“Butchered and bled for a loaf of bread”

   By Harry Riley

  This fictional story is based on true events that happened a long time ago.

Hello, I’m Julius White, Partner of Nottingham Solicitors, Wittle, Warble and White.

My mother, bless her soul, had a fascination for Notable Romans and named her six sons after them. Mark Anthony, Augustus, Octavius, Nero, Tiberius and Julius. But that’s by the by.

Today, acting on client instructions, I retrieved a certain document from company vaults. In order to protect himself and his wife and family from reprisals the client insisted his sworn confession should not be made public until at least a hundred years after his death.

That time span is long gone so I will read it out: as written in his own words.

My name is William Kirtley, known to my friends as Bill. I am a Nottingham Coalminer. During the latter part of 1817 I appeared at the Derby Assizes charged among others with seditious rioting and wanton destruction of valuable property during the

so-called Pentrich Rebellion. I was found not guilty through lack of evidence and became a free man again; whereas many of my fellow accused were deported to the colonies and our leader was executed in the vilest and most barbaric manner; hanged and beheaded, this being intended as a warning to others. If my testimony might appear to be above that of the ordinary mineworker let me explain. My mother received a regular income from a private source, enough to clothe and feed us both and to provide some additional private tuition throughout my childhood, so that we never went without or suffered the hardships of many of our neighbours. When I reached the age of fourteen years; being then considered maturity of manhood, my mother explained a little more of our unusual financial circumstances. Before I was born she worked at Nottingham Castle. The Duke of Newcastle owned the Castle. He was then the Lord Lieutenant of Nottinghamshire. She claimed to have been ‘tupped’ when in service, by someone of his household. She stopped short of naming my father (possibly afraid lest our money be taken away) but she let me believe I was the son of a very important man. The truth will never be known as my mother has now passed from this earthly toil. Later, after starting work at our local pit I was invited up to the Castle for a secret meeting. It was here that I was ushered into a grand room and met an awesome looking man with deep piecing eyes.