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.”
CHAPTER THREE
It was a sombre meal and, as soon as they had finished, Lady Theo suggested