The man in the centre spoke first. “I am Colonel Riviere. This is Captain Henderson. And this gentleman is Don Ignacio Alvarez, who is here to represent the interests of Junta Suprema. No one is on trial. This is an inquiry, not a court martial. There will be no written record. Our single intention”—he paused, as though the single intention had momentarily escaped him—“is to know the truth, as far as we are able, of the events that took place at the village of Los Morales during the recent retreat of the British army to Corunna. We will hear from the witnesses. We will hear the testimony of Corporal Calley. Lieutenant Medina, who has served as a liaison officer with the British army, will act as our translator. Perhaps you would begin now, Lieutenant, by giving the witnesses the sense of what I have just said. Tell them please they should speak freely. They have nothing to fear from us. Be seated, all of you.”

They sat. Calley was nearest the door; next to him were the witnesses, then Medina, who leaned in towards the witnesses and spoke to them rapidly in a low voice. Calley sat with his right side turned a little towards the table to display his corporal’s chevrons and the merit badge above them he had sewn on with meticulous care the previous evening.

The colonel was studying his papers, though the light must have made reading them difficult. He did not have the appearance of a man who revelled in his part. Henderson was impassive, a soldier waiting for orders. Don Ignacio examined his watch, then shut the watch and shut his eyes. It was only when Medina finished speaking that Calley noticed what he should have noticed the moment he entered the room. There was a door behind the table. It was part open, and though the place it led to was dark as night, why—in a matter where all were much concerned with secrecy—should the door be open at all?

The colonel looked up at Medina. “Yes?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Medina.

And so it began. Questions from the table to the witnesses, the questions translated by Medina and answered by one or other of the male witnesses. Then the process in reverse, a cumbersome business made less so by Medina’s quickness, his fluency. Now and then his English had an old-world feel to it as if he had learned it from a speaker of the last century rather than the present one but there was no confusion and not once was he asked to repeat himself. Most tellingly, it seemed he made no attempt to alter or refine what the witnesses said, and as a consequence, as the questioning continued, those who spoke from behind the table, and those who answered from the chairs, no longer looked at Medina but only at each other.