Читать книгу The Remnants - W. P. Osborn - Страница 16

“You have been convicted of robbery and assault and you are hereby sentenced to twelve years hard labour at His Majesty’s prison in Dorset.”

There was an immediate outburst of wailing cries from a woman weeping somewhere near the back of the court, followed by the crashing of a heavy gavel followed by a shuffling of chained boots and the curt slam of a side door. Although he sat mute on a hard wooden bench one floor below Danny could hear the drama from above echoing down the narrow winding staircase.

“Very good!” exclaimed the judge. “That took precisely six minutes. If you can keep up this pace we may well finish on time for a change. Let’s have the next one.”

The deep, dry voice of the bailiff now rang out next through the court like a mission bell foreboding disaster, “the prisoner Pulbrook to the dock.”

Two large policemen yanked him up from the bench and shoved him toward the staircase. He tripped twice over the chains that bound his ankles as he struggled to climb up into the court. Once there he stood terrified behind the low wooden railing of a small wooden box elevated above the courtroom below. Rising above the entire assemblage in a god-like altitude sat the venerable judge Sir Arthur Langdon, a rotund barrel of a man whose heavy jowls nearly concealed his tiny spectacles. He was mightily robed, sashed and wigged to secure the appropriate pomp and dignity of these affairs.. Danny could see he was irritated and anxious to finish the day.

“How many more yet today?”

“Three, m’lord. Pulbrook and two others.”

“We’ll have him and one other. I have an urgent appointment at three and I’ll suffer no delays here. Read the charges - get on with it.”

“Very well m’lord. Daniel Pulbrook - you are charged that on the twelfth day of May this year you did thieve from one Dr. Wesley Porter, a private livery consisting of a carriage and two horses and that you did willfully cause the destruction of this private property and that you subsequently attempt to evade the legal arrest order of the police. How do you plead?”

All eyes turned upward in anticipation toward Danny. He stood frozen and silent.

“Come, come boy, how do you plead?” the judge roared. Danny stared wide-eyed, his eyes then darted from the judge to several unknown faces in the crowd and finally he spoke barely above a whisper, “Who me sir? I dunno sir. I dunno what you mean.”

At the front and to the right of the court another tall thin man in a black robe and heavy gray wig stood up and barked directly at him. “It’s a straightforward question boy. Did you or did you not steal the livery belonging to Dr. Wesley Porter, a renown veterinarian of this community, and in the course of this theft , cause grievous harm to his property namely, his horses and carriage?

“Well, no sir, we didn’t steal it sir, we only borrowed it. We didn’t mean no harm.”

“Did Doctor Porter give you his permission to take the livery?”

“Well, no sir he didn’t but we brought it straight back.”

“Indeed you did bring it straight back - one mare had to be destroyed, the other was brutally beaten and the carriage was badly damaged to the tune of thirty-three pounds. I submit M’lord that the boy acknowledges his guilt and should be summarily sentenced accordingly.”

“Young man, the Crown Prosecutor calls you guilty by your own admission, have you anything to say?”

“No M’lord, we didn’t steal it, we didn’t mean no harm, we only borrowed it. We planned to bring it back all along.”

“So you say,” the prosecutor’s voice bellowed in anger. “Have you a witness to speak on your behalf?”

“Witness? Well no, there was only me and Phil sir.”

“M’lord the defendant refers to his accomplice who remains at large. And just exactly where is your young collaborator, this other boy you call Phil?”

“He ran off sir, I dunno where.”

“So, he left you to pay the piper. Some loyal friend you have there, boy.”

Sir Arthur broke in anxious to move ahead quickly, “Thank you Mr. Carlton, we’ll dispense with the commentary. Let’s move along to the assessment of damages. Call your first witness.”

“The Crown calls Dr. Wesley Porter.”

Doctor Porter had been seated immediately behind Mr. Carlton. He stood and marched to the witness box. The clerk spoke first. “Raise your right hand. Doctor Porter. Will you swear to tell the entire truth in this matter before His Majesty’s court?”

“I will.” He then turned and settled into the seat.

“Now then, Doctor Porter, was your carriage stolen on the afternoon of May the twelfth of this year?”

“Yes, it was.”

“You gave no permission for the defendant to ‘borrow’ your livery?”

“No, I did not.”

“When you had recovered your stolen property in what condition did you find it?”

Wesley Porter lowered his head and spoke quietly but with great anger in his voice. “The horses were ruined, both were beaten and exhausted. I had to put the lead mare down. The carriage was very badly damaged - the axle was twisted and the bodyworks were smashed. I had it towed off to be repaired.”

“What was the cost of that repair?”

“Thirty-three pounds.”

“Your witness, Mr. Graham.” Mr. Carlton nodded and sat down.

At the opposite side of the room a slender young man wearing an ill-fitting gray wig stood. “No questions, M’lord,” he muttered barely above a whisper.

Maintaining the momentum, Carlton sprang back to his feet. “Thank-you Doctor Porter. The crown calls Lester Smith.”

Again the bailiff’s voice thundered across the room, “Lester Smith to the stand.”

Smith stood from the same bench at which Dr. Porter had been seated and sauntered to the front of the court, removed his cap and stood facing the bailiff who administered the oath.

Smith then stepped up into the witness box, he turned to glance up to the prisoner’s box and smirked.

“Mr. Smith, you are a liverymen employed at Meaford House?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“Did you witness Daniel Pulbrook steal the livery in question?”

“Yes, sir, I did. I saw ‘im an’ his pal, that young Phil character racing poor old Doc Porter’s rig straight out of the livery barn and chargin’ up high street like they was dashin’ to a fire.”

“Would you say they were reckless as they ‘raced up High Street’?”

“Oh yes sir. They could of killed anybody that was crossin’ that road.”

“Were you concerned at all for the horses?”

“Yes sir, I was very worried for them horses. That young Phil was lashin’ them like he was the devil himself. Those poor beasts must’ve suffered’ sumthin terrible at his hand.”

“Thank-you, Mister Smith. Your witness Mister Graham.”

Graham stood and quietly peered over his glasses toward Smith.

“Mister Smith, did you see the defendant driving the carriage?”

“No sir, he wasn’t drivin’ but he was yellin’ hard at the horses, urgin’ them on like.”

“No more questions,” Graham sat down.

“The Crown calls Constable Kirkwood.” A police officer in uniform stood up from his aisle seat and marched to the front of the court. Once sworn and seated he placed his helmet in his lap and stared directly at Carlton.

“Constable Kirkwood, on the evening of May twelfth did you attend at the wreckage of Doctor Porter’s livery?”

“Yes, sir I did.’

“And what did you find?”

“I found the carriage badly smashed up and rolled on its side. The two horses had been injured, one was hobbled to the ground, the other stood gasping and bleeding from the bit.”

Did you find the defendant at the scene?”

“Yes I did. He was standing about twenty yards off in a field looking away toward the distance.’

“Did you then charge and arrest him?”

“Yes sir, I did. I charged him with theft of the livery and evading arrest.”

“How had did you know that he had evaded arrest?”

“Simple sir, the police signals had been calling for nearly an hour.”

“And how had they been signaled Constable.

“Our whistle codes sir. You could hear ‘em all over the countryside - three long blasts followed by one short one.”

“And what would that signal mean to you, Constable?”

“It means a villain has escaped custody and is on the loose.”

Pointing directly at Danny Carlton, he escalated his assault. “How did you know that this man was wanted by the police?”

“The theft of Doctor Porter’s livery had been reported earlier so we had their names. We was all on the look out for them two young villains, sir.”

“And did you know these boys by sight?”

“Yes sir, I did. Daniel Pulbrook there and young Philip Clark. We had other occasions when we arrested these boys.”

“And were they brought to court and tried for those offences?”

“No sir, we left ‘em off with a warning.”

“A well- intentioned gesture, no doubt Constable but with no good result. So they turned their backs on your benevolence.”

“Yes, sir, they had every chance to turn for the good, but they chose the criminal path.”

“Your witness Mister Graham.”

Graham half-stood and then immediately sat down again in one simple sweeping motion, “No questions, M’lord.”

Mr. Carlton stood slowly and deliberately up from his seat, stared up triumphantly toward Danny and announced, “My Lord, the Crown rests.”

Sir Arthur Langdon nodded in full agreement and glanced at the clock on the rear wall just below the prisoner box. “Good,” he snorted at Carlton the turned to the defense. “Now Mister Graham, do you have any witnesses you wish to call?”

Graham eased to his feet still looking down at a document on his desk. “Yes, m’lord I have three witnesses to call.”

“Did any of them actually witness the crime?”

“No, M’lord. These are more in the nature of character witnesses for the defendant.”

“Now then, Mister Graham. I think that in the interests of brevity we could reduce your witness list to one. After all they will all say the same thing, ‘he’s a fine young lad who meant no harm, so please be lenient et cetera, et cetera,’ Langdon then paused for affect, “I think one witness should suffice, Mister Graham. Please proceed.”

“Very well, My Lord. Trusting in Your Honour’s renowned spirit of compassion, I shall call but one witness to speak for the defendant - Mister David Jamieson.”

David Jamieson rose up slowly from the first bench on the left and walked quietly to the witness box. He paused, nodded briefly toward the judge, raised his right hand and listened intently to the oath, “I will, ”he murmured barely above whisper.

“Speak up, man,” Sir Arthur roared, “If you won’t speak up we shall hear no testimony from you whatever.”

“I will,” Jamieson snapped and glared back toward the bench. “H’rmph, indeed!” Another pause. “Take your seat Mister Jamieson. Mr. Graham, brevity if you please.”

Graham stood and gazed down to a page of notes. “Thank-you, m’lord. I’ll do my best.”

“Yes, see that you do.”

Graham lifted his head and turned toward Jamieson and spoke in a most deferential tone. “Mr. Jamieson, how for how long have you known the defendant, Daniel Pulbrook?”

“Nearly two years, sir.”

“No need to ‘sir’ Mister Graham,” Sir Charles lectured. “I am the only one here the King has knighted.”

Jamieson waited then stared back toward Sir Arthur nodded and muttered, “Yes, indeed M’lord.” Graham softly cleared his throat and continued, “Was the defendant in your employ?”

“Yes”

“For how long have you employed him?”

“Oh for goodness sake, Graham, whatever has this to do with the crimes he’s facing today?”

“M’lord, I only wish to establish that the defendant is a young man of good character, well-liked and trusted by his employer.”

“That may be Mister Graham - again I ask you, how does that have any bearing on these charges?”

The entire court fell silent as all eyes stared directly at Graham. “None directly, M’lord, but I do think it’s important that the jury is aware of the boy’s good character. He is an orphan struggling to make his way and has never been charged before with even a misdemeanor.”

Sir Arthur’s eyes bulged again as he turned to glare hard at Danny.

“An orphan eh, well that will explain it,” he stormed.

A blue pall hung over the court as if cursed by God. Graham quietly repented his words as quickly as he had spoken them. “Damn orphans - they’re all born criminals, everyone of ‘em, filling up our jails, burdening our churches, costing the crown millions of pounds a year.” There was an agonizing pause as Sir Arthur set his gavel down and removed his spectacles. “Are you aware Mister Graham, of the great number of important gentlemen from the very best families in England who have been grievously accused of fathering these pathetic wretches. Women of easy virtue slandering these fine gentlemen and causing needless pain and suffering to their poor wives and families?” His voice now rose in agitation, “Why, even a member of my own good family was once accused of such nonsense, and to what end, Mister Graham, I ask you? Burdening our churches ‘til every welcome farthing of charity is spent to feed and clothe ‘em. I tell you we were all far better off when we ship‘em off to the furthest Godforsaken far-flung corner of the Empire, to Australia or Kenya or

Still fuming, his jowls vibrating, Sir Arthur then paused, regained his composure and turned his head to target Graham.

“Now, I ask you again Mister Graham, “Has this witness any direct testimony relevant to the charges in this case?”

Graham did not hesitate one second, “No M’lord, no direct evidence.” Mr. Carlton then quietly rose as if to intervene to save the day. “If it please the court,” he spoke calmly, “in the interest of brevity the Crown will stipulate that the defendant was, until charged, known to be a person of good character by his former employer.”

Sir Arthur waited, then nodded, rubbed his chin and turned his stare toward Graham. “Thank-you indeed Mister Carlton, the witness is excused. Anything more Mister Graham?”

“No, M’lord, the defense rests.”

The entire court blew a gasp of relief. Sir Arthur again rubbed the tip of his chin and turned slowly toward the jury box, “Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the charges and all the evidence for this case. Do you wish to retire to consider your verdict?” Without hesitation the Forman, a desperate looking little man in a worn brown suit answered as he stood, “No M’lord, no need to retire.” The other members of the jury sat silent exchanging hesitant looks, one or two nodded.

“Have you considered a verdict?”

“Yes, M’lord, we find the defendant guilty as charged.”

“Guilty! Why yes, of course he’s guilty and he’ll now enjoy seven years in His Majesty’s prison at Dorset to consider the price of his crimes. Bloody orphans - orphanage to a life of crime, in and out of prison, same story over and over again, they never learn.”

Still standing Carlton again intervened, “M’lord, in light of this young man’s acknowledged good character and the fact that this is his first offence, might there not be another acceptable option in this case?”

Sir Arthur paused, glowered and then looked again directly at the prisoner, “You’re suggesting a term of military service to His Majesty?”

“Yes, indeed I am M’lord. I am informed that there are several persons in attendance who are willing to confirm his better qualities.” Sir Arthur appeared to brighten at an opportunity to appear benevolent. “Well, young man, there’s a fortunate offer for you. What do you say to a term of service to the King, eh? Might be just the thing to turn you down the right road.”

There was no response. Danny could feel his knees begin to buckle. He thought he could faint.

“Come, come, young man, it’s a simple question, a seven year term in prison or seven years service to His Majesty the King? I should think the choice an easy one for a boy like you. Do you accept Mister Carlton’s offer of service?”

Danny wavered and then spoke quietly and reluctantly, “I guess I have no choice then Judge.”

“No, I guess you don’t!” Sir Arthur roared back, “and you will refer to me as ‘My Lord’ or I shall charge you with contempt of court and fling you directly into the bowels of Dorset.” He then pulled his glasses down and hammered his gavel very hard three times in exclamation. A moment later, Sir Arthur gathered himself, calming his breath and rubbing his jowls and then lifted his head slowly and purposefully, re-set his glasses to regain his bearing. He again narrowed his focus on young Danny, choosing to address him in his most paternal tone.

“You see, young man how you today have benefited from the graciousness of British justice? You are a damned sight lucky you’re not in France where they’d ‘ave just flung down a dark well in the Bastille or rolled you off to the guillotine. You are a very fortunate young man indeed,” another extended pause as he turned to the bailiff, “Mister Simpkins! Who is attending here today on behalf of His Majesty’s forces?”

“Sergeant Reeves of the Royal West Kent’s M’lord.”

“Well then,” Sir Arthur smiled as he pointed to the prisoner in the box, “Here’s another young apple for you to polish, Sergeant - that makes three more again this week.”

Reeves stood and nodded, “Thank-you M’lord, we’ll try our very best.”

“Take him away then. I am sick of the sight of him, damn orphans,” Sir Arthur glanced again at the clock on opposite wall. “Now then gentlemen, if we can all remain expeditious, we have time to dispatch just one more.”

* * *