Chapter 9

"Gentlemen," said Judge Peter. "Enough. I think we will take a short recess here."

"All stand," Beall cried too late as there was a mad scramble for the doors. Soon every tree, clump of shrubs and back house in the neighborhood had a crowd of men near it. I helped Judge Peter, robe and all, to the front of the line at the tavern's two-holed jakes, and he emerged gasping. "Haven't been in one that bad in years," he said when he got his breath back.

When court resumed, a keg of ale had arrived from somewhere, probably a loan from the Gaithers, and Stud was filling tankards as fast as he could. I hadn't seen any money moving across the bar and began to ponder on the same question Annie had.

"I'm finished, your honor," Lt. Morrison said and sat down, smiling like the cat in the proverb. He crossed his white-stockinged legs.

"I would like to call the defendant," Constable Wainright said, and Ned took the oath and the witness chair.

"Did you hit Mr. Foster?" Wainright asked.

"Yes sir," Ned nodded, very quiet, eyes on the floor.

"Are you sorry you did that?"

"Yes sir," Ned said a bit louder. "Real sorry."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm going to marry his daughter, and..."

"Not in this life," cried Mr. Foster, putting down his drink.

Judge Peter rapped on his table. "We'll have none of that. Close the bar, please," he said in a louder voice. "I think most thirsts have been sated. Proceed, Mr. Beall."

"I've forgotten the question," Ned said, squinting his good eye down to the narrow slit of his purple one.

"I asked if you were sorry you hit Mr. Foster," Wainright repeated, glancing at the jury.

"Yes, it's not right to hit an older man. I wasn't raised that way."

"Then why did you do it?"

Ned sat silent a minute. "I'm not sure. He'd said some things, mainly about General Greene and old Dan Morgan, that made me mad and then he was pushing me out the door and calling me a fool and hitting me in the back, and I lost my temper and turned and hit him once. I felt his teeth against my knuckles and knew I'd made a bad mistake."

Wainright stood and looked at Ned and scratched at his chin.

"I apologize Mr. Foster, and Mrs. Foster too and Nelly. I'm truly sorry and embarrassed I done it." Ned said like he meant it and then dropped his head down and looked at the floor again.

Wainright sat down, and Morrison stood up, still smiling the same satisfied smile.

"You were in the Maryland Line?"

"Yes," Ned said with pride, then to the young man several years his junior, "sir."

"At Guilford Court House?"

"Yes sir."

"Hobkirk Hill, Ninety Six, Eutaw Springs?"

"Sir, all of 'em." Ned Beall nodded to all, his face a bit flushed.

"All defeats?" Morrison asked, raising an eyebrow and with arms akimbo.

"Your honor, what is the point of this history lesson, the possible point?" Wainright asked, quickly standing.

"Let us be patient and see," said the judge, taking another note.

"All defeats?" repeated Lt. Morrison facing the jury, his back to Ned Beall with his active quill.

"I guess," Ned said in a quiet voice.

"And you retreated to Yorktown, the peninsula?"

"Yes," Ned said, nodding his head.

"And surrendered there to Lord Cornwallis?"

"We did," Ned admitted, "after a while. What was left of us."

"So if Captain Foster suggests that Nathaniel Greene was less than a rattling great general and military genius and that those who followed him may have been, um, at least mistaken, he might be in the right? Eh, Mr. Beall?" Lt. Morrison asked, still smiling.

"I think that's enough, sir," Judge Peter said. "You've made the point. Let's get on with it. Can't keep the jury here all day. They have chores I'm sire."

"Very well." The thin, young man in the green coat paced up and down before the jury with both hands clasped behind him. "Are you claiming you hit Mr. Foster in self defense?"

"He was beatin' me in the back," Ned said.

"Was he harming you, causing injury?"

"No sir, not really, but he was yelling at me at the same time, calling me a rebel fool and such like, telling me to stay away from his daughter."

"And you knew he was a King's officer when you hit him, didn't you?"

"Yes sir, uh huh, I did."

"I see, and why did you run after you hit him?" Morrison asked, thus, Robert Peter later told me, breaking one of the basic courtroom rules by asking a question when he was not sure what the answer would be.

Ned Beall paused, and then looked up at the jury, "I was afraid I might hit him again and hurt him more. So I ran, and the constable's men got me."

"Then you knew you had injured Mr. Foster?" asked Morrison without a pause.

"Yes," Ned replied quickly, "and I'm sorry I did."

Lt. Morrison sat down, no longer smiling.

Judge Peter looked left and right. "All finished?" he asked. "Well then, jury hear me. This man is charged with intentionally causing bodily harm to Mr. Foster there, a sworn officer of this colony, this province. To find him guilty you must decide that he hit him with purpose to harm him, knew what he was doing and drew blood, and, please note, that he struck him because Mr. Foster was an officer in the King's militia. That is the first charge, felonious assault. The other is also serious but a misdemeanor, assault and battery, and the question is did the defendant strike at Mr. Foster, hit him, and cause bodily harm when he hit him.

"It is too cold for you to meet outside so I am going to suggest that you retire to the storeroom which has, I'm told, a little warmth and a bench plus some boxes you can sit on. Choose a spokesman and reach your verdicts on both counts. Come back when you are finished, and if you have any questions, send for me. Mr. Alexander Beall or Mr. Gally here will be right outside your door. We are in recess. The bar is open."

In the general hubbub that followed, Jim Griffith handed me back my rifle. I'd plumb forgot he had it, and I was glad to see it. I felt kind of incomplete without it. One of the Redcoats was doing a big business selling what he called "French" flints for tuppence each. I bought one and spent some time fitting it into the visehead. A lot of drinking went on, and I looked around for Billy Beckwith and found him near the back door talking with Annie who was leaning against the wall with her ugly cat in her arms.

"Did you ask him what you asked me?" I said to Annie.

"What's that?" Beckwith said, drinking down his beer and reaching between Annie's boobies to scratch the cat's ears.

"Who's paying?" I asked. "Been a lot of beer poured and some rum and wine and other things and now more stew's coming out. Haven't seen ha'penny change hands. Who's gonna pay for all this?"

Billy looked up at the dark rafters, like he was studying the smoke and the cobwebs, "Arnold County," he said.

"Ain't none," I said. "Long gone."

"One problem at a time," Billy said, smiling. "A word to the wise and all that."

Sudden like, bam-bam, somebody was beating on the tavern's thick front door with what sounded like a musket butt. Almost everyone quieted down and whoever was nearest opened the door. There stood a large British soldier carrying a Brown Bess with a fixed bayonet and looking very angry.

"Where's my bleedin' officer?" he yelled. "We bin robbed!"

Ensign Macalester and Lt. Morrison ran outside followed by most of the other Redcoats and a few of the more sober spectators. The man with the bag of flints stayed at the bar, still doing a good business. The angry soldier with the musket led all of us down to where the Redcoats had stacked their arms. There was no sign of the guns.

"What happened, man?" Macalester asked loudly.

"I went to take a piss, sah, and arsked the dirty, thieving, whoreson colonial up there to stand bleeding guard for me. I come back, and he's gone and so's our rifle muskets. Bloody damn, sah!" Stolen, sah!" He stomped his foot on the frozen dirt.

"This won't do at all," Macalester said to Lt. Morrison.

"Can't have gone far," Morrison replied and then he turned to me. "You know this area. How about getting a search organized, Mr. Gally."

"Right," I told him, mentally sorting through a list of possible thieves, "Right away." I hurried back inside and told Billy what had happened.