Читать книгу Sophie's Treason - Beverley Boissery - Страница 7

Like everyone else, Sophie watched as a man entered and began scurrying around, straightening chairs. After a few seconds, she frowned and grabbed Luc’s arm. “Something’s wrong,” she told him. “We’re in the wrong room.”

Luc looked at her. “Are you serious? We can’t be. Look how crowded it is.”

Sophie tried to imagine what other trial would draw so many spectators, then stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “But, Luc, look at the front.”

In front of them a scarlet-draped table dominated the room. It was massive — maybe as long as forty feet — and at least three feet higher than anything else. There were fifteen chairs set at regular intervals behind it, two desks at each side, and a long enclosure with a roughly built bench on the right, between it and the spectators. Several furled Union Jacks stood in their standards behind the table, adding vivid splashes of red, white, and blue to the sombre room and giving authority to the table.

As Sophie and Luc watched, the clerk self-importantly tidied the fifteen stacks of paper and the inkwells that stood in front of each chair. “What’s the matter, Sophie,” Luc whispered, studying the table again. “What’s worrying you?”

“Well, I can’t see where the judges are going to sit,” she whispered back. “Can you?”

The government had gone to a lot of trouble to make the room look as majestic as possible, presumably to symbolize its authority. Surely, the powerful judges should have had the place of honour. But, try as she might, Sophie couldn’t see where they’d sit, unless it was in the roped-off section right in front of them. That couldn’t be right, she knew, because then they’d be among the spectators.

Mr. Christie cleared his throat and tapped her on the arm. “I really do beg your pardon, Miss Mallory, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I can answer your question, if you’d allow me to.”

Sophie smiled her agreement, then exchanged wary looks with Luc. She certainly wasn’t comfortable with the way Mr. Christie seemed to know everything, and she could see that Luc was still on edge, as though wondering why the lawyer had chosen to sit with them. Maybe he thought Mr. Christie planned to point him out to the police constables in the doorways. As Lady Theo kept reminding them, these were desperate times and desperate people were doing anything they could think of to gain the government’s favour.

Mr. Christie seemed not to notice their cautious reactions. “The reason you’re not seeing a place for judges, Miss Mallory, is because this isn’t an ordinary trial. It’s a court martial. Do you know what that means?”

“A court martial’s a trial for soldiers in the army,” Luc answered.

“Right …”

“But my brother isn’t in the army. So, how can they try him here?” Luc blurted out, and then went deathly white as Sophie gasped. If Mr. Christie was a government spy, Luc had just about handed himself over for arrest. Desperate people, desperate times, she thought as she looked at Mr. Christie in panic.

He seemed to be mulling something over in his mind. The list of defendants, it turned out. He held his hand out to Luc. “Mr. Moriset, I presume.”

Luc looked stricken, torn between good manners and petrified about the consequences of being identified. For the first time, Sophie understood exactly why Lady Theo had warned them time and time again to be careful. By letting his guard down for that tiny moment, Luc had given his identity away to a total stranger. She wondered how much Mr. Christie knew about the rebellion and if he realized that Luc was still wanted in the area south of the St. Lawrence.

Mr. Christie withdrew his hand without making an issue of it. “Maybe you would be well-advised to wear women’s clothes again tomorrow, Mr. Moriset. Like you did when you helped Miss Mallory in her, er, snowball fight,” he said quietly. “There are many spies in the room and once the novelty wears off, they’ll be studying everyone even more carefully. Today, though, you can be part of my family.”

Luc looked like he wanted to cry, and Sophie knew how annoyed he was with himself. In an attempt to distract him, she turned to Mr. Christie. “I don’t know anything about court martials,” she admitted. “Could you explain it to us, sir?”

“Courts martial, Miss Mallory. One trial is a court martial; two or more, courts martial. I suspect there will be at least ten trials before we’re done,” he stated, and Sophie decided that he really must be a lawyer. Or a grammar teacher. No one else would care whether it was court martials or courts martial. But when he went on, she could tell he was really talking to Luc, not her.

“A lot of lawyers do not understand it either. Personally, I don’t think it’s even legal for the government to try civilians here. But, with the army everywhere, who can say it’s wrong? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m not that brave. In any case, that’s why twelve very ordinary men will be tried for treason this morning with the soldiers they fought against as their judges. There’ll be General Clitherow….” He broke off and looked directly at Luc. “Do you know who he is?”

Luc nodded. “He’s smart. He commanded the troops at Napierville, and he’s Governor Colborne’s right-hand man.”

“That’s right. He’ll sit in the middle in the big chair, as he’s in charge. He’ll have four colonels, three majors, and seven captains as his fellow judges. The desks on the left side are for the deputy judge advocates. They’re lawyers — barristers like me, really. As deputy judge advocates, though, they tell the officers what the law is and act as the prosecutors.”

Sophie felt outraged by the thought of officers who had fought in the rebellion judging its participants. “That’s not fair. I saw what the Glengarries did in Beauharnois when they rescued us. They didn’t care about the law or if people had rebelled or not. They just burnt their houses down anyway.”

“It really doesn’t seem right, sir,” Luc added so quietly and nervously that Sophie could see he still didn’t trust Mr. Christie at all. “Some of the men’s farms are threatened by English settlers. How can British officers understand that?”

“They can’t,” Mr. Christie retorted. “They know how to fight, how to advance against the enemy in straight lines, when to charge, when to retreat. Most importantly, they know how to follow orders. They understand discipline, young man, not the law. They won’t care if someone is a soldier or a farmer. All they know is that these men rebelled against the British Crown. According to the law, that is treason. Everyone seems to have decided already that they’re guilty, and the government has said they must be punished. You’d better prepare yourself, young Luc. There’ll be no compassion here today, I’m sorry to say.”

Sophie knew that Mr. Christie was being kind and, as he said, preparing Luc for the inevitable. Still, the worry she’d managed to keep at the back of her mind suddenly leaped to the front. Was this the kind of justice her papa would have to face?

No one seemed to know why he had been arrested. Benjamin Mallory had crossed into Canada to attend a Welcome to Winter party at the Beauharnois country house of Lady Theo’s friends from London: Edward and Jane Ellice. When Benjamin hadn’t arrived in Beauharnois, Sophie and Lady Theo assumed he had waited for the rebellion to end before travelling north to Canada. They hadn’t known Benjamin had left Vermont until Luc found out that he was in a jail somewhere south of the river. Lady Theo vowed to get him out of prison, but Sophie wondered if she really could. Would Papa end up having to face trial in this room, in front of those fifteen officers — the general, the four colonels, the three majors, and the seven captains? Beside her Luc was obviously fighting his own demons of fear. “I’ve heard my brother has a great defence,” he whispered to Mr. Christie, blinking hard. “That has to count for something.”

“I….” Mr. Christie stopped when he heard a slight commotion behind them.

“Oh, no,” Luc said, elbowing Sophie in the ribs. “Don’t look up. She’s here.”

His suggestion was too late. Sophie had already turned to see what was happening. A small group of fashionably dressed people was walking down the steps to the front of the room. Among them was a tall woman dressed entirely in black, from her sable cloak and muff to her highly polished boots. A few tendrils of blond hair escaping from her black fur cap gave her a deceptively ethereal look.

Lady Theo!

Sophie found she could hardly breathe as she looked straight into her guardian’s stern eyes. Eyes that promised retribution for Sophie’s disobedience in leaving the house. Before anything could be said, Lady Theo’s escort tugged her arm and they seated themselves inside the roped-off enclosure, just as the nearby door opened and the first prisoner was led into the courtroom.

Immediately, Alf and his friends shouted insults at him. He kept his composure. Not looking to the right or the left, he walked to the bench on the right, the chains on his hands and feet clanking dully. As Alf’s friends shouted their predictions about the fate he could expect, another prisoner followed, then another. Several must have had a rough time as they were brought through the crowd outside the courthouse, and Sophie cynically wondered how carefully their soldier-guards had protected them. Traces of yellow splattered more than one coat, obvious remnants of rotten eggs that had been hurled at them. A few men touched welts on their faces where stones must have hit them. All rubbed their hands and she saw red rings where handcuffs had bitten into their wrists.

Caught up in noticing these details, she missed the twelfth man at first. Then she saw his face and heard Luc’s gasp. Marc Moriset was well-dressed, his dark frock coat contrasting with the short jackets worn by the farmers among the accused. Tall and proudly defiant, he looked back into the room at Alf and his mates and, not surprisingly, his look of disdain acted as a red flag to their blood lust. Their feet drummed on the floor as they shouted insults and punched the air with their fists.

“Hey, look at him. Look at that stiff-necked Frenchie,” Alf shouted.

“Just think of this, boys,” one of his friends responded. “Hey, Frenchie. By the end of the week, that neck you’re so proud of will be stretched another twelve inches by the hangman’s rope. What will you think of that, Jean-Claude or Pierre or whoever you are?”

Alf’s friends laughed and some made creaking sounds, noises presumably meant to sound like Marc’s neck as it took the weight of his body on the gallows. Sophie wished she were still a child and could cover her ears. Then she heard Luc sob. When his hand slipped into hers, she knew she had been right to disobey Lady Theo and come to court with him, no matter what punishment she’d be given. They sat hand in hand in silence, while it seemed half the room shouted insults and invectives. Sophie wanted to throw up at the thought of her father sitting on that roughly hewn bench, and she realized anew how hard it must be for Luc now that he saw what little chance Marc had.

“Tell him not to listen to them. Tell him to block his ears,” Mr. Christie said quietly.

Sophie squeezed Luc’s hand more tightly. “Don’t listen to them, Luc,” she repeated. “You have to believe he won’t die. In any case, don’t hide. Look at him. Let him see your face. Let him know that someone in this horrible crowd cares about him.”

Immediately, Luc straightened his back and looked at the prisoners. As Sophie watched, he managed to catch his brother’s eye, and lifted his hand. For a few seconds, Sophie thought that Marc wouldn’t respond, but then he suddenly grinned. Immediately, Alf’s friends began another round of outrage and the sergeant-at-arms had to pound on the floor for silence. When they quietened reluctantly, the sergeant ordered everyone to stand. The officer-judges marched into the room and stood behind their chairs.

They looked impressive in their full dress uniforms with every brass button polished to a shine. Gold epaulets gleamed. Most wore scarlet coats, others the blue or green of their various regiments. Every man wore a fierce, proud expression. They were so immaculate that, at first glance, they could have been mistaken for a box of toy soldiers come to life. Only when Sophie looked closely did she see they looked as tough as nails. Mr. Christie had indeed been right when he’d warned Luc not to expect compassion from these fifteen men.

Sophie didn’t understand much of what happened next. While she had been looking at the officers, two civilians had entered the courtroom and seated themselves at the desk near the prisoners. She assumed they were their lawyers. One stood and spoke to the judges for what seemed an interminable time. Sophie knew whatever he said was serious, for Mr. Christie made notes and Luc listened intently, but she could make no sense of it. Judging by the commotion Alf and his friends were making behind her, they didn’t either.

“What’s going on?” she finally asked.

Mr. Christie held a warning finger up, scribbled a few more words, then whispered, “They’re telling the judges that this court is illegal and …” he held his finger up again, seeing Sophie about to ask another question. “What they’re really saying is that the British army cannot take over from the courts here. That the prisoners should be tried in a regular court, according to regular law, and not by this court martial and military law.”

“Are the two laws different?”

“Very much so,” Mr. Christie answered grimly. “You’ll see.”

What Sophie saw for the next few hours was a lot of boring talk. At first, it was funny in a sad sort of way. The word the prisoners’ lawyers used for “illegal” was “incompetent” and, naturally enough, the very competent soldiers couldn’t believe their ears.

“He’s saying that I’m incompetent?” Sophie heard one of the majors fume.

“Not just you, Jack,” his neighbour answered. “He’s saying the whole ruddy lot of us are as well. Now keep quiet.”

The major subsided in silence but he looked unhappy and, as Sophie watched, he wrote furiously on the paper in front of him. But this was the only excitement, and soon Sophie lapsed back into her thoughts. She had no idea how Lady Theo would punish her disobedience. She didn’t care really, as long as Lady Theo didn’t wash her hands of her and send her back to her brothers in Vermont.

She wished they knew exactly where her papa was and why the government seemed determined to keep his whereabouts a secret. Surely, someone should have realized that if Papa was in England when the rebellion was being planned, he could not have been one of its masterminds. How could he have met with the rebels in Montreal? He hadn’t left Malloryville until he’d come north to attend the Ellices’ party and been captured. And surely Edward Ellice’s father, “Bear” Ellice, one of the richest men in the entire world, would not have had Papa as a friend if he’d been plotting against his government. That had to count for something.

But being in the courtroom had given Sophie an idea: what if she and Lady Theo went to a proper judge, not one of these officer ones, and swore on the Bible that Papa had lived in London and had only come back to Vermont in September?

Luc appeared lost in his thoughts as well. He didn’t seem as bored as Sophie felt, but he looked as though he were someplace else. Someplace sad. Trying to imagine where that might be, Sophie was surprised when everyone stood suddenly and the officer-judges filed solemnly out of the room. A babble of noise broke out, people stretched, and Mr. Christie turned to them. “Well, that’s it for today. The court’s adjourned till tomorrow. I’d be honoured if the two of you would be my guests for luncheon. You must be hungry by now.”

Sophie hadn’t realized she was hungry. Nor had she thought about eating. She looked at Luc, raising her eyebrow in an unspoken question. Before Luc could answer, Lady Theo walked across to them. “Children,” she said. “Now, please.”

Sophie smiled her thanks at Mr. Christie as he stood to let her pass, and Luc thanked him for his invitation and shook his hand. Then they meekly followed Lady Theo from the room, using the door at the front rather than the one at the back that everyone else had to use. Bailiffs and constables scurried to open doors for Lady Theo as she swept past them and into the frigid outdoors.

John Coachman had the carriage waiting. “Home, John,” she said to him, and once they were on their way, she looked sternly at Sophie. “We will not discuss this morning until luncheon is finished. Then I want a full explanation.”