at the housekeeper. She’d known the fight had attracted a crowd, and had prayed she’d never meet anyone from it. She glanced at Luc, but he simply grinned and looked away.
“Of course, you had help then,” Mr. Christie smiled as he continued. “A peasant woman. The same height as your young friend, I believe.”
That also was true. Luc, wanted by the British for his part in the rebellion and in danger of being recognized, had dressed up as a woman to try to find her. That Mr. Christie should have put two and two together was unnerving, and Sophie saw from Luc’s compressed lips that he was suddenly scared, and maybe wondering if the friendly retired lawyer could be a government spy.
They took safety in silence, once again staring at the floor. In the background, Alf and his friends competed for the honour of being the most obnoxious people in Montreal, or perhaps on God’s Earth. They shouted out to all and sundry their particular brand of political wisdom — how they’d govern the province if they had a chance, and what they’d do with its French residents. Hanging seemed to be their consensus.
When a door at the front opened, even they became silent.
CHAPTER TWO
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
