“Why not?”
“The kick from a live round is different. I’d have felt it. From a blank there is no recoil.”
“You are a surgeon,” Joseph pointed out. “How do you know what firing a live round feels like?”
Cavan blushed faintly. “I’ve fought as well, sir. I have fired a rifle many times.”
There was a murmur around the room. Many knew of his V.C.
“Thank you, Captain Cavan.”
Faulkner rose to his feet.
Joseph swallowed, his mouth dry. He sat down.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Cavan,” Faulkner said. “I’m not sure how much of your story I believe, but I can think of only one thing further to ask you. Regarding these various men and their injuries, I imagine you will only repeat what you have already told us.” He smiled bleakly. “However, I am interested in the fact that when your eleven coconspirators in this…disciplinary action of yours chose to escape and run for a neutral country, leaving the battle front altogether, you did not. Why was that, Captain?”
“I had given my word not to, sir,” Cavan answered.
“And you are a man of the utmost honor?” Faulkner gave the question only the barest lift of interrogation. “So much so that you will remain to face a firing squad rather than break your given word?”
“Yes, sir. I would have imagined that as an officer yourself you would have understood that,” Cavan replied, the faintest edge of contempt in his expression.
Cavan had not seen the trap, but Joseph did. He felt the sweat break out on his skin and his stomach clench.
Faulkner smiled. “I do, Captain, I do. Who organized the escape of the other eleven men held prisoners with you?”
The heat in the room prickled. Someone shifted their weight and a board creaked.
“As you observed, sir,” Cavan replied. “I am an officer and I gave my word. I was not imprisoned with the men. I did not see them go, nor did I see who assisted them.”
“That was not exactly what I asked, Captain Cavan,” Faulkner pointed out. “I asked you if you knew who it was, not if you saw them. But as a matter of fact, Captain Morel went, and he is of the same rank as yourself, an officer! Were you not billeted together?”
“No, sir. Captain Morel was with the men.”
“Indeed? Why was that?”
“You must ask him, sir.”
“I will. You have not answered me as to who effected this…rescue. I accept that you did not see them. I asked you if you know who it was!”
Joseph rose to his feet, his legs stiff. “Sir!” he said to Hardesty, far too loudly. “If Captain Cavan did not see who it was, then he cannot know. Anything else would be no more than an educated guess, or what somebody else had said, and not evidence.” He had phrased it badly, forgotten his legal terminology.
“Quite,” Hardesty agreed. He looked at Faulkner. “You may consider the action reprehensible, Colonel, but hearsay evidence will not stand up. Captain Cavan has told you that he was imprisoned separately and did not see anyone. That is the answer to your question. Proceed.”
“I have nothing else,” Faulkner said curtly. “For this witness.”
Now it was Morel’s turn. He stood as stiff as Cavan had, but he was far leaner, almost haggard, all taut muscle and bone, his face thin, dark eyes hollow.
Joseph found his throat too tight to swallow. He had to clear it to speak. “Do you wish to amend anything in what Captain Cavan has said, Captain Morel?”
“No, sir.” Morel’s voice was hoarse. He straightened his back even more.
Joseph knew he must address the escape first. The knowledge and the fear of betrayal was in the room like an unexploded bomb.
“When you were arrested and imprisoned in the farmhouse you refused to give your word that you would not escape. Did you expect to be rescued?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Do you know who rescued you?”
Morel hesitated. He was so tense he was swaying a little with the concentration of keeping control. He knew he must be believed. Joseph had told him everything rested on that.
“Yes, sir.”
Joseph could hear his own breath in the silence of the room. The walls seemed to swell and then recede, as if they were the chest of some sleeping monster. “Who was it?”
“I refuse to say, sir. They risked their lives for us. We do not betray our own men.”
“Just so.” Joseph felt his heart pounding. “Did you fire the shot that killed Major Northrup?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And will you refuse to tell us that also?”
“No, sir. He did not act for the good of the regiment or to save the lives of his men. It was a private vengeance for a civilian matter and had no place here.”
“Who was it?”
“Lance Corporal John Geddes, sir.”
There was a rustle of movement, indistinguishable voices.
Hardesty looked startled.
Faulkner was taken aback, angry.
“And how do you know this, Captain Morel?” Joseph asked loudly.
“I heard him tell the whole story when we were returning from our escape,” Morel replied. “It would be easily verifiable. I expect General Northrup, who is here in court, would testify to most of it, since it happened in the village where he and his family live, and so also does Geddes’s family. I daresay General Northrup would find it painful, but I believe he would not lie.”
A score of men in the room turned to look at Northrup who sat ramrod straight and ashen-faced.
“The motive might be easy enough to check,” Joseph agreed, his voice husky. He loathed doing this, but he was aware that he must raise all the objections before Faulkner did—bite first and draw the poison. “That does not prove Geddes’s guilt. Why would he tell you this? And if he was indeed guilty, why would he return to stand trial rather than simply continue in his escape? Was he not already far beyond British jurisdiction when he made that decision?”
“Yes, sir.” There was not a flicker in Morel’s face. Now everyone had turned toward him. “He was in German territory, sir,” Morel continued. “Hurt, alone, starving, and unable to speak the language. If the Germans had caught him, I think it possible he would have been treated as a spy. He might not have been shot cleanly, and we can do at least that for him.”
“How do you know this, Captain Morel?”
“I was there, sir.”
“Do we have anyone’s word for this, apart from yours?”
“Yes, sir.” Again there was not a flicker in Morel’s face. “There are a number of French officers who could testify to various points of our journey. And you yourself could testify to all of it.”
There was a rustle around the room, a murmur of voices, one or two gasps. Then Hardesty leaned forward. “Is this true, Captain Reavley?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
“And are you willing to testify? If you do so, you will, of course, be subject to cross-examination by the prosecution.”
Joseph cleared his throat. He had no choice. He had struggled to avoid it from the beginning, but there was no way around it that did not make him look like a liar. “Yes, sir,” he said hoarsely.
“Very well. After Lieutenant Colonel Faulkner has questioned Captain Morel, we shall have you testify.”
Faulkner obtained nothing further from Morel that was of any use and Hardesty adjourned the court for the long, miserable night. Joseph spent most of it awake, trying to think of a safer way to introduce the evidence he
