Bradshaw pressed on, repeatedly urging the King to give a plea, which he continually refused to do because he did not recognise the court. Finally Bradshaw gave up and adjourned proceedings. He ordered the soldiers to remove the prisoner.
Next day was Sunday. Bradshaw and the other commissioners sank themselves in prayer. Robert heard that Cromwell's chaplain Hugh Peter preached them a sermon based on Psalm 149: To bind their kings with chains and their nobles with fetters of iron…
When the court resumed on the Monday, the pattern was set. The King again refused to acknowledge the court's authority; the court doggedly insisted he must enter a plea, to no avail. Although dignified, the King's obstinacy became so frustrating that one of the army commanders, Colonel Hewson, rushed forwards, crying 'Justice!' and spat in his face. Charles wiped away the spittle, remarking, 'Well, sir, God has justice in store both for you and me.'
After three attempts, Bradshaw in exasperation ruled that the King's refusal to plead was contumacy. This was formally defined in the court minutes by the clerks at the turkey carpet table as: 'a standing mute, and tacit confession of the charge'.
'What does that mean?' whispered Gideon to Robert.
A silent confession. It theoretically removes any need to bring witnesses.' Great care was taken to do so anyway. The record stated that the judges would have the witnesses examined, for their own satisfaction.
On the 24th of January, a subcommittee of the High Court, sitting in the Painted Chamber, examined thirty-three witnesses. Robert had discovered as much as possible about them. 'They have been meticulously assembled from the length and breadth of the country, from Cornwall to Northumberland, and even brought from Ireland. Many have fought as Royalists. They include nine gentlemen, five husbandmen, a painter, a smith, a butcher, a maltster, a ferryman, a barber-surgeon, a glover and a scrivener…'
The following day their depositions were read out in a public session. Gideon listened attentively. These witness statements would be much less famous than the angry exchanges between Charles and Bradshaw. Nonetheless, they confirmed the King's personal participation in battles, gave evidence of his close association with various atrocities — such as the tormenting of troops after Lostwithiel — and demonstrated his intention to stir up and continue war. The witnesses testified that they had seen the King on horseback in armour on battlefields; seventeen military actions, of various degrees, were mentioned by name:
This deponent saith that he did see the King at Edgehill in Warwickshire, where he (sitting on horseback while his army was drawn up before him) did speak to the colonel of every regiment that passed by him that he would have them speak to their soldiers to encourage them to stand it and to fight… And he did see many slain at the fight at Edgehill, and afterwards he did see a list brought in unto Oxford of the men which were slain in that fight, by which it was reported that there were slain 6,559 men.'
Next, written evidence was put on record: namely the papers that had been taken from the King's cabinet after the battle of Naseby. In them he demonstrated his deviousness, his willingness to play off opponents against one another — and most damningly, his negotiations to bring in foreign armies to assist him against his subjects.
For the next two days, the commissioners sat in private. They came to their verdict and drafted the sentence. It condemned Charles Stuart as a 'tyrant, traitor, murderer and public enemy to the Commonwealth of England'. However, the King was still given one final chance to accept the jurisdiction of the court, and thus to have his defence heard. Some of the judges may have believed that the terror of death would at last induce him to compromise. Charles certainly did now retract his original position — but only so far as to offer to co-operate with a trial if it were held as a 'conference', jointly with the Houses of Lords and Commons.
Even at this stage the request was considered. Once more the King was removed while the court went into recess. Outside, Gideon Jukes and Robert Allibone paced about New Palace Yard, with Robert fuming, 'He has turned on his tail like a landed fish. This is just more prevarication!'
'By considering the proposal, they show they are fair-minded,' Gideon tried to pacify him. 'They will not agree it, yet they must be seen to consider all possibilities.'
The King's request was refused.
The trial ended on Saturday. The King was brought to court to hear the sentence. Lord President Bradshaw began his summing-up: 'Gentlemen, the Prisoner at the Bar hath been several times brought before the court to make answer to a charge of high treason in the name of the people of England
He was interrupted. From the same masked lady in the gallery came another shout: 'No! Not half nor a quarter of the people of England — Oliver Cromwell is a traitor!'
Colonel Axtell ordered his men to level their muskets at the gallery and cried, 'Down with the whore!'
The soldiers turned and aimed their guns. Women froze in their seats. There was, reported Anne Jukes afterwards, a terrible moment of stillness, until the soldiers refused to fire. The masked heckler, again thought to be Anne, Lady Fairfax, was hustled away by her friends.
Bradshaw now gave an address which lasted forty minutes. In it he stated that even a king was subject to the law, and that law originated with Parliament. Charles Stuart had broken the sacred bond between king and subject. By making war on his own people, he forfeited his right to their allegiance. 'There is a contract and a bargain made between a king and his people, and certainly the bond is reciprocal… Sir, if this bond be once broken, farewell sovereignty. Whether you have been — as by your office you ought to be — a Protector of England, or a Destroyer of England, let all England judge.'
Declaring Charles guilty of the charges against him, Bradshaw then ordered the sentence to be read out.
'Charles Stuart, as tyrant, traitor, murderer and public enemy to the good people of this nation shall be put to death by the severing of his head from his body.'
To his great dismay, Charles was not allowed to speak. Much was made of that by his supporters afterwards, but it was traditional. From the pronouncement of a death sentence a convicted man was legally dead.
Still protesting hopelessly, the prisoner was bustled away by soldiers with lighted matchcord, who contemptuously blew smoke in his face. Though it was said that Colonel Axtell beat them to make them do it, many of them shouted jubilantly, 'Justice!' and 'Execution!'
Chapter Fifty-Six — London: 27–30 January 1649
Gideon Jukes unexpectedly played a part in what happened next.
As he and Robert Allibone had reeled from Westminster Hall, dry-mouthed, waiting for the judge's final decision on the King's request to be heard by both Houses, Gideon had seen someone he recognised. He had already heard that Colonel Okey was in charge of security for the trial. At this last moment, John Okey was stamping the blood back into his numb feet in New Palace Yard, puffing his cheeks out and wearing a slightly stunned look.
The circumstances voided past differences, so the ex-dragoon felt sufficient loyalty to go up to his old commander and shake his hand. 'Gideon Jukes — I served under you, sir, at Naseby'
'Sergeant Jukes — the tall one!'
Gideon accepted it ruefully. He had learned that courage, honesty and congeniality meant nothing if you were a lank in a memorable bum-starver coat. 'Captain now, sir. Colonel Rainborough honoured me.'