The Twisted Patriot

by Pirate Irwin

  “I do not stand here before you today declaring myself to be a Sydney Carton and that what I do is a far, far better thing than I have ever done. But I do say that I have been candid and open and I do admit to the charge in that I bore the enemy’s uniform. But I believe that I did no harm to my mother nation or to the West and in fact, as I have shown by sacrificing my career, when it came down to a moral choice between that and betraying my country I chose the former and that is my true nature. I would ask you to take that into consideration, gentlemen of the jury.”

  Sebastian took his seat in the defendant’s box, glugged down a glass of water to refresh his parched throat and observed how the final part of his statement had gone down, but it was too hard to discern, and in any case Steiner was already getting to his feet, giving the defendant a damning look.

  “You have to laugh, you really do,” said Steiner, without a trace of a smile.

  “If the charges weren’t so serious. So we have Red Indians, some obscure character called Harry Morant and a German officer called von Stauffenberg who, before he took up his crusade against the Nazis, was only too willing to shed British blood in the desert, and one could be forgiven for thinking that the loss of an arm and an eye in the war turned his mind against the regime he had served so loyally. Similarly with the defendant, once he was cast adrift, so to speak, and with little else to hope for from the war, he took his decision to fight against the allies that were taking on what should have been his enemy.

  “Really I would have expected more of the defendant in preparing his models for his defence. The Red Indians indeed! They were savages with little knowledge of life outside the tepee where they would rape and defile good European female flesh and then go out and massacre innocent travellers trying to create a better life for themselves. Those who joined the American Army did so solely for social betterment and were duly rewarded; theirs was not a moral choice, it was done for selfish reasons. There is the similarity with the defendant. Morant, who as far as I am aware had probably read Conrad’s Heart of Darkness too often and saw himself as a Colonel Kurtz character in the way he handed out justice. He was sole diviner of justice in his area of operations, and to say it was foul play to have him executed for his brutal disregard for the Boers and he was a scapegoat of the empire’s mistaken policy is absolutely risible – no, the only thing that bears comparison between the two men is that Morant was a black sheep of the family and as is quite clear by the behaviour of the defendant he is clearly one as well.

  “This charge that he was doing right in taking on a force of evil in the shape of the Soviets as they posed more of a threat than the Nazis should be treated with the disdain it merits. Whatever one might think of their ideology, and that they were on the side of the Nazis at the outset of the war, it should take nothing away from the huge pain and losses they suffered at the hands of the Nazis and its allies, and with a brutality that we who succeeded in not being invaded could only shudder at what they would have done to us. Here is a list of crimes the Germans perpetrated on the Soviets: mass rape of children and old women of up to 95 years of age, mass executions summarily carried out without so much of a pretence of a trial, herded into their Russian Orthodox churches and burned alive, the doors barred and the criminals outside dressed up in their uniforms as if that hid their guilt under some form of legal protection while they smoked, laughed and listened without so much as a microcosm of pity to the screams of those inside. Others unfortunate to be caught in their web could expect little better, women sent to camps back in the West where they served as little more than unpaid whores, while the male soldiers who should have been prisoners of war were sent to concentration camps and left without clothes in freezing temperatures and condemned to the most brutal experiments one could imagine because they were considered Untermenschen or the lowest of the low. Judging by the defendant’s attitude, he evidently believed in the Nazi ideology and for that alone, regardless of the fact he never fired a shot in anger at the Western allies, fought a brave rearguard action on the retreat to Dunkirk, and, I will grudgingly concede, did not lead his men into a trap where they were massacred, he should be found guilty of the charge of treason and it is only a pity we didn’t see fit to add crimes against humanity and war crimes to his charge sheet. So what about his claims to have worked to bring the war to an early end by joining the resistance? The simple fact is he shouldn’t even have been in that position; he should have not been wearing the damn field grey uniform in the first place and to join a band of careerist officers, whose light had faded as their army’s did and saw the war ending in disaster, along with a collection of failed politicians with an axe to grind with the regime and idealist philosophers and priests, does not for me make a case for the defence. Finally his protestation that he never ever sold out his country and that he took the moral choice in deciding to sacrifice his career this time round instead of letting the Soviets have our secrets does not wash. To me, he hated the Communists then and he hates them now, and he was prepared to gamble on a trial where at least it would be fair and he would get a chance to put his case to the test. It was not a brave choice, it was a typical politician’s risk-taking exercise and I place my trust in you, the jury, that you will see it as such. I rest my case.”

  Sebastian watched from the dock and he didn’t like what he saw as several of the jurors nodded in assent to Steiner’s final remark, and he resigned himself to spending just a few more days of liberty before he was finally brought to account for his decision taken all those years ago.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Mainwaring was in two minds as to how he should direct the jury, as part of him admired Sebastian’s chutzpah, but in reality he had little choice but to sway them towards a guilty verdict, as it was clear under the narrow definition of the law that he was culpable. Steiner had done a very good job in his summation, he thought, Sebastian had not, and he felt the jury was bending towards a guilty verdict and he would have to pronounce those terrible words “death by hanging”, which made him go cold even after 10 years of practice. Mainwaring knew there was going to be the greatest of interest in how he summed up to the jury, and the government in particular would be looking for any weaknesses in his statement, though he couldn’t really care, as he wasn’t looking for any advancement under them as he had achieved everything he had set out to do when he became a silk. His wife Marjorie and he lived a comfortable life, and there was no need to tug his forelock to the Macmillan government. Still, he was a proud man and took infinite care in his judgements and was justifiably proud that none of his decisions had ever resulted in a successful appeal based on a faulty line taken by him and he was buggered if he was going to start now.

  “Gentlemen of the jury, this is a far more complex case than I think we could ever have imagined when it began. It looks a cut and dried case and one is loathe to allow emotions to cloud one’s judgement, but one would not be human if one couldn’t understand the awful position the defendant was put in by a man who he had trusted – well, just about – and had to choose. Of course, donning the enemy’s uniform is treasonable but the circumstances as laid out here were not like several others who chose to volunteer for the German Army; it was literally a life or death choice. Now I am certainly not here to defend his actions or the comportment of the German Army in that theatre of war, which has been so eloquently laid out by the prosecution in his closing argument. However, I would suggest that a certain leeway can be granted in this case, and I would have no problem with that. I have no need to inform you what a guilty verdict will mean for the defendant,” there he paused, allowing the full impact of what he had just said to settle on the jurors, leaving Steiner boiling with rage.

  “There is no doubt little argument, in fact there is none, that he did don the uniform of the enemy and regardless of his actions in the resistance against Hitler they should be dismissed, as whatever he did then arises from the action he took when he chose to join the Nazis. Admirable as they are, I agree wit
h the prosecution that he shouldn’t have put himself in that position in the first place.” Sebastian groaned at that, seeing one of the more admirable acts of his life being dismissed into the wind like a piece of chaff and removing one of his pillars of his defence, though he admitted Mainwaring was giving him some help, but he did not like the look of the jury who seemed, he thought, to have already made up their minds.

  “He has performed great service for the country since his release from the concentration camp and there is not the slightest blight since then on his character, and yes, he refused to sell himself and his loyalty to his country for a second time when he was offered a way out. However, the central question revolves around his time in the war and, there lies the decision you must make, which is, did he commit treason. I would add, and this is directed at the prosecution, that I have seldom come across a less impressive bunch of witnesses in my career and I would hope that the next time you appear before me that you will have a better and more credible group. In short, members of the jury, it is now for you to decide the outcome of this complex and fascinating case.”

  Sebastian left the court and went straight to his mother’s for dinner but was barely able to eat; the jury had been out for the rest of the day and had been dismissed by the judge for the night but he would have preferred a quick outcome, though his mother said that perhaps was a good sign that they were taking time. He shrugged and took a sip from his glass of red wine and the rest of the meal went on in silence as Sebastian struggled with his nerves, alternately feeling a kind of elation in anticipation of the verdict and then deep disquiet as to if it was guilty how he would take it in front of the public gallery and with his mother and probably Mirabelle looking down on him. He consoled himself that after how he had stood up to Johns under interrogation and subsequently his incarceration in Flossenberg, he should be able to handle the bad news, if it was to be that. He was thankful to his mother as she observed he wanted less to talk than just to have company, and she probably felt rather touched that she had been chosen by her son for what could well be his last meal outside of prison. She did not want to intrude on his thoughts, and despite her unease at the revelations that had come out at the trial, she still loved him as her son and would not countenance any criticism of him to come within her hearing. She had dismissed her maid, even after 25 years of faithful service, when she had overheard her gossiping with the butler and the other servants over Sebastian’s treacherous behaviour, and she would do the same again. When it came time to go, she offered Sebastian the services of her chauffeur, but he declined, kissed her on the cheek, and said: “Mother, I think I will take a walk and breathe free and fresh air for what may be my last night outside the confines of the British judicial system.”

  That night, nobody that had an interest in the case slept well. Sebastian wandered for several hours through the streets of London, giving no particular nostalgic preference to his route, and finally went to bed at five in the morning, reasoning that were he to be sentenced to death, he would have plenty of time for sleep when the flap dropped and he plunged to his death. Steiner cancelled his visit to the prostitute but regretted it as he tossed and turned in his dressing-room bed. Mirabelle had stormed up to bed and locked their bedroom door from where he could hear her sobbing. She had a dreadful sense of foreboding about the morrow and the verdict and could not stop herself from crying, though she swore that she would attend the proceedings as she had done for virtually every day of the trial. Sebastian’s mother was of the same mind, though she had to take two sleeping draughts to even edge closer to some form of sleep. Across London, the two opposing giants of the Tory party, Macmillan and Butler, too, could not drop off, as for their different reasons they awaited the verdict impatiently. Rab felt comfortable in that his part in supplying aid to the Sebastian camp was not popular knowledge and unless either of the two MPs spoke out, he would escape this one as well, but he also knew that a guilty verdict would not help his chances of replacing Macmillan. Even Victoria back in Germany was aware that the trial had drawn nearer its conclusion and while part of her prayed for his release, the vindictive side of her, and the one that usually always won, wished for the guilty verdict to be delivered and for another part of her tawdry history to be erased from the planet. She contented herself by masturbating one last time over the memories of the wonderful sex she had had with Sebastian and how things could have worked out differently if only he hadn’t gone so mad by the end of the war. She was the only one who then slid into the grasp of Morpheus with a smile on her face, once such a thing of beauty but now wrinkled and only an object of attraction to men who had had too much to drink and knew she was available for anything.

  *

  It was all over in a matter of seconds. Mainwaring ordered in the jury, once he heard they had reached a verdict, and after they had filed in, Sebastian was told to stand up.

  “What is the verdict of the jury, foreman?” asked Mainwaring. Sebastian stole a quick glance up to where Mirabelle and his mother were perched and saw both of them leaning forward over the balustrade, Mirabelle visibly gripping it as tight as she could so her knuckles gleamed white under the pressure. The foreman, a kindly looking man with half-moon spectacles, cleared his throat nervously, swallowed and replied: “Guilty, M’lud.” There was almost a hush of shocked silence as the ramification of the verdict sank in, Steiner stared at Sebastian, almost sorrowful that their animosity had come to such a dramatic conclusion, while Mirabelle and his mother held each other for support as they absorbed the shock. Some of the press ran out of the door to ring in the news, while others waited for the sentence to be pronounced. As for Sebastian, he just stood ramrod straight and bowed to the jury in deference to their decision; several of them were unable to look him in the eye for fear of giving away how close they had been to letting him off, so animated had been their debate. Inside, he felt mixed emotions, for he had been preparing himself for the possibility of being found guilty, but his eternal pride railed primarily at how he had lost to Steiner, and that he could not take. He didn’t bother to look in his former friend’s direction because he did not want to see the look of gloating triumph that would be creased all over his face. Mainwaring felt a bit unsteady, despite being seated in his “throne”, and felt sympathy for the defendant as he had hoped he had outlaid in his directing of the jury, but to no avail, he would have to pronounce the death sentence as there was no flexibility in the law governing a guilty verdict in a treason case. His clerk placed the dreadful black almost veil like garment on the top of his bewigged head and he turned to Sebastian.

  “Sebastian Stuart, you have been found guilty as charged, of treason, one of the vilest crimes one can commit. I have no option but to declare you be taken away from this court to one of her Majesty’s prisons and at a date to be decided hanged,” said Mainwaring, his voice audibly trembling, and for some unknown reason to him tears were stinging his eyes. But he continued with the traditional routine. “Is there anything the defendant wishes to say before he is led away?”

  Sebastian had not prepared any such speech, but he summoned up his last reserves of energy and nodded. Mainwaring said very well.

  “I thank the jury for their deliberations and while evidently I find myself in disagreement with their verdict, I accept it as a decision taken by twelve good and true men. I thank the court in the form of you, M’lud, for giving me as fair a trial as you could and for directing the jury in as even-handed a manner as was possible. I am afraid I cannot say the same for the prosecution, who in my opinion, delivered witnesses of dubious morals and with personal and vested interests in casting aspersions rather than clear evidence against me, and I hope the court takes account of that. There is no doubt that on face value I was guilty as charged. I would still say in my defence that I was first tricked and then blackmailed into performing such an act, and while it seems repugnant, I remain proud of my actions in trying to end one of the nastiest if not the nastiest regimes that history has had the miser
able fortune to record. One can only surmise that had von Stauffenberg, von der Schulenburg and I and all the others been successful, how history would have come to judge not only them and myself. Would I have been standing here in court? I think there is only one answer. No. I would have been a bloody hero, but here lies the thinnest of lines between victory and defeat, I am just another victim of such a circumstance. I will go to my death in the comfort of knowing that most of what I did was right, that I lived a life that many seek but never have done, and having taken decisions that most people not just here but outside would have difficulty in taking the right one. I thank you again and await my fate,” Sebastian said. By this time he felt such a wave of exhaustion come over him he had difficulty in standing up straight, and it was only thanks to the escorting two police officers that he was able to get down the stairs to the holding cell.

  Steiner had won what he considered a great triumph and now could shrug aside the unwelcoming criticism of the judge over the quality of his witnesses. He had done his best with what he had been presented with, and in the end it hadn’t mattered a jot how unconvincing they had been. At the same time, he made a mental note that he would get his own back on Mainwaring for what he considered a personal slight. That could wait, however, as he revelled in his latest victory. He returned to his Chambers flushed with the ecstasy of success, expecting the Lord Chancellor to be the first one round to compliment him on his triumph and no doubt some assurance of future “sensitive cases”. Ellison greeted him with the proud look that should be associated with somebody who worked for a genius, Steiner simply nodded, brushed past him into his room and slammed the door shut, unscrewed the top of a fine bottle of malt whisky and poured himself a generous measure of Scotland’s finest. “Here’s to you, Sebastian Stuart, may you hang as well as you were well hung that cursed day at Oxford,” he chuckled bitterly, before downing it in one.