Half a Sixpence

by Evie Grace

  ‘Now that we are alone,’ she began, ‘I need to ask you something. I can trust you not to utter a word about this to anyone else?’

  ‘Apart from my wife. I reserve the right to consult with her.’

  ‘Of course.’ She thought she could rely on Emily to be discreet.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve obtained a ring that belonged to Sir William.’

  ‘You mean the imposter, Mr Thom. When I dropped in to the forge to see Len on my way back from Boughton today, he told me that he was just a plain maltster and innkeeper from Cornwall. He wasn’t a member of the nobility at all.’

  ‘Then I’m glad, because I don’t feel guilty any more, knowing that the ring probably wasn’t rightfully his.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he stole it,’ Stephen observed. ‘How did you get hold of it?’

  ‘I found it in the straw in the barn at the inn. I picked it up because I felt that he owed me something for sweeping us up into this terrible mess. I’d like you to sell it for me – you meet so many more people than I do. I thought I’d use the money that we raise to help Matty and the other prisoners, along with their wives and children.’

  ‘Of course I’ll help, but what about your pa? He has contacts in Canterbury. He might be able to get you a better price.’

  ‘I’d rather he had no knowledge of this for the present.’ She wasn’t sure that he’d approve of her intention. ‘He has more than enough on his mind with the threat of losing the tenancy.’

  ‘Can’t you use the money to help save Wanstall Farm for the Rooks?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘There are many others in more desperate need of support than my family. Promise that you’ll keep this between the two of us.’

  ‘And Emily.’

  ‘And Emily,’ she echoed. She slipped her hand inside her blouse, pulled out the ring and pressed it into Stephen’s hand. He took a leather purse from his pocket and, having made sure that no one was watching, tucked the ring inside.

  ‘Now, where will we find this woodcutter?’ she said.

  The light began to fail and her hopes to fade as they trudged through the woods and down into the valley. An owl swooped down, pale and ghost-like among the darting silhouettes of the flying bats. She shuddered.

  ‘I can smell smoke.’ Stephen reached for her hand and she took it, grateful of his reassuring presence.

  She glanced through the undergrowth, catching sight of the glow of a fire, like the mouth of the Devil. Who were the people who tended it? Was it wise to confront them?

  ‘You wait here,’ Stephen said, as though reading her mind.

  ‘Oh no, I’m coming with you.’

  They moved towards the fire and stepped out into the open, where three children were playing in the shelter of an oilcloth spread between two saplings. A woman was sitting on a log with an infant in her arms, while a man moved towards them. Catherine caught sight of the gleam of a blade in his hand.

  ‘Stephen, he has a knife,’ she muttered, but he walked on without hesitation.

  ‘It’s all right, sir. We come in peace. We’re looking for a woodcutter by the name of Testament.’

  ‘That’s you, husband. What you bin up to this time?’ the woman said.

  ‘Nothing. What do you want with me?’

  ‘We’re looking for anyone who witnessed the battle at Bossenden,’ Stephen said.

  ‘I told the constable, I was nowhere near. I don’t want anything to do with it.’

  ‘Please, sir,’ Catherine said. ‘My betrothed has been taken prisoner and falsely accused of murder.’

  ‘That’s his problem, miss. I won’t be dragged into this sorry affair. I have a family.’

  ‘Then you are perhaps in need of financial recompense for your statement,’ she said boldly, taking a purse from her pocket. She had saved a small amount of money over the years from selling eggs, thinking that she would use it for emergencies.

  The man stepped up closer and made to snatch the purse, but she held on to it.

  ‘I’ll pay you after you’ve spoken to the powers that be. I wasn’t born yesterday.’

  ‘What should I say?’ The man’s eyes glinted in the firelight.

  ‘All I ask is that you tell exactly what you saw with your own eyes.’

  ‘Describe your young man to me so I can see if I recognise him.’

  ‘He’s a little shorter than the gentleman beside me. He has brown hair down to his shoulders, the most wonderful green eyes and even features. He is very handsome.’

  ‘Oh, Catherine, you are exaggerating,’ Stephen mocked lightly. ‘Sir, he is my brother, and there is some family resemblance. My other brother was also present at the battle. The older one aimed a pistol at the lieutenant. The younger tried to take the gun from him.’

  ‘Ah yes, I know them now,’ Mr Testament said. ‘He called out, “Put it down, Jervis.”’

  ‘That’s right,’ Catherine said, encouraged. ‘The man who shouted is Matty Carter.’

  ‘Why should I help you?’ he said, suddenly backing down. ‘Why should I trust you? What if I make my statement and you disappear?’

  ‘I’ll pay you half of the money now and half afterwards,’ Catherine said.

  ‘Take the money, Mr Testament,’ his wife joined in. ‘You would turn down a piece of good fortune?’

  ‘What if someone should accuse me of being involved in the battle by virtue of being a witness? I reckon it’s best to lie low.’

  ‘We have three mouths to feed as well as our own. You cut wood day in and day out while I scratch around for berries and honey. We have almost nothing, yet when an opportunity like this comes along, you’re too scared to act on it. You’re a coward. I don’t know what I ever seen in you.’

  ‘We can go with you to find a constable,’ Catherine said.

  ‘We can’t be seen to be influencing a witness,’ Stephen pointed out. ‘Mr Testament will go to the Red Lion tomorrow in return for half the money. When Matty is freed, he will receive the remainder. We’ll meet when it’s all settled.’ He gave him his address at the forge in Faversham. Mr Testament repeated it while his wife stood up and walked across with the baby sucking at her breast to receive the money.

  Catherine counted the coins and handed half of them over. Mrs Testament stared at them as though she couldn’t believe their luck.

  ‘Come now,’ Stephen said, taking hold of her hand again for the walk back through the woods.

  ‘Do you think we can rely on him?’ she asked when they were out of earshot.

  ‘We know what he saw, and it’s clear that he needs the money. Let’s pray for the safe release of the innocent men and justice for the guilty.’

  It was dark when they reached the farm. The candles were out, but as Catherine sneaked stealthily up the stairs, she was waylaid by Pa, who was still dressed in his day clothes.

  ‘You went against me,’ he said, catching her by the arm.

  ‘Yes, Pa, and if you were in my shoes, you would have done exactly the same.’ She glanced down to where his fingers were digging into her flesh. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He backed off. ‘I’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘I was with Stephen. You know he wouldn’t let any harm come to me.’

  ‘That’s true. He’s a good lad.’ Pa began to calm down. ‘So, did you find the woodcutter?’

  ‘Yes, and he’ll be at the Red Lion in the morning to make his statement.’

  ‘So there’s room for optimism?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good. Go and get some sleep. You’re worn out.’

  ‘I’m sorry for the trouble that Matty’s caused.’

  ‘It can’t be changed now, Catherine. It’s the way it is.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek.

  She fell into bed, but she couldn’t rest. She ached to be back in Matty’s arms and to hear his voice whispering sweet endearments into her ear, but she knew she had to be patie
nt, and trust that justice would prevail.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Red Lion

  Boughton

  Catherine returned to the Red Lion with her father every day after the affray in the expectation of bringing Matty home to Overshill.

  The village of Boughton was overwhelmed with thousands of visitors from London who alighted daily from the Union night coach or travelled via Gravesend by steamboat. There were soldiers everywhere, guarding the bodies and keeping public order. The locals made hay while the sun shone – they sold pieces of bark stripped from the oak against which Sir William fell; bloodied earth scraped up from the ground; fragments of his smock and strands of his beard.

  On Saturday, the second day of June, Lieutenant Bennett was buried at the cathedral in Canterbury with full military honours, and an inquest, held at the White Horse – the other inn in Boughton – returned a verdict of justifiable homicide on the deaths of Sir William and his followers.

  Sunday turned into Monday, and they were still no closer to liberating Matty from the confines of the upstairs room at the Red Lion. Catherine sent food via one of the soldiers, but she wasn’t allowed to see or speak to him.

  On Tuesday, she and Pa were drinking tea in one of the cottages across the road from the inn where the occupant had opened their door to visitors who wanted to rest for a while in return for a few pennies. A young man in a suit, a fop from London, approached their table. He wore a high-collared cotton shirt and cravat, and a fashionable coat with narrow, pointed tails that fell just below the knee of his brown trousers.

  ‘Miss Rook, I’ve been hoping to find you,’ he said, doffing his hat. ‘You are engaged to the prisoner who goes by the name of Matty Carter?’

  ‘Ignore him, Catherine,’ Pa said. ‘He’s a journalist. I can smell the print on his fat, grubby fingers.’

  ‘My hands are clean, sir.’ The man showed his palms.

  ‘But your jottings are filthy lies.’ Pa stood up. ‘We must be going.’

  ‘A moment of your time. I ask your daughter for her account so that I can write the truth. Everyone wants to know what really happened.’

  ‘They should keep their noses out of other people’s business,’ Pa said.

  ‘It’s important that we spread the word about characters like Mr Thom, so that no one can be taken in again by the preaching of a lunatic and a liar. They unscrewed the coffin today to check that he wasn’t shut in against his will. I saw him and he remains dead.’

  Catherine had seen the coffin the day before, a plain box without even a nameplate, as if the authorities thought that the best way to punish Sir William’s desire for notoriety was by denying him any acknowledgement in death.

  ‘I should point out that most of the men involved in the battle can’t read their names, let alone a newspaper. All you’re after is profiting from our misfortune. Now, leave us alone. You’re upsetting my daughter.’

  ‘Is that because she expects her betrothed to be committed to trial for murder later today?’

  Murder? Catherine tried to suppress the shock that jolted through her body.

  ‘Please, don’t speak of this.’ Pa clenched his fists and his face begin to turn a deep shade of plum. Fearing that he was about to lose his temper and his mind, as he had with the threshing machine many years before, Catherine pulled at his sleeve.

  ‘We have to go,’ she said forcefully, ‘as you must too, sir, if you aren’t to miss out on reporting the trial.’ She flashed the journalist a warning glance. ‘That is my last word.’

  She and her father made their way across the road to the Red Lion, where the coroner was about to make his address. They squeezed into a corner of the room which was crammed with the prisoners’ friends, wives, husbands and children, as well as some of the visitors who’d been attracted by the spectacle.

  The jury were called and shown to their seats before the prisoners – men and a couple of women in bedraggled clothing – were led into the makeshift court. Catherine craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Matty, who walked with his head held high. He glanced towards the crowd and gave her a small smile. She smiled back to let him know that she believed in him, no matter what.

  The coroner sat down at the table at the far end of the room, and began to talk about the conclusion of an earlier case that set a precedent for how the twenty individuals who were involved in the affray would be treated.

  ‘If several persons meet for a lawful purpose and one commits murder, then he alone is answerable. If, however, those persons meet for an illegal activity, and one commits murder, then everyone who takes part in that meeting is equally guilty of the crime. Therefore, the living will be put on trial, according to that conclusion.’

  There was a collective gasp as his words sank in. Catherine felt Pa’s hand on her arm.

  ‘Call the first witness.’ The coroner read from his notes. ‘Mr James Testament, woodcutter by profession.’

  The sight of the man from the woods, the person who would confirm Matty’s innocence, stepping up to address the jury lifted her spirits.

  Firstly, though, the coroner raised the issue of Drusilla’s presence at the battle with him.

  ‘You have sworn that Mrs Carter was one of the rioters,’ he said, but Mr Testament frowned and answered, ‘I am now sure that I didn’t see the lady in the woods.’

  ‘Have you had a conversation with anyone since you gave your statement?’ the coroner asked. ‘Did anyone speak to you about it?

  ‘No, sir,’ Mr Testament said.

  ‘Speak up.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Let me read over again what you have sworn and now be cautious in what you say. Do you know Drusilla Carter?’

  ‘I do. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her on several occasions.’

  ‘Was she in Bossenden Wood on the thirty-first of May?’

  ‘I cannot say for certain.’ Mr Testament twisted his cap in his hands and his face flushed. Catherine thought she could see beads of perspiration forming on his forehead and rolling from the end of his nose.

  ‘What made you be so positive respecting her when you gave this statement?’

  ‘I was trembling so, I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Are you sure that Drusilla Carter was not there?’ the coroner asked.

  ‘I know she was not.’

  The coroner uttered a sigh of despair. He looked at his watch and put it back on the table in front of him, before turning back to the witness.

  ‘Now tell us with whom you have had a conversation recently.’

  ‘I had no conversation. Mrs Carter only said to me that I had sworn wrong.’

  ‘And she requested you to say she had not been there?’

  ‘Yes, when I saw her brought in, I knew I was wrong.’

  The coroner turned to the jury. ‘I recommend to you, members of the jury, that you give to the testimony of this witness such credit as you think it is entitled to.’

  Catherine was devastated. The coroner had demolished Mr Testament’s credibility as a witness. How could the jury believe him? What chance had Matty got now? Her belly cramped with nerves.

  The coroner went on to read out Mr Testament’s statement relating to the Carter brothers. He had seen Jervis raise his pistol and aim at the man known as Catt. The man he now knew as Matty Carter had tussled for the gun, which had gone off and killed Catt.

  ‘Who fired the gun?’ the coroner asked.

  ‘It was Jervis Carter.’

  ‘That’s a lie,’ Drusilla shouted as Jervis scowled from the dock. ‘I told you what to say.’

  ‘Silence!’ thundered the coroner.

  ‘I mean, it was the other one. Catt, no, Matty Carter,’ Mr Testament stammered.

  ‘You’re telling us that you saw Matty Carter raise the gun and fire it at the victim?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ the witness said, but by this time the jury were glancing at each other and rolling their eyes.

  ‘But it could hav
e bin the other one, the brother.’ He scratched at his temple. ‘My head is like an addled egg.’

  ‘This isn’t looking good,’ Pa whispered, and it got worse when one of the constables described how Matty had had blood on his hands when he arrested him. Catherine gazed towards where he stood, his expression impassive.

  The jury retired. Pa and Catherine waited. Stephen joined them to hear the verdict three-quarters of an hour later when the foreman spoke on the jury’s behalf.

  ‘To the best of our judgement, we have discharged our duty to our country and to the satisfaction of our consciences. I’m happy to say that in all our decisions, we are unanimous. The names of those guilty of the wilful murder of Lieutenant Bennett are …’ Catherine held her breath as he listed the names of eight men, including Sir William Courtenay, also known as Thom ‘… Jervis Carter and Matty Carter.’

  ‘No, not that. Please, no. It isn’t right.’ Catherine felt the blood rush from her body and Stephen’s arms around her waist as the foreman of the jury went on to announce that they had found Drusilla Carter not guilty.

  The coroner held up his hand.

  ‘No, I can’t hear anything as to the latter point. My province doesn’t extend further than to enquire as to which persons were concerned with the murder of Lieutenant Bennett. Now that this is concluded, I commit the prisoners to Maidstone gaol for trial at the Assizes in August.’

  ‘You need some air,’ Stephen said, trying to guide Catherine through the crowd, but she clutched at his shirt and held him back.

  ‘I must see him,’ she said, watching helplessly as Matty was led away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Stephen whispered. ‘We have to go now.’

  ‘He’s innocent,’ she cried. ‘Why can’t they see it?’

  ‘Hush there.’ He took a grubby handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘All is not lost.’

  ‘He’s been found guilty of murder. My dear, gentle Matty.’

  ‘This is just a tinpot court. The coroner’s decision doesn’t signify anything. He’ll have a proper trial at the Assizes in front of a judge. Listen to me,’ he went on quietly. ‘I haven’t managed to sell the item that you gave me yet, but I’ve researched its value, and the money will be a great help to you. Catherine, he will come home. It’s just going to take a little longer than we’d hoped.’