'He deserved it, sir,' replied the boy stoutly.
'I didn't ask you about his deserts. I want simply to establish the facts. Did you or did you not kill Sergeant Hoskins?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And do you regret your action?'
'No, sir,' said Daniel firmly. 'I'd do the same again.'
'What's your name, boy?'
'Daniel Rawson.'
'His father is held prisoner at Westonzoyland,' said the soldier.
'There's no disgrace in fighting for a cause in which you believe,' said Daniel boldly, quoting his father word for word. 'Had I been old enough, I'd have joined the Duke's army as well. My father is Captain Nathan Rawson and he has great respect for you, sir. He served under you in Flanders.'
Churchill's eyebrows rose. 'Really?'
'That's where he met my mother.'
Juliana nodded sadly. They were in the parlour of a house that Churchill had requisitioned for his private use. Though he was not a tall man, he still towered over them. They stood before him with the armed soldier beside them. The bloodstained sword belonging to the late Sergeant Gregory Hoskins lay on a table nearby. His mother was cowed by the presence of so distinguished a man but Daniel met his searching gaze without flinching. Churchill looked from one to the other before glancing at the soldier.
'There's something you haven't told me,' he said quietly.
'I gave you a full report, my lord,' claimed the other. 'Sergeant Hoskins went into the house to inform this woman that the property would be seized from her in due course. She reviled him and the sergeant tried to remonstrate with her. While they were arguing, the boy rushed in and killed him.'
'And he did so with the sergeant's own sword?'
'Yes, my lord.'
'It was very foolish of Sergeant Hoskins to hand the boy his weapon,' said Churchill wryly. 'A lad of this age is no match for a veteran soldier. Whatever possessed the sergeant to be so reckless?'
The soldier licked his lips. 'He had put his sword aside, my lord.'
'How do you know? You were not present at the time.'
'It's the only explanation.'
'Very well,' said Churchill courteously. 'You've given me your version of events and I daresay that your companion at the farm will tell the same tale. Now I would like to hear what really happened.'
'I've already told you,' insisted the man.
'Let the others speak — they were actually there. Now,' he went on, looking at Daniel, 'where did this distressing incident take place?'
'In the parlour, my lord,' said the soldier.
'Hold your peace,' advised Churchill, making it more of a polite request than a brusque command.
'It was in my parents' bedroom, sir,' said Daniel quietly. 'He had no right to be there and to be doing…what he was doing. If you don't believe me,' he added with a hint of truculence, 'you can come to the farm and see for yourself. The bed sheets are covered in blood.'
'A visit will not be necessary,' said Churchill. 'You came to your mother's aid as any good son would do in that situation. You are to be commended, Daniel Rawson.'
Daniel and his mother exchanged a glance of surprise.
'He killed Sergeant Hoskins, my lord,' argued the soldier. 'He must pay the penalty for that. I say that he should hang beside his father and be left to rot.'
'Fortunately,' said Churchill suavely, 'sentence will not be left to you. Indeed, you are more likely to be facing justice than dispensing it. If I learn that you condoned the actions of Sergeant Hoskins, you and your companion will answer to me. I'll not tolerate rape or pillage. I saw enough of both in Tangier to last me my whole life. Men who serve under me have a code of honour and I'll not let one of them besmirch that code.' He pointed a peremptory finger. 'Wait outside.'
'We had no idea what the sergeant was doing, my lord.'
'I gave you an order!'
'Yes, my lord.'
Drawing himself the attention, the man mumbled an apology then left the room quickly. Daniel and his mother could not believe what they had just witnessed. On the way there, they had been warned by the two soldiers to say nothing at all because they would not be believed. The least they could expect, they were told, was lengthy imprisonment. Instead, Daniel had been listened to and exonerated. Churchill had not merely understood what had happened at the farm, he had spared Juliana the embarrassment of having to recount it in detail.
'On behalf of my men,' said Churchill gravely, 'I owe you my profound apologies. You will be given ample time to gather your possessions together before you quit the property. I give you my word that nobody will harass you. As for you,
Daniel,' he continued, picking up the sword from the table, 'I can think of only one way to reward your valour. Take this sword as your own and wear it with more honour than the man from whom you took it.'
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
In the ensuing days, two names were heard on every side — those of Major-General John Churchill and Colonel Percy Kirke. Nothing bad was spoken of the one and nothing good of the other. While Churchill had enhanced his reputation as a soldier and gentleman, Kirke had added to the long record of unrelieved cruelty he had compiled while stationed in Tangier. Kirke's Lambs, so called in ironic tribute to the atrocities they committed after the battle and in mocking reference to the Paschal lamb emblazoned on their regimental crest, consisted mainly of musketeers with a sprinkling of pikemen and grenadiers. Wherever they went, they left a trail of misery and destruction behind them, torturing and executing their captives at will.
It was not long before a third name was on everyone's lips and it soon eclipsed the other two. George Jeffreys was a notably handsome man with a flair for vicious cross- examination and a fondness for low company. Though still in his thirties, he had risen to the exalted position of Lord Chief Justice and was accordingly dispatched to the West Country by King James to supervise the trials of those who had dared to raise their hands against their monarch. Under the strict and merciless control of Judge Jeffreys, the Bloody Assizes commenced.
The circuit began in Winchester and the trial of Dame Alice Lisle was a stark warning of the horrors that were to follow. A widow of eighty, Dame Alice was accused of harbouring two rebels, even though she had no idea who the men were and had little sympathy for the Duke of Monmouth's cause. In a bruising six-hour trial, Jeffreys frightened and confused the old woman so much that she was unable to muster a proper defence. A reluctant jury was bullied into bringing in a guilty verdict and Jeffreys gleefully sentenced her to be burnt at the stake, the penalty for women convicted of high treason. Five days later, after an appeal to the King, she was spared incineration and was instead beheaded by an axe.
Everyone quaked when they heard the news. If an innocent old woman could suffer such a fate, what would happen to those who had actually fought beside Monmouth? The answer soon came. Gallows were erected successively in Winchester, Dorchester and Exeter as the judges continued their assize circuit. When they reached Taunton, Jeffreys and the rest of his judicial team had still not slaked their thirst for blood. With a blatant disregard for any evidence in favour of the defendants, Judge Jeffreys continued his reign of terror. Plagued by a kidney stone, he was sometimes in such agony that he turned into a ranting tyrant, moved to even greater extremes of savagery. Those who trembled in the dock before him did not realise how much money the Lord Chief Justice was making out of the Bloody Assizes by selling pardons and profiting from the traffic of those he sentenced to transportation. Suffering was a lucrative enterprise.
Nathan Rawson faced him with great courage and endured his cross-examination with calm defiance. His trial was brief. He was one of five hundred or more prisoners who were rushed through the court in a mere two days. Since Taunton was seen by the authorities as a hotbed of revolt, Jeffreys and the other judges were especially severe. Along with many others, Nathan was condemned to death. His wife and son were in the large crowd that gathered on the day of execution to watch their family members and friends being hanged. As her husband was taken up on to the scaffold, Juliana Rawson could not bear to look but Daniel did not take his eyes off the grisly
