The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [377]
‘So who were they?’ demanded Cumberbatch, the next morning.
‘They rode off,’ said George.
‘We know who the ringleader is, Pride. You must have seen him. All you have to do is say who it was.’
‘I can’t, Mr Cumberbatch,’ he answered, looking him straight in the eye. ‘That’d be a lie because I didn’t see him. They ran off when they saw my gun.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘No, Sir.’
Cumberbatch looked at him curiously. Was George Pride such a loyal forest man? If he had been on the side of the burners, he could have pretended to sleep through the whole episode until they’d gone. But he obviously hadn’t.
‘You’ve got one hour to change your mind,’ he said, and waved him away.
An hour later, George Pride said the same thing, and Cumberbatch sent him home.
‘Couldn’t you have given just one of the names?’ asked his wife. But even to her he said nothing. The risk was too great.
He couldn’t tell even her that one of the voices he had heard in the dark belonged to his father.
The next day George Pride was dismissed.
1875
The Select Committee of the House of Commons that sat in the summer of 1875 was the most thorough investigation of Forest administration since William the Conqueror founded it. For eleven days they took testimony: from Esdaile and Eyre, from Professor Fawcett, from Cumberbatch and a host of others. The chairman of the Committee, Mr W. H. Smith, had been a stationer and bookseller who, having already made a fortune, had entered politics and proved a considerable statesman as well. He was fair and thorough. If the government intended to legislate for the New Forest, they wanted to be certain they got very good advice. For the public was greatly concerned.
It was remarkable – Colonel Albion was bound to admit – what had happened in the last year. When Esdaile and Lord Henry had both impressed upon him the need to gather public support, he had dutifully gone to his London club and talked to all sorts of people like himself who had written some well-considered letters to The Times. And they had certainly done some good. But what he had not been prepared for was the public outcry from other sources. While Mr Esdaile had mastered the commoners’ legal case, it was the landowner from the northern Forest, Mr Eyre, who had proved brilliant at marshalling this new public support. Scientists, artists, naturalists: the newspapers were bombarded with letters. ‘Where the devil do you find these people?’ he had genially enquired. ‘Wherever I can,’ Mr Eyre had replied. ‘These are the people, you see, who form public opinion. We need them most of all.’
‘Oh,’ said the Colonel.
And now the Committee hearings had begun. Though Albion was not giving evidence himself, Lord Henry had arranged for him to attend. It was a strange sensation to find himself going through a process so like the one he had witnessed seven years before when he had come up to London with Pride.
There had been a great change in the Pride family recently, and he had been pleased to see it. After young George had been dismissed by Cumberbatch, it seemed that he and his father had been reconciled. Albion had given George a cottage to tide him over and employed him on the estate. But though he’d been happy that the Pride family was reunited, the whole incident of the dismissal had made the Colonel more determined than ever to see the efforts to save the Forest succeed.
He had a different companion this time. For some reason his wife had insisted on coming with him.
Generally he was glad of her company, but on the fifth day of the hearings he was not a little irritated when, because of some quite unnecessary shopping, she had caused him to arrive late. By the time they reached the Committee Room, it was already full and they had been obliged to sit at the back. He didn’t even know who was being called that day.
So he was entirely taken by surprise when he heard Mr W. H. Smith addressing the next witness.
‘Mr Furzey, you are an artist living in the New Forest, I believe.’
Colonel Albion wanted to