XXIX

"You just need to be a flea against injustice. Enough committed fleas biting strategically can make even the biggest dog uncomfortable and transform even the biggest nation." Marian Wright Edelman

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XXIX.

Belle could not believe her eyes. She had to convince herself that she was not dreaming, and that Peter was really there with her. But it had to be real. Belle's dreams were rarely of the good.

She felt dreadful. She felt tired and weak, her stomach felt empty and heavy, and there was a strange pain in her arm. But she paid no attention to any of that, not while Peter was there. She had been so frightened that she would never see him again, that her letter would find him too late.

Belle knew that they were going to kill her. That was what white men did when a slave attacked them. It was allowed. It was lawful. Had she not been with the lieutenant at the time of her arrest, she was certain that they would find the nearest tree and strung her up just like every other poor soul before her who had tried to fight back.

"You shall never need to be sorry for what you did," Peter promised her quietly.

But Belle felt it in her bones that if she found some ounce of remorse that she might be able to plead her case as a moment of insanity or something. But she couldn't. She was physically incapable of feeling any sense of guilt. And she worried if that made her wicked. Not as a victim, but as a human who harmed another.

Adam and Alex huddled over her then, and she finally could comprehend that there were three men in her tiny, filthy cell. They had all come for her, and they were all frightened for her. More tears fell from her eyes then, and they were not tears of sadness.

"I don't want to die," Belle managed to say, her voice cracking as her eyes returned to Peter.

Peter's large hands cupped her face then, and his thumbs brushed away her tears. "You are not going to die," he promised her.

"It is not a death sentence you face," added Adam. "The magistrate believes your punishment would likely be transportation to Australia."

Australia. Where on earth was that? Was it far? Was it in England? For how long would she have to go?

"But you are not going anywhere," Peter said firmly. "When the judge arrives, everything will be put right. I'm certain of it."

Belle got a sense that Peter was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. Whatever the charge, it was inevitable that she would be punished. Punished for fighting. Punished for winning.

"Tais-toi et laisse-moi dormir!" shouted a voice that echoed along the corridor outside the cells.

Belle gasped.

"What is it? Who is that?" pressed Peter.

"Claude," replied Belle with a whisper. "He is ... he is Jean's right hand." Belle had pleaded her case with the magistrate when she had been arrested, but she hadn't known that he'd listened and had actually arrested Claude as well. Did that mean that Jean was also somewhere in this building? The very thought made her blood run cold.

Alex leapt up and gripped the bars of the cell in his hands and rattled them with such force that the entire wall shook. With such strength, he would have been able to break through the door with enough effort.

"Je vais te teur!" Alex bellowed out into the darkness.

So vicious was his tone that Belle believed him. Had Alex been able to get his hands on Claude in that moment, he would have killed him.

"J'aimerais te voir essayer!" came back Claude's taunt.

Alex smashed his hand against the bars of the cell in anger, and Belle jumped unintentionally.

"Alex, that is hardly helpful," Adam urged in warning.

Alex swore filthily in French.

Mr Ennis returned the next morning and, seeing as Belle was no longer deliriously ill with fever, he forced Peter, Adam and Alex from her cell. Peter cradled Belle for a long moment, before he reluctantly obeyed the magistrate.

As she door of bars closed behind him, Belle wrapped her fingers around them. Peter was quick to cover her hands with his own. "Do not lose hope," he willed. "You are a survivor, a fighter. He won't win."

Belle nodded, praying that he was right.

When he was gone, Belle couldn't help but sink to her knees, her weight becoming too much for her legs to bear. She pressed her forehead against the bars of her cell and concentrated on breathing evenly. It was the one little thing that she could control. The rest was out of her hands. And that fact was terrifying.

***

The following two days could only be described as utter madness. Culminating in a sentence that Belle would have never, not in her wildest dreams or nightmares, have ever thought she'd hear.

"We are going to have Claude Laurent testify on your behalf." The words were spoken by a Mr George Webb, a solicitor employed by Adam to defend her at her looming trial.

Peter had been back and forth to the gaol, as had Alex and Adam. Mr Webb had been to hear her story the day before and had returned to share what could only be described as an idea of complete lunacy.

"He would never!" exclaimed Belle through the bars. "He is responsible for bringing me to ... to ..." Belle couldn't say his name. "And he struck Peter in the head!"

Mr Webb nodded with pursed lips. "I have spoken to the magistrate who has agreed to lessen Mr Laurent's charges in exchange for his testimony. What he has to say might well benefit your case and put the nail in the coffin of the impotent one."

Claude knew it all. He had been Jean's lapdog for years, and he had never lifted a finger to stop any of it. Such was his level of respect for the people like her. Belle didn't know what Claude would say, but nothing in her experience with him could lead her to believe he would offer her case any benefit.

It was hard for Belle to have faith in such a thing as justice when it never served the truly oppressed.

"Tell me honestly. Do I have any chance?" she asked fearfully.

Belle saw a mixture of thoughts, both positive and negative, cross the eyes of the solicitor. But he did not answer her question. Instead, he said, "The judge is expected imminently. You ought to rest, Miss Desjardins."

And with that he left. Belle's stomach twisted in anxious anticipation of what was to come. She knew she ought to prepare herself for the worst, but she did not know what it was.

***

Peter felt ill as he watched Belle be brought into the public hall before the Honourable Justice Percival Steele. The judge had arrived that morning and had promptly called the arraignment trial, as well as instructing the magistrate to assemble a jury of twelve eligible men.

Belle looked so unbelievably small as she walked behind Mr Ennis, her tiny wrists in irons that were so ill-fitting, she might have slipped out of them if she had wanted to. Her golden eyes were wide and frightened as she searched the room, before she quickly found his. Peter saw every ounce of her terror in her gaze, and he would have done anything to take it all away.

What they had done over the past few days was everything that they could do to secure a favourable outcome, complete with Alex swallowing his urge to crush Claude Laurent's windpipe with his bare hands, in order to convince the man to testify on Belle's behalf.

Without a witness, it would have been her word against her captor's. Peter would not call that man her husband.

Belle was brought to stand next to the solicitor Adam had retained, Mr Webb. She did not sit down before the judge. A smartly dressed clerk, who had travelled to Plymouth with the judge, stood and began reading off of an official looking document.

"The accused, Miss Belle Desjardins," read the clerk phonetically, butchering her French name, "has been arrested and charged with the alleged assault and subsequent grievous bodily harm of Mr Jean Leclerc. How do you plea?"

Just hearing the man's name made bile rise in Peter's throat. He stared at the back of Belle's head, knowing that it would have the same effect on her.

Belle was to plead not guilty. And then they would all pray fervently that their self-defence argument worked.

"Not guilty," replied Belle, her voice soft and fragile, tears very evident in her throat.

The arraignment trial was brief, and after Belle's plea was entered, the judge was informed of what evidence would be provided to prove Belle's guilt. Namely the doctor who had treated Jean would be there to describe the injuries inflicted. And then the meeting was adjourned.

The following day the trial began. Peter, Adam and Alex returned to the hall and were seated on one of the benches that looked to belong to a church. There was little more they could do now but wait and pray that what they had done would work, and that justice would be served to the right person.

The first person to enter the hall under the escort of Mr Ennis was not Belle, but a man whose waist circumference rivalled that of his height. He was dressed in luxurious finery, though he walked with a considerable limp as he hobbled down towards the chairs before where the judge would preside. This man was not Claude, so he could only be Jean Leclerc.

Peter's blood ran cold as he looked upon the face of Belle's torturer. In knowing what he was capable of, Peter could not find one redeeming feature on him. He was an ugly man whose devil horns could not been seen by the naked eye. The picture of evil.

Peter noted that Jean's hands were also in chains as he gripped the underside of the bench to stop himself from launching at the man. Lord, it made him angrier than he had ever felt to know what that man had done to Belle, to know the pain he had inflicted upon her, both to her body, and to her soul.

Alex, however, did not possess Peter's self-control. He stood up and hurled vicious French at Jean. Though Peter did not speak the language, he understood Alex perfectly well. Jean's head looked back, and one of his eyebrows rose and he looked upon Alex was an amused expression.

Adam yanked Alex back down and hissed, "I imagine you threatened to kill him in a rather colourful way, but such threats are illegal and could wind up with your own life in the hands of a judge. Hush."

Mr Ennis then escorted Belle into the hall, and her face was startlingly grey. She was wearing the dress and spencer coat that Peter had purchased for her, no longer having to wear her once lovely ballgown that had been ruined by her ordeal. It was certainly too big on her slender frame, but at least it was warm.

Jean turned around and watched Belle walk inside. Despite what had happened to him, and deservedly so, he still found it somewhere in his sick and twisted mind, to offer her a sinister smile. Peter could see that Belle's eyes were averted from him. It made her sick to be even in the same room as him.

Belle was once more brought beside Mr Webb, and that was when Peter noticed that the jury of twelve had assembled to the side of the judge's bench. The men were dressed in their Sunday best, and sat stoically as they prepared for their role in the proceedings.

Peter wished that women were allowed to serve on juries. Surely women would be more sympathetic to Belle's suffering at the hands of that blackguard.

Peter, Adam and Alex were not the only members of the public in the hall to view the trial. Every available seat had been taken by Navy men and villagers alike. This trial had certainly been everywhere along the south-west coast owing to the fact that Belle's name and kidnapping had been in newspapers everywhere. It was the story of the century, and there were most definitely journalists in the hall who were seated in eager anticipation with their pens ready to note down all the sordid details.

The clerk announced the judge's arrival and everyone in the hall stood. The judge was clad in his formal robes and looked upon Belle and Jean with plain indifference. They were then allowed to take their seats once more.

The clerk once more read out the charges before the victim prosecution was to begin. The very notion that Jean Leclerc was first invited to speak as a victim made Peter's skin crawl. The depths of Hell awaited that man as he struggled to his feet to address the jury.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

I'm sorry it's late! I wrote half of this last night and I just could not keep my eyes open and I needed to have my wits about me to make sure I had the court proceedings right. So I woke up and grabbed my computer and kept going!

I had my first full week with my new class and omg it was exhausting! 2 years of interrupted kinder/pre-school is showing and they're so tired. I'm tired. We're all tired haha.

Alright, I need to get up and have some breakfast. I hope you all have a wonderful week!

Vote and comment xxx