Death of the Fox: a novel about Ralegh Read online

  The hall had been crowded since daylight by the Court and by such others as could find a place for themselves. The great men of England, including judges, the earls of Devon, Suffolk, and Salisbury, Sir Robert Cecil and Lord Henry Howard, were the commissioners. Lady Arabella Stuart, who might have been Queen had the alleged conspiracy succeeded, was present, accompanied by the Lord Admiral.

  And the finest lawyer in England was Ralegh’s adversary. Another man might have been intimidated by the presence and bearing of the accused. For Ralegh is a full head higher than most men and stands tall in any crowd. But Coke is tall too, handsome and big-boned. He wore a short beard then, pointed, and his eyes, large and dark, brimmed with inner light. If there were to be a struggle, it would be splendid. Two stags, locked horn and antlers, shaking the forest with the thunder of hooves.…

  But it was Coke who roared and thundered. His voice fell on the room, harsh as a town crier’s. It was understood that he must speak for all to hear and for the King as well. The King, who was settled at Wilton, but who might be listening from some hidden place or even in the crowd, well disguised. Ralegh, however, spoke so soft that the crowd had to sink into silence to hear him. And for all his years at Court and in the large world, he still affected the broad accent of Devon. You had to listen carefully to hear him. In an open trial, no matter how hated or by whom, he must be heard. This put Coke at the disadvantage in any exchange. To change his own manner, to amend his style, would have seemed a concession to a traitor and, perhaps, a kind of condescension. Coke could not make light of conspiracy and treason against the King. He had no choice but to maintain a sonorous outrage against the accused. Against that soft voice he could only rail and raise his thunder and thus seem, for all his gravity and dedication, somehow foolish.

  Why should a faithful servant of the King, strict in the performance of duty, seem foolish beside an arrogant traitor?

  Still Coke could not have been surprised at that. He knew how Ralegh had often used the softness of his voice to hush the fractious Commons and be heard. And no surprise, either, in the bearing and demeanor of Ralegh in his courtier’s clothing. Coke would have counted upon glitter of the finest cloth and jewels. Shimmer of a jewel box open to candelight. The absurd fantastic elegance which the late Queen so loved. Costume bright and bold as an April butterfly. Which on another man, a man of lesser stature and reputation, would have seemed foppish, would have wakened anger in some, knowing smiles in others. Here designed to catch and hold the vagrant eye. While Coke, in the ancient robes of the Attorney General, would seem more like a steward or servant than an adversary.

  Then Ralegh himself, with his high smooth forehead, his hair neatly combed; a wonderfully pointed beard which turned up naturally, to the envy of those who had to use hot curling irons on theirs; above all the eyes, small bright cold eyes, heavy-lidded, now veiled with sleepy languor, now opening as if from a sudden excess of light and fire. A countenance easy to hate, but still easier to remember.

  Coke lost control only when, after a series of accumulating difficulties, he found himself forced into an unfamiliar posture, defending much in the law which he despised, his adversary lightly presuming to attack on Coke’s own grounds. The finest lawyer of them all let his passions become mutineers when this courtier, this sad butterfly living at the tag end of a daylong dream of sun, stepped onto the hallowed grounds of Coke’s private garden—the law. Courtier became lawyer himself, citing old statutes and precedents, quibbling over points of procedure, even elaborating theory.

  True enough, Ralegh had passed time, like other gentlemen of ambition, at the Inns of Court. They did not study law, though. A smattering was sufficient. They whiled away time, browsed and grazed like contented sheep, satisfied to learn enough to handle their own affairs, to act in the role of sheriff or justice of the peace in the country later, if need be; meantime happy with comradeship and ceremonies, masques and revels, enjoying the pleasures of the city to the measure of their purses and beyond that; with a swagger wearing a fortune in debts on their backs, creatures of pretense for whom life was a play.

  No, they did not study the law. No inky fingers and dusty parchments for them. Left that to those who had no better, knew no better. Left that to a man like Edward Coke. The law was a mere wench to them, an old whore known in youth, with even her name soon forgotten.

  There at Winchester with all the world that mattered watching, Sir Walter Ralegh, once of the Middle Temple, once courtier, soldier, seaman and sometime poet, and now brought to stand judgment for high treason and doomed to die for it, on that day Walter Ralegh assumed the role of lawyer and with insolent grace. As if to know the law were no more than a change of cloak for him, a shrugging off or a putting on. As if the occasion of the trial were no more than his turn on the tennis court. He was not a good lawyer, to be sure, as he was the first to announce; but he was on that day a dangerous adversary for Edward Coke.

  By law, the letter of the law, Ralegh was guilty and would die whether or not he had conspired with others against King James. Under law there was sufficient evidence against him. Ralegh did not have to be a lawyer to know that much. And knowing Edward Coke and, better by far, knowing the ways of this world, he knew that Coke was playing a role too, that of spokesman for a new king.

  Did he know Edward Coke well enough to surmise what an offense, inward though it was, this duty was? Coke knew better than anyone in that hall how the letter of law, without the spirit, kills. And he must teach by demonstration to the new King the first letter of English law, its value to ruler and subjects alike. For, remember, not long after the King crossed over the border and began his progess to the throne, he had ordered a pickpocket hanged. Hanged, without a trial or hearing, upon the royal command. Perhaps things were ordered that way in Scotland, but not here. The King must learn the letter of English law, but more important he must learn that the law gave him more power, not less. The power of right and justice. Power derived from the trust of his people. This trial for treason could be an exemplum of precisely that. Not even a suspicion of a conspiracy against the throne should go unpunished, but public trials would make punishment acceptable and just.

  If Coke was unhappy with the present condition of the law on the matter of treason, nevertheless the law was not on trial.

  Before he was done, Ralegh made it so. Coke and the judges found themselves forced to defend the letter against the accusations of the spirit. Where was that more clear than in the exchange between Ralegh and Popham, the Lord Chief Justice of England?

  RALEGH: I do not know how you conceive the law.

  LORD CHIEF JUSTICE: Nay, we do not conceive the law. We know the law.

  Ralegh’s hope to save his life was to protest innocence, while acknowledging the justice of the law, and then to throw himself upon the mercy of the King. Which, indeed, he did in the end. But not until he indulged himself, in disregard of peril, in a tragicomic role which won the hearts of all who saw him. Before it was over the crowd, including so many of high place, muttered against Coke, hissed at him as if he were a villain in a bad play.

  Could the King ever completely trust Coke after that?

  See the ancient ceremonious procession. Judges in scarlet robes faced with miniver, wearing white coifs, lace pointed, with black coifs over them, and all this covered by the velvet corner cap, pileus quadratus, not to be removed even in the presence of royalty. The Chief Justice with his gleaming gold SS collar, a chain formed by and of the letter S, linked together with garter knots and in the center a rose with portcullis on each side. Sergeants at law in their parti-colored blue and green, in those days; the blue striped with white or pale yellow, the hoods being blue and green, lined with white fur. Clerks in gowns of black stuff without sleeves, and wearing round caps. Gentlemen in regalia of office, badges and staffs, according to their rank and precedence. Guards in playing-card colors. And then the prisoner a shimmering springtime garden, bedewed with jewels, outshining all.

  Judges a
nd commissioners took their places. Walter Ralegh was brought before them. The clerk rose and read the substance of the indictment against him and then, according to custom, asked him to raise his right hand, owning himself to be the person named in the indictment.

  Ralegh raised his right hand.

  “How say you,” the clerk called out, “guilty or not guilty?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “Culprit, how will you be tried?”

  “By God and my country.”

  He was asked if he would take exceptions to any of the jury of twelve knights and gentlemen.

  “I know none of them,” Ralegh said. “They are all Christians and honest gentlemen. I except against none.”

  Politic and polite, but one might infer, from his relinquishment of ancient right, more arrogant indifference.

  Then, a moment later, he asked for a favor which was no right. With the same calm politeness, he made a request. Professing a weakness of memory and the effects of a recent sickness, he asked that he might answer to the points as they were delivered rather than all at once.

  Coke objected to this. It was not proper for the King’s evidence to be broken to pieces. It must be presented whole and answered whole.

  The judges ruled Ralegh might have his request.

  Easy for them to be gracious and concede the point. Easy for them when they knew that no matter how the evidence was presented or answered Ralegh would be found guilty. At the outset they might appear magnanimous. It was not easy for Coke, though. He would have to make his case in bits and pieces, advancing by fits and starts, engaging his adversary in a ragged duel.

  Ralegh, swordsman of wit, would draw some blood.

  And in early sallies Ralegh pricked the Attorney General to anger. Even before the proofs were presented, Coke was forced to suffer the indignity of hearing the Lord Chief Justice of England attempt to justify the lawyer’s outrage to Ralegh. As if in apology for Coke!

  “Mr. Attorney speaks out of the zeal for his duty and for the service of the King,” Popham said. “You speak for your life. Be valiant on both sides.”

  Be valiant on both sides.…

  The presumed equality in the admonition was deeply insulting to Coke. Coke had hatched no treasons. Nor had Coke played upon the King’s known fears until the King was persuaded there was a plot against him. There were those who had done so, and some were sitting with grave faces among the row of judges and commissioners. To compound hypocrisy, they now wished to appear courteous in the eyes of the crowd.

  When the clerk finished reading from Lord Cobham’s examination, Ralegh scoffed at it. Surely, he argued, a case for the King cannot be built upon such a weak foundation.

  “Here, let me see the accusation so that I may make my answer to it,” Ralegh said.

  “But I have just read it to you,” the clerk replied, unaccustomed to irony from felons. “I have shown you all the accusations.”

  Ralegh smiled to himself, as if embarrassed for the flimsy structure Coke must defend.

  And here came the crux of it all, as Yelverton has come to see it. A point in the progress of the trial where nothing more than a general statement and denial would be anticipated. A broad answer to the broad and vague accusation. Almost a formality. A preliminary to the hard business ahead.

  Yelverton can picture Coke turning away to his papers, missing much of it, and aiming by his disregard to show how inconsequential Ralegh’s answer would soon prove to be.

  Coke appearing indifferent. For he had the case and the evidence. Let the man have his say. No matter how nimble, Ralegh would soon be stumbling over his own words like a village clown.

  Which, Yelverton has concluded, is precisely what Ralegh anticipated. Knew he had lulled Coke with quibbles and early playacting. Knew, too, that the crowd in the hall would soon be quiet and still to hear him. And knew they had come here for that purpose. Had come to see him in humiliation, true; but to savor that, they must listen.

  Knew this was his best moment, perhaps his only chance to turn their hearts to his advantage. For, no matter how they hated him, he was alone and vulnerable, all power ranged against him, the wide black-robed back of Coke turned away, indifferent to him … and thus to them as well. Here and now, if ever, he could engage his audience. Once engaged, they might be converted.

  Again protesting innocence, Ralegh began to answer. He touched upon some petty details of the charges with vehemence, seeming confused himself. And so permitting the suspense of his hearers to mount as they grew more quiet to hear.

  Then, adroit, dexterous as a dancer, he was into his true argument. The case of treason was built upon probability; therefore he must challenge the probability that he would ever enter into a conspiracy to advance the cause of his old enemy—Spain.

  But it was not for the judges or the jury that he was truly speaking. Upon a page copied in the secretary hand of a young clerk who could not have known his hornbook when Ralegh said his say, the words still shine clear. Clear, and yet a subtle cordial of distilled spirits. And, Yelverton thinks, there is the man at last.…

  “Is it not strange,” Ralegh said, “for me to make myself Robin Hood, or a Kett, or a Cade? When I knew England to be in a better condition to defend itself than it ever was? I knew Scotland united, Ireland quieted, and Denmark, which was suspected earlier, now assured. And I knew that having lost a Lady whom time had surprised, we now had an active King, a lawful successor. The state of Spain was not unknown to me.… I knew the Spaniards had had six repulses, three in Ireland and three at sea, and once in 1588 at Calais by my Lord Admiral. I knew that Spain was discouraged and dishonored. I knew the King of Spain to be the proudest prince living. But now he comes creeping to the King, my master, for peace. I knew that whereas once the King of Spain had six or seven score of ships, he now has only six or seven. I knew that from twenty-five millions he had taken from the Indies, he scarcely had one million left. I knew the King of Spain to be so poor that the Jesuits, that used to have a large allowance, were now forced to beg at the church doors. Whoever read or heard of a prince disbursing so much money without some guarantee, a sufficient pawn? I knew that the Queen’s own subjects, the citizens of London, would not lend Her Majesty money without lands in mortgage. And I knew that the Queen herself did not lend the Netherlands money without Flushing, Brill and other towns as a pawn. How can it be thought that the King of Spain would let Cobham have so great a sum?”

  Attorney General Henry Yelverton, lying in bed and listening to a slow-dying night, knowing that he must rise and dress and ride to the hall at Westminster, now after fifteen years about to bring to a final period a long digressive sentence spun out on that day at Winchester, has to smile to himself.

  Ralegh was always a poet. One must not forget that. Coke, for all his brilliance, is a man of solid prose.

  Ralegh’s argument was not complex. It had been anticipated by Coke. Besides which as argument it was obscured, clouded by the digression. He came to his point the long way around.

  But when a man is as crafty as Ralegh, it is not likely he would discard craft at a crucial moment.

  Ralegh was making music, not argument.

  To look at those words and the order of them. To mark how he plays upon familiar chords in an orderly harmony; while at the same time banging a small loud drum on the nerves of the King.

  Robin Hood … Kett … Cade … Each an English outlaw, wicked, bold and storied characters. Each an outlaw, and two of them open rebels within memory. Old Robin Hood kept alive, as recent as the others, by ballads, in country tales. So, naming them, and grouping them together, he managed to summon up the English past and, for this court, memories of childhood and country. Moreover these allusions would strike the King with refreshed memory of the English traditions of outlawry and popular rebellion, of the violent past leading up to the present and, perhaps, to return in the future.…

  England in a better condition to defend itself … A faith, a hope all shared with pride. Had
they not endured the worst dangers already? They knew what they had done. They believed this, all of them except, of course, the King. Note well that Ralegh, stating belief in the power and strength of England, chose to express it in a conditional sense—“better able to defend itself.” The word defend conjured up threats and real enemies. And called up, as if in reflection in a looking glass and, thus, reversed, the memory of beleaguered times.

  Scotland united, Ireland quieted, Denmark assured … True enough. A picture, with three examples, of an improvement in foreign affairs. Undeniable and unexceptionable. Move a little closer, though.

  The names of other powers, by their absence, are large. Scotland is the first link in a little chain, leads a list of troubles and dangers overcome. Truth in that. For the English, of whatever faith and persuasion, had feared a war with James if he had been denied the accession to the throne. They had feared war with Scotland and an English nation torn asunder, ripped ragged, and hurled rudely back in time to the brutal past.

  The old Queen, dying at Richmond Palace, had played her final game of triumph with Court and Council, withholding the highest trump almost until her last breath. Standing by her bed with members of the Privy Council close beside him, Nottingham, Lord Admiral, recalled a recent conversation on the succession. She had told him then that the English throne was a throne of kings, that only the nearest of blood should succeed her.

  “I told you my seat has been the seat of kings,” she said. “I will have no rascal to succeed. Who should succeed me but a king?”

  It was Cecil, young Secretary of State, who dared to ask her to make her meaning clear.

  “My meaning was a king shall succeed me,” she said. “Who should that be but our cousin of Scotland?”

  All that she gave them was a question, but it was enough to assure peace and a peaceful succession.

  Ralegh linked Scotland to Ireland. Ireland … All the history of bloody troubles returned. Blood and troubles still. Scotland and Ireland. Scotland made more rude and barbarous by the analogy.