The Best of Men (67 page)

In the taproom, he bumped into Milne returning with the wine. “Going so soon?” Milne said cheerily.

“I forgot I had an appointment,” said Laurence, trying to pass him by.

“But I’d like a quick word with you first, about the trial. Come, over here.” Milne steered him to a nearby table and they sat down. “I suppose you’re aware that Hoare’s done all he can to discredit me,” Milne began. “I’m glad you can bear witness to his evil deeds. You must be itching for revenge, as am I.”

“What’s your quarrel with him?” Laurence asked, although he was not especially interested to hear.

“He made a fool of me, in front of the rest of his guard. I nearly challenged him to a duel, there and then,” Milne declared, with a proud toss of his head.

“Why didn’t you?”

“He would have had me shot for insubordination. And now he’s defamed my good name in court. Still, he’s the prisoner, and we shall get to spit on him after he hangs.” He leant back, squinting at Laurence. “Are you a close friend of Isabella’s?”

“No.”

“Hmm. I had wondered if you were her lover, in the past.” Laurence did not grace this with an answer. “Well let me tell you,” Milne confided, “she’s got a wonderful talent for grasping things as they stand.”

“What things?” Laurence said, wanting to slap him.

“The
affairs
of men,” he sniggered; then he modified his tone. “When this trial is over, we must all celebrate together – you and me and Isabella, and Digby and Falkland, of course. She’ll take me far, I can already see,” he said, grinning up at the taproom’s smoke-stained ceiling. “Not that I don’t deserve it; I’ve paid my dues, believe me. You wouldn’t understand, being so highly born, how life is for the rest of us. That’s the whim of Fortune for you. But since Fortune’s a woman, as they say, a man can always have the advantage of her. It’s what I aim to do, upon my soul.”

“I wish you the very best of luck.” Laurence got up from the table, for if he had to listen to any more about Milne’s future prospects, he would have felt inclined to curtail them altogether. “Now you must excuse me.”

As he strode off, he heard Milne shout after him, “See you in court, sir, and mind you give the bastard his just deserts!”

S
eward arrived in court anticipating a tense session, although Beaumont had insisted that all would go well. He was looking astonishingly smart in a new suit of black clothes, which Seward had admired earlier.

“Paid for by the Secretary of State – but I chose the colour,” Beaumont had informed him, with a smile.

The judge ordered the prisoner to be brought forth, amidst much whispering and some jeers from the public benches. Hoare’s linen was soiled and his beard needed trimming, yet he wore the same proud, impassive expression that he had maintained throughout. Beaumont was then summoned and sworn in; while respectful, he wore an air of aristocratic hauteur quite unlike his customary demeanour.

“Mr. Beaumont,” commenced the lawyer for the prosecution, “according to your deposition, you were too ill to attend the trial until today as a consequence of the severe tortures inflicted upon you by the accused. Is that so?”

“It is,” Beaumont said calmly.

“The accused has stated that you were employed by him, with the full knowledge and agreement of my Lord Falkland, to assist them both in gathering covert information. Is this true?”

“No. But I have on occasion offered some advice, to the Secretary of State alone.”

“The accused has averred that, in September of last year, you gave my Lord Falkland some documents obtained by you abroad containing evidence of a conspiracy against the life of His Majesty, and that his lordship employed you to find the conspirators. Is this so?”

“Colonel Hoare is very attached to conspiracies, most of them imaginary,” Beaumont replied, with unconcealed contempt. “In this case, he has constructed one against the Secretary of State. He would fabricate any lie to have Lord Falkland removed from office.”

“A slanderous accusation!” Hoare interrupted, but the judge silenced him.

“Why should he desire the removal of my Lord Falkland?” the lawyer asked.

“Because he detests it that his lordship wishes to save the lives of our countrymen by bringing a negotiated settlement to the war – as His Majesty also wishes,” Beaumont added.

“Now pray answer me directly, sir. Is Colonel Hoare’s claim false?”

“As false as he is himself.”

“It is
he
who is false!” yelled Hoare, glaring incredulously at Beaumont.

“He has claimed further that you were helping his lordship in private negotiations with some members of Parliament,” the prosecutor continued. “Is there any truth to
this
?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Even under torture, you did not admit to involvement in any such thing?”

“No I did not, as the accused can attest.”

“Yet he says that he has evidence not only of the conspiracy but also of these other private dealings.”

“Then I should very much like to see it.”

“Do you hold the accused guilty of the murder of Charles Danvers?”

“Yes,” said Beaumont, looking at Hoare for the first time.

“Sir, has my Lord Falkland tried in any way to influence your testimony?”

“In no way.”

“You are not seeking to protect him, because of the friendship he has with your father, Lord Beaumont?”

“He does not need my protection. He is completely innocent of any wrongdoing,” Beaumont answered flatly.

“I thank you, Mr. Beaumont,” the lawyer said.

So far, so good, thought Seward. From the rumblings of the spectators, he could tell that they were on Beaumont’s side.

It was now the prisoner’s turn to question the witness. “Mr. Beaumont,” said Hoare, “may I remind you that you are under oath. Do you honestly deny that I employed you to investigate the conspiracy to which you alerted myself and my Lord Falkland?”

“I do,” Beaumont said, with the merest impatience, “because there
was
no conspiracy.”

“I shall provide the court with ample proof that you are lying, and that I most certainly employed you as one of my agents. Did you not urge Lord Falkland to mistrust me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“I think I have explained to the court why he had every reason to beware of you.”

“So you were working to undermine my authority, and my position, as his servant.”

“Oh no,” said Beaumont. “I believe you were doing that work all by yourself.”

Careful, boy, don’t get too cocky
, Seward warned him mutely, hearing muffled laughter from the galleries.

Hoare blinked and shuffled his notes. “During your years abroad,” he recommenced, “did you not fight first with the Spanish army, and then turn coat to fight with the Dutch, and then with the Germans, from whom you also gained employment as a spy?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not a great example of your probity, is it,” Hoare observed.

“I have not hidden my past from anyone.”

“Are you not ashamed of it, sir?”

“Of which part should I be ashamed?” Beaumont inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Of turning coat, sir!”

Beaumont cast him a bemused look. “Since you have in your regiment a number of men who fought with the Spanish,
that
can hardly be accounted a crime. Later I made a moral decision to shift my allegiance, once persuaded that the Protestant cause deserved it more. And unless you would condemn yourself as well as me, I see no shame in collecting intelligence for an army in the field.”

“A
moral
decision?” Hoare repeated. “You would speak to me of morals, when you have none?”

“Colonel Hoare,” said the judge, “who is under question here, you or this witness?”

“My lord, I am simply attempting to suggest that his testimony is not to be relied upon. Mr. Beaumont,” Hoare went on, “after
deserting
from the German service, did you not return to England intending to continue in the same profession, that of a spy?”

“I did not.”

“What a waste of your expertise. For you are, are you not, expert at writing ciphers and codes?”

“I have some skill at it but I’ve given it up, as one gives up a vice,” Beaumont said lightly.

“It would be the only vice that you have ever given up. And you
had not yet renounced it when I interviewed you on the subject of those treasonous letters you had produced. Indeed, you demonstrated your genius by breaking large parts of the code in which they were written.”

Beaumont gave a short laugh, as if in consternation. “Sir, the genius is entirely yours, for inventing them in the first place.”

“Do you deny that I sent you, with a party of my own guards, to arrest the conspirators in Aylesbury last September?”

“I do.”

“My guards have testified otherwise, and truthfully so, as God is my witness!” Hoare glowered at him. “Mr. Beaumont, would you not perjure yourself a thousand times if you thought it to your advantage?”

“Must I answer that?” Beaumont said, to the judge.

“Colonel Hoare, what do you seek to gain by harrying Mr. Beaumont?” the judge said. “Keep in mind, we are here to discover your guilt or innocence, not his.”

“My lord, if I may obtain access to my own records as I requested from the outset of this trial, I can prove that I hired him, that he brought Lord Falkland this treasonous correspondence, and that he conspired to turn his lordship against me. I had full justification to interrogate him in Oxford Castle! He is one of the biggest liars in the kingdom!”

“Sir, pray keep your accusations to yourself, or you shall stand in contempt of this court.” The judge turned to Falkland. “My lord, may the court have access to these documents?”

“I am afraid not, on the express wish of His Majesty,” said Falkland gravely. “They contain confidential information regarding matters of state. I have here a letter from him, to that effect.” And he handed it on, through his lawyers.

The judge scanned it, then addressed Colonel Hoare, who was shaking with anger. “Sir, I regret that the court cannot overrule His Majesty’s decision. Your case will have to proceed without these records.”

“My lord, this is a perversion of justice!” cried Hoare.

“Once more, sir, I warn you to contain yourself. Mr. Beaumont, you may stand down,” the judge said.

Beaumont bowed his head, acknowledging judge and jury, and walked past the prisoner’s dock without a single look at Hoare. As he passed beneath one of the galleries, a woman rose and tossed her fan down to him. He paid no attention but Seward craned to catch a glimpse of the owner. She was young and dark-haired, her pretty heart-shaped face very animated.

“Thomas Beaumont,” said Hoare, in a strained voice, “will you admit that you came to me in December last, with news that your brother Laurence Beaumont was assisting my Lord Falkland to negotiate terms in private, with the enemy?”

“Yes, but I – I was in error,” Tom said, attempting to keep his own tone even.

“Did you not expect me to investigate the truth of your assertion?”

“I did not expect you to use violence against my brother.”

“Yet surely I would not be fulfilling my duty to His Majesty to let such information go without discovering the truth of it?” Tom was silent. “Have you not suggested, sir, to myself and to others, that your brother led a reprehensible life as a mercenary abroad?”

“Whatever he may have done there, since his return he has been fighting with Wilmot’s Horse, and did good service at Edgehill,” Tom replied more confidently.

After some murmuring between Falkland and the prosecutors, another paper was handed up to the judge, who read it before delivering it to the clerk of the court. “Let it be entered into record,” he said, “that His Highness Prince Rupert and Henry Wilmot, Commissioner General of His Majesty’s Horse, made particular mention of Laurence Beaumont’s bravery at Edgehill in scouting for enemy troops and
thereby securing intelligence that proved of immense value to His Majesty’s armies on the eve of the battle.”

Hoare tried to probe Tom on Laurence’s association with Falkland, but the court was now muttering its displeasure with the prisoner’s aggressive tactics. The judge had to intervene yet again as Hoare started to rant against both Beaumonts. “If you have no more reasonable questions,” the judge said to Hoare, “I must request you to hold your peace.”

At last Hoare complied, and a lawyer for the prosecution rose to cross-examine Tom. “Mr. Beaumont,” he said, “did you have any quarrel with your brother, at the time that you overheard his conversation with my Lord Falkland?”

“My brother and I have had our differences now and again, but they are unconnected with matters of state,” Tom said.

“Then why in heaven’s name did you not ask him outright about that conversation, before reporting it to the accused?”

“I would have, but he left the house shortly after he and his lordship talked. I have not seen him since, until today.”

“Why did you choose to report to Colonel Hoare, and not, for example, to His Highness the Prince, in whose regiment you served?”

“I was … I was not so sure of what I had heard, to warrant troubling His Highness,” Tom said, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks.

“And yet this flimsy suspicion of yours could have cost your brother his life,” the lawyer said, “and my Lord Falkland his office.”

Tom took a deep breath. “I acted thoughtlessly. But I now understand that Colonel Hoare entrapped me, bending my words to his purpose, to take the liberty of abusing my brother and defaming our Secretary of State.”

“These brothers are both perjurers,” declared Hoare, and he refused to re-examine the witness.

Tom left the courtroom trembling, to find Laurence waiting outside. “Thank you, Tom,” he said.

“
Was
there a conspiracy?” Tom whispered.

He noticed a familiar, evasive expression cross Laurence’s face. “I can’t talk about that.”

“And Lord Falkland? Is there any truth in what Hoare said of him?”

“No, none at all,” Laurence replied, now gazing straight at Tom.