The William Monk Mysteries_ The First Three Novels - Anne Perry [522]
“Yes.”
“Stop doing what?”
Valentine said nothing. His face was suddenly painfully hot as the blood rushed up, suffusing his skin.
“If it hurts too much to say, may I say it for you?” Rathbone asked him. “Was the general sodomizing you?”
Valentine nodded very slightly, just a bare inch or two movement of the head.
Maxim Furnival let out a stifled cry.
The judge turned to Valentine.
“You must speak, so that there can be no error in our understanding,” he said with great gentleness. “Simply yes or no will do. Is Mr. Rathbone correct?”
“Yes sir.” It was a whisper.
“I see. Thank you. I assure you, there will be no action taken against you for the injury to General Carlyon. It was self-defense and no crime in any sense. A person is allowed to defend their lives, or their virtue, with no fault attached whatever. You have the sympathy of all present here. We are outraged on your behalf.”
“How old were you when this began?” Rathbone went on, after a brief glance at the judge, and a nod from him.
“Six—I think,” Valentine answered. There was a long sigh around the room, and an electric shiver of rage. Damaris sobbed and Peverell held her. There was a swelling rumble of fury around the gallery and a juror groaned.
Rathbone was silent for a moment; it seemed he was too appalled to continue immediately.
“Six years old,” Rathbone repeated, in case anyone had failed to hear. “And did it continue after you stabbed the general?”
“No—no, he stopped.”
“And at that time his own son would be … how old?”
“Cassian?” Valentine swayed and caught hold of the railing. He was ashen.
“About six?” Rathbone asked, his voice hoarse.
Valentine nodded.
This time no one asked him to speak. Even the judge was white-faced.
Rathbone turned away and walked a pace or two, his hands in his pockets, before swinging around and looking up at Valentine again.
“Tell me, Valentine, why did you not appeal to your parents over this appalling abuse? Why did you not tell your mother? Surely that is the most natural thing for a small child to do when he is hurt and frightened? Why did you not do that in the beginning, instead of suffering all those years?”
Valentine looked down, his eyes full of misery.
“Could your mother not have helped you?” Rathbone persisted. “After all, the general was not your father. It would have cost them his friendship, but what was that worth, compared with you, her son? She could have forbidden him the house. Surely your father would have horsewhipped a man for such a thing?”
Valentine looked up at the judge, his eyes brimming with tears.
“You must answer,” the judge said gravely. “Did your father abuse you also?”
“No!” There was no mistaking the amazement and the honesty in his voice and his startled face. “No! Never!”
The judge took a deep breath and leaned back a little, the shadow of a smile over his mouth.
“Then why did you not tell him, appeal to him to protect you? Or to your mother. Surely she would have protected you.”
The tears brimmed over and ran down Valentine’s cheeks unchecked.
“She knew.” He choked and struggled for breath. “She told me not to tell anyone, especially Papa. She said it would … embarrass him—and cost him his position.”
There was a roar of rage around the room and a cry of “Hang her!”
The judge called for order, banging his gavel, and it was several minutes before he could continue. “His position?” He frowned at Rathbone, uncomprehending. “What position?”
“He earns a great deal of money from army contracts,” Valentine explained.
“Supplied by General Carlyon?”
“Yes sir.”
“That is what your mother said? Be very sure you speak accurately, Valentine.”
“Yes—she told me.”
“And you are quite sure that your mother knew exactly what the general was doing to you? You did not fail to tell her the truth?”
“No! I did tell her!” He gulped, but his tears were beyond his control anymore.
The anger in the room was now so ugly it was palpable in the air.
Maxim Furnival sat upright, his face like a dead man’s. Beside him,