‘Aye, well once he had seemingly killed Hewitt he took a knife from his pocket and cut the man’s tongue out.’ I gasped myself at this atrocity — the atrocity that Hill should lay the ownership of that barbaric act at my door. The rest of the court started shouting curses at me because they believed it. It took the clerks some minutes to restore order while I sat there embarrassed and fuming. Hill looked at me again, this time openly and boldly. So — he had finally sold his soul and cared not who knew it.
Puffing up his chest and straightening his jacket he declared in loud voice, ‘Then he nailed it onto the trapdoor and walked out in a tremendous fury!’
I wondered from where I had got hammer and nail in this derelict hovel, but did not of course have the opportunity to ask. It was several minutes before the clerks could persuade the assembled throng to at least stop shouting and wailing. The judge sat impassive throughout, eyes fixed on my miserable self. When he cleared his throat all were quiet. ‘Doth the accused understand the testimony that hath been spake thus far?’ He leant forward and eyed me like his lunch.
‘I understand it,’ I replied, attempting to establish that did not mean that I agreed it was true without incurring the judge’s wrath.
‘Very well. Proceed!’
‘Mr Hill,’ the Attorney General said in a whisper, so that all had to hush in order to hear him speak, ‘what did the accused do next? Was this not enough?’
‘No, sir. For he then went to Epsom.’
‘Why did he do that?’
A better question would have been — when did he do that? Hill had the timings all wrong.
‘I think it was because I advised him, if you will recall.’
‘Ah yes! You had suggested to him earlier that he go to Epsom to make peace with the family of Anne Ormonde.’
‘Aye, sir, well now he did go. I don’t know why he decided to go at this particular time, but I think it may have been to deliver his account of the death of Anne Ormonde and the motives behind it.’
‘I see. That is logical.’
Very logical now that the order of events had been so neatly amended.
‘Aye, well, whatever the reason he went, he was not permitted audience. Neither William Ormonde nor any of his family was willing to speak to him. He was not of their family, of course, and they were in mourning.’
‘Understandable. So he came home again.’
‘No, sir.’
‘No?’
‘No. He went to see a woman called Elizabeth Johnson.’
‘Who is Elizabeth Johnson?’
‘She is an old woman who used to be nanny to Anne Ormonde, and Jane Keeling besides.’
‘Jane Keeling is the daughter of Lord Keeling?’
‘Aye sir, she was. She died of a fever ten years ago.’
‘I see. And why did the accused go to see Elizabeth Johnson?’
‘I don’t know what led him to her house, but once he made acquaintance then I fear that he allowed himself to be led astray once more.’ Hill paused, confident now. The Attorney General saw it, and let him have his moment. ‘She is a very old woman and is known at Epsom for being weak in the head. The accused would not know this, since he does not come from Epsom.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Aye, naturally. Well, she told the accused a tall tale that Jane Keeling took her own life because she was with child, and that the child was fathered by William Ormonde.’
‘How so?’ The Attorney General cut short the hysteria that threatened to engulf the court once more, his whole body proclaiming the absurdity of the idea.
‘Aye, sir — an absurd notion, but the woman is very old and, it is said, is prone to fabricating such stories. Those that know her humour her in this, because she is old and has given many years of service to some great families at Epsom.’
‘Indeed.’ The Attorney General bowed his head. At least they weren’t going to accuse her of being a witch.
‘Aye, well at this the accused became convinced that he had been misled. He became sure that it was Keeling himself that had killed Anne Ormonde, and John Giles besides, as revenge upon William Ormonde.’
‘Ludicrous.’ The Attorney General shook his head doubtfully. ‘That an old woman might peddle strange tales is one thing, that the accused should credit such tales is another. Are you sure it was so?’
‘Yes, sir. I am sure.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, what he did next was proof of it.’ Hill looked at me again. Black bottomless pits. Here we go. The coup de grace. Keeling had asked me to puff out my chest that the sword would glide easily through my ribs. I had escaped then, but I saw no way out now. Hill kept his eyes on mine as he told the tale of how I had disinterred the body of Jane Keeling. The court exploded in a frenzy of collective rage. There were only two souls that stayed calm while the storm raged above our heads — the only two that knew the truth of it — myself and Hill. Hill, my old friend and confidant, stood six paces from me, weaving with his tongue the web that would entrap me, watching me with steady black eyes while he did it. Seemed to me that moment lasted many minutes. It was a reckoning of sorts. Slowly the din subsided and the court was silent again, the audience awaiting the final act.
‘What then, Mr Hill?’
‘He left Epsom and returned to London in haste to find Keeling and confront him.’
‘How so, Mr Hill? If he disinterred the body of Jane Keeling then surely he must have been dissuaded from the foul notion he had heard from the lips of Elizabeth Johnson?’
Hill shrugged. ‘The body was ten years old. There is no telling what he thought he had found.’ Very neat.
‘So he flew to London?’
‘Aye, I think that someone at Keeling’s residence was unwise enough to inform him that Keeling was at the church of St Bride’s, praying for the soul of Anne Ormonde.’
‘God have mercy.’ The Attorney General put an arm across his chest and looked to the floor with his eyes closed.
‘The Lord preserveth the faithful,’ replied Hill, adopting the same pose. God have mercy indeed. On Hill’s worm-ridden, crumbly black soul.
‘What happened at the church?’
‘I arrived late,’ Hill shook his head mournfully. ‘I found them in the vestry. Just as I entered I witnessed the accused thrust a knife into Keeling’s heart. He died in my arms.’
‘In my house have I found their wickedness, saith the Lord,’ the Attorney General whispered.
And so fell the curtain on a wondrous performance. Of course the audience did not stand and applaud rapturously, they didn’t shout for more and refuse to cease until the players lined up before them to take a bow. But the effect was the same. The jurors began talking to each other, telling each other what wickedness lurked within the hearts of men, asking themselves if they could truly believe that one man could be capable of such sins, assuring each other that they had a God-given duty to make sure that these sins were punished in public, that the people should see what happens when man gives way to the demons that betimes may cling to his back. When Hill descended from the dock, helped by two clerks, the Attorney General stepped forward and put an arm around his shoulders and uttered sympathetic words. Me? I just sat there, a man condemned.
‘The jury will now retire to consider their verdict,’ announced the judge, in slow sombre tone. ‘They will consider that there are three possible verdicts.’
The jury ceased their pratings and listened to their instructions.
‘Acquittal is not a possible verdict, for the accused hath pleaded self-defence.’ The jurors nodded wisely.
‘To deliver a verdict of self-defence the jury must be of the opinion that Lord Keeling set about the accused with murderous intent. In this case it hath been established that the accused sought out Lord Keeling whilst of unsound mind and with the blood of Matthew Hewitt already on his hands. A verdict of self-defence would not be a wise verdict under such circumstance.’ The jurors all faithfully shook their heads.
‘A verdict of provocation doth imply that the accused was motivated to kill Lord Keeling because of the sins of Lord Keeling against his person. In this case there is no evidence that the Lord Chief Justice was guilty of any such actions.’ The jurors smiled as if the notion was absurd.