The Heirs of Owain Glyndwr (33 page)

70

The broken silence of
the cleaners had now been replaced by the relentless silence of the night. The court was a daytime place, and at night its empty rooms seemed hostile and forbidding. The lights had been dimmed automatically at 8 o'clock by some central timing system over which those who remained in the building had no control. The portraits and certificates on the walls were reduced to ghostly shadows; even reading was a strain. Gareth and Donald were huddled in a corner, making spasmodic notes for a plea in mitigation which would be virtually devoid of mitigation.

Ben sat alone, refusing to think about mitigation, focusing only on the hopes raised by the fact that the jury had not reached a verdict. Arianwen's case was not straightforward. There was no way to tell what was troubling them. There was no way to tell whether they were divided and, if so, what the numbers were on either side. He had given them something to think about, but would it amount to reasonable doubt? And what if they failed to reach a verdict? It was certain that the prosecution would seek a retrial. But at least it would buy Arianwen further time, and perhaps in that time they would find Trevor Hughes. These thoughts, and others, circled through his mind as if on an endlessly revolving tape. The usher returned to fetch them just after 10 o'clock.

The late night finish had not deterred the public and the press at all, and the court was still packed. There was a nervous hush, as though all those present in the courtroom were holding their breath together in a concerted effort to cope with the stress of waiting. Of the three defendants, only Arianwen had been brought up to court. Ben smiled as encouragingly as he could, but she stared blankly ahead of her.

‘Members of the jury,' the clerk asked, ‘in the case of Arianwen Hughes, has the jury reached a verdict on which you all agreed?'

The foreman turned to the judge.

‘We have, my Lord.'

‘Members of the jury, do you find Arianwen Hughes guilty or not guilty of conspiracy to cause explosions?'

‘We find the defendant guilty.'

‘You find the defendant Arianwen Hughes guilty, and is that the verdict of you all?'

‘It is, my Lord. But if we may…?'

‘Yes?' the judge asked.

‘If we may, we would like to ask for some clemency in her case.'

Mr Justice Overton nodded. ‘Thank you, members of the jury.'

Ben felt as if the courtroom had gone dark before his eyes, and he held on to the hard surface of counsel's row in front of him for support. He heard a whisper of condolence from Gareth, and a barely suppressed oath from Barratt behind him. But his concentration was on keeping his composure. He heard nothing from the dock, and when he eventually turned towards her, he saw the same steady stare ahead.

71

‘Let the other defendants
be brought up,' Mr Justice Overton said.

Ben was not conscious of their arrival until he felt Gareth rise to his feet next to him. Slowly, his eyes readjusted to the light of the courtroom, and he began to regain his bearings.

‘My Lord, there is little to say by way of mitigation in the light of the jury's verdict, and what little there is, I think I can say quite shortly both on behalf of Dafydd Prosser and, if your Lordship will allow, on behalf of Caradog Prys-Jones. Both men have been convicted of a dreadful crime, which could have had the most horrendous consequences. There can be no possible mitigation for that. At the same time, it is a tragic case, because these are young men of considerable intelligence and ability, who might have gone on to great things on behalf of Wales if they had not chosen this destructive path. I say only three things more.

‘Firstly, they did what they did, not for any personal gain or advantage, but in pursuit of personal ideals – misguided ideals, certainly – but ideals nonetheless. Those beliefs are sincerely held and they run deep, and underlying them is a desire for freedom and justice – defined, of course, in their own flawed terms, and taking insufficient account of the freedoms of others – but beliefs in freedom and justice nonetheless.

‘Secondly, they are both young men, whose immaturity and inexperience of life outside North Wales may have made them more susceptible to the beliefs they held than others might have been. Recognising as I do that your Lordship must sentence these young men to a long term of imprisonment, I ask that the sentence be such as to give them some hope that they may eventually re-emerge into the world, rehabilitated and with the opportunity to use their undoubted talents in a constructive way, for the benefit of society.

‘Thirdly, I urge your Lordship to take account of the absence of Trevor Hughes. The Crown has said that Caradog Prys-Jones was the intellectual leader of the conspiracy, and has defined the roles of all three conspirators from that starting point, with that assumption in mind. But in my submission, there is no basis for any certainty about that assumption. Your Lordship does not know, there is no evidence, about the role played by Trevor Hughes, and your Lordship cannot exclude the possibility that Hughes played a leading role and influenced the others to follow him, at least to some extent. Until Trevor Hughes is arrested and brought before a court, no one will know the full truth about what happened during those early months of 1969, or on the morning of 1 July itself.

‘In conclusion, I urge your Lordship to show the defendants that justice administered in England, while necessarily severe in a case such as this, may still be tempered by a degree of mercy.'

Ben stood in his turn.

‘My Lord, I am bound to accept the jury's verdict, and that, of course, means that I must accept that they did not find Mrs Hughes' evidence to be persuasive. Therefore, like my learned friend Mr Morgan-Davies, I must also accept that there is, and can be, no mitigation for what she did, in itself. But I respectfully adopt the observations made by my learned friend, which apply in equal measure to Arianwen Hughes. I ask your Lordship to reflect in particular that we will never know what difference the absence of Trevor Hughes may have had on this trial. Your Lordship has no way of knowing exactly what part he may have played in the events of the early morning of 1 July, and no way of knowing exactly what role he played in his wife's life that brought her to the situation in which she finds herself today.

‘But it is not unreasonable to assume that his role in her life was a major one. There is no indication in her past record, or in the evidence she gave, that she would behave as I must accept she did. She is a musician, a teacher, a woman dedicated to her culture and her language. She does not share the harder-line view of nationalism which may appeal to others. There is no reason why your Lordship cannot accept her evidence on that score. She wishes for no political separation from England, she wishes for no borders, passports, or other trappings of a nominal independence. She is a woman whose Welsh identity is expressed through her language and her music.

‘I remind your Lordship that the prosecution has never contended that she did anything more than transport the bomb. She was not involved in planning any part of the operation; she was not involved in building the bomb; she did not go to Ireland; she did nothing except that one journey to Bangor and back to Caernarfon, and she did not even do that on her own initiative, but because she was asked to do so. Your Lordship would be entitled to say that, if Trevor Hughes had been here, and we had heard from him, it is likely that your Lordship would be sentencing Arianwen Hughes on a very different basis, a basis which would reflect the influence her husband must have had on her life.

‘As my learned friend said of the other defendants, there is no suggestion that they acted for any personal gain or advantage. Indeed, in the case of Arianwen Hughes, what she did could only cause her huge losses, and the most terrible loss is that she will be unable to bring up her son while he is young. She has lost the chance of seeing him grow up; of passing on to him her love of music and of her language; of seeing him emerge into the boy who will soon approach manhood. I submit that it was obvious to everyone in court that her grief over the loss of her son is genuine and that it is a devastating loss. She must feel that the cruel prediction made by DS Scripps during her interview is coming to pass.

‘My Lord, I accept that your Lordship will pass a prison sentence of some length. But I urge your Lordship to accept the jury's recommendation in favour of clemency. I ask your Lordship to make a clear distinction between Mrs Hughes and the other defendants, both because of her limited role and because of the overwhelming likelihood that she is here today in large part because of the actions of Trevor Hughes. I urge your Lordship to allow her the realistic hope that she may be reunited with her son before time elapses to such an extent as to leave them as no more than strangers to each other. I even urge on your Lordship not to take away any hope that she may become a mother again, if circumstances permit.'

‘Stand up,' Mr Justice Overton said.

The three defendants stood, white and tense.

‘You have all three been convicted on the clearest evidence of a crime which ranks with the worst in the annals of British criminal history. If your deadly plan had not been discovered and interrupted by the outstanding work of the Gwynedd Police, Special Branch, and MI5, you would have succeeded in concealing a lethal explosive device under a flagstone in Caernarfon Castle, only a few yards from the dais where the Queen and the Prince of Wales were to be engaged in the ceremony of Investiture, and only a few feet from where seating stands had been erected for the use of guests. The device would have been set to detonate during the ceremony, at a time when the maximum damage would be caused. There was potential for substantial loss of life, and terrible injuries. You intended that result, or at least were content to accept it.

‘I accept that you were motivated by what you considered to be the idealistic goal of resisting what you saw as the unjust treatment of Wales by England. I accept that you felt a sense of grievance, and I accept that you saw yourselves as the ‘Heirs of Owain Glyndŵr', throwing off the yoke supposedly placed by the English, or the British Government, around the neck of the Welsh people. I do not doubt that your sense of grievance was, and is, genuine. Indeed, I will go further and say that it is to some degree justified, certainly by the lack of respect shown to the Welsh language and culture, which in my view reflects no credit on Great Britain or on our Government. But these are matters which must be resolved through political channels, not by the use of deadly violence.

‘I also have my ideals, and one of my ideals is this: that neither the British people, nor the courts which uphold the law on behalf of the people, can for one moment give in to the use or threat of violence. On the contrary, it must serve only to strengthen their resolve to uphold the rule of law and the democratic process throughout the United Kingdom.

‘In the light of what I have said, even bearing in mind the points made in mitigation, it follows that the court must pass sentences of the greatest severity. Caradog Prys-Jones, Dafydd Prosser, the sentence of the court in each of your cases is that you go to prison for 40 years. Arianwen Hughes, in your case, bearing in mind the lesser role you played and bearing in mind the recommendation of the jury, the sentence of the court is that you go to prison for 22 years. Take them down.'

The prison officers had been instructed to remove the defendants before any protest could be made, but any anxiety they might have had was unnecessary. They were led away like lifeless statues. The shock which permeated the courtroom as the sentences were announced was tangible. There was total silence in the courtroom for some time, and only after one or two minutes did a hesitant exchange of whispers begin in the press box and the public gallery. None of the lawyers in court moved a muscle. If the judge noticed the sense of shock, he did not show it.

‘Members of the jury, you are entitled to the grateful thanks of your fellow citizens for your work in what must have been a most distressing and difficult case. In recognition of this, I will exempt you all from further jury service for life.'

The foreman stood again.

‘Thank you, my Lord.'

‘Mr Roberts, it is my intention to ensure that some officers receive appropriate commendations for their work in this case, which has not only led to the conviction of these defendants, but also prevented almost unimaginable harm befalling this country and our way of life. Because of the lateness of the hour, I shall say no more about it this evening, but I shall ensure that steps are taken so that the officers receive the recognition they deserve.'

Even Evan Roberts seemed to have difficulty in stirring himself.

‘I am most grateful, my Lord,' he replied, managing to stand only half way up.

The judge was already almost out of court, and there was no one to hear the sigh of relief he gave as he gained the sanctuary of his chambers, gratefully tore off his wig, and threw it down on top of his desk.

72

Ben took a taxi
home, and opened the front door as quietly as he could. It was after 1 o'clock by now, and he assumed that Jess would be asleep. She had left the downstairs lights on for him, and she had uncorked a bottle of Burgundy, leaving a wine glass and a plate with crackers, cheese and olives by its side. He dropped his briefcase and the bag containing his robes on the floor, and walked quietly upstairs. The upper floor was in darkness, but her reading lamp was on, and she opened her eyes and sat up as soon as he entered the bedroom. He sat by her side on the bed.

‘You've heard, I suppose?'

‘Yes. Barratt called. He told me that he was going to take you and Eifion out somewhere and get you both drunk. I left the wine downstairs in case it didn't work.'

‘None of us felt like getting drunk by the time we had been down to the cells to see Arianwen.'

He bent over and kissed her. She started to get out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown.

‘She must have been devastated.'

He shook his head. ‘We couldn't even talk to her. She wasn't in the same room with us, except in body. They will have to give her a sedative to knock her out when they get her back to Holloway. I don't know how long it will be before she recovers, if ever. I don't even know how long it will be before we can talk to her about an appeal. She couldn't have taken any more tonight.'

‘Is there any realistic ground of appeal?'

‘Nothing comes to mind right now. But I'm in no better state to think about that tonight than she is.'

She had put on her dressing gown.

‘Come on,' she said. ‘If Barratt couldn't get you drunk, perhaps I can.'

They made their way downstairs together, and she brought a second wine glass. Ben filled the glasses, she switched off the main lights, switched on two floor lamps, and they sat together on the sofa in the mellow light and the quiet of the early morning. He drained a glass of the Burgundy, and allowed his head to sink into his hands. She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him gently against her. He began to cry, and she held him for a long time. When he eventually pulled himself up, she refilled the glasses.

‘Was it the “Charles Windsor” thing? It couldn't have been just that, could it?'

He shook his head, and wiped his nose. He did not reply for some time.

‘No. It wasn't just that. I think we have to face the fact that her brother, her husband, and Dafydd Prosser had every intention of killing the Queen or Prince Charles. In time of war they would all have been charged with high treason. Any jury would want to punish anyone involved in that, if there's any evidence at all. And there was evidence. She was in the car with the bomb. Her husband escaped, and I think the jury decided they weren't about to give the whole family a free pass just because she said she knew nothing about it.'

Jess nodded.

‘But you believe her, don't you?'

He nodded. ‘Yes. I believe her.'

‘Is that why you're crying?' she asked gently.

He was silent.

‘Before you say anything,' she said. ‘I understand, and it's not a problem.'

He turned to her. ‘What isn't a problem?'

‘The Arianwen effect,' she replied.

‘What?'

She smiled. ‘I heard about it from Barratt and from Eifion,' she replied, ‘the effect Arianwen has on men. She is very beguiling…'

‘Jess…'

‘No. Let me finish. I don't mean beguiling in any sinister way. She's not what you call beautiful in the classical sense, but there's something about her that draws people to her. I don't know what it is exactly, a kind of animal magnetism, an intense emotional connection. I'm a woman, but even I felt it in the short time I was with her. I'm sure men must feel it far more strongly. She has this gift of connecting with people almost instantly, and on a very deep level. You were representing her in a case in which everything was at stake for her – her freedom, her son, her whole life. How could you not feel connected to her? How could you not feel devastated when she is convicted? I've seen you lose cases before, and you get over it almost straight away. It's something I learned from you that I'm trying to apply to myself in my own practice. Losing happens; it's part of the job. You move on. But not this time. All I'm saying is: I understand why.'

He turned and kissed her.

‘I am right, aren't I?' she asked.

‘It is really bizarre,' he replied. ‘When I went to Wales with Gareth, I had this feeling that I couldn't shake that she was with me in some way. Obviously, that's silly. But I couldn't shake it. I would be standing there looking at something in Caernarfon, especially when we were in the Castle, and I had the sensation that she was pointing things out to me. And even when we went to watch the rugby in Cardiff, she was telling me to immerse myself in the atmosphere, in those overwhelming waves of sound and passion all around the ground when they were singing. It was as if she wanted me to understand something. But I could never quite work out whether it was something about her, or about Wales. It was… well, it was something I've never experienced before. I wasn't going to say anything because…'

‘Because you didn't want me to think you had fallen in love with her?'

‘Yes.'

‘Have you?'

‘No,' he replied. ‘There was a connection, there still is, but it's not about falling in love. I got too close, I suppose. It's just that I desperately wanted to win. I wanted to set her free, and I wanted you to get Harri back for her.'

She nodded. ‘So did I. But things don't always work out the way we want them to. And I don't think there is anything silly about what you felt when you were in Wales. I think it was something real.'

She poured more wine.

‘I really wouldn't blame you at all if you felt some attraction to her.'

‘Jess…'

‘No, I'm serious. I think I would, if I were a man, and I know Barratt did – I know him too well for him to hide it from me.'

‘Jess…'

‘Why shouldn't you?' she said. ‘'Just because you're married doesn't mean you can't find a woman attractive.' She kissed him. ‘Don't you know that? I won't mind if you tell me you find someone attractive, as long as you don't do anything about it.'

He kissed her back and smiled.

‘But what if I did do something about it?'

‘Well then, I'd have to kill you, obviously. Come on, let's finish this bottle and go to bed for a couple of days.'