The Scotsman Christmas Story: Edward Kane and The Matter of Honour (Chapter Five)

Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane

NP Norris had put to the old nobleman the offer from the prosecution. The Crown would now accept a plea of guilty to the reduced charge of ‘the culpable and reckless discharge of a firearm in a public place’.

Lord Albert sat there for a moment, not so furious now, but visibly simmering. Norris continued: “As a plea, it has much to commend it, Lord Albert. It is a far less serious matter than the original charge of Attempted Murder...”

The old man considered this for a moment, and then he stood up to leave: “I am sorry, gentlemen, but your endeavours are in vain here. ‘Culpable’? A gentleman is never to blame when he is compelled to defend his wife’s honour. And ‘reckless’,” - here he gave a hollow laugh - “...‘reckless’? I think not. Far from it. I took great care not to shoot that scoundrel between the eyes. Please convey my decision to those who are determined to hound me. Now, if you will excuse me, I bid you good day, sirs.”

And with that, Lord Arthur got up and left the room.

Edward Kane, NP Norris and their instructing solicitor, Mr Baxter (Writer to the Signet) sat in silence for a while. The silence was broken by Kane: “And what do we do now?”

NP Norris sat back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips: “What we do now, my dear Edward, is: we prepare for trial...”

*****

Kane’s friend, Collins sipped his coffee in the Advocates Reading Room.

“So, the old lord has refused the prosecution offer, then...”

Kane sighed: “Norval predicted that he would. I confess that I have no idea how we are to mount a defence in this case. The evidence seems overwhelming, Collins. The whole thing appears hopeless.”

Collins considered this for a moment, then laughed: “Be of good cheer, Edward. Norval does appear to have the ability to produce a very real rabbit from the mere suggestion of a hat.”

The friends laughed. The conversation turned to this and that. Collins adjusted his spectacles and smiled: “Now, my friend, a far more important question than that of Attempted Murder - are you making your customary annual visit to the Collins household on Christmas Day?”

Kane said nothing for a moment, prompting Collins to develop his submission: “As you know, my friend, not only will you be able to avail yourself of the company of the vivacious Mrs Collins and my good self, but you will also be treated to a fine festive luncheon of turkey, gravy and mashed potatoes. This will, of course, be accompanied some fine mulled wine and followed by the cook’s finest speckled pudding.” Collins’ eyes were sparkling now: “Oh, and did I mention the repeated games of blind man’s bluff under the direction the Collins offspring?”

Kane could not help but laugh: “Collins, my dear friend, I accept your kind invitation. If one o’clock would be suitable...”

Collins raised his teacup as if giving a toast: “One o’clock would be just capital, Edward. Of course, you have other duties to fulfil in the morning...”

The friends sat in silence now. The atmosphere had changed. More solemn now. Sadder, even. Nothing more was said for a time. Kane looked away and out of the window…

*****

The Trial: Day One

“Edward, Edward - what a fine crisp morning, don’t you think?”

NP Norris, in cheerful mood, hailed Kane in Parliament Square as they were passing the equestrian statue.

Kane shivered in the December mist: “Norval, that is a generous analysis. In fact, this cold spell woke me up in the middle of the night.”

Norris laughed: “Really? I’m bound to say that I was tucked up, cozy and warm and slept like the proverbial log.”

Kane stared at Norris. “How on earth, Norval, can you get any sleep the night before you defend an Attempted Murder?”

“With ease, my friend, with ease. The cases that keep me awake at night are the ones where there is the slightest chance that there might be a defence. That is not the case here. That old rascal, Lord Albert, is clearly as guilty as sin. We cannot win this case, Edward. Our friend, the prosecutor Charles Cod can only lose it. And, as I say, there is something amiss about the Crown case here. All we can do at this stage is to be vigilant and listen for clues.”

Norris then produced his pipe. He patted his jacket pockets. “I seem to have mislaid my matches. May I trouble you for a light?”

*****

Thirty minutes later, attired fully in full wig and gown, Norris and Kane approached the courtroom and the first thing that Kane became aware of was the noise. The sheer din of several hundred human voices in a state of excited expectation. It sounded for all the world like a crowd at a sporting event. This made him nervous. He glanced at Norris. NP puffed on his pipe: “Ah, Edward - a full house. Time to make our entrance...”

And with that, Norris and (a somewhat timid) Kane swept into the courtroom. There was a lull now as the ladies and gentlemen (and a few smuggled children) in the public gallery nodded, pointed and gesticulated in their direction.

Norris and Kane made their way to the right of the table at the well of the court, beneath the bench where the judges sat. Norris whispered into Kane’s ear: “Now, Edward, I want you to look across the table. If my prediction is correct, then you should see a nervous-looking prosecutor.”

Kane looked across the table. And there - as predicted - was an uneasy-looking Charles Cod. The portly Advocate was discussing, with some intensity, matters with his own junior. Kane looked back over to Norris and gave a confirmatory nod.

Norris smiled, set his papers down on the table, then called across to his opponent: “Good morning, Charles.” Cod nodded back towards both Defence Counsel: “Norval. Edward. Good morning to you both. I’m sorry that we seem to have reached such an impasse here. Still time, of course, for the accused to accept the very generous Crown offer.”

Novak shook his head: “I am sorry, Charles. Apparently, it’s a matter of honour...”

Cod nodded is head, somewhat ruefully, Kane thought.

Looking over at the dock now, Kane saw Lord Albert sitting there, already seated between the two policemen in their stovepipe hats, the brass buttons of their blue uniform coats fastened up to the neck. The old nobleman seemed unconcerned, oblivious to the seriousness of the charge he was facing. To the casual observer, he might have been sitting waiting for an omnibus.

Kane looked up. Coming out through a side door on the raised bench area was The Macer carrying the ceremonial mace balanced on his shoulder. The Court was now in session.

“Court rise!” - a very loud shout from the Clerk of Court.

Emerging from side entrances, three judges progressed to their chairs. Stately in their horsehair wigs, white crosses on their bright red robes, they reached their seats and bowed towards the assembly. All in attendance returned the bow. The judges sat down. The people sat down. Lord Albert tried to sit down, but the police officers in the dock held him up.

The Clerk called the case: “Call the case, Her Majesty’s Advocate against Lord Albert Arthur.” He then addressed the nobleman in the dock: “Are you Lord Albert Arthur?”

His lordship, determined to remain unimpressed by proceedings, replied: “I sincerely hope so.” This provoked a deal of laughter from the public gallery, then Lord Albert replied: “Yes, of course I am.”

The fifteen-man jury was empanelled, and the charge on the Indictment was read aloud to them:

“...that you LORD ALBERT ARTHUR did arrange to meet John Sanders Barrington Smith there and did discharge a pistol at him, wounding him and you did attempt to murder him...”

And Norris stood up and addressed the three judges: “My lords, I appear for the Pannel in this case. And he pleads…Not Guilty”.

And a hush fell over the room. And the trial began.

Ross Macfarlane QC has written The Scotsman Christmas story every year for the last ten years. His Scotsman story “Mr Charles Dickens and the Tale of Ebenezer...Scroggie” was chosen as the featured fiction by the international organisation, the Dickens Fellowship in 2017. His novella “Edward Kane and The Matter of Honour” is set in Edinburgh in the same period, the mid-19th Century and has been specially commissioned by The Scotsman. Illustrations by Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane.