The captains daughter, p.31
The Captain's Daughter, page 31
‘Not guilty, your worship,’ replied Daniel, clearly. His voice was strong and steady and Janey couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for the courage he was showing.
‘Sit down, Mr Kellow.’ He turned to the constable. ‘Bring forth the witnesses for the prosecution.’
The office clerk called in the first witness and Molly and David had to grab Janey’s arms to stop her from standing up in rage. Entering the courtroom was a smartly dressed man, carrying a top hat and gold tipped walking cane. His black boots shone as he walked confidently into the courtroom and took his place before the magistrates.
The man looked across at Daniel and smiled. Placing his hand on a Bible, he took an oath to speak the truth when giving his evidence and then braced himself for questioning.
‘I am Lord James Brockenshaw of Bosvenna Estate,’ he said, clearly. ‘Zachariah Trebilcock owned the farm that neighbours my estate. Usually in cases of an offence the victim prosecutes. In this case the victim is dead.’ A murmur of agreement went through the audience. ‘I feel it is my duty to bring the case to court and see that justice is done. I have therefore brought the case before you.’
William Menhennit looked over his glasses at him.
‘What evidence do you have that the accused committed murder?’ asked one of the other magistrates who had, until now, remained silent.
‘Since Zachariah Trebilcock’s death there have been widely spread rumours that Mr Kellow killed the farmer by hitting him on the head with a hammer and with such ferocity that the back of his head was greatly distorted. He was seen fleeing the scene with his clothes covered in blood and he was heard admitting to the crime. The farmer, who had supposedly died by climbing a ladder, suffered badly from arthritis and was in no state to climb anything, which suggests that the tale is a false one.’
‘Did you witness any of this? Were you present?’
‘I was not, your worship, but I have witnesses who were.’
‘Then I think it is best we heard from them. Rumour is not evidence enough for indictment. Let us hear the next witness for the prosecution.’
Janey could tell James was a little put out. He had expected that his word, as a gentleman, would hold greater weight, but it seemed that the magistrates wanted something more solid than hearsay. Janey gnawed her bottom lip. Why would someone say that Daniel had confessed to the murder? Why would they say he was fleeing the scene? She looked nervously across to Daniel, who did not meet her eyes.
The second witness entered, took the oath and was asked to confirm his name and the events of that day as he recalled it.
‘My name is Simon Rosevear. I was a gardener for Doctor Barker. On the day Mr Trebilcock died I was trimming Doctor Barker’s hedges. At about eleven o’clock in the morning I heard a commotion so I put down my shears and looked over the gap in the hedge. I saw Daniel Kellow jumping down from his horse and running to Doctor Barker’s front door. He had blood on his arms and shirt front and he was banging on the door with both fists, like this.’ The thin little man held up his fists and pretended to bang on an invisible door. ‘The door opened and the doctor came to the door. I heard him say, “Come quickly, Zachariah is dying and it’s my fault”.’
There was an audible gasp from the people around her and Janey felt sick. Even to her ears it sounded like an admission to murder. The magistrates asked a few questions to verify his position in relation to the door and then it was the turn of the next witness. Without realising it, Janey had taken hold of David and Molly’s hands. Together they sat stony-faced, hardly daring to breathe. She recognised the next witness; it was Doctor Barker and he looked uncomfortable as he stood before the magistrates. It was his turn to take the oath.
‘My name is Richard Barker and I have been the doctor of Trehale Parish for more than twenty years. I knew Zachariah Trebilcock well, as I did his late wife, Amy, and Daniel Kellow. When I was asked to be a witness it was not made clear to me that I would be a witness for the prosecution. I will tell you what I saw but I want it noted that I consider my witness testimonial as neutral.’
‘We have taken note,’ said William Menhennit.
‘At about eleven o’clock there was a banging on my door. My maid answered it and called for me. Daniel Kellow was at the door and visibly distressed. He was covered in blood. He told me Zachariah was dying and he felt he was to blame. I fetched my bag and followed him to Boscarn Farm. On the way he told me Zachariah had fallen from the ladder and he thought he may already be dead. On arriving at the farm I found Zachariah. He was lying on his back and he had been covered with a rug. Edna Thom was praying over him. There was a pool of blood about his head that had congealed. This told me that he had died very soon after the accident. If he had died some time later the bleeding would have continued and there would have been non-congealed blood present. I examined the farmer and the back of his head had multiple fractures. I know this as the back part of his skull was moveable beneath my fingers.’
Daniel dropped his head and Janey could see the muscles in his jaw move. Her heart went out to him having to relive the awful day in such detail.
‘I pronounced him dead shortly after my arrival,’ added the doctor.
‘Please describe the scene to us, Doctor Barker.’
The doctor gathered his thoughts for a moment. ‘I had no reason to doubt what Daniel had said. There was a ladder lying on its side, Zachariah was near the ladder and by his head was a hammer. The hammer was covered in blood but only because it lay in the pool of blood by his head.’
‘In your medical opinion was Zachariah fit enough to climb a ladder?’ asked a magistrate.
‘In the last year of his life he suffered badly from rheumatism. It was a sudden onset that was ferocious. There were days he could hardly lift a knife and fork. In my opinion he would have had great difficulty climbing a ladder.’
The reporters present scribbled in their notepads, each envisaging the headlines they would use in the broadsheets the following day.
‘However, anyone who knew Zachariah knew him to be a stubborn mule at the best of times. If you ask me should Zachariah have climbed the ladder … I would have said no. If you ask me could Zachariah have climbed the ladder … I would have said no. If, however, you ask me would Zachariah have tried to climb the ladder … I would say, without a doubt. If he had wanted to try, no one on this Earth would have been able to stop him.’ He looked over at Daniel. ‘And that includes the accused, Daniel Kellow.’
‘Yet he confessed,’ replied the third magistrate.
‘In my opinion he expressed his guilt at not preventing the accident. I did not think at the time, or at any time since, that he expressed his guilt of murdering him.’
Janey relaxed a little in her seat and Molly gave her a quick hug. Things were beginning to go their way.
After confirmation that all the witnesses for the prosecution had been heard it was Daniel’s turn to stand before the Justices of the Peace. Janey watched Daniel take his place.
‘Everything is happening so quickly.’ Janey looked to the door. Where were Daniel’s witnesses? she asked herself.
David tugged her arm. ‘Is that a good sign?’ he asked, quietly.
‘I don’t know,’ Janey whispered back to him.
She looked at Daniel who now stood proudly before them, his feet planted squarely with his shoulders. As his hands were cuffed he had to place them both on the Bible when he took the oath.
‘My name is Daniel Kellow.’ His voice was steady; only the clearing of his throat showed his inner nerves. ‘I am no angel. I was brought up in the slums, workhouses and reformatories of Bristol. While still a child, I ran away to Cornwall to search for my family. As luck would have it, I met Zachariah and Amy Trebilcock soon after I arrived in the county. Rather than take me to a workhouse, they took me in. Zachariah was a good man who became someone I admired, my father and my friend. True, he was a stubborn man, but he was a wise one. He taught me a trade, he gave me a home and he made me part of their family.’
Daniel swallowed again, his cracked lips evidence that he had not drunk anything for some time. ‘For three days before the accident it rained. The roof of the farmhouse had started to leak due to two slipped slates. They needed to be pegged back into position, however the ground was so wet and the rain so heavy that I refused to mend the roof until it was dry. I knew that if I fell there would be no one to do the work on the farm, so we placed a bucket under the drips.’
He looked across at Janey who encouraged him to go on with a nod of her head.
‘On the day that he died it was dry and I got the ladder out and the hammer I needed to tap the loose slates back into position. I got no further. Each time I went to mend the roof something would happen to take me away. It was a busy time of year; the cow calved and then the pig got loose. It was one thing after another. Zachariah was getting frustrated, he could see I was busy and he was never a man to sit still at the best of times. I told him not to climb the ladder. I told him that if I didn’t get around to mending the roof that day it would not hurt to have a bucket catching the drips for a few more days. After shutting in the pigs I returned to the farmhouse. I saw him on the ladder. I saw him slip on the runner. I saw the ladder topple sideways. I heard the thud …’
For a moment Daniel could not speak. He bowed his head and took some deep breaths before lifting his chin and continuing.
‘I ran to him and I held him in my arms. There was blood everywhere.’ He looked at his hands as if he was seeing it all again. ‘His eyes were open and he turned his head to look at me. He smiled, can you believe that?’ Daniel asked the magistrates. ‘As he lay dying he actually smiled at me. As I held him I saw the life go out of his eyes. They stayed open but I knew he was gone. Edna came running out. She told me to fetch the doctor and so I did. I don’t remember getting on the horse or riding to the doctor. I remember him answering the door but I don’t remember what I said. It felt like I was in a nightmare. I don’t even remember riding back with the doctor. I do remember seeing Edna praying over Zachariah’s body and a rug over him. I just stood there and the doctor took over. He arranged the funeral director, or perhaps it was Edna … I don’t recall. I was in shock. I think I’ve blanked it out. I was eighteen years old at the time.’
The courtroom was deathly quiet; even the haphazard singing outside had stopped for a moment. The magistrates whispered to one another and were about to speak when the singing began again. However, this time both congregations had joined forces and sang the same hymn. Their steady and tuneful voices rose through the air and into the courtroom like angels’ voices from heaven.
William Menhennit sat quietly listening for a moment. Finally, appearing to ignore the singing outside, he raised his voice so he could be heard and said, ‘Thank you, Mr Kellow, you may sit down. Next witness, please.’
Janey turned to see Reverend Smith enter the courtroom and stand before the bench. As instructed he too took the oath.
‘I am the vicar of Trehale, Reverend Smith. I also speak on behalf of Preacher Jago from the same parish. He is outside directing the singing.’
‘It was brought to our attention that they required some directing,’ interjected one of the magistrates. A ripple of laughter flowed through the courtroom.
‘Sometimes people are stronger when they stand together than when they are apart, which is why the congregation of both the church and chapel are here to support the defendant.’
Daniel’s surprise showed on his face.
‘Some of the villagers have been guilty of feeding on the unfounded gossip of Daniel Kellow over the years. It was harmlessly meant but the villagers now realise it is no longer harmless and that a man’s life depends upon it. They have come here today to offer their support to a man that came to live in their midst. As a young boy he was an unruly lad, but that does not make him a killer. Zachariah was a good man and he thought a lot of the lad. Zachariah was a man you could trust, yet we were guilty of not trusting him in his opinion of Mr Kellow. We realise that is our sin and we must ask God for forgiveness.’ Reverend Smith addressed the public. ‘Mr Kellow has been modest, he has quietly gone about his work and he has often offered his help, without obligation, to the villagers that have, until now, spurned him. It takes a good man to turn his cheek time after time as he has done.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘I would like to say to you, Daniel, on behalf of my congregation and that of Preacher Jago’s, that we apologise for the bad words spoken about you over the years. We hope you can forgive us.’
Janey saw Daniel swallow again and give a slight nod.
‘Strong words indeed,’ said the magistrate, ‘but we deal in fact in this room. Are there any more witnesses?’
‘Edna Thom,’ replied the office clerk.
‘Send her in, time is getting on and we have twenty more prisoners to deal with before the day is at an end.’
Edna shuffled into the court looking more like a witch than a principal witness. She stood up and took her oath as did all those before her.
‘State your name,’ said the clerk.
‘You know it! Why ask me to say it?’
‘Just say your name and give your evidence. Tell us what happened on the day in question,’ replied the clerk through gritted teeth. Janey realised he had probably already had some trouble from Edna outside the courtroom.
‘I’m Edna Thom. I cooked for Daniel an’ Zachariah at the time of ’is death. Zachariah an’ Daniel were outside and preparing to mend the roof. I was in the spare bedroom and saw the ladder placed against the wall. I had found a trunk of clothing that I discovered later belonged to Zachariah’s late wife, Amy. I did not know that at the time. I took a dress out an’ was ’olding it up against me. I then saw Zachariah climbing the ladder. ’E was struggling and tucked in his shirtfront was an ’ammer. I watched him climb ’igher an’ as ’e passed by the window ’e looked in and saw me. ’E was not expecting to see me staring back at ’im. It made ’im jump but ’e kept ’is footing.’ Edna turned to the public watching her. She saw Janey and told the rest of the story to her. ‘’Owever, the jump must ’ave unsteadied the ladder, Janey, as when ’e started to climb again the ladder started to move, slowly at first then it gathered speed. Suddenly ’e ’it the ground. I looked through the glass an’ saw ’im lying there, eyes open and bleeding. Daniel reached ’im an’ started to ’old him. I ran down the stairs an’ told ’im to fetch the doctor. ’E was no more than a boy back then. ’E couldn’t quite believe what ’ad ’appened. I knew Zachariah was probably dead but I wanted to get Daniel away so ’e didn’t ’ave to see ’is body. As soon as ’e was gone I covered it over an’ started to pray.’
‘Are you telling us that you witnessed the incident and it was an accident?’
Edna turned her attention back to the magistrates. ‘I am. Daniel did not kill ’im an’ if I’d known all these years ’is reputation was suffering because of idle gossip I would ’ave told my story long before now!’
The three men at the bench brought their heads together and whispered for some moments before William Menhennit spoke again.
‘Daniel Kellow,’ he said, ‘we have listened to the evidence for the prosecution and the defence and we are in no doubt you have suffered a great injustice for the past eight years. There is no evidence whatsoever that a crime has been committed.’ He addressed the reporters. ‘Let it be related in print that the Magistrates’ court believe that Zachariah’s death was an accident and Daniel Kellow is not guilty of murder as no murder occurred. The defendant is discharged … and will someone please tell the singers outside that he is free and that they can go home. I’ve had enough hymns for today!’
The court was in uproar as everyone started to talk at once. Reporters rushed out to their respective newspapers as Daniel was led out through another door. Janey, with Grace in her arms, David and Molly made their way through the bodies blocking their way to spill out into the hall outside. Edna, reverting to her Cornish tongue to shout her insults, roughly pushed her way through to reach them. Janey hugged her, as did the others.
‘Thank you, Edna. Thank you,’ cried Janey, holding her tight; then she saw Daniel coming towards her and she was suddenly in his arms.
‘It’s over,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘The nightmare is over.’ He held her close and their bodies moulded together as they took comfort in one another’s embrace in the crowded hall.
James was outraged. As the witnesses, reporters and general onlookers left the courtroom and witnesses and families for the remaining cases filed in, he confronted the senior magistrate.
‘You have made a laughing stock of me, Menhennit! What happened to solidarity between gentlemen?’
The magistrate set his papers aside and slowly stood up. James’s father had been his friend and they had worked together as magistrates for several years. It was a shame, thought the magistrate, that his son was not cut from the same cloth. James had once owed him money and he had to endure the embarrassment of asking his father for the debt to be paid. He straightened. Despite his age, he was taller than the younger man and the balance of power was in his favour.
‘I see no gentleman,’ he said, quietly, ‘and as for making a laughing stock out of you … you managed that all on your own. You are in my court and I take offence how you have addressed me. I am to be addressed as your worship or sir. Do I make myself clear? Now I have more pressing issues to attend to.’ He spoke to the constable at the door. ‘Escort this man off the court premises. If he refuses to leave arrest him for riotous behaviour. It will be a great pleasure to commit him to fourteen days’ hard labour in gaol.’
