A Place Called Freedom - Ken Follett [101]
They found her guilty but valued the cloth at four Shillings, a lot less than it was worth. Gordonson explained that she could be hanged for stealing goods worth more than five shillings from a shop. The verdict was intended to prevent the judge from sentencing the woman to death.
She was not sentenced immediately, however: the sentences would all be read out at the end of the day.
The whole thing had taken no more than a quarter of an hour. The following cases were dealt with equally rapidly, few taking more than half an hour. Cora and Peg were tried together at about midafternoon. Mack knew that the course of the trial was preordained, but still he crossed his fingers and hoped it would go according to plan.
Jay Jamisson testified that Cora had engaged him in conversation in the street while Peg picked his pockets. He called Sidney Lennox as the witness who had seen what was happening and warned him. Neither Cora nor Peg challenged this version of events.
Their reward was the appearance of Sir George, who testified that they had been helpful in the apprehension of another criminal and asked the judge to sentence them to transportation rather than hanging.
The judge nodded sympathetically, but the sentence would not be pronounced until the end of the day.
Mack’s case was called a few minutes later.
Lizzie could think of nothing but the trial.
She had dinner at three o’clock and, as Jay was at the court all day, her mother came to dine and keep her company.
“You’re looking quite plump, my dear,” Lady Hallim said. “Have you been eating a lot?”
“On the contrary,” Lizzie said. “Sometimes food makes me feel ill. It’s all the excitement of going to Virginia, I suppose. And now this dreadful trial.”
“It’s not your concern,” Lady Hallim said briskly. “Dozens of people are hanged every year for much less dreadful crimes. He can’t be reprieved just because you knew him as a child.”
“How do you know he committed a crime at all?”
“If he did not, he will be found not guilty. I’m sure he is being treated the same as anyone foolish enough to get involved in a riot.”
“But he isn’t,” Lizzie protested. “Jay and Sir George deliberately provoked that riot so that they could arrest Mack and finish the coal heavers’ strike—Jay told me.”
“Then I’m sure they had good reason.”
Tears came to Lizzie’s eyes. “Mother, don’t you think it’s wrong?”
“I’m quite sure it’s none of my business or yours, Lizzie,” she said firmly.
Wanting to hide her distress from her mother, Lizzie ate a spoonful of dessert—apples mashed with sugar—but it made her feel sick and she put down her spoon. “Caspar Gordonson said I could save Mack’s life if I would speak for him in court.”
“Heaven forbid!” Mother was shocked. “That you should go against your own husband in a public courtroom—don’t even speak of it!”
“But it’s a man’s life! Think of his poor sister—how she will grieve when she finds out he has been hanged.”
“My dear, they are miners, they aren’t like us. Life is cheap, they don’t grieve as we do. His sister will just get drunk on gin and go back down the pit.”
“You don’t really believe that, Mother, I know.”
“Perhaps I’m exaggerating. But I’m quite sure it does no good to worry about such things.”
“I just can’t help it. He’s a brave young man who only wanted to be free, and I can’t bear the thought of him hanging from that rope.”
“You could pray for him.”
“I do,” Lizzie said. “I do.”
* * *
The prosecutor was a lawyer, Augustus Pym.
“He does a lot of work for the government,” Gordonson whispered to Mack. “They must be paying him to prosecute this case.”
So the government wanted Mack hanged. That made him feel low.
Gordonson approached the bench and addressed the judge. “My lord, as the prosecution is to be done by a professional lawyer, will you allow me to speak for Mr. McAsh?”
“Certainly not,” said the judge. “If McAsh cannot convince the jury unless he has outside help, he can’t have much