Trial

I t took Queenie and Goliath three days to reach the Scotland District because of several detours and delays necessitated by the general unrest they encountered. It seemed Bussa had indeed led a rebellion which had been hastily put down. Gleeful news of his death was on everyone's wagging tongue in the villages they passed through, so they decided to avoid areas of settlement.

It was only when they reached their fellow Roma that they heard about the arrest of a white man charged with helping to organize the rebellion. He'd apparently been tracked down in Bussa's hut. His trial was to take place in a week, but Queenie knew Marchant would press for a guilty verdict and a sentence of death.

Queenie couldn't stomach the prospect of Thorne dying at the end of a noose. "We must help him," she told Goliath.

She was surprised when her uncle nodded. "He helped us, so we must help him, though I'm not sure how we can do that."

She might have known Goliath would honor the Roma code. "Ask the elders here or the phuri da i."

The senior woman agreed to consider the matter and would provide a solution the next day. Queenie was invited to sleep in her wagon. She lay awake that night, longing to feel Thorne's strong arms around her and praying his life would be spared.

The phuri dai woke her early the following morning with the news that a contingent of Roma men and women had agreed to accompany her and Goliath to Bridgetown. They would be ignored and shunned as just another troupe of itinerant travelers. It was more than she'd hoped for, but she still didn't know how they would secure Thorne's release.

After sharing a cell for days on end with fifty black men in chains, Thorne was thankful his trial was due to get underway the next day. He'd learned these subdued men were all that remained of Bussa's four hundred strong force. He considered himself lucky. The slaves were to be executed without a trial, not that his own wasn't likely to be a farce. The jury would deliver whatever verdict Marchant told them to deliver.

The morning of the trial, he was surprised to receive a visit from a man he recognized. "Johnson, isn't it?" he asked nervously, recalling the last time he'd spoken to the captain of the schooner that had taken the Halstead brothers and Niven to Flanders. "What are you doing here?"

"Came in yesterday aboard our newest clipper, the Mighty Oak and couldn't believe the news about you being arrested. I told your older brother I'd seen you the last time I was here to pick up sugar."

"Rowan? He's alive?"

"Very much so, and married. He's the duke now that…" The sailor's face fell. "You didn't know? Pneumonia, I heard."

Dizzied by the dire tidings, Thorne held on to one of the bars. His beloved father had died without knowing what had become of him. But Rowan had survived. "No, I didn't know my father had passed," he managed. "You say Rowan is married?"

"To Lady Daisy, Duchess Daisy now."

Elated his brother seemed to have overcome the catastrophe that had befallen him, Thorne said, "Please, when you return home, you mustn't tell them about my fate here. It's not likely I'll survive this."

"Well, I intend to speak on your behalf," Johnson assured him. "They can't hang the brother of an English duke on a trumped up charge. There'd be hell to pay. I'd be honored to have you sail home aboard my vessel. We leave on the evening tide."

A surly guard came to take him into the dock. Thorne shook the captain's hand. "It's doubtful your testimony will carry weight, but I appreciate it."

Thorne felt like a dead man walking as he mounted the stone steps from the cells. He'd lost the only woman he'd ever loved, so what was there to live for ?

He scanned the courtroom where he saw exactly what he expected. Marchant, looking smug. A panel of men he didn't know, presumably the jury. A bewigged barrister. What he didn't expect was to see Goliath sitting in the gallery. Women weren't allowed in the courthouse, and Queenie would have to stay well clear of Marchant in any case. Marchant had never met Goliath and his presence kindled a small spark of hope in Thorne's breast. His spirits rose further when he noticed several other swarthy men scattered about the gallery. The Roma were resourceful and used to dealing with corrupt justice. If anyone could get him out of this tangle, it was them.

The first to testify was Colonel Edward Codd, introduced as the commander of the troops that had quashed the rebellion. Upon request, he proceeded to give a detailed list of the regiments he'd commanded, which included the all black West India Regiment. As an aside, he added, "The insurgents did not think those men would fight against black men, but thank God they were deceived."

Thorne rolled his eyes. Goliath remained expressionless.

"Can you tell us what happened in the course of that terrible day, Colonel?"

"We found about four hundred insurgents assembled at Grosset's estate. They drew up to attack the Bourbons."

"Bourbons, Colonel?"

"The former name of the West India."

"Thank you. Proceed, if you please. "

"My men repelled the attack, whereupon the insurgents fled to the house. When we attacked, those who weren't killed or wounded jumped from the windows. We pursued them across the fields, firing at will."

The knot in Thorne's gut tightened. The poor sods never had a chance against superior firepower.

"And did you observe the results of this rebellion?"

"Their actions were alarming and ruinous in their extent. Canes, plantations, provisions, a few dwellings put to the torch. Household furniture, rum, sugar, wine, corn and all manner of foodstuffs were scattered in the roads and fields. The destruction was a testimony to the fury of the insurgents."

Thorne experienced an urge to cheer for Bussa but he wondered how much of the damage had been caused by the hurricane.

"And I believe, in the course of your enquiries after the rebellion, you determined the names of the leaders of this revolt?"

"Yes, there were several, most of them dead or in prison. But the main protagonist was a slave by the name of Bussa. He died during the battle."

Unbelievably, more than one member of the jury cheered. Thorne heard the nails being hammered into the lid of his coffin.

"Might I add," the Colonel said. "I believe the cause of this rebellion lies in the British government's rulings about the slave trade. Bussa and his comrades were misled into believing freedom was at hand."

Marchant snorted.

After thanking the Colonel for his testimony and for his gallantry in quashing the rebellion, the prosecutor called Marchant to the stand. He testified to finding Thorne Halstead hiding in Bussa's shack. "What's more, before that, the wretch went on some errand with Bussa without my permission. I should have known this would happen. He's been too soft with the negroes from the beginning."

Some members of the jury actually tutted their disgust.

Marchant sneered at Thorne as he left the witness box.

"There is one more witness who has requested to speak on Mr. Halstead's behalf," the prosecutor announced. "However…"

Queenie accosted Goliath as soon as the men returned to camp. "Tell me," she urged.

"Looks bad," he replied. "I think we'll have to spring him. He had no legal representation."

"A lynching," she replied.

"Well, a man called Johnson insisted on being heard for the defense. He's an English sea captain who works for Withenshawe Shipping. He pointed out the court wasn't following proper British procedure if the accused wasn't given an opportunity to have his side heard."

"So, what's his connection to Thorne?"

"It seems young Halstead is the son of the late Duke of Withenshawe, and brother of the current duke. He suggested Thorne was sheltering from the hurricane in Bussa's cabin and not hiding. He stressed he'd known the family for years, and warned there'd be consequences if they hanged an innocent man who was the brother of an English duke and a hero of Waterloo. Whereupon, Marchant yelled, ‘Innocent my arse' and suggested a firing squad instead, given Halstead's noble birth."

"What was the result?"

"Polled by the judge, the jury decided unanimously that he was guilty and sentenced him to face a firing squad on the morrow. We have no time to waste."