The Adventures of Michael Fane
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Synopsis:
From the attempted rebellion of James Scott the Duke of Monmouth in 1685 through to the Glorious Revolution. We follow the exploits of Michael Fane and his followers. The tale begins in the Courtroom of Judge George Jeffreys...
Book Excerpt:
Chapter One
‘The Hanging Judge’
September the eighth in the year of our Lord 1685
Taunton Assize
“T’is time Michael.”
All I could see was that my cell door was now open and Ned Turner was standing looking at my shaking body. He repeated those words I had been dreading.
“T’is time Michael, come on son, try to be as brave as you can, and may God come to your aide.”
He patted me affectionately on my shoulder as I trudged past him and into the line of wailing prisoners as we began our long walk towards a certain and painful death.
I was so relieved to walk in fresh air again. But I, and my fourteen cellmates, had little time to drink in these delights as we were hurried under heavy guard into the Court. The vast hall was draped in scarlet, a fit colour for such a murderous place! At the end of the hall, seated in a high backed chair upon a crimson covered dais, I beheld the man whose name was a terror and a byword, not only here in the West, but throughout the Kingdom – the infamous ‘George Jeffreys 1st Baron of Wem’ – aptly nicknamed ‘The Hanging Judge’! Then, as our guards manhandled us onto a wooden bench, our legs were shackled together beneath us in a long metal chain. We looked around us and tried to draw strength from one another.
At a table beneath the Judge sat the Crown lawyers, barristers and clerks, shuffling and docketing their papers in a mad frenzy. To his left at a narrow trestle table sat twelve fat, well-liked fellows, the pick of the Country Gentlemen of England – the Jury! They were paid per hanging. Though all of this was strange to me, I was dumbfounded by Jeffrey’s appearance; it was well known that he liked wenching and all manners of debauchery, yet he was fewer than forty years with a kindly if not handsome face. As he sat there his chin upon his hand, watching us in a dreamy distant fashion, it seemed unlikely that he could be so cruel and vindictive. We stood in the Dock and waited. At last, he leaned forward - his hands on the arms of his chair.
“What have we here? Can it be? Another batch of wickedness already! How many do they number?”
“Fifteen my Lord.” replied a clerk.
“Fifteen!” exclaimed the Judge in horrified amazement. “Fifteen more workers of iniquity! Fifteen more Traitors to a King as good and true that was ever born, yet another fifteen more villains of rank rebellion, oh it breaks my heart.”
He sat back groaning and sobbing, but this was quickly past, and he broke out on us with such a wild vehemence even the lawyers sank back in their chairs. He waved his arms; stamped his feet and hit his desk as hard as he could. By now his face was as red as the scarlet drapes around him. Name after name came before him, there was but one defence lawyer who received the sharp end of Jeffreys tongue if he spoke out. Execution after execution was ordered. Twelve hangings and two poor souls were to be hung, drawn and quartered and those were ordered because the men had sworn at the Judge, all I heard was “Guilty, Guilty, Guilty”. These men had now been dragged from the Court by the foot soldiers, a trail of urine could be seen as they left. Then came my turn, for I had been saved for last. I remember well looking into those eyes, so dark and sinister, I had seen brave men leave the Court knowing the gallows or a gibbet awaited them, I took courage from those men. I prayed inwardly for God, in his infinite wisdom, to see me through this ordeal.
The usher announced, “My Lord, this is the last case of the Taunton Assize – ‘Crown versus Fane’.”
The Judge shuffled some papers and looked at me harshly, He began.
“So this is Michael Fane is it?”
“That is my name,” I answered coldly.
“Ah! Michael Fane, the overgrown shoot of perfidy, the only, thank God for small mercies, offshoot of that gnarled old tree of evil Gilbert Fane I…”
“Stop Sir, you may have the power to hang me, but you do not have the right to insult a man twice your better.”
He stood and screamed, “What is that Sirrah, you dare to interrupt me! Behold him Gentlemen of the Jury, have you ever seen such impudence? Have you ever seen such treachery in one so young? How old are you Fane?” As his eyes once more met mine.
“Eighteen” I replied.
“Well you won’t see nineteen. One more outburst from you and I’ll have you hung by your privy parts from that very beam above your head, and there sir you will dangle until you beg forgiveness and allow me to continue with this fair and just trial.”
He pointed upwards, but my eyes fixed on his. “What are the charges?” the Judge asked his clerk.
“Murder and High Treason my Lord,” came his sullen reply.
Jeffreys theatrically buried his head into his hands and muttered, “Wine, get me wine I cannot bear to hear more without the Lord’s blood in my veins.” He took a long draught of wine from a silver goblet passed to him by a clerk “Keep it filled” were his instructions.
I spoke, “My Lord, I have been allowed no Counsel, surely, as a serving officer in the Royal Lifeguards, I should not have been refused legal representation?”
He stopped reading his papers, “Do you see that man in the wig beneath me? Stand up Mr Gasgill and show your face.”
A fat faced man arose. “He is your defence, now let us proceed.”
“But My Lord, I must protest, he knows nothing of my case!”
“Then are you not fortunate in having me as your Judge sir? Let us not dally further, continue, what are the charges again clerk?”
The thin bespectacled clerk shuffled his papers and in a weak voice he said, “Murder and High Treason, my Lord.”
Judge Jeffreys read the papers once more, and began my case.
“Of course, I remember reading these cursed papers last evening in my chambers. Oh I am sickened by your trickery and connivance and how you have conglutinated the facts to suit your own ends, I only pray that you are the last of your kind sir,” he said whilst reading more papers passed to him.
“Let us investigate the facts; In June of this year you, and your evil father plotted to give the wretched, but thankfully now dead, Monmouth proof of a false birthright, oh Master Fane, you are indeed to be the very last of your kind. Good King James has tolerated enough of the wicked and rebellious activities from the unlawful bigots that have been allowed rank and privilege, those days are past, heed my words sir! Now I order you to answer these questions. Did you or did you not try to sell to the now tried and duly executed James Scott the Duke of Monmouth the forged papers that claimed he was the legitimate son of Good King Charles and that the said King had secretly married one Lucy Walters? And that you knowingly sought to make financial gain from selling those falsehoods without thought or care of your country.”
“No Sir, I did not, I took those same forged papers to my commanding officer Major General George Feversham.”
He tapped his fingers and said, “Then why is your commanding officer not here to support these ridiculous claims?”
“I do not know Sir, I have been allowed no counsel.”
“Well, I will tell you why sir. He is not here because he has written to the Court naming you as a coward and deserter! We shall move on to the next question. How much money did you get from that vile portrayal of a false religion the infamous ‘plotter Robert Ferguson’ when you blackmailed him for his own forged papers?”
I replied. “I captured Ferguson and took him to my Commanding Officer Lord Feversham – I took no money from him.”
With that, he thumped his hand hard down on the Holy Bible on his desktop. “You lie sir! Why, in this very Courtroom he told me all. The perfidy, the treachery, how you shot him after getting your ill-gotten gold, we will find that gold if we have to dig up all of Somerset!”
Author Comment:
Not for the feint of heart!
Topics/Categories:
The Monmouth Rebellion of 1685
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The Adventures of Michael Fane
Original Publish Date:
August 12, 2008
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