Gates of Paradise (33 page)

But she had made her stand and now all that was necessary was for the other witnesses to follow her lead, which they did, one after the other. Mr Grinder described how he'd pulled Private Scolfield away from Mr Blake and persuaded him to go into the inn, Mr Cosens remembered that Private Scolfield had threatened to punch Mr Blake's eyes out, Mrs Grinder said she'd thought they were in for a nasty fight and was glad when her husband intervened, Mr Hosier described the way Mr Blake had twisted the trooper's arms behind his back so that he ‘couldn't punch no one and had to walk
whether he would or no', Betsy volunteered that Mr Blake had never offered violence to anyone and was only trying to protect himself and Mr Hosier said he'd heard Private Scolfield vow to be revenged on Mr Blake. And none of them had heard a single word on the charge and said so forcefully.

The last man to take the stand was Johnnie Boniface, who stood in the box like an avenging angel, fiery sword in hand, his shock of fair hair bright in the candlelight.

He gave his name, said that he was the under-gardener at Turret House and told the court that, like all the others, he had come out into the street to see what all the row was about and that he hadn't heard any of the words on the charge being spoken.

‘Not one?' Counsellor Rose asked, after coughing a little.

‘No, sir. Not one.'

‘When Private Cock arrived,' the Counsellor prompted, ‘you went to speak to him, did you not.'

‘I did, sir. I asked him if his comrade was drunk.'

‘And was he, in your opinion?'

‘He smelt drunk, sir, an' he was spoiling for a fight. He kept saying he'd punch Mr Blake's eyes out. That was really all I did hear him saying, that an' a lot a' swearing – apart from when he left us.'

‘And what did he say then?'

‘He said, “I'll be revenged on you, damn your eyes. You just wait an' see if I don't”.' And he turned to glance at the jury to see what impact that
was having on them. Oh, what power there was in outwitting a pair of villains in a court of law!

‘And then,' Counsellor Rose prompted again, ‘he went into the stables with his comrade.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Mr Rose smiled at his client. The defence was proved. ‘No further questions my lord.'

Mr Bowen seemed disgruntled as he rose to sum up. He confined himself to praising the good offices of the military in general, ‘here to protect us in our hour of need' and of Privates Scolfield and Cock in particular, ‘fine men who are rightly concerned when seditious sentiments are uttered in their presence and have brought this charge to ensure that such sentiments are never uttered again.' ‘I call upon you,' he said addressing the jury directly, ‘to do your patriotic duty and to find this seditious person guilty as charged.'

Counsellor Rose, on the other hand was gently persuasive, and sounded frail after the rumbustious tone of his opponent, pausing from time to time to cough into his white handkerchief. ‘Here then, gentlemen,' he said, ‘is a charge attended with circumstances of the most extraordinary nature. A man, we have been told, comes out of his house for the purpose of addressing a malignant and unintelligible discourse to those who are most likely to injure him for it. For it has been said under oath that he came out into the garden and, without any provocation, without one word being spoken on either side, began to utter the seditious expressions
with which he is being charged. This, if you believe the evidence given by the two troopers, is what you must also believe. On the other hand, if you believe the evidence of Mr Blake's neighbours, you will believe that not one word on the charge was actually said. Scolfield confines himself to the words in the garden, the other says they were uttered before the public house. If they were spoken in the garden, the ostler must have heard them – but he has said on oath that he did not – if they were uttered before the public house, the other witnesses must have heard them – and they swear on oath that they did not. In short, the testimony of these soldiers…'

But at that point he was overcome by such a violent coughing fit that he had to sit down and was quite unable to speak. Blake was most concerned and so, as the coughing went on, was the duke. He conferred briefly with his fellow judges, as Blake bent to ask his champion if there was anything he could do for him and the courtroom buzzed and fidgeted with concern, then he sent the usher out for water and brandy, rose and made an announcement.

‘My fellow judges and I,' he said, ‘are of the opinion that there is no need to prolong this trial by an adjournment. All the necessary evidence has been adequately given, the closing speeches have been made to all intents and purposes. In the light of the indisposition of our colleague, and if both counsellors are agreeable, we suggest that the jury should now consider its verdict.'

They were remarkably quick. By the time the usher had returned with the brandy and Counsellor Rose had taken a few sips and had begun to recover his breath, the foreman was on his feet, signalling that he was ready to give their decision.

It was short and to the point. They found the defendant not guilty and that was the verdict of them all.

There was an uproar, as people cheered and threw their hats in the air and declared what a splendid verdict it was. Blake's friends and neighbours ran from their uncomfortable benches to shake their hero by the hand and thump him between the shoulder blades and tell him how glad they were to see him set free, ‘which is no more than you deserve an' we thanks God for it,' as he smiled and smiled and grew rosy with triumph and relief. After such a long anxious wait he felt like a bird released from its cage, rising on a current of pure clear air and dizzy with the delight of freedom.

The soldiers were gone in a second and in high dudgeon, but everybody else stayed where they were to celebrate. Mr Hayley wept for joy, Mr Rose, still pale but no longer coughing, was praised and cheered until he said they were making his head spin, and Mrs Haynes and Johnnie were the heroes of the hour, thumped and patted and congratulated until their arms were sore. Finally, Mr Hayley dried his eyes and strode to the dais to congratulate his old enemy on a job well done.

‘I congratulate Your Grace,' he said, ‘that after
having been wearied for so long with the condemnation of sorry vagrants, you have at last had the gratification of seeing an honest man honourably delivered from an infamous persecution. Mr Blake is a pacific, industrious and deserving artist.'

The duke accepted his dubious congratulations in the spirit in which they had been offered. ‘I know nothing of him,' he said coldly. ‘Clear the court.'

It was a riotous journey home. Although there was a sharp rain falling and it was as dark as pitch, they talked and laughed and told one another what a triumph it had been all the way from the Guildhall to Felpham village, and halfway there they broke into a rousing chorus of ‘Rule Britannia' led by Mrs Taylor who said she'd never seen such a trial – as if she'd been frequenting courthouses all her life – and wouldn't have missed a second of it, even though she hadn't been called. Even Mr Cosens' little mare, which was normally a very sober animal, caught the mood and ventured a canter.

Betsy was the first person to be dropped off and was kissed goodnight by the entire company, Johnnie included. ‘'Tis a feather in your cap,' Mr Grinder told her, as she climbed out of the cart. ‘You and young Johnnie here.' And that was the opinion around the supper table at Turret House, where the tale was told at great length and with every detail embellished.

By the time he got to bed, after an evening in The Fox where he was admired and petted and treated to more porter than he'd ever drunk in his life, Johnnie was beginning to feel like the hero they all said he was. He lay awake in the inky darkness, feeling so pleased with himself his chest felt as if it
was about to explode. Despite it all, they'd stood together and given their evidence in exactly the right way and refused to be bullied and now Mr Blake was a free man because of what they'd done. And Betsy had smiled at him all the time he was in the witness box, which was the best thing of all. Oh, they'd be back together now. He was sure of it.

The next morning Mrs Beke warned them all to be quiet about their work because Mr Hayley had come home very late and was still in bed and asleep. Not an easy thing, Johnnie thought, when his first job was to fill all the coal buckets and carry them up to the rooms where they were needed. But chores were nothing to him that morning and he worked easily, his head full of happy dreams.

Halfway through the morning, Bob the boot boy came up to the library to tell him that his mother had arrived and was waiting outside the back door to see him.

It didn't surprise him. News of his triumph was sure to spread and Father would have told her about it last night, when he got home from The Fox. ‘Come to hear how I got on,' he said, as he wiped his hands on his apron, and went down at once to tell her. He was so full of himself he'd rushed into a description of the trial before he noticed how drawn and anxious she looked. ‘You should ha' been there, Ma,' he said. ‘You'd ha' been proud of us.'

‘Yes,' she said and her voice was so weary it shocked him. ‘I heard. Your Father told me.'

‘What is it?' he asked her. ‘Is something the matter?'

‘Can we walk somewhere away from the house?' she asked. ‘Would they let you?'

‘I'll get my jacket,' he said and went, feeling horribly anxious. Someone must be ill. It couldn't be Father. He'd been fine in The Fox last night. So it had to be young Harry. They walked in silence along the winding street, past The Fox and Blake's empty cottage, heading for the grey sea and the debris on the beaches, as the wind buffeted their faces and whipped his mother's heavy skirts about her legs. When they reached the shore, he couldn't wait to hear what it was any longer and begged her to tell him.

‘Is it Harry?' he asked. ‘Has he took a fever? Is he ill? Is that it?'

‘No, son,' his mother said, sadly. ‘'Taren't your brother. 'Tis you. Oh, Johnnie, I don't know how to tell 'ee. We've had the bailiffs round.'

Now, with a shrinking of his heart, he knew what it was, could feel the threat under her sadness. But he needed to hear it spoken and to know the worst. ‘What did they want?' he asked.

‘They didn't say exactly,' she told him, grey eyes brimming tears. ‘Just how they thought 'twould be better if you was to go away. They said they was considerin' all the tied cottages and – what was it they said? – how to use 'em to best advantage. Yes. That was it. To best advantage. An' then they said they'd got a ticket for you on the stagecoach to
London an' how ‘twould be best all round if you was to take it. Oh, Johnnie, what are we to do? If you don't go they'll have us out sure as eggs is eggs.'

It was the retribution they'd all feared. It was what they'd all said would happen in the weeks when he and Betsy had been pushing and persuading.

‘Did they go to anyone else?' he asked.

‘No,' she said. ‘Not so far as I knows. 'Tis just us, seemingly. Just you. Oh, Johnnie, what are we to do if they turns us out? Your father's in such a state you wouldn't believe.'

He took charge of the situation. He'd caused it, so it was only right and proper he should answer for it. ‘Don't 'ee fret,' he said to her, speaking gently and comforting her, as if she were the child and he the parent. ‘I won't let them turn you out.'

‘But what will you do?'

‘Go to London if needs must,' he said. ‘But first I shall visit all the others in case they been threatened, too. Go and tell Pa not to worry. Everythin' will be all right. I'll come an' see you soon as I know what's going on, an' tell you what's what. I promise. Don't 'ee fret. I won't let them turn you out.' Inwardly he was shaking with anger that punishment should have been meted out so swiftly and in such an underhand way but outwardly he stayed calm. It was the risk they'd all taken. He couldn't pretend he hadn't known it was likely. Now he had to face it. I'll visit Mrs Haynes first, he thought, as he kissed his mother a temporary
goodbye. She was the other one who'd fought them in that court and if they're after me, they could be after her, too.

To his relief, Mrs Haynes was still happily enjoying her triumph. ‘No,' she said, when he'd told her his news. ‘No one's been here. I'd've given 'em a piece a' my mind if they had. What a thing to do to put pressure on your poor Ma.'

‘What about Betsy?' he asked. ‘Has she been to The Fox yet this morning?'

‘Been an' gone,' her mother said. ‘An' no, no one's after her, I'm glad to say. Except that ol' Miss Pearce. She was on at her for stayin' out so late. She told me this mornin'.'

So far so good. ‘I can't stop,' he said to Mrs Haynes. ‘I want to see all the others.' He felt more and more responsible for them the more time he had to think. And more and more resigned to the fact that he would have to do as the bailiffs suggested.

She wished him luck, ‘whatever you decides to do. Come back an' let me know.'

Mr and Mrs Grinder were busy in the taproom, dispensing porter. They were angry to hear what had happened to his mother ‘but not surprised'. And no, they hadn't been approached by anyone and neither had William.

‘But then,' as Mr Grinder explained, ‘they'd be hard put to it to come after me, being I'm my own landlord.'

‘If you ask me, they're pickin' you out for a scapegoat,' Mrs Grinder said, ‘on account of you give the best evidence.'

On to old Mrs Taylor, who was incensed to hear what was being suggested, but hadn't had any visitors at all that morning. ‘Not that they're like to pick on me. I never said nothin'.' Down to the mill to see Mr Cosens, who'd been hard at work since dawn and hadn't seen anybody either. Then back to the house to ask Mr Hosier, who, since it was past midday, was sitting in the kitchen with the others waiting to be served a portion of one of Mrs Beke's meat pies.