The Last Confederate (34 page)

Thad shaved carefully, brushed his black hair into place, then put on the new uniform Rebekah had brought. It was still an hour before the court convened, and he wished it were over. His nerves began to creep, and he had to grip his hands with effort to keep them from trembling.

“Mistuh Thad! Mistuh Thad! Come to da winder!”

Leaping up, Thad dashed to the window and looked out to see Toby standing on the sidewalk beneath his cell. “Dere you is!” Toby’s white teeth flashed in his coal-black face, and he waved at his friend. “Jes’ come in from da farm. Thought I bettah fill you in on all da doin’s!”

Thad listened as Toby rambled on in his powerful voice, giving all the minute details of the livestock and the crops. This was the first time since Thad’s arrest that he’d seen Toby, and the sight of him lifted the boy’s gloom. He realized that Toby was doing more than giving a report on conditions at Belle Maison; he had come to bring what cheer he could to his friend.

Once while they were talking, a short, burly man in a white coat and hat came marching along the sidewalk. Finding his way blocked, he snapped roughly, “Get outta my way, Nigger!” He reached out and pushed at Toby’s shoulder, and found that it was like pushing at the courthouse building. He cursed and drew back his fist, ready to strike. “You slaves think Lincoln’s already set you free!” But he never completed
the blow. Toby caught the fist in his massive paw—just as he would have palmed a walnut. Though he exerted only a fragment of his power, Toby saw the man’s face turn pale and he flinched, staring up at the black immobile countenance.

“You see dat man up dere?” He gestured at Thad; and when the burly planter followed Toby’s directions, he said slowly and with a steady look, “He done paid fo’ me, suh! He bought me—and set me free! So I’m as free as any man in dis world!” He released the hand, and the thick-set man threw a quick look at the small crowd of spectators that had gathered. With a withering glance at Toby, he scurried off, muttering under his breath.

Two of the spectators had been Major Stillwell and Major McClain. They waited until Toby turned back to finish his conversation with Thad; then the pair resumed their walk toward the courthouse. McClain broke the short silence as they went up the steps. “I wish I were at Manassas, Jason. Everything about Novak makes me want to turn him loose—except the evidence.”

“Know what you mean, Mac,” Major Stillwell agreed soberly. “If there were just one gap in the evidence in the boy’s favor, I’d vote him innocent like a shot.”

“How do you think the vote will go?”

Stillwell was a keen judge of men, and the shrewd eyes in the boyish face conveyed his answer: “Guilty as charged.” Aloud he said gloomily, “If we had any real doubt about the evidence, he’d go free. You and I and Colonel Andrews would vote innocent.”

“That’s the way I see it, Jason—but we can’t vote on our feelings,” McClain replied as they entered the courtroom door.

The morning dragged by as Harrison Duke threw every possible measure of delay into the proceedings, and everyone in the room knew that he was fighting for time. The court dismissed for lunch, and during the interval Captain Clark said to Colonel Briggs, “Duke is the man I’d want defending
me if I were up for murder—but he can’t drag this thing out forever.”

“It’ll be today, I think,” Briggs said.

At one o’clock the trial resumed, and Abraham announced, “I have one more witness—Private Leonard Mellon.”

“Call Private Mellon, Sergeant,” Andrews ordered. After the swearing in, Abraham began immediately.

“You are a private in the Third Virginia Infantry?”

“Yes, sir.” Mellon looked better than Thad had ever seen him. He was clean shaven and his eyes were clear. His uniform was spotless and pressed. Thad knew instinctively that Abraham had seen to that.

“You have known the defendant, Thaddeus Novak, for how long?”

“About two years, sir.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We got into a fight.”

“Blast him!” Duke whispered bitterly. “Abraham is smart! He knew I’d dig that out and make that pug look bad!”

“Into a fight?” The thick-set prosecutor looked surprised, and inquired, “How did that happen?”

“Well, it was my fault, sir,” Mellon admitted. “It was the night we celebrated the fall of Fort Sumpter. The whole county was there—and I’d been celebrating too much.”

“Very regrettable—but quite understandable,” Abraham nodded. “What was the fight about, Private?”

“Well, sir, a lot of people had been saying that Novak was a Yankee sympathizer—”

“Objection!”

“Objection sustained,” Colonel Andrews nodded. “Hearsay is not evidence.”

“I apologize for the witness, sir,” Abraham said instantly. “He’s only a simple soldier fighting for his country, not a lawyer.”

“He’s spent enough time in courtrooms to know quite a bit about the law,” Duke spoke up loudly.

“That will do, sir!” Andrews reprimanded angrily before Abraham could object.

“I apologize to the court,” Duke replied, but there was no regret on his pale face.

Abraham obviously wanted to make a sharp remark to Duke, but after a quick glance at Colonel Andrews’ face, he turned back to Mellon. “You have been a member of the same company as the defendant?”

“Yes, sir. Company A. We both got to camp the same day. I was a volunteer, and he was a paid substitute.”

“Objection!” Duke called.

“On what ground, Captain?” Abraham looked puzzled, but a sly grin tugged at the edges of his lips.

“The implication is that my client is not a good soldier, and your witness is.”

“Is the witness mistaken?” Abraham asked. “Was Thad Novak a volunteer rather than a paid substitute?”

Duke knew that every word he said would simply allow his opponent to harp on the fact that Thad was a substitute, so he said, “Oh, very well. I am sure these gentlemen are aware that the Congress of the Congressional States passed the Act of Substitution. I am equally certain that they accept the acts of our Congress as wise—therefore, I withdraw my objection.”

Abraham was disappointed, hoping to draw the matter out, but he turned back to the witness. “You were captured at Malvern Hill while on a patrol with the defendant and one other soldier?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell the court every detail of that mission.”

“Well—Sergeant Henry called for me and Novak to go with him.”

Mellon made a good witness. He told the story of the action simply, though he sounded as if he were reciting a piece rather than telling a story—which was exactly the case in Duke’s opinion. Finally he got to the incident of the capture.

“We was creeping across this open ground, and I heard
Sergeant Henry shout, ‘Yankees! Run for it!’ I started to run, and then I heard the sergeant holler, and when I turned, I seen he was down.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I ran to him, and tried to pick him up, but it was too late. The Yankees was all around us.”

“Did you see what Novak did when the sergeant gave the warning?”

“Well—” Mellon looked down and mumbled, “I don’t like to say.”

“Speak up, Private!” Colonel Andrews rapped out. “You are required to tell what you saw. Never mind what you ‘like’!”

“Y-yes, sir!” Mellon lifted his head and stared across the room at Thad; then said clearly, “He throwed his rifle down and put his hands up in the air, and he was yellin’, ‘I surrender’!”

“That’s a lie!” Thad burst out, leaping to his feet.

“Be quiet, Private Novak!” Colonel Andrews commanded instantly. “You will have your turn to speak.”

Thad sat down, his face pale, as Duke pulled at him, whispering, “Sit still! That won’t help!”

“What happened then, Private Mellon?” Abraham asked. He had been pleased with the outburst. Novak had been impressing the court with his quiet behavior, and Abraham was disappointed when Duke pulled Thad up short—but Duke knew how to handle witnesses!

“They started asking us questions—like which company we was in and how to get to ’em. But I knew that all we had to tell was what outfit we was in—and that’s all I told ’em.” He shifted his glance toward Thad and said, “But then they started asking us where we was from—what state, I mean.”

“What state? That’s not what captured prisoners usually are asked. Did they say why they wanted to know?”

“The Yankee captain did. He kept listening to us, and found out I was from here, from Virginia, and then he asked Novak, ‘Where you from, soldier?’.”

“Did Novak tell him?”

“Oh yes, sir. He said he was from New York.”

“What did the captain do then?”

“Why, he told one of the soldiers to take me back through their lines where the other prisoners was bein’ held.”

“Just you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the defendant?”

“He said not to take him. Said he wanted to talk to him some more.”

“Did he say what about?”

“Well, I heard him say jest as they was takin’ me off, ‘You’re not a real rebel, young man. Not like this other trash! A New Yorker, you say? I’ll bet you just got mixed up with the wrong crowd, isn’t that right?’.”

“And what did the defendant say to that?”

“He said, ‘That’s the way it was, sir’—or something like that.”

Abraham waited for an objection from Duke, but none came, and he said, “How did you escape, Private?”

“Oh, it was easy! Soon as we was out of sight of the troop, I made to stumble, and when that Yankee stopped, I made a grab at him and beat his head in with his own rifle. Then I headed back to our lines.”

“Did you see the defendant after that?”

“Sure! I got back in time to see him leading that bunch of Yankees in a charge against our line!”

Abraham went over the story several times, trying to get Duke to object, but the unkempt lawyer seemed to be asleep, staring at the ceiling. Finally the prosecutor said, “No more questions. Your witness, Captain Duke.”

Duke slowly lowered his head and stared at Mellon, but did not rise. He asked lazily, “Are you a patriot, Private Mellon?”

“Sir?”

“I asked if you are a patriot.”

“Objection! The witness is not on trial!” Abraham protested.

“The prosecution has put great stress on the fact that he was a volunteer,” Duke remarked. “Ordinarily I would not press this point, but the prosecutor has made much of it. May I ask just one or two simple questions?”

“I will allow that,” Andrews nodded.

Duke rose, picked up a piece of paper, and walked to the witness stand. Thad could see that the paper had nothing but a series of drawings—mostly of ill-drawn birds—but Duke studied it carefully as he stood before Mellon. He lifted his eyes from the paper and asked in a loud voice, “Were you tried on a charge of attempted murder in Lynchburg, Virginia?”

Mellon’s face went pale, and he seemed unable to speak.

“Answer the question!” Duke snapped.

“I—I was, but it—!”

“And what was the verdict of the jury?” Duke barked, then shouted, “Don’t look at the prosecutor! He can’t tell you what to say this time! What was the verdict?”

“Found guilty,” Mellon mumbled. His jaunty assurance was gone, and his shoulders began to droop.

“And what was the sentence?”

“Ten years hard.”

“I see,” Duke said, and then asked, as if it were an afterthought, “But why aren’t you in jail?”

“They said—they said I had my choice—either jail or join the army.”

“So you aren’t a patriot?” Duke smiled, and his sleepy eyes played over the officers at the table. “You didn’t join the army because you believe in our
cause?
It was just to stay out of jail?”

Mellon looked down and nodded his head.

“Well, we need not press this matter—unless my worthy opponent would like a witness called to testify to the character of
this
witness? No? I thought not, Captain Abraham.”

There was a smile on the sour face of Colonel Briggs. He
leaned over and cupped his hand to whisper to Captain Clark: “That is one mean cuss! He’s my kind of lawyer!”

For the next hour Duke proved that Briggs was right. He dissected the hulking Mellon until the man was practically dissolved into a lump, shapeless and wet with perspiration. By the time Duke got to the end, not a man in the room would have trusted Mellon to hold his horse!

“ . . . so you just stumbled, and when the Yankee guard stopped, you beat him with his own rifle—is that the way you made your escape?”

Mellon was afraid of Duke, and it showed in the way he hunched in his chair and said faintly, “I-I guess so.”

“You
guess
so?” Duke asked sharply. “You didn’t tell this court you were
guessing
when you gave your testimony under the prosecution! These officers aren’t interested in guessing games, Mellon!”

“Objection! Defense is badgering the witness!” Abraham was trying desperately to think of a way to get Mellon off the stand before Duke totally destroyed the man’s credibility, but could think of none.

“Objection denied. Witness will answer the question.”

“Yes, that was the way it happened,” Mellon answered. “Let me see if I can picture that little scene,” Duke jeered. “If I were a cavalryman and had to take a prisoner to the rear, I believe I’d put a gun on him and force him to go ahead of my horse. The Yankees are wrong about slavery, but they’re not completely stupid! So here we go—with you in front of me on the ground. I’m on my horse with my five-shot repeating carbine aimed at your back. Now, how does it go? You are seven or eight feet in front of me, and you pretend to stumble. I keep on riding and when I pass by, you leap to your feet, grab my rifle, pull me off my horse, and beat me with my own gun. Is that the way it happened?”

Not a man in the room believes that story!
Abraham thought dismally.
I don’t believe it myself! What a corker
that Duke is! I’ll have him in my law firm when this stupid war is over or die trying!

Each of the officers waited for Mellon to answer, but there was no way for the burly private to say anything right. If he said “No,” he branded himself a liar, while if he said “Yes,” there was no way his story would stand.