Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur - Страница 85

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Mrs Courtney! Mrs Courtney! The judge was calling her, his tone quickening with alarm, and she forced herself to turn her head towards him.

Are you all right, Mrs Courtney? Are you feeling well enough to continue? Thank you, my lord, I am quite well. Her voice seemed to come from a great distance, and it took all her willpower not to look back at the youth in the gallery, at her son, Manfred.

Very well, Mr Osmond. You may proceed. It required an enormous effort of will for Centaine to concentrate on the questions as Osmond led her once more over the robbery and the struggle in the dry river-bed.

So then, Mrs Courtney, he did not lay a finger upon you until you attempted to reach the shotgun? No. He did not touch me until then. 'You have already told us that you had the shotgun in your hand and were attempting to reload the weapon. That is correct. Would you have used the weapon if you had succeeded in reloading it? Yes. Can you tell us, Mrs Courtney, would you have shot to kill? I object, my lord! The prosecutor sprang angrily to his feet. That question is hypothetical. Mrs Courtney, you do not have to answer that question, if you do not choose, judge Hawthorne told her.

I will answer. Centaine sai c early. Yes, I would have killed him. Do you think the prisoner knew that? My lord, I object. The witness cannot possibly know. Before the judge could rule, Centaine said clearly, He knew me, he knew me well. He knew I would kill him if I had the chance. The pent-up emotion of the courtroom exploded in ghoulish relish and it was almost a minute before quiet could be restored. in the confusion Centaine looked up at the corner of the high gallery again. It had taken all her self-control not to do so before.

The corner seat was empty. Manfred had gone, and she felt confused by his desertion. Osmond was questioning her again, and she turned to him vaguely.

I'm sorry. Will you repeat that, please? I asked, Mrs Courtney, if the prisoner's assault on you, as you stood there with the shotgun in your hands intent on killing him My lord, I object. The witness was intent only on defending herself and her property, the prosecutor howled.

You'll have to rephrase that question, Mr Osmond. Very well, my lord. Mrs Courtney, was the force that the prisoner used against you inconsistent with that needed to disarm you? I'm sorry. Centaine could not concentrate. She wanted to search the gallery again. I don't understand the question. Did the prisoner use more force than that necessary to disarm you and prevent you shooting him? No. He simply pulled the shotgun away from me. And later when you had bitten his wrist. When you had buried your teeth in his flesh, inflicting a wound that later would result in the amputation of his arm, did he strike you or inflict any other injury upon you in retaliation? No. 'The pain must have been intense, and yet he did not use undue force upon you? No. She shook her head. He was, Centaine searched for the word, he was strangely considerate, almost gentle!

I see. And before he left you, did the prisoner make sure that you had sufficient water for survival? And did he give you advice concerning your well-being? He checked that I had sufficient spare water, and he advised me to stay with the wrecked vehicle until I was rescued., Now, Mrs Courtney, Osmond hesitated delicately. There has been speculation in the press that the prisoner might have made some form of indecent assault- Centaine interrupted him furiously. 'That suggestion is repugnant and totally false. Thank you, madam. I have only one more question. You knew the prisoner well. You accompanied him while he was hunting to provide meat for you and your child once he had rescued you. You saw him shoot? I did. In your opinion, if the prisoner had wanted to kill you or Colonel Malcomess, or any of the police officers pursuing him, could he have done so? 'Lothar De La Rey is one of the finest marksmen I have ever known. He could have killed all of us on more than one occasion. I have no further questions, my lord. judge Hawthorne wrote at length on the notepad before him and then tapped his pencil thoughtfully upon the desk for another few seconds before he looked up at the prosecutor.

Do you wish to cross-examine the witness? The prosecutor came to his feet scowling sulkily. I have no further questions for Mrs Courtney. He sat down again, folded his arms and stared angrily at the revolving punkah fan on the ceiling.

Mrs Courtney, the court is grateful to you for your further evidence. You may now return to your seat. Centaine was so intent on searching the gallery for her son that she tripped on the steps at the foot of the tiers of benches and both Blaine and Abe jumped up to help her.

Abe reached her first and Blaine sank back into his seat as Abe led Centaine to hers.

Abe, she whispered urgently. There was a lad in the gallery while I was giving evidence. Blond, around thirteen years old, though he looks more like seventeen. His name is Manfred, Manfred De La Rey.

Find him. I want to speak to him. Now? Abe looked surprised.

Right now. The submission in mitigation. I'll miss it. Go!

she snapped. Find him. And Abe jumped up, bowed to the bench and hurried out of the courtroom just as Mr Reginald Osmond rose to his feet once again.

Osmond spoke with passion and sincerity, using Centaine's evidence to full advantage, repeating her exact words: "He saved me from a dreadful death, and he saved my child with me." Osmond paused significantly and then went on.

The prisoner believed that he deserved the gratitude and generosity of Mrs Courtney. He placed himself in her power by borrowing money from her, and he came to believe mistakenly, but genuinely, that his trust in her had been betrayed. His eloquent plea for mercy went on for almost half an hour, but Centaine found herself thinking of Manfred rather than the plight of his father. The look which the boy had levelled at her from the gallery troubled her deeply.

The hatred in it had been a palpable thing and it resuscitated her sense of guilt, a guilt which she believed she had buried so many years before.

He will be alone now. He will need help, she thought. I have to find him. I have to try and make it up to him in some way. She realized then why she had so steadfastly denied the boy over all these years, why she had thought of him only as Lothar's bastard', why she had gone to extreme lengths to avoid any contact with him. Her instinct had been correct.

just a single glimpse of his face and all the defences which she had built up so carefully came tumbling down, all the natural feelings of a mother which she had buried so deeply were revived to overwhelm her.

Find him for me, Abe, she whispered, and then realized that Reginald Osmond had completed his submission with a final plea: Lothar De La Rey felt that he had been grievously wronged. As a result, he committed a series of crimes which were abhorrent and indefensible. However, my lord, many of his actions prove that he was a decent and compassionate man, caught up in stormy emotions and events too powerful for him to resist. His sentence must be severe. Society demands that much. But I appeal to your lordship to show a little of the same Christian compassion that Mrs Courtney has displayed here today, and to refrain from visiting upon this hapless man, who has already lost one of his limbs, the extreme penalty of the law. He sat down in a silence that lasted for many long seconds, Until judge Hawthorne looked up from the reverie into which he had sunk.

Thank you, Mr Osmond. This court will recess and reconvene at two o'clock this afternoon, at which time we will impose sentence. Centaine hurried from the courtroom, searching eagerly for Abe or for another glimpse of her son. She found Abe on the front steps of the courthouse, in deep conversation with one of the police guards. But he broke off and came to her immediately.

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