THE COURT-MARTIAL.
"Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,
These three alone lead life to sovereign power.
Yet not for power, (power of herself
Would come uncall'd for,) but to live by law,
Acting the law we live by without fear;
And because right is right, to follow right
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence."
TENNYSON.
The court-martial assembled in a large and magnificent apartment of
the Alva palace or castle, which stands in the centre of the town.
It is in a good state of preservation, and the chamber usually
occupied by the terrible duke, with all its ancient furniture, still
remains there in its original state.
On the walls of the great apartment selected for the court hung the
armour of the successive princes of the house of Toledo from a very
remote period--indeed, from the mail shirts that had resisted the
Moorish scimitars down to the steel caps and jacks of the war of the
Spanish succession; and many of the breast-plates were emblazoned
with the armorial bearings and trophies of those warlike dukes who
boast of their descent from the Paleologi Emperors of the East, and
who were first ennobled as peers of Leon by Alphonso VI., or the
Brave, of Castile, in 1085.
As Quentin approached the great embattled door of this stately
mansion, many soldiers of the regiment were crowding about it, and
all these muttered their good wishes; many a hard but honest hand was
held out to him, and many a forage-cap waved in silence, evincing
emotions of good-will that stirred his heart with gratitude, and gave
him new courage as he entered the court, attended by the
provost-marshal.
He certainly looked wan and ill; traces yet remained of his recent
illness at the Villa de Maciera; to these were added anxiety, lack of
proper food and sleep, with the toil and exposure incident to the
campaign, all of which served to give him interest in the eyes of
many, for the court was crowded by spectators, chiefly officers of
nearly every regiment in the division, and a few Spanish citizens and
priests of Alva.
His young face appeared sorrow-struck in feature, and many read
there, in the thoughtful brow, the quivering lip, and the sad but
restless eye, indications of a proud but suffering spirit. Save
these, and an occasional unconscious twitching of the hands, Quentin,
though awed by the presence, and the hapless and novel predicament in
which he found himself, was calm and collected in appearance.
He was simply clad in his unlaced and plain red coat, without a belt
or accoutrement of any kind, to indicate that he was a prisoner; and
he was accommodated with a chair and separate table, on which lay
writing materials, but these he had not the slightest intention of
using.
At the head of a long table of formidable aspect, whereon lay a Bible
and the "Articles of War," and which was littered with pens, paper,
letters, &c., sat the president of the court, Colonel Colquhoun
Grant, in the gorgeous uniform of the 15th Hussars, blue faced with
red, and the breast a mass of silver embroidery that might have
turned a sword-cut. He wore the Order of Merit, given to every
officer of his regiment by the Emperor of Germany fourteen years
before, for their unexampled bravery in the affair of Villiers en
Couche, a name still borne on the standard of the Hussars.
The other members, fourteen in number, belonged to different
regiments; but Quentin was truly glad to see among them the familiar
faces of Askerne and two other captains of the Borderers. All were
in full uniform, and were seated on the right and left of the
president, according to their seniority in the army; Captain Conyers,
acting as judge-advocate, being placed at the foot of the court,
which, by the showy uniform, large epaulettes of silver or gold, the
crimson sashes, and, in four instances, tartan plaids, of the
members, had a very rich and striking appearance as the morning
sunshine streamed along the stately room through six lofty and
latticed windows.
A considerable bustle and treading of feet on the tessellated floor
announced the entrance of the various witnesses, among whom Quentin
recognised the tall figure of the Master of Rohallion, the sturdy
paunch of worthy Major Middleton, the sun-burned faces of Buckle and
others of the Borderers, together with a Dominican monk, in whom,
notwithstanding his freshly-shaven chin, long robe, and knotted
girdle, he recognised, with astonishment, Trevino! Other guerillas
were present, but the most prominent was Don Baltasar.
The handsome but sallow visage of the latter was pale nearly as that
of a corpse; his bloodless lips and white glistening teeth appeared
ghastly beneath the coal-black and enormous moustaches that were
twisted savagely up to each ear. His nostrils were contracting and
dilating with wild, mad passion, and it was evident that nothing but
the presence he stood in prevented him from rushing, sword in hand,
on Quentin, and ending, there and then, the proceedings of the court
and our story by immolating him on the spot.
Quite undeterred by his formidable aspect or excitement, some of the
younger officers were seen to quiz Baltasar, whose costume, an
embroidered black velvet jacket, with a pair of British flank-company
wings, and other accessories, was sufficiently mock-heroic, fanciful,
and absurd.
"Who acts as the prisoner's counsel or friend?" asked Colonel Grant,
the president.
"I--Captain Warriston, 94th--Scots Brigade," said the full mellow
voice of that officer, as he entered, fully accoutred with sword,
sash, and gorget, and took his seat at the little table beside
Quentin Kennedy, who, at the moment, felt his heart very full indeed.
Captain Conyers now read the order for assembling the court, and then
the members, each with his ungloved right hand placed upon the open
Bible, were sworn the usual oath, "to administer justice according to
the rules and articles for the better government of his Majesty's
forces, &c., without partiality, favour, or affection, &c.; and
further, not to divulge the sentence of the court until approved of,
or the vote or opinion of any member thereof, unless required to do
so by a court of law."
This formula over, the judge advocate desired Quentin to stand while
the charges against him were read; and to his utter bewilderment they
ran thus, briefly, as we omit many dates and repetitions:--
"Mr. Quentin Kennedy, volunteer, serving with his Majesty's 25th
Foot, accused in the following instances of conduct unbecoming a
gentleman and soldier:
"_First;_ of rescuing by the strong hand a French officer and lawful
prisoner of war from Don Baltasar de Saldos, in direct violation of
the 51st clause of the 2nd section of the 'Articles of War.'
"_Second;_ of giving the rescued prisoner such intelligence as
enabled the enemy, then cantoned in Valencia de Alcantara, to
anticipate, by a combined attack, the junction about to be formed by
the guerilla force of Don Baltasar with the division of the allied
army under Lieutenant-General Sir John Hope, and thus causing the
loss of five field-guns and many Spanish subjects.
"_Third;_ of snaring away from the cantonment at Herreruela the
sister of Don Baltasar de Saldos, who has not since been heard of,
her fate being thus involved in mystery, or worse, and thereby the
prisoner contravened the order issued by Sir John Moore, urging the
conciliation of the Spanish people on the army entering Castile.
"_Fourth;_ of assaulting in the town of Merida, to the effusion of
blood, the Reverend Padre Trevino, lately a Dominican monk of
Salamanca, and now chaplain to Don Baltasar de Saldos, in direct
contravention of the 37th clause of the 2nd section of the 'Articles
of War,' concerning any officer or soldier 'who shall offer violence
to a chaplain of the army or to _any other minister of God's word_.'
"_Fifth;_ of plundering an inhabitant to the extent of at least
eighty gold moidores, part of which were found in his baggage and
part given to the paymaster of his Majesty's 25th Foot for
transmission home.
"_Sixth;_ for refusing or declining to take another despatch to Don
Baltasar, from Montijo, and thereby showing a complicity with the
enemy and dread of detection by the loyal party in Spain."
So ended this farrago of words.
Aware that sooner or later the proceedings of the court-martial
(which we can assure the reader made some noise at the time) would be
read at Rohallion, Colonel Crawford had all the charges framed in the
name of the general of division.
"Oh, Cosmo!" thought Quentin, "you aim not only at my life, but at my
honour!"
"Well, 'pon my soul," thought the Master, after he heard the list of
charges read, "if the fellow gets over all these, I'll say that, with
a fair match, and equally weighted, he might run a race with the
devil himself!"
Quentin pleaded _not guilty_.
The court was then cleared of the witnesses and the proceedings
commenced.
With the regular detail of these we have no intention of afflicting
the reader; suffice it, that the solemn and dreary writing down of
every question and answer so lengthened them out that they became a
source of irritation and agony to one whose temperament was so sharp
and impetuous as that of Quentin Kennedy, burning as he was with
indignation at accusations so false and so unmerited, and some of
which he had a difficulty in refuting; and, we regret to add, that
the form of procedure was then, as it is still, old-fashioned,
cumbrous, loose, and tedious.
There was no regular legal counsel for the prisoner or for the
prosecution either; no cross-examination, save such as might emanate
from some unusually sharp fellow, who kept himself awake, and
affected to take notes, when in reality he was caricaturing
Middleton's pigtail, Smith's paunch, and Brown's nose.
The witnesses were sometimes examined pell-mell, just as their names
stood on the list; their evidence, however, being carefully written
down, to the end that it might be read over to them for after-thought
or revision before the opinions of the court, as to guilt and
sentence, were asked; a formula that always begins with the junior
member, the president having the casting vote.
Such was then, as it is now, the somewhat rambling, free and easy
tenor of a general court-martial; yet, with all its idiosyncrasies,
it is ever a just and honourable tribunal, and such as no true
soldier would ever wish to change for a civil one. Every member
sworn is bound to give an opinion. In the French service a military
offence can be tried after the lapse of ten years; with us, the
period is three.
Warriston objected to the competency of the court; but the president
over-ruled his objection by stating that a Volunteer of the Line,
like every other camp-follower, was amenable to the "Articles of War."
The transmission of the despatch to Don Baltasar was easily proved by
Cosmo and others, and by the reply, which lay on the table.
Though handsome and soldierly in aspect and bearing, the Master of
Rohallion could scarcely conceal a very decided animus in delivering
his evidence. Brave and proud, he was yet weak enough and small
enough in mind to _hate_ Quentin Kennedy with that species of
animosity which is always the most bitter, because it arises from a
sense of unmerited wrong done to the weaker victim.
In answer to a question by the president:
"Of the prisoner's antecedents," said he, "I know very little--little
at least that is good or honourable."
"Colonel Crawford, you will be so good as explain."
"He was received as an orphan, an outcast, I believe, into the house
of my father, General Lord Rohallion, when I was serving with the
Brigade of Guards. That house he deserted ungratefully and
disappeared for a time, no trace of him being discovered but a
silver-mounted walking-stick, which I knew to be his, and which was
found beside a murdered man, a vagrant or gipsy, in the vault of an
old ruin called Kilhenzie. How it came there, I pretend not to say;
but on searching the vault, whither my pointers led me, I picked up
the stick, with marks of blood upon it, some days after the body had
been taken away."
On hearing this cruel and artful speech, which contained so much of
reality, Quentin almost started from his chair, his eyes flashing and
his pale nether lip quivering with rage; but Warriston held him
forcibly back.
"Prisoner," said the president, "do you know a place in Scotland
called the castle of Kilhenzie?"
"I do not understand the meaning of this question," said Captain
Warriston, rising impetuously, "and to it I object! It is not
precise on the part of the prosecution, and discloses an intention of
following up a line of examination of which neither the prisoner nor
his _amici curiæ_ have received due notice, and which, moreover, is
not stated in the six charges before the court."
After a consultation, Colonel Grant replied:
"The line of examination in this instance, Captain Warriston, is to
prove previous character; thus we find it quite relevant to question
the prisoner concerning the episode referred to. It may bear very
materially on other matters before the court. Mr. Kennedy, do you
know a place called Kilhenzie?"
"I do, sir," said Quentin, and for a moment there rushed upon his
memory recollections of many a happy hour spent there with Flora
Warrender, near its crumbling walls and giant dule-tree.
"Are you aware of any remarkable circumstance occurring there in
which you were an actor?"
Poor Quentin's pallor now gave way to a flush of shame and honest
anger; but he replied--
"Driven into the ruin by a torrent of rain, I found a dead body lying
there among the straw; it filled me with alarm and dismay, so I
hastened from the place."
"Leaving behind you a walking-stick?"
"Yes, sir; it would appear so."
"Covered with blood."
"Most likely," said Quentin, remembering the wound he had received
from Cosmo's hand.
"All this, Colonel Grant, has nothing to do with the case," urged
Warriston, firmly.
"It seems to cast grave doubts on the previous character and
antecedents of the prisoner."
"It seems also to show the peculiar vindictiveness of the
prosecution."
"You are unwise, Captain Warriston," said the president, severely.
"I am here as the friend of the prisoner."
"For what reason did you leave the castle of Rohallion?" asked the
court.
Quentin gazed full at the Master with his eyes flashing so
dangerously that this personage, fearing he might be driven to say
something which might bring ridicule on him--though Quentin would
rather have died than uttered Flora's name there--begged that the
first charge might be proceeded with.
Sworn across two drawn swords in the Spanish fashion, Baltasar,
Trevino, and other guerillas, inspired by spite and hostility,
related in succession how Quentin had rescued the French prisoner;
how he had undertaken to conduct Donna Isidora in safety to
Portalegre, a mere day's ride; but had made away with her, on the
road, in some manner unknown, as well as with a horse and mule, the
property of her brother.
"A singular duenna to have charge of a young Spanish beauty--eh,
Carysfort?" he heard a hussar say.
"By Jove, Villars, I wish it had been my luck--that's all," was the
laughing reply.
Quentin wished the same with all his heart.
Then came details of the attack made on the guerillas by
Ribeaupierre's cavalry brigade. The charge of giving intelligence to
the enemy was based on bare assumption, and was unsupported by a
tittle of evidence.
Next followed the Padre Trevino, costumed for the occasion and
effect, a rare example of a wolf in sheep's clothing, who showed his
wounded caput, and told, in a whining voice, the sorrowful story of
his maltreatment at the aqueduct of Merida, whither he had gone to
pray in solitude. The assault was proved beyond a doubt by the
evidence of a certain Martin Sedillo, an ill-looking dog with one
eye, formerly an alguazil of Salamanca and now a guerilla, who swore
distinctly that he saw Quentin beat the padre down with the butt-end
of his musket.
"You distinctly saw him strike the padre down?" repeated Colonel
Grant.
"Si, senor presidente y senores oficiales," said the guerilla, bowing
low.
"Wantonly?"
"Most wantonly, senores."
"Retire. Call the next witness on the list--private Allan Grange,
25th Foot."
To the Borderer, on his entrance, the previous questions were
repeated by the court.
"Yes, sir--I saw Mr. Kennedy strike down the guerilla (who was not
then habited like a friar) with his clubbed musket, but only in time
to save his life from _this dagger_, which I took from the hand of
his reverence."
As he spoke, Allan Grange handed a knife of very ugly aspect to the
president, who saw the name _Trevino_ burned, by a hot iron, on the
haft.
"Allan Grange, were you ever tried by a court-martial?" asked the
judge advocate, looking among his memoranda for one furnished by
Colonel Crawford.
"Yes, sir," faltered the soldier, growing red and pale by turns.
"And were reduced to the ranks, at Colchester?"
"Yes, sir," he replied, sadly.
"And you were sentenced to be flogged--three hundred lashes, I think,
by the Defaulter's Book?"
"A sentence kindly remitted by Major Middleton," said Grange, proudly.
"There, this will do--you may go," said Colonel Grant; and then some
of the members smiled and looked at each other, as much as to say,
"we see how much your evidence is worth."
Quentin knew that Donna Isidora was in the French camp; but when
Warriston mentioned this to be the case, the only witness called to
prove it, Lieutenant Monkton, was unable to repeat what Ribeaupierre
said, as he had been beyond hearing at that particular moment.
On the fifth charge, concerning the gold moidores, Quentin thought
himself bewitched when the one-eyed guerilla, Martin Sedillo,
deliberately swore, with the drawn swords of two officers crossed
under his bearded chin, "that he was plundered of them at Herreruela
by the prisoner, whom he was ready to warrant as false as Galalou!"
"Who was he?" inquired Askerne, looking at his watch impatiently for
the third time.
"Galalou betrayed the French army at Roncesvalles," said Colonel
Grant; "as we say in Scotland, false as Menteith. It is a local
phrase."
His refusal to bear another despatch to De Saldos was easily proved,
and that circumstance seemed to corroborate much that had preceded it.
Matters were now looking gloomy indeed. Quentin became sick at
heart; he drained his water-jug, yet his lips grew parched and dry;
he felt the toils closing around him, and already, in fancy, he heard
the president passing the terrible sentence of death!
The bitter conviction came home to his soul, that hate and wiles,
against which it was in vain for innocence to contend, were
triumphing over him; and that even if pardoned, the memory that he
had been arraigned, and on such cruel charges, would live!
Shame for unmerited reproach and unavailing sorrow for a lost
youth--a blighted, it might be, a long life taken away, and perhaps
by a shameful death--were some of the deep, the bitter, and stinging
emotions felt on this day by poor Quentin Kennedy.
While that court-martial lasted he lived a lifetime in every hour of
it!
His declaration or defence, read by Warriston, was simply a
recapitulation of some of the leading features of our narrative,
which he had no means of substantiating; the mass of evidence against
him was summed up, but was too strong in some points to be easily
disposed of. His youth and inexperience were dwelt upon, but it
seemed without much avail. Neither did the warm manner in which
Major Middleton, Buckle, Sergeant-major Calder and others, bore
testimony to his spotless character, seem to find much weight. To
satisfy the Spaniards, a victim was wanted, and here was one ready
made to hand.
It was now nearly four o'clock, and the Court was about to be cleared
for the consideration of the opinion and sentence, when the sharp and
well-known twang of a French cavalry trumpet rang in the court before
the palace, and the tramping of horses was heard.
"Thank God!" muttered Askerne (who had frequently consulted his
watch) as he exchanged a rapid glance with Monkton; "that muleteer
has served us well!"
At that moment of terrible expectation an officer of the 7th Hussars
entered hastily, and presented a note to the judge advocate.
"What interruption is this, Captain Conyers?" asked Colonel Grant,
sternly.
"An officer from the French lines, come in under a flag of truce,
requests to be examined by the Court for the defence," replied
Conyers.
Every face present expressed extreme astonishment.
"What is his name?" asked the president.
"Eugene de Ribeaupierre--sous-lieutenant of the 24th Chasseurs à
Cheval," said Conyers, consulting an embossed calling-card.
"Is it he whose name occurs so frequently in the declaration of the
prisoner?"
"Most probably, sir."
"Admit him."
The clank of a sabre and the jingle of steel spurs were heard, and
then Eugene de Ribeaupierre, looking handsome and gay, but flushed
after a long ride from Fonteveros, entered, helmet in hand, and bowed
low to the Court and all who were present.
"Ha, mon ami!" said he, shaking Quentin's hand with warmth, "I am
come in time, I hope; the proceedings are not yet closed, monsieur?"
he asked anxiously of the president.
"No--but how did _you_ come to hear of them?" was the suspicious
question.
"From Ramon Campillo, a muleteer of Miranda del Ebro; the same person
who conveyed M. Kennedy from the Villa de Maciera to Portalegre, and
who was passing through our camp this morning. He came expressly to
my tent to tell me all about it, and that charges were to be made
which I alone could refute. I reported the affair to my father, the
General, who generously gave me leave to come here, with an
escort--so I have come, messieurs, to be sworn and examined."
"Askerne," whispered Monkton, "you are a rare fellow!"
"How, Willie?"
"Damme, by your foresight we shall yet baffle Crawford, De Saldos,
Trevino and Co.!"
"Hush, hush! You are rash."
It is almost needless to describe how the young French officer, after
being duly sworn by the judge advocate, corroborated in every
particular the statement made in Quentin's declaration--statements of
which he could have had no previous cognisance, save as an actor in
the episodes referred to. He described how Quentin had saved his
life from a deliberate attempt at assassination on the part of De
Saldos, and became strongly excited on referring to the infamous
massacre of the prisoners by Trevino. He asserted that the moidores
were taken by himself from the holsters of Raoul, a dead corporal of
his troop, who found them amid the plunder of Coimbra. He asserted,
on his oath and honour as an officer and chevalier of the Legion of
Honour, that the movement made by the troops of his father,
collaterally with those of General Hope and the guerillas of
Baltasar, was not consequent to any information given him by the
prisoner, but had been resolved on long before, as a printed order of
the emperor, which he had the honour to lay on the table, would amply
testify!
As for Donna Isidora, he freely and laughingly acknowledged that he
had carried her away from the villa, and that she was now Madame de
Marbœuf, wife of his friend Jules de Marbœuf, colonel of the
24th, as the Padre Florez, who, ignorant of that auspicious event,
had come to effect her release from the French camp, could now
substantiate, as he was now without the court, and ready to appear.
The long, thin figure of the padre, wearing his flowing soutan and
shovel hat, next appeared to corroborate all this, and also to state
the sickly condition in which he handed over Quentin to the muleteers
at the Villa de Maciera.
"Every link is thus supplied beyond a doubt!" exclaimed Colonel Grant.
Quentin was acquitted amid a burst of applause that found an echo in
the hearty hurrah given by the King's Own Borderers in the palace
square without.
"And now, monsieur," said Ribeaupierre, presenting Quentin with a
valuable diamond ring, "accept this as a present from madame my
mother, who drew it from her finger as I left the camp, with the
request that you will wear it for her sake, and in memory of the day
on which you saved my life from that barbarous Spaniard among the
mountains of Herreruela."
Within an hour after rendering service so valuable, and indeed so
priceless, and after having some luncheon with Askerne, Grant,
Conyers, and other officers who composed the court, the gallant and
generous Ribeaupierre had mounted and ridden from Alva de Tormes,
attended by a strong escort, in front of which rode a Polish lancer,
with a white handkerchief in token of truce streaming from the head
of his lance; and so ended--like a dream to Quentin--this episode,
this chivalric intervention, which was dictated by a noble spirit
worthy of the knightly days of the Chevalier Bayard, or of Bertrand
du Guesclin.