Someone began to play the fiddle in a neighbouring cell and voices filled the air, new words set to an old ballad.
Tom Hawkins was a parson’s son
With evil in his heart
A deed most wicked he has done
And so he’ll ride the cart.
He stabbed Jo Burden with his blade
The blood is on his hands
A noose old Hooper he has made
The gentleman will hang.
The key rattled in the lock and Mr Rewse stepped into the cell, a set of iron chains slung over his shoulder. He had let me live unfettered these past weeks, but now I must be chained again for all the world to see. I rose and let him fix the manacles to my wrists. This is a play, I told myself. Act the part you have been given and you will be spared. They led me through the ward, my fellow prisoners shouting and joking to one another as I passed. I had not tried to win friends in Newgate, keeping to my cell as much as possible. I had not repented, nor had I fallen in with the lower sorts who drank and whored their way to the gallows. Worst of all, I had continued to protest my innocence, which infuriated the good and the wicked alike. So there was no fellow-feeling as I walked through the gaol. They sang my ballad again to send me on my way, while the turnkeys chuckled to themselves.
I comforted myself with the knowledge that Budge was still endeavouring to secure my release. He had written again, briefly, to say that his mistress would prefer the matter to be resolved at trial and hoped that I would be set free without her aid. I wished that too, in the way one might wish one could fly or pluck gold coins from the air. Wishing would not make it so.
We took a passage beneath the street, connecting the prison to the Old Bailey. My chains clinked as we walked, the sound echoing through the tunnel. Eliot stood waiting for us at the other end.
‘You look ill, sir.’
‘You would have me skipping like a spring lamb, I suppose?’
‘The King’s Council has called Kitty to testify.’
I stared at him in horror. He seemed to draw some comfort from my reaction – proof that I was at least decent enough to care for Kitty’s reputation. ‘She wishes to speak in your defence. You may call her as a witness.’
I shook my head. God knows what she would be prepared to say in order to save me. Eliot sighed, as if he had expected my response. He seemed so dejected that on impulse I clasped his hands. ‘Thank you, sir, for all you have done.’
He gave an exasperated laugh, as if to say – you have let me do nothing.
‘You are a good man, Mr Eliot. And an excellent lawyer.’
‘Aye…’ He glanced towards the courtroom, where the judge and jury waited. ‘But what sort of a man are you, Hawkins? I fear I cannot tell.’
And so we entered the court and the world knows what happened next. I will not write of it here. To place myself in that room again, the sweat pouring down my back, mouth dry, barely able to breathe with fear… and all about me the rows of spectators, half of them old acquaintances, all craning to get the best view as if this were the theatre and not my life. James Fleet was there, tucked quietly in the shadows, to be sure I behaved.
And on the front row, Charles Howard, face set throughout in grim, glowering concentration. When at last it was over and the verdict came down, he rose and picked up his hat, pushing past his neighbours to reach the aisle. I passed not two feet from him as the guards led me in chains back to prison. He smiled, teeth bared, but it was his eyes that I remembered, alone in my cell. Those terrible eyes, gleaming in cold triumph.
Part Five
…the Prisoner was brought to the Bar at 9 in the Morning, a very great and extraordinary Audience present; diverse Gentlemen of Distinction and a Crowd of Ladies. The Prisoner pleaded Not Guilty as at his Arraignment.
The Council for the Crown open’d the Indictment; setting forth, That the said Thomas Hawkins, gentleman and former Student of Divinity, being a Person of inhuman and cruel Disposition did Assault and Murder the said Joseph Burden in the Unfortunate Victim’s own bed; and that the Prisoner did Stab him nine times with a great Dagger. And that the Prisoner did wound the said Joseph Burden with a fierce cut to the Heart, plunging the Blade to the very hilt and drawing forth great Geysers of Blood, by which the aforementioned soon died.
The King’s Council proceeded to open, That the Prisoner at the Bar was well known to hold a great Loathing and Hatred of his Neighbour, and had been witnessed upon several occasions threatening to Strike and Murder the Unfortunate Deceas’d.
The Council continued, That the Prisoner had every means of entering his neighbour’s home, which was upon Russell Street, having constructed a Secret and Ingenious Door between the attics, granting him Access whenever he so Wished. And thus the Prisoner had entered into the home of his Unfortunate Victim and murder’d him in an act most callous and cunning.
Following this Brutal Act the Prisoner compounded his crime and with Great Wickedness sought to place Suspicion upon innocent parties: Stephen Burden the son of the Deceas’d, Judith Burden who was his Daughter and Ned Weaver, his apprentice. That thus, despite a childhood bless’d with good Fortune and the best of Educations, the Prisoner shew’d himself to be not only a Cold and Pitiless murderer but also a Coward and a Liar, having no decency or honour.
To prove the Indictment, the Council for the King called several Witnesses.
The first was Judith Burden, daughter of the unfortunate deceas’d, who swore that Hawkins had threatened her Father upon several occasions. She depos’d that she had discovered the body of Joseph Burden on the morning of the 12th of January.
Being asked by the King’s Council, Was he dead? She reply’d Aye, Aye and with a Knife in his Heart. At this she broke down. The Court call’d for a Cordial to ease her Nerves. When she was recover’d the King’s Council asked, And what thoughts came to you when you saw your Father dead? And the witness reply’d that she thought Mr Hawkins had murder’d him, as he had promis’d. At which she broke down again.
The Prisoner at the Bar ask’d permission to question the Witness but the Court deemed that she was too much Distress’d, and that the Prisoner had question’d her close enough when he was at Liberty, to no avail. This Answer drew great Approval from the Audience gathered.
Stephen Burden, son of the Deceas’d, deposed that he heard the Prisoner threaten his Father on diverse occasions. That his Father held the strong conviction that Hawkins was a Violent and Dangerous man who frequent’d Brothels and Gaming Houses and consort’d with base Company, and that he was most Vex’d by his arrival in the neighbourhood. Being asked if his Father was afraid of the Prisoner, the Witness replied that he was, mortally afraid.