Michael Dun - 25. Chapter 25

Several policemen accompanied Peter to the stand. He hobbled up to the chair before the Magistrate and seated himself so that he could face him. He had spent the night thinking and remarkably, was not tired. To him this trial was about proving his innocence. He could tell the magistrate that Michael was attracted to his own sex, but that would mean incriminating himself. On the other hand he could hang for crimes he did not commit, and they would bury him in an unmarked grave and forget about him. This was not the way his life was supposed to have unfolded. It was supposed to have been immersed in wealth and the law. Instead, he had broken the law by not reporting John Mansfield’s death to the authorities. It was self-defense. As for the rest, only one man could save him, the stranger. He knew all about what was going on. He could tell them about the fire and Marie’s death, Charlie, and Thokoza. He could tell them he knew Michael was working for the British Colonial Office. After all, it came from his mouth. But without proof, all that was hearsay, anyway, who was on trial here, Michael, or Peter?

The Magistrate, a bald man with a long, orange beard and large brown eyes,called for order in English.

The court hushed. He read the preliminary formalities. Finally he asked, “Guilty or not guilty.”

Peter grasped the wooden legs of the chair. “Not guilty.”

“The court takes note and will enter it as such. The court also takes note that you have no legal representation. Does the prisoner wish to follow a path of self-defense?”

“I do, your honour.”

The magistrate asked council for the prosecution, Field Coronet Barend Smit, a stout, slobbering man, whether or not he would object to the prisoner defending himself.

Barend Smit laughed. “I have no objection your honour.”

“Then let it be so.” He hit the table with a wooden gavel, and warned Peter that this was not a British court. “Roman Dutch law is practiced and Lutheran teachings are held in high esteem. What may seem justifiable by law in your country, may not necessarily apply here. Do you understand?”

Peter nodded graciously, “Yes, your honour.”

“Very well.” He turned to Barend Smit and instructed him to continue.

Smit would prove that Peter Sheffield had murdered John Mansfield in the first degree. He will show how violent a man he is. He would show that the prisoner had cause, intent and motive. Peter Sheffield, he told the court, plotted the whole circus as though it was his own. The murders were contrived and he used every other possible word that dealt with premeditation. Peter listened carefully. He understood that he was fighting for his very existence, an existence, which, up till now, had been quite disastrous.

“I would like to call Mr. Gordon Atkinson, your honour.”

The message was sent through the court and Gordon entered from the outside. He took a seat beside the magistrate and took the oath.

“Sir, you are of English stock, born in England, and in the Republic of the Transvaal to seek for gold. True?”

“True, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“Do you know the accused?”

“Yes, I do. He is…was a friend. I met him in England and we set sail to Africa together with my friend John Mansfield.”

“John Mansfield. Now do tell us, how did you meet with the deceased John Mansfield?”

“We met at a function given by the Fabian Society. On that particular occasion, H.G. Wells was the host.”

“The Fabian Society?”

“It is a society whose ideology is based on the firm belief that mankind is not a utopian society. Utopian realism is based on the premise that society is static. Fabians believe that society develops. In is out in no time at all.

“An interesting concept. How did you meet Peter Sheffield?”

“On the docks in London. He was drunk and I felt it would be inappropriate for me to leave him in such a dangerous place.”

“You took him home?”

“Yes, sir. He needed a bath and a good breakfast.”

“And did you become good friends?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Having established that you had a friendship with Mr. Peter Sheffield, as well as Mr. John Mansfield, please tell us what you know of John Mansfield’s death.”

Gordon related how Peter had crushed John’s face with the butt of a gun, then forced him to bury him in a shallow grave. He thought Peter would kill him too, so he stole away on one of the horses.

“And where did you go?”

“I headed for the Rand.”

“Is this where you met Michael Dun and Charlie Manning? On the Rand?”

“No sir. Peter Sheffield introduced us on board ship.”

“So it is fair to say that you know about the feud between them.”

“If it is about the contract, then yes. Peter wanted Michael and Charlie in a joint venture with himself, John and me. Michael and Charlie said no. We gave Peter our money to be used as collateral to start the company. Then Peter changed. He turned on me like a rabid dog. He became obsessed with getting Michael to sign and hand over his money. When they did not, he got nasty.”

“So, he had cause to kill Charlie Manning because Michael refused to enter into a contract with him?”

Peter leaped up. “Objection your honour. Speculative.”

“I will allow this. Mr. Sheffield.”

Gordon continued, “I suppose so. He harassed Michael and Charlie every stop on the journey to the goldfields. He approached Michael continuously to reconsider his decision. Michael would not sign. He got angry, and took his frustrations out on John and me.”

For a moment there was silence and the lawyer said, “Thank you, I have no further question.”

The magistrate asked Peter if he wanted to cross-examine. Peter stood up respectfully and turned to Gordon, who happened to be sweating.

“Hullo, Mr. Atkinson.”

Gordon did not reply.

“Let us venture back to the night when I allegedly killed Mr. John Mansfield in cold blood. Where were you?”

“Outside, by the fire.”

“Where was John and me?”

“In the wagon.”

“Did you see what transpired whilst we were in the wagon?”

“Yes.”

“Pray, do tell this court exactly what happened in the wagon.”

John punched you. You pushed him out of the wagon and you must have tripped over something because you also fell out. He got up before you and kicked you in the face. When you got up you threw sand in his face, blinding him. You grabbed hold of your gun lying against the wheel of the wagon and hit him in the face, again and again and again…”

“You did say John attacked me, did you not?”

“Yes. I saw him punch you.”

“I would consider my actions as self-defense. After all, I was on the receiving end of his punches and kicks. I had no option.”

“Then why did you force me bury him?”

“Your honour, I am supposed to be asking the questions. Please caution the witness.”

“I think you should be cautioned for telling me how to run this case. You will explain, Mr. Sheffield, why it is you forced Mr. Atkinson to bury his friend, John Mansfield.”

“I was not thinking, your honour. In fact, everything about me was a blur. It all happened so quickly. Is this a crime sir?”

“Unethical, morally wrong, yes. However, you are on trial for multiple murders, Mr. Sheffield. The question is pertinent, and I have recorded your answer. Please, continue…”

Peter thought for a moment, then asked, “Who did you tell, Mr. Atkinson?”

“No one. Not until yesterday.”

Peter looked up at the magistrate, “Your honour, if I am found guilty, then this witness should be impounded as an accessory after the fact. However, as your honour is able to ascertain from the facts as spoken by this witness, I acted out of self-defense in the accident that killed John Mansfield. That is all your honour.”

*

Outside the courthouse, under a young oak tree, Michael stood alone. He watched the city at work with vendors and businessmen, miners and farmers plying their trade down Church Street. A young street filled with carriages and wagons and horsemen and rickshaws.

He was angry about the way the trial was going. Peter wanted to get rid of everyone around him, and he was doing a good job by first disproving the state prosecution’s evidence. Gordon had rallied with him all the way.

*

Danie stood to one side with the Colonel, and watched Michael, who stood alone. He would walk up to him and embrace him if he could, but he knew how insecure Michael was feeling. Or was it because of what had happened between them the previous night?

Standing away from each other, pretending nothing had transpired, that, and this trial, weighed heavily upon their minds. The previous night was an act of total bonding. A sexual experience like none Danie had ever known.

 *

Gordon approached Michael and asked him how his evidence seemed to him. Michael wanted to know the truth. Gordon was adamant that it had happened as he had related it. John did swing the first punch.

“Well, old chap. Peter Sheffield has just proved self-defense.”

“I am sorry, Michael.” Gordon noticed at once the hostility building up in Michael. “It is the truth.” He backed away and returned to the courthouse.

Danie and the Colonel watched with interest at their brief communication and Danie excused himself to be with Michael. Michael smiled as he approached.

“I thought you would never come.” Michael said softly.

“Why on earth would you think that? I noticed your conversation with Gordon.”

“I told him that he had made a mistake by admitting John Mansfield threw the first punch. He assured me it is the truth.”

“I believe him, Michael. I think he too is hurting. John was his friend.”

“You are right. Perhaps we do have the wrong man.”

The prosecution’s case was quite unprepared, and should have been thrown out of court immediately.

Kruger had dismissed the fact that Peter had important information for him. If he so wished, he could have used his right as the President, to extend immunity for a fair exchange of information.

It seemed fair to assume that Kruger was bleeding Peter because of his English roots. But Kruger underestimated Peter Sheffield. After the adjournment, Barend Smit called Michael to testify.

Peter entered and the crowd hushed. He looked around at the men in gray suits and ties taking notes and drawing pictures with wetted pencils. And then he saw him in the back row, closest to the exit of the courthouse. It was the dark eyes that attracted Peter’s attention, and for a moment he felt safe, for here was the man who knew everything and all he had to do was expose him. He took his eyes away for just a moment to look at Gordon take his seat in the public gallery, and when he looked again, the man was gone. He stumbled but regained his balance, then took his seat.

Barend Smit soon called Michael to testify. He reminded Michael that he had first met Peter Sheffield in England at University. Michael was now a prospector seeking gold on the Witwatersrand, and Peter Sheffield was doing the same.

“You know the earth well. You leased land from a Mr. Van Breda of Tweelingsrus for the purpose of mining. But before you set foot on South African soil, Peter Sheffield had begun to harass you and your friend, is this so?”

“Yes, sir. He wanted me to sign a partnership contract with him and his two friends.”

“His two friends would that be Mr. Atkinson and Mr. Mansfield? Tell us, Mr. Dun, did you enter into a contract with Peter Sheffield?”

“No! I have known Peter Sheffield a long time. Throughout university. Every vacation would be spent visiting a different place of interest or a different country, like Germany or Japan. We were younger then, and we were expected to enjoy college life and even be mischievous. I know how he operates as a human being. He delves into things and strikes heights of utter confidence then suddenly the flame dies and his plans fall apart. He is obsessed with everything around him. Admittedly, he is a lawyer and extremely intelligent. To enter into a contract with as skillful a practitioner as Peter Sheffield would mean disaster. That is why I refused.”

“Instead, you entered into a contract with a Mr. Van Breda on the advice of one, Colonel Ignatius Ferreira. I am sure the jealousy consuming Peter Sheffield was utterly explosive. Did he harass you consistently?”

“Yes. When we crossed paths he would pander on about his business proposal and I constantly refused to have anything to do with it. Since then, he has turned against us, become a lot more aggressive.”

“Did he get on with Charlie?”

“Charlie disliked him intensely.”

“The accused knew this?”

“Charlie told me.”

“Thank you, that is all.”

Peter stood up and shuffled towards Michael. He extended a hand but Michael would not accept it.

“We have known each other a long time, Mr. Dun. Perhaps too long. Please relate to this court the events that took place in the hotel bar in Colesburg.”

“Charlie and I went into a bar filled with Boers and one of them took a disliking to us. He wanted a fight. He called his friends and some of them carried guns. It was at this point that Peter and his friends, John Mansfield and Gordon Atkinson, burst in, waving their guns and demanding our release.”

“How would you regard this action?”

“You saved our lives.”

Peter Sheffield smiled. “Then why would I want to kill Charlie, or set your home alight?”

Michael could not answer.

“That is all.” Then Peter returned to his chair.

“Do you wish to call upon another witness, Field Coronet Smit?”

“Sir, the state had made its case.”

“Very well then, Mr. Sheffield, you may call your first witness.”

“Thank you, sir. I call upon Colonel Ignatius Ferreira.”

The colonel entered from outside and took the oath. Peter stared at this leader for several moments. The magistrate lifted his brows and leaned forward over the podium. “Do you intend asking a question, Mr. Sheffield?”

Peter suddenly spoke. “Have you ever heard this voice, Colonel?”

The Colonel answered, “No”.

“The highwayman, what kind of voice did he have?”

“Smooth, husky.”

“Thank you sir, that is all?”

Peter returned to his seat and the Magistrate announced an adjournment. He called Peter Sheffield and Barend Smit to his chamber, a sparse office behind the courthouse with a desk and two chairs. He sat in his chair and Peter stood at the window.

This magistrate was not happy. “We have not placed Mr. Sheffield at any crime and his voice is not recognised by the Colonel.”

The prosecutor, Barend Smit, stepped forward and raised a finger, “Sir. There are many people out there who feel that Mr. Sheffield is a menace and should be removed from society. These are the people who seek justice be done.”

“I am afraid that he is the victim of circumstance and this trial should end here and now. Further attempts to draw a confession for something he did not do will embarrass this government, and that must not happen. I suggest you withdraw the case, Field Coronet.”

Peter was overcome with joy.

Now he was able to relax and enjoy Christmas.

As he walked away from the courthouse, towards the carriage that would take him back to the Rand, he could feel eyes on him. Suddenly he had become the centre of attraction, but he did not care. He was a better man for not revealing certain truths. He could have been a hero. Instead, he was a free man and justice had been served. It was time to go back to his business, to put the past behind him. It was time to resume a normal life without Michael and his friends to hinder his own success.

All was quiet at Natal Camp. The men did not line the streets and lanes to welcome him back as a hero. He imagined himself to be a man, a special man with a unique life, he had a right to that life. He would do his damnedest to defend that life. He admitted to himself that he could have stopped John from attacking him by verbal communication, but the man was hysterical and overcome with hate. He had not intended to hit his head so hard, but he did. He had never intended to beat him over and over, even after he was dead, but he did. He would go to the grave with that memory. Sooner than expected.

His reed and mud building stood open. Rogues had plundered and stolen everything he had. Even his carriage was gone. He walked about, dazed, thinking how awful life was now that he had his freedom, but had lost all of his material possessions. A small crowd gathered to glare, some to offer genuine help, and some were disappointed to hear that he was back to stay.

He entered the first room, where he did his night work by gaslight, and found his bookshelf and books, his private papers and confidential files gone. All gone!

A voice came as out of nowhere. “Kruger has everything.”

Peter was angry with this man. So angry that he told him to leave immediately. But the man was stubborn, he remained seated on a wooden crate. He wanted something more from Peter and Peter suddenly realised that he was being taken advantage of. He screamed out at him at the top of his brittle voice that he was the one, of all people, he was the one who could have gotten him out of this maze of deceit and lies. He was the one who knew things about Michael that no one else knew. He was the one who knew when to appear and disappear as though all the drama was just a game. Peter wanted to know who he was and who he was working for, and what he intended doing with him.

The stranger took it calmly. He stared into Peter’s eyes and answered like a machine. “If I tell you then I must kill you.”

“But you are always following them, watching them.” Peter argued. “You say you do not know who the killer is, and I think you are lying, chapsy. This whole business has me mortified, and here you stand, threatening me with murder. Do you know what kind of hell I have been through? You have the audacity to look into my face and tell me you have no idea who the murderer is. Well, sir, I do not believe you.”

“You are clever, Mr. Sheffield. You play Michael with threats that you know he is a British agent and that you will reveal this information in court. You plead not guilty and proceed to crush the prosecution. For a time I thought, well and good, he takes the blame for the murder of these people, and I shall be free. On the other hand, your freedom plays an enormous part of what has been happening here. And unfortunately you are next on my list.”

The flick knife appeared from his boots into his hands into the air and into the small of Peter’s back as he ran towards the open door. He dropped a foot away, and writhed on the floor, trying desperately, but in vain, to remove the knife.

Another, smaller knife appeared in his left hand, he placed a knee on Peter’s arm, and swished the small blade across his throat, severing the jugular. He picked himself up and walked from the scene as if he had done the world a favour.