'Charles Stuart, as tyrant, traitor, murderer and public enemy to the good people of this nation shall be put to death by the severing of his head from his body.'
To his great dismay, Charles was not allowed to speak. Much was made of that by his supporters afterwards, but it was traditional. From the pronouncement of a death sentence a convicted man was legally dead.
Still protesting hopelessly, the prisoner was bustled away by soldiers with lighted matchcord, who contemptuously blew smoke in his face. Though it was said that Colonel Axtell beat them to make them do it, many of them shouted jubilantly, 'Justice!' and 'Execution!'
Chapter Fifty-Six — London: 27–30 January 1649
Gideon Jukes unexpectedly played a part in what happened next.
As he and Robert Allibone had reeled from Westminster Hall, dry-mouthed, waiting for the judge's final decision on the King's request to be heard by both Houses, Gideon had seen someone he recognised. He had already heard that Colonel Okey was in charge of security for the trial. At this last moment, John Okey was stamping the blood back into his numb feet in New Palace Yard, puffing his cheeks out and wearing a slightly stunned look.
The circumstances voided past differences, so the ex-dragoon felt sufficient loyalty to go up to his old commander and shake his hand. 'Gideon Jukes — I served under you, sir, at Naseby'
'Sergeant Jukes — the tall one!'
Gideon accepted it ruefully. He had learned that courage, honesty and congeniality meant nothing if you were a lank in a memorable bum-starver coat. 'Captain now, sir. Colonel Rainborough honoured me.'
Okey, who had little sympathy with the Levellers, nonetheless looked solemn, acknowledging the filthiness of Rainborough's murder. He made no comment on Gideon's promotion, yet continued to talk with him. He seemed glad to share his thoughts with a man he trusted, but with whom he could omit the reserve he had to show troops under his command. After introducing Robert, Gideon volunteered that if he could assist, he was available. Okey nodded.
'Is the outcome certain?' Robert asked in a confidential tone.
'By no means. There are plenty who want to see his life preserved.'
Robert continued to press for publishable details. 'I heard that Oliver Cromwell said, 'We will cut off the King's head, with the crown upon it.''
'Likely we will,' agreed Okey, 'but there shall be due form.'
As they hung about, Okey told them setting up the High Court of Justice had been the work of a Dutch lawyer, one Dorislaus, who had drawn on the ancient Roman Praetorian Guard, who had authority to overturn tyrants. Taking notes, Robert asked about John Cook, the Solicitor-General and prosecutor. Okey was impressed by Cook, who had written a passionate pamphlet called The Poor Man's Case, in which he made direct associations between poverty and criminality, urging an end to imprisonment for debt and the offer of second chances for first- time offenders. Cook had advocated that all doctors and lawyers should give a tenth of their time to the poor, pro bono.
'No fees? That will never happen!' Gideon guffawed.
Robert murmured excuses and slipped away. 'He feels the cold,' Gideon said, although he knew Robert was going to write up his notes, to be printed later. He would probably try to find a copy of The Poor Man's Case too. Gideon would rather lazily let Robert hunt down the work, then snaffle it to read himself.
Gideon remained chatting to Okey for the rest of the hour it took for the judges formally to reach a decision. Okey gave him an insight into the behind-the-scenes organisation. Soldiers constantly came and went with messages, bearing out his description of endless activity.
'AH must be scrupulous. Nothing is done without drafting and redrafting.' Okey's mild complaint was uttered with a certain pride; he showed the heightened excitement men acquired during busy planning. Gideon had seen Edward Sexby fired up like this. He had known the thrill himself. Soldiers in battle wore that look. Colonel Okey, who had shown when he led the dragoon charge at Naseby that he could be inspired by a heady moment, was full of his recent experience: 'Every document is framed many times. We were running to and fro for a week, wording the formal charge. Solicitor Cook wanted to go right back to the start of the reign, every niggle, rumour and false move for the past twenty years — even the possibility that the King had some duplicitous hand in his father's death — '
Gideon took a scathing view: 'King James died naturally. We would have looked like fools.'
Okey slapped his arm. 'That's my opinion. Still, every aspect has been chewed over like stale bread and dripping. How to style the King? — mere 'Charles Stuart', or load him with his full paraphernalia of titles? Then we had to assemble witnesses, yet keep them safe from interference. The written evidence was held at the House of Lords — I had to squeeze the King's cabinet out of them when it was called for in evidence, and you know they won't co-operate… All the time, we must shift the King constantly and unexpectedly, for safety — '
Gideon's fair eyebrows shot up. 'Attempted escape? I heard that he refused to flee, after he left Carisbrooke.'
Okey glanced around nervously. Gideon took note of armed men lying on the leads at roof level, weapons covering the hall and New Palace Yard. 'Can't take any chance, Captain. Plenty of delinquents have slipped through and are hanging around London. Cotton House is convenient for the court, but it's a sieve, a glorified library, not built for defence. We built a barracks in the garden for two hundred men, but it is a nightmare. Whitehall Palace makes a good halfway-house, but he could gnaw his way out like a mouse through cheese if he was minded to. Hampton Court is safer — but it takes time to ferry him back again…'
There was movement near the hall doors. Gideon spotted Robert, gesticulating that the judges were returning. He and Okey began to move. 'Good to see you, Jukes!' exclaimed the colonel warmly — which surprised Gideon. 'Your offer of assistance is civil. Call on me at my house, if you will.'
That surprised him even more.
The King was declared guilty and sentence pronounced on Saturday. Sunday was the customary day of rest in theory, though not for some. Many were still negotiating to save the King's life, including Lord General Fairfax who attempted to persuade the Council of Officers to delay the execution; he was even rumoured to have been urged by friends to mount a rescue by force. Foreign ambassadors, the French and Dutch, beset Fairfax and Cromwell, pleading for the King's life. Some even approached Lady Fairfax, known as a firm Presbyterian. The Prince of Wales sent a direct appeal for mercy. All the time, Cromwell and the hardliners were working to steel the constancy of weak spirits who might wish to avoid regicide.
For Colonel Okey and the other organisers, Monday brought a race to finalise the death warrant. A draft with a blank space for details already existed, signed by some of the commissioners, but a full version with all its amendments filled in now had to be created or, in the language of legislation, engrossed. Two of the three officers originally named to supervise the execution refused to do it. The time and place needed to be fixed. As the clerks reworded these details, the parchment had to be carefully 'scraped' in places for amendments. This would inevitably look like tampering afterwards. Fears were that the commissioners who had already signed might back out if a clean new draft was drawn up.
Wild stories circulated of chaotic attempts to persuade more commissioners to sign. In the scramble to add signatures, Cromwell was said to have been almost hysterical, flicking ink at one, Henry Marten, like a manic schoolboy, and allegedly grasping another man's hand and forcing him to write. In fact more signatories came forward than had been allowed for, so later names had to be cramped inelegantly close together. Eventually the warrant was complete, the parchment engrossed, fifty-nine names courageously signed and sealed. The judges had given sentence. The army was to take over. The order for the execution was issued to Colonel Francis Hacker, Colonel Hunks and Colonel Phayre:
Whereas Charles Stuart, King of England, is and standeth convicted, attainted, and condemned of High Treason and other high crimes, and sentence upon Saturday last was pronounced against him by this court to be put to death by the severing of his head from his body, of which sentence execution yet remaineth to be done, these are therefore to will and require you to see the said sentence executed in the open street before Whitehall, upon the morrow, being the thirtieth day of this instant month of January, between the hours of ten in the morning
