At Some Disputed Barricade_ A Novel - Anne Perry [95]
“Why would he face it?” Cavan asked.
“He has no choice,” Joseph explained. “If this charge goes ahead as it is, then the prosecutor will need to prove a very powerful motive for twelve men to conspire to murder an officer.”
“We had one,” Cavan argued, a little impatiently. “He was getting men killed and maimed unnecessarily. He was grossly incompetent, and too proud or too stupid to be guided by the men who’d been out here for months, or even years, and knew how to avoid most of the losses.”
“Exactly.” Joseph nodded, watching Cavan to see if he understood. “Do you imagine that is something his father wishes proved beyond reasonable doubt in a court-martial?”
A flash of comprehension lit in Cavan’s eyes. “Someone has pointed that out to him? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
Cavan bit his lip.
“I see. Why do you want to know? Do you really believe it will make any difference? I like optimism, but not unreality. Shouldn’t you be helping me to face the truth, perhaps make my peace with God? Isn’t that what you call it?”
“It’s a little early for that,” Joseph said drily. “Unless that’s an oblique way of telling me that you personally shot Northrup, intentionally and avoidably?”
“I’ve no idea who shot Northrup!” Cavan said tartly. “Except that it had to be one of the twelve of us, and it wasn’t me.”
Joseph asked the question to which he dreaded the answer.
“Were you loaded with blanks, or did you deliberately shoot wide?”
Cavan stared at him. “I suppose you want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Where would we get blanks?” There was the faintest smile in Cavan’s eyes. “The army supplies only live ammunition.”
“You wouldn’t get it from supplies,” Joseph pointed out. “You’d use a pair of pliers to take the heads off live bullets, then crimp the casing closed again.”
“Make our own blanks. Yes, I suppose we would.”
“It would be a bit rash to leave anyone to simply to shoot wide,” Joseph said, not taking his eyes from Cavan’s. “It would be so easy for someone to make a mistake and shoot the man accidentally. You’d be lucky if you ever found out who it was—or unlucky.”
“Yes, it would be rash,” Cavan agreed. “Neither I nor Morel are rash. The two of us blanked the bullets ourselves.”
“So someone changed theirs for a live one.” It was the unavoidable answer: deliberate murder.
“Must have.”
“But you have no idea who?”
“No. Honestly, I haven’t. I don’t believe it was Morel, but I don’t know. I’m sure I didn’t, and ten of the others didn’t.”
Joseph believed him. He had never thought him guilty of anything but wanting to frighten Northrup into taking advice in order to cut down on the useless deaths. And now, of course, of refusing to betray whoever had rescued the others.
“Why didn’t you escape, when you could?” he asked curiously, shifting position a little on the hard floor.
“I couldn’t,” Cavan said with the very slightest shrug. “I’d given my word.”
Joseph understood. An officer’s word was binding. “And the others?”
“I didn’t give my word not to help anyone else escape.” Cavan smiled.
Joseph had to ask. “Morel?” He was an officer, too.
“Refused,” Cavan answered. “They put him in with the men. Six in one room, five in the other. That left me alone in here.”
“So you helped them, and stayed behind?”
“Yes.” Cavan’s face was suddenly filled with emotion, as if a crippling restraint on him had momentarily broken. “Speak for them, Captain Reavley. Northrup was a dangerous man, weak and arrogant. Even when he knew he was wrong, he wouldn’t listen. The men were at the end of their endurance. Someone had to act.” His voice was urgent, pleading. “It was only meant to frighten him into listening. They weren’t bad men, just desperate to save their friends.”
“I know,” Joseph said softly. “I come from the same village. I’ve known a lot of those men all their lives. Morel was one of my students in Cambridge.” He took a deep breath. “Judith is my sister.”
Cavan closed his eyes for a moment. When he