The court fell silent. Everyone looked at the judge, who looked confused. We sat like this for at least a minute. The judge cast an eye about the court, anxious not to be seen to make a fool of himself. ‘You mean Venner sent two men to kill Mr Lytle?’
‘Aye, sir,’ Dowling nodded. ‘His manservant has ’fessed all.’
‘And I suppose William Ormonde will testify accordingly?’
‘Yes, My Lord. Now that Keeling is dead William Ormonde is able to speak without fear.’
The judge still looked bemused. He turned to the Attorney General as if he genuinely sought his views. ‘Mr Attorney General, do you know anything about this at all?’
The Attorney General stood up with a weary expression on his face, wondering perhaps if he still had a career. ‘My Lord, all I can say is that this testimony is at odds with the testimony of Mr William Hill. I have no knowledge of all that Mr Dowling sets before us and, indeed, were he not in the employ of His Majesty then I would find his testimony incredible.’ He sat down and flicked his quill to one side.
‘I agree, sir. Mr Dowling, I will need to see all of this testimony you refer to.’
‘Of course, My Lord. I have it with me today.’
‘Very well, pray continue.’
‘The men that Hewitt sent to kill Mr Lytle failed. Unfortunate for Hewitt I think, for once Mr Lytle had taken him prisoner, Keeling must have feared that he would talk.’
‘Mr William Hill testifies that he witnessed the accused kill Matthew Hewitt then sever his tongue with a knife and nail it to a …’ he rifled through some papers ‘… trapdoor.’
Dowling arched his eyebrows and sighed deeply. ‘Mr Hill lies, My Lord. Soldiers killed Matthew Hewitt, soldiers sent by Keeling. These same soldiers attempted to abduct us both besides, until we were rescued by men I know that live in Alsatia.’
‘Whose testimony do you have to substantiate that?’
‘Just mine and Mr Lytle’s I fear,’ Dowling grimaced, ‘for none from that part of London would ever come here to testify.’
The judge muttered unhappily.
‘Though I fancy we may be able to find the bones of the soldiers that killed Hewitt if I be permitted to search for them.’
‘I see.’ The judge still looked most bemused. ‘And then I suppose that Lord Keeling pursued Mr Lytle to Bride’s to kill him, and the accused was forced to defend himself. Hence the plea.’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Mr Dowling, what evidence do you have of that? Mr Hill says he saw the accused plunge a knife into Keeling’s ribs.’
‘Sir, I have testimony from several of the soldiers that escorted Mr Hill to St Bride’s and from those that prepared the body for burial. The only knife discovered at the scene remained clenched in Lord Keeling’s fist. They had to drop a stone on his fingers to free it. Between his ribs he had half a walking cane.’
The judge eyed the Attorney General with open contempt, yet refrained from asking him his opinion another time. The Attorney General appeared to be beyond caring.
‘How do you explain that the accused desecrated the grave of Jane Keeling?’ the judge asked at last. ‘I may safely assume that whatever fantastic story you are about to tell me is well documented?’
‘Certainly, My Lord.’ Dowling scratched his head, rubbed his cheeks with his palms and stretched. ‘First I must tell you that he informed me in advance that he was going to desecrate the grave. I did not approve, but neither did I stop him.’
‘True,’ I said aloud, without meaning to. ‘That he advised me not to do it.’
‘Then why did you?’ the judge asked me directly.
I blinked, and then slowly stood. None pulled me back down. Dowling smiled back encouragingly. The Attorney General looked at me out of the corner of his eye, but looked away again just as quickly.
‘Sir, we were convinced that Matthew Hewitt had killed both Anne and John Giles. Yet Hill kept insisting that I go to Epsom. When I did go to Epsom, then I was directed by Mary Ormonde to visit Beth Johnson.’
‘The same Elizabeth Johnson?’ the judge asked.
‘I suppose,’ I affirmed, ‘and she did not tell me that Jane Keeling was with child, as Hill claimed, but she did say that she took her own life and she had a letter affirming it.’
‘Did you see this letter?’
‘No, sir. But she directed me to the house of Dr John Stow, who told me that she had been with child. From that I presumed Keeling had killed Anne Giles out of revenge, and when I related my idea to William Hill then he assured me that I was correct and that he had heard rumours to that effect besides.’
‘So why did you desecrate a grave, Mr Lytle?’ the judge demanded, incredulous.
‘Because I did not believe the story. It was so easy to discover, and Hill had insisted so absolutely that I go to Epsom, that I doubted the veracity of it. Yet what if it were true?’
The judge shook his head and waggled his finger at me as if I were a naughty boy caught stealing apples. ‘Mr Lytle, it will not do. I appreciate that you were in a predicament, but desecrating a grave is ungodly and wicked.’
I contemplated asking him what he would have done in my place, but decided against it.
Dowling cleared his throat, seeking permission to intervene. ‘My Lord, it’s true. I went to Epsom not two days ago and spoke to this John Stow. He tells me that he was paid by one Robert Burton to tell his tale to Mr Lytle. He was assured that he would be visited only once, and then should deny all knowledge of the story.’
‘This would be the same Robert Burton that you suggest was employed by the Earl of Shrewsbury?’ The judge read back over notes that he had been scribing.
‘Aye, My Lord.’
‘And so you found that she was without child, Mr Lytle?’
‘Aye, sir.’
The judge sat back and pursed his lips. With his face so set he read back through his papers for ten or fifteen minutes. As he did so he made little noises with his mouth, as if all were becoming clear to him. Then he shuffled the papers into a pile, rested forwards onto his arms and regarded the Attorney General. ‘Sir, you are the prosecutor. What do you make of it?’
The Attorney General looked surprised. ‘My Lord, I think I would need to see this testimony referred to before venturing an opinion.’
‘Very wise,’ the judge nodded. ‘Let us go and review it together. The papers please.’ He gestured to Dowling with his head then stood, descended the steps and left the courtroom with the Attorney General trailing him disconsolately.
The rest of us were to wait. The jurors all looked vaguely worried, yet excited at the same time, not sure what had been going on, yet confident it was important. A few of them craned their necks in the direction that the judge had disappeared, wondering perhaps why they too hadn’t been invited to see this vital evidence. Dowling sat down in the witness box, so that all the rest of us could see was the top of his head. There was to be no talking, a rule that a couple of the clerks enforced by stalking the courtroom like carnivorous herons, hissing loudly at any that dared whisper.
I was feeling much more optimistic. Dowling had answered the judge’s questions so well that the case looked as white now as it had done black just the day before yesterday. Yet I was not so simple as to think that the truth would be the only factor that decided my fate. Foremost in my mind was seeking to understand why the judge had taken the Attorney General away. Certainly the Attorney General did not seem to be a happy man, yet could the private meeting have been called in the way of working out how to surmount the obstacle that Dowling’s testimony presented? Why should this judge be any different to the previous in terms of his objectives? Such were the thoughts going through my brain during the one hour or more that we sat in silence, waiting. Dowling’s head slowly disappeared and we were treated to the sound of a Scotsman snoring.
When they came back in I looked straight for the expression on the face of the Attorney General. If he bounced in full of new-found energy then I was in trouble. But he did not. Returning to his seat and sitting down he looked as he had before, only wearier. The judge didn’t bother climbing back up his perch but instead crooked fingers at me and at Dowling. I stood and was escorted by my two guards to the bench.