Sir Alexander is a loyal subject of His Majesty, and had nothing whatever to do with the rebellion.’
‘What of the horses he supplied to you?’
‘You have that wrong,’ Bram said. ‘I forced him to hand them over. I asked him to give us as many horses as he could spare, and he refused. So one of my men held him at pistol point, and we took what we needed. He didn’t give us permission, nor was any payment made. We were desperate, so we stole them.’
Loder did not seem particularly convinced, despite the passionate sincerity in Bram’s voice. ‘You expect us to believe that?’
‘Why not? There were plenty of witnesses — ask them. It’s nothing but the truth, may God help me!’
‘You may be in sore need of his assistance, should you continue to be intransigent,’ Loder observed maliciously. ‘However, we will return to that matter later. Did your cousin take any part in the fighting at Philip’s Norton?’
Someone had talked, and Bram wished desperately that he could discover who it was. But his course lay clear and terrible before him, for of all people, he could not betray Alex and buy his own life and freedom with such squalid and tainted coin. He would rather die, and put an impossible burden of grief on his family, than have that despicable treachery on his conscience.
He said emphatically, ‘No, he did not. He came to persuade me and another cousin, who is now dead, to desert our places with the army, but that is all. Hardly an act of treason, surely.’
‘Our information is different. I repeat — did he take part in the battle?’
‘No!’ Bram cried, and slammed his fist down on the table. The rusty chains clanked and rattled, and Loder jumped. ‘No, no, no, he did not. For God’s sake, who has told you all this nonsense? It’s nothing but malicious lies.’
‘You are proving most obdurate, Loveridge,’ Loder said, softly and with menace. ‘I repeat — the consequences for you will be exceedingly severe, unless you help us as we wish.’
‘But I can’t!’ Bram shouted frantically. ‘Do you want me to lie? I have told you the truth, I have told you all I know — do you want to accuse an innocent man?’
‘But he is not innocent,’ Loder said sharply. ‘The Lord Chief Justice is convinced of his guilt, and he can sniff out a rebel a hundred paces off. There is no doubt that Sir Alexander is a traitor, and deserves punishment. Now, I suggest you abandon your misguided loyalty to your cousin, and tell us the truth. It will make matters so much easier for you.’
‘I told you — what I said is the truth!’ Bram stared at him, caught in the coils of nightmare. They seemed to have made up their minds already that Alex was guilty, and nothing he could say seemed to make any impression. And yet, despite his passionate denials, he knew that they were right. It had been fortunate that Trooper Taylor’s aggressive manner had given Alex the perfect excuse to hand over the horses: their original stratagem, hastily conceived at Midford, would not have been nearly so convincing. There had been plenty of witnesses, but no one, he had been certain, had suspected any collusion.
But the fighting… He had known that no good would come of that lunatic and quixotic episode. What in the name of God had possessed his devious, ruthless, amoral cousin to throw away all his careful subterfuges and engage openly on the rebel side? He remembered some taunting remark, made by Trooper Taylor — pray God no one thought to question him — that might perhaps have stung Alex into action, to prove himself…
It seemed unlikely, to say the least. And his cousin had denied it all to his face afterwards, and sworn that he had spent the afternoon drinking in the George. He had not been convinced at the time, and now he was certain that Alex had lied to him. Again, he wondered who had made these accusations against his cousin. It must be either a man who had fought in Bram’s own troop — Taylor was the most likely candidate — and witnessed both episodes, or, much worse, far more disturbing, someone in the Wintercombe household. And if the latter, how had they come to Taunton to lay evidence?
Loder was barking his questions again, with increasing anger and frustration. He had no choice: if someone else had betrayed Alex, he would not compound that evil deed. Through the interrogation that followed, abused, bullied, shouted at, he clung desperately to his answers, and would not be shaken off them. Alex had been forced under threat of death to hand over the horses to him; and he had taken no part in the fighting.
It was almost dark when they let him go at last, and he was exhausted to the point of collapse, But he walked proudly from the room, a small bleak core of satisfaction burning at his heart. This time, he had not betrayed anyone, and although his own life might be forfeit because of his obstinacy, he had kept his self-respect. They would have to look elsewhere for the second hostile witness that a successful treason trial would require.
*
‘I know who has done this,’ Phoebe said softly to her brother.
He had not, of course, been herded into the fetid cells with the other prisoners, but had been given a small but pleasant chamber, overlooking the Castle Green. It had a bed, chairs, table, and every comfort and convenience save one: the liberty to walk freely out of the room. A guard stood on the other side of the door, his ears doubtless alert. When her half-hour of time had expired, he would unlock the door and usher her out.
It had been surprisingly easy to gain access to him — apparently the mayor of Taunton, who had interrogated him, had agreed that she could visit. After seeing the ghastly conditions which Bram and the other prisoners were suffering in the same building, she had been dreading what she would find. It seemed almost an anti-climax to be sitting here, sipping surprisingly good wine, as if this were a chamber in some inn, and to see Alex sprawled on the bed, his hands behind his head and his legs negligently crossed, looking as if he had not a care in the world.
‘Do you, indeed?’ he said, and abruptly sat up, dispelling the casual air. ‘Don’t tell me — I think I can guess. Charles.’
Phoebe looked at him unhappily. ‘I’m not sure. But his face, when your message arrived…he couldn’t hide his glee. And above all others, he has the motive to betray you.’
‘Even if it’s a pack of lies,’ Alex observed. He glanced significantly at the door, and added, ‘He’s taken a few very slender threads of the truth, quite innocent, and woven them up with some very thick strands of conjecture to make a fine web of falsehood, all done out of greed and malice.’ His mouth twisted suddenly. ‘I must share part of the blame, for underestimating him so drastically. I thought he was nothing but a feeble milksop, always complaining, but lacking the courage of his convictions. It seems there’s some spirit in him after all.’
‘If it was him,’ Phoebe said, with a vehemence that surprised her, ‘I shall take him to task for it, and I don’t care who hears me — the very thought of it makes me retch.’
She stopped, shaken, and Alex smiled suddenly. ‘Oh, my little sister, could it be that you really do care what happens to me?’
‘Of course I do — you’re my brother, after all. And besides,’ she added, briskly retreating to her usual sharply practical manner, ‘it will do the St Barbe name no good at all if you are accused of treason. We do have a certain position and standing to maintain, after all.’
‘Of course,’ Alex said, and their eyes met, identically blue, and both revealing an unaccustomed affection. He glanced down at his hands for a moment, as if unwilling to acknowledge the depth of his feeling, and then continued. ‘I don’t at present know exactly what is to happen. Mayor Smith seemed to think that I am to be sent to London, perhaps in the next few days, for enquiries to be made. Don’t look so alarmed — it’s the usual procedure to be followed with their more important catches,’ He grinned suddenly. ‘And I’ve never seen the inside of the Tower — it’ll be a novel experience. Meanwhile, I should imagine they’ll do their best to turn up more evidence against me here — from some of you, perhaps, or, much more likely, from Bram.’ His voice hardened suddenly. ‘If he is made to suffer for this as well, I shall claim my due from dear Charles when it’s all over — you have my word.’
‘And if you do not have the opportunity,’ Phoebe told him, with uncharacteristic savagery, ‘then that’s a duty I shall gladly undertake on your behalf.’
Alex smiled at her. ‘You have my blessing, and my thanks — although I have every intention of surviving this. Now, time is limited, and there is much to say. Can you be my agent in all I ask?’
‘Of course, as best I can.’
‘Excellent — I know that I can rely upon you, absolutely. Has sentence been passed on the prisoners yet?’
‘No — that will come tomorrow, I think, when all the pleas have been entered.’
‘It’s quite likely that I will be taken to London within the next few days. If that’s the case, don’t follow for the present. Nothing will happen to me for a while — the wheels of justice grind exceedingly slowly. At the moment, the Loveridges must be our chief concern. I don’t know if Bram can be saved, but one of the assize clerks, Loder, is said to be a greedy man, open to persuasion. You have my full permission to try any means at your disposal to secure a reprieve. Give this letter to Philip Cousins in Bath — he knows all about my affairs, and he will help you in any way he can.’
Phoebe took the paper reluctantly, as if it were the final proof that they were trapped in a nightmare from which there might be no waking. She said slowly, ‘What shall I do when Bram’s fate is decided?’
