The Heirs of Owain Glyndwr (13 page)

‘He was re-discovering his Welsh identity too, perhaps?'

‘Yes. I'm sure that was part of it.'

‘And I must ask the same question I asked about Caradog and Dai Bach. Did you ever have any reason to think him capable of violence?'

‘No. He can be firm, and there is a kind of brooding silence about him sometimes, which comes on for no apparent reason. But he is very controlled. I've never seen him lose his temper. And I can't believe he would put me and Harri at risk by being part of something like this. I just don't believe that, and I will never believe it. Never.'

24

Monday 28 July 1969

They met in Gareth's
room at the request of Eifion Morris. After one final visit to Arianwen Hughes and Dafydd Prosser the next day he intended to return to Cardiff until the trial, but he was reluctant to leave before hearing what the barristers thought about the case after their conferences. Gareth Morgan-Davies and Donald Weston had spent much of the day at Brixton prison with Barratt Davis, talking to Dafydd Prosser. They had made a tentative inquiry of Caradog Prys-Jones using the good offices of the prison officers, but he had declined to see them or even send a message back. It was time to assess where they stood.

‘Our interview last Thursday went well, on the whole,' Ben said. ‘As you warned us, Eifion, Arianwen is very emotional when it comes to the subject of Harri, but she understands what the issue is going to be at the trial, and she is adamant that she knew nothing about any plan to plant a bomb.'

‘Do you believe her?' Eifion asked.

‘I think so. Whether a jury will believe her is another question.'

‘Well, I believe her,' Jess said.

‘Why?' Barratt asked.

‘Just meeting her, watching her. If she had got wind that anything remotely like this was going on, she would never have kept quiet about it. I have no doubt about that. She would have been screaming bloody murder.'

‘You think she would have turned them in?' Barratt smiled.

‘She wouldn't have had to turn them in. She would have made them listen to her. She would have made it impossible for them to carry on.'

‘Why would she have done that?'

‘She would have done it for Harri, if for no other reason. She would never have placed him in danger of losing both his parents at the same time. And she certainly wouldn't have had him in the car if she knew she was carrying a bomb. Not in a million years.'

‘I agree with you, Jess,' Eifion said. ‘That's my reading of her too. Don't be fooled by that quiet demeanour. She is quite capable of making herself heard when she needs to. She would have been the voice of reason, and I can't see any of those men standing against her – certainly not Caradog or Dai Bach.'

‘If she can give the jury that impression, then she has a chance,' Ben said. ‘But she is going to have to survive some brutal cross-examination. We must support her as much as we can about Harri, as you said before. We must also remember that we haven't seen much of the prosecution's evidence yet. They may have something we are not expecting.'

‘Agreed,' Barratt said. He turned to Gareth. ‘And now for the bad news.'

‘Oh?' Ben said. ‘How so? Is Dai Bach being difficult?'

‘No, on the contrary,' Gareth replied. ‘Dai Bach is being very easy indeed. He is quite happy to admit that he was part of the conspiracy, that he built the bomb in his rented garage, and that he was delivering it to Caradog at the time of his arrest, knowing that it would be placed in the Castle, where it might well cause death or serious injury to people later in the day.'

Ben's jaw dropped.

‘He admitted that to you?'

‘In so many words.'

‘Which means…'

‘Which means that we can't represent him, except to the extent of challenging the prosecution's evidence on the ground of admissibility, and making any other legal arguments he is entitled to have made for him. I can't present a positive case, and I can't call him to give evidence.'

‘You can try to keep his confession from the jury, presumably?' Ben suggested.

‘Yes. Actually, that's the only part of the case where we might make some progress. He did somehow sustain some injuries at the police station, enough to make them call the police surgeon, who insisted that he be taken to hospital to be examined. So we do actually have a shot at keeping his confession out. But beyond that, there is not much we can do.'

They were silent for some time.

‘Why doesn't he just plead guilty and get it over with?' Ben asked.

‘He's worried that if he pleads, it will reflect badly on Caradog and Arianwen,' Gareth replied. ‘I've told him it is unlikely to have any effect on them at all, but he is not listening to me at present. Still, trials concentrate the mind wonderfully. He may think more about it and change his mind as the trial approaches. But there's no sign of it yet.'

‘What does he say about Arianwen?'

‘He supports her story completely. He insists that she knew nothing about it, and she only sprang into action to drive him to Bangor when he couldn't find Trevor. And no, he doesn't know where Trevor is. I am sorry I can't call him to support her case in front of the jury. He would be quite happy to do it.'

‘It's not Dai Bach I need,' Ben replied.

25

Monday 30 March 1970

At almost 7 o'clock
in the evening, Ben was still working in his room in Chambers, the files containing the prosecution's witness statements and the exhibits covering almost the entire working surface of his desk. The trial had been fixed for 4 May, which was now just over a month away. Ben felt as though he was going around in circles. The more he read the evidence, the more clearly he saw that everything hinged on how well Arianwen Hughes performed as a witness. The issue in her case was simple: did she know? Try as he might, he could find nothing more complicated than that in the morass of papers on his desk. The case still felt disconcertingly personal. He had begun to feel that he was as well prepared for trial as he would ever be, a strange and unfamiliar feeling so long before a trial. It was a feeling that in theory should have brought him comfort, but instead it had left him feeling more anxious than ever.

His chambers room-mate Harriet Fisk, who had a complicated civil case ahead of her the next morning in the High Court, yawned audibly from across the room and banged her pen down on her blotter.

‘That's quite enough of this nonsense for one day,' she said.

‘Calling it a night so early?' Ben grinned. He and Harriet had always got on well. As pupils they had shared a long, hard struggle to be taken on as members of Chambers, she as a woman, he as a young Jewish man from the East End. The victory had taken its toll emotionally and for a while, until their practices took off, had drained their self-confidence; they had supported each other loyally throughout and ever since. They had shared the room in Chambers ever since becoming tenants, and Harriet was building a good practice in the civil and family courts.

‘I know. I have no staying power. But there's only so much I can read about incompetent building repairs, however expensive, in any given period of 24 hours without losing my mind. I will come in early tomorrow morning and make one final effort to tie it all together, and after that, the chips will fall where they may. How does your trial look? Do you have a shot?'

Ben sighed.

‘Yes, we have a shot. But it all depends on how good she will be in the witness box.'

‘No sign of the husband still?'

‘No sign at all. Certainly not in time for this trial.'

She picked up her briefcase and walked over to stand in front of his desk.

‘I don't understand how people talk themselves into doing something so dreadful,' she said. ‘Planting a bomb and timing it to go off when there is almost certain to be a loss of life and terrible injuries. I understand that they have a political point to make, but how could this kind of violence help them? Do they really think we will all roll over and give them everything they want?'

Before Ben could answer, there was a knock on the door, and Gareth entered.

‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I hope I'm not interrupting anything.'

‘No,' Harriet smiled. ‘I was just telling Ben that I don't understand why people plant bombs in support of political causes.'

‘I'm not sure they necessarily understand it themselves,' Gareth replied. ‘If you want to hear my grand theory of it all…'

She reached out a hand and touched his shoulder.

‘Much as I would love to, Gareth, it will have to be a pleasure postponed. I have a heavy couple of days coming up, and if I don't get out of here now, I will be in no condition to put a brave face on it tomorrow. Good night.'

‘I, on the other hand, would be very pleased to hear about it,' Ben said, when Harriet had closed the door behind her. ‘Have you finished for the night?'

‘Yes. I've sent Donald off to do a bit of legal research for me, since that's likely to be my only role in the trial.'

‘Does Prosser really understand that you can't present a case for him?'

‘Oh, yes. To be honest, he doesn't seem too concerned. He seems resigned to his fate, in a strange way, as if he is already reconciled to the inevitable. At least that takes the pressure off Donald and myself to some extent. But I wish there was more we could do for him.'

Ben waved Gareth into a seat.

‘So, do you really have a theory of why people like Caradog and Dai Bach are taking to setting bombs off, Gareth? Is it because they really think it will bring about change?'

‘No. I don't think they were labouring under any delusion that the Queen and her Government would hoist the white flag at the first sign of trouble. Anyone who thinks a bomb or two will have that result is woefully ignorant of British history. These are intelligent men, and they know just as much about British history as you or I – perhaps even more.'

‘But there are cases where governments have given in to violence, aren't there? The bombing of the King David Hotel, for example.'

Gareth laughed.

‘Well, I wasn't going to bring that one up with you. But yes, of course, you are right. The Irish Free State is another example. But those were cases where change was demanded by the population at large, and the bombers were reflecting popular opinion. In Wales, you don't have that set of conditions at all. The nationalist cause is confined to a small minority, and there is virtually no support for nationalist violence.'

‘The Welsh Nationalist Party has been doing well in elections lately.'

‘Plaid Cymru has one MP, Gwynfor Evans – a good man, actually, I know him quite well. But if it becomes a real force, I think even Plaid Cymru will have to moderate its demands, perhaps accept some measure of home rule short of actual independence, because there simply isn't the support for breaking away from England altogether. I mean support for the idea itself – before you even stop to think about the practical implications, and ask whether Wales could even survive as an independent country.'

‘But still, they may think that bombs are one way of influencing public opinion?' Ben suggested.

‘In that case, they are misreading the Welsh public,' Gareth replied. ‘All the evidence is that things like that drive people away from the nationalist cause rather than attracting them to it. It may be different elsewhere, but I'm fairly sure that's true in Wales.'

‘Then, why do they do it?' Ben asked.

‘They do it because they have developed an obsession with their history. If you grow up hearing about England subjugating Wales, and you never hear anything else, and you brood about it for long enough, eventually you develop an obsession that defies logic and reason. You start to look at your whole life through the prism of hatred towards England. There are those who can't control it; their emotions spiral out of control, and before they know where they are, they wake up one day and see nothing wrong with planting a bomb where it will kill and injure a lot of innocent people. That's how out of touch with reality you can become when you have tunnel vision about your history.'

Ben thought for some time.

‘I would really like to understand that kind of obsession. I understand what you are saying, up to a point. But I have no real feeling for what I'm dealing with. Arianwen said that their family lost land in the Tryweryn valley, which I'm sure was an awful experience, but even so… I'm just not getting the idea, Gareth. Is it because I'm not Welsh? Is it beyond me?'

Gareth did not reply immediately.

‘What are you doing for the rest of the week?' he asked eventually. ‘You're not in court, are you?'

‘No. I asked Merlin to keep me out of court so that I could concentrate on the trial. But I'm not sure I really need the time. I…'

Gareth stood.

‘Good. In that case, go home and pack, and tell Jess that you are going to be away for a few days from Wednesday. You will be back on Sunday evening.'

Ben stared at him blankly.

‘What?'

‘You heard. Nothing formal, you won't need to dress up, but you will need warm clothing where we are going, even at this time of year.'

‘Gareth, where am I going?'

‘You're coming with me,' Gareth said. ‘I am going to Wales. We are going to Wales together, and I'm going to try to show you why people like Caradog Prys-Jones and Dafydd Prosser and Trevor Hughes plant bombs.'

26

Wednesday 1 April 1970

Even with an early
start at Euston station, the train journey took most of the day, and by the time they had settled into their rooms at the
Gwesty'r Castell
, the Castle Hotel, they were tired and hungry. The hotel's dining room was quiet, and they relaxed with a hearty plate of lamb casserole, washed down with a bottle of a quite respectable French
vin ordinaire
.

‘A good decision not to venture out tonight,' Ben smiled. ‘I think I might have fallen by the wayside if we had tried to do any sight-seeing now.'

‘We will have plenty of time tomorrow,' Gareth agreed. ‘Caernarfon is not a big town. You can see it all in an hour or two. But we are not here as tourists. I want you to get a feel for the place. If you can begin to see the case through Arianwen's eyes, or Dai Bach's, it may help. My vote is that we get a good night's sleep and venture out early tomorrow. I want you to see the Menai Strait in the early morning light.'

‘That sounds good. Actually, I've noticed one thing already.'

‘What's that?'

‘You booked us into our rooms, and ordered our drinks in Welsh. Everybody here really does speak Welsh, don't they? Arianwen told me, of course, but somehow, you don't take it in until you hear it.'

‘Exactly.'

‘I mean, obviously, if you go to France it seems natural to hear people speaking French, but if you don't go abroad… or are we abroad?'

Gareth laughed.

‘Well, now you're asking the question. To you and me, no, we are not abroad. We crossed no national border today, we haven't been asked for our passports, we can use the same money here as we use in England. We think of ourselves as being in the same country. But the Welsh see Wales as a nation. I'm not talking about nationalists now, Ben, I'm talking about Welsh people in general. There is no hostility to England or the English, or anyone else. The waiter didn't mind you ordering dinner in English just now, and he spoke to you perfectly politely in English, didn't he?'

‘Yes, but obviously, the language is an important part of the national identity,' Ben said. ‘It's something you are proud of – quite rightly.'

‘Yes, and of course, you will find a few people in Caernarfon who will pretend they don't understand you, and will insist on trying to make you feel uncomfortable by speaking Welsh, knowing you can't understand a word they say. But that's not peculiar to Wales. You find that sort of behaviour the world over, don't you? It's not nationalism; it's just rudeness, and fortunately, in Wales at least, it's a minority sport. So, my answer would be: no, we are not abroad, but we are in a different nation, and as long as people respect that, I am satisfied.'

They stood and left money for the bill and the tip on the table.

‘Though if I had my way, I would do away with the use of the words “Wales” and “Welsh”, at least while I am here.'

Ben looked at him blankly.

‘You're going to have to explain that one to me.'

‘“Wales” and “Welsh” are English words derived from Germanic sources, and they mean “foreign” or “foreigners”. In our language, we call the nation
Cymru
and our language is
Cymraeg
. Those are words which signify members of a community, family, friends and colleagues. Much better, don't you think?'

‘Much better,' Ben smiled.

‘Right, well, sleep well. I'm going to knock on your door early tomorrow morning. We will have a walk to get some fresh morning air, and then come back for breakfast.'