“The Pretoria branch of the Rand Club, eh? Well, in that case…” Barney nodded his head rather abruptly and walked from the yard where he and Solly had been talking, his prison pass pressed tightly between his fingers. How like Solly to believe anything a man like Lionel Phillips said, or the lawyers that Phillips had selected! How could a nephew of his, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, be that damnably stupid? What a pity Solly had been born a Jew! Solly would probably have given everything he possessed to be able to sew that foreskin back in place and take his rightful position among the elite of Johannesburg and the Rand Club, among the machers, the big people, the respectable Christians! He must get down on his knees every night and thank God he wasn’t born with a big hooked nose, or tight, curly hair! Still, the boy was his sister’s son, and he had to do everything possible to save him from his own foolishness. But what could be done in face of such stubbornness?
Behind him as he left the yard, Solly watched his uncle’s back with a look of disdain on his handsome face. Barney Barnato offering him advice! What a joke! If Barney knew one half of what went on in Jo’burg, even as far as his own businesses were concerned, he’d be a lot wiser man than he was. A lot unhappier, too. But the fact was that Barney Barnato was not half as bright as he thought he was, or Solly Loeb would not have been able to feather his own nest so comfortably. And Barney didn’t even have a suspicion! And now he wanted to interfere in something he understood even less than he did business. With a sneer Solly put Barney and Barney’s worries from his mind and started back toward his cell. There was a bottle of bubbly there, as well as half of the roast duckling his wife had brought — if the rats hadn’t eaten it while he was wasting his time with his uncle Barney…
Judge Gregorowski had been called in from Bloemfontein in the Free State to preside at the trial of the sixty members of the Reform Committee, as well as the four men considered the ringleaders in planning and executing the raid: Colonel Frank Rhodes, John Hays Hammond, Carl Luckner, and Lionel Phillips. The trial was scheduled to be held at the Pretoria Town Hall, since the courthouse was considered too small for the large number of defendants and the crowd that was expected to attend. Barney, sitting in the first row of spectators with Fay at his side, gritted his teeth to see the defendants, on benches before him, with Solly among them, laughing and joking among themselves, chatting away quite as if they were merely passing time waiting for the next race at the racecourse, rather than facing trial on a most serious charge.
“Idiots!” he muttered angrily. “Suicidal idiots!”
Fay reached over and took his hand, squeezing it. “Relax, darling.”
“Relax! How can I relax? Can you imagine pleading guilty on a charge of treason. Treason? They’re insane! No proper court in the world would even permit such a plea!”
There was the bang of a gavel, a momentary hushing of the large crowd, and Judge Gregorowski entered and took his place on the bench. The four ringleaders, standing in the movable dock that had been put in place by the black-uniformed warders, turned to face him; the other defendants lounged to their feet as if bored by the entire proceedings. Gregorowski was a large heavy-set man without a hair on his head, and with a huge hooked nose and small beady eyes that looked at the crowd as if suspecting that they, too, probably should have been in the dock as well as the four. After a brief inspection of his audience, he motioned to the prosecuting attorney to begin the proceedings. The prosecutor came to his feet and began reading from a paper, droning the names of the defendants one by one. When he had finished this portion of the indictment, he came to the charge. The crowd fell silent. He spoke in Afrikaans, which most of the defendants could not understand.
“These men,” he said, his tone almost contemptuous, “combined to plan the overthrow of the Government of the Republic of the Transvaal. They freely admit they planned the deed; I have no doubt they even bragged about it among themselves, or at least before they were arrested. They could scarcely do less than admit their guilt, since we are in possession of a letter signed by the four in the dock, found in the possession of a certain Lieutenant White in his dispatch case when the so-called raid of Captain Jameson and his troopers met its deserved end at the twin kopjes of Doornkop outside of Krugersdorp. We consider these four men, therefore, guilty of high treason and ask that they be sentenced accordingly.”
He swung about, facing the other defendants crowded on the benches between Judge Gregorowski and the spectators. Several of the defendants yawned openly. They did not understand a word of Afrikaans and they only wished the wordy bastard would get on with whatever he was trying to say so they could pay whatever fines were going to be imposed and then go home. Fun was fun, but they had wasted enough time in the stinking Pretoria prison, and it was time to get the affair over and done with and get back to work. The prosecutor’s voice became even more contemptuous.
“These other men, these sixty, we simply consider lackeys, fools — dangerous fools who sadly need a lesson, parlous fools had their plan worked, but fools. Dupes. Look at them, Your Honor. They live in our country. Most of them have become prosperous, even wealthy in our country. And yet they planned to overthrow a government that has permitted them the freedom to take the gold from our ground, given them the freedom to build themselves large enterprises, to own huge tracts of land, to exploit our country in every conceivable way, to rob us of our riches, to be more precise. But the State is merciful and does not charge them with high treason. The charge we bring against them, however, is still a serious one. The charge is the distribution of arms, which is proscribed for Uitlanders in our republic. We shall now proceed to prove these charges, Your Honor, although the defendants, both those on the benches before Your Honor and those in the dock, have freely admitted their guilt through their lawyers. They have also agreed not to press any defense but to abide by the decision of this court. We leave to the judgment of Your Honor the punishment for the fools before you, but for the four in the dock, the State requests — nay, demands — the sentence of—”
There was deathly quiet in the large room; people leaned forward on their benches, heat forgotten. Barney’s one fist was clenched tightly; his other hand was squeezing Fay’s hand painfully, but she said nothing. Even the defendants who did not understand the Afrikaans language were suddenly aware that the prosecutor had said something, or was about to say something, of importance. The words came out, flatly, solemnly.
“—hangen by den nek—”
There was a startled gasp from all the defendants as well as from most of the spectators, although there were also some satisfied smiles from others; these words were easily understood whether one spoke the language or not. Angry glares and mutterings broke out among the defendants. It was not possible! A deal had been made, a promise had been broken! Barney stared in bitter anger at the prosecutor, although he knew his fury should have been directed against Lionel Phillips and the idiot lawyers who thought they could make a deal with Paul Kruger after trying to throw him out of his own country. The prosecutor was continuing.
“Your Honor, to begin I should like to present in evidence the letter which these four men in the dock signed, and which was used by Captain Leander Starr Jameson as the excuse for his criminal — and deservedly ill-fated — invasion of the Transvaal territory…”
The following day it was the turn of the defense lawyers, but it was a lost cause and they acted as if they knew it. Barney, listening to them, wondered how anyone that stupid could end up with a university degree and be taken seriously in his profession. The lawyers did their best to undo the damage of their having advised their clients to plead guilty, but their hesitant, stammering words and weak arguments plainly conceded defeat long before they were finished. To state before the court that a deal had supposedly been made with the prosecutor was manifestly impossible; in any case they were sure the only effect of such a statement would have been to make Judge Gregorowski even more intransigent, since he was bound to consider such a deal as being in direct defiance of the law and the authority of his court. And that would undoubtedly result in sentences even more severe. With a final plea for clemency, but with neither fact nor logic to support it, the ashen-faced lawyers sat down, unable to face their clients.