Within minutes of the doors being reopened, Berrima courthouse was flooded with a horde of noisy spectators jostling for standing room at the back of the courtroom.
As Daniel Browne crossed to the witness box again he tried to calm the waves of terror threatening to engulf him. During the adjournment he had promised Joseph Bloom his total cooperation in every possible way. He had not only to fight for Keziah’s freedom but also for her life. Was he man enough to overcome his abject fear of what lay ahead?
In his mind’s eye Daniel was haunted by images of Iago. He reminded himself that the handsome evil face was reduced to a burnt skull and powerless to punish him from the grave, but that did not prevent Daniel’s knees from shaking. Our Lady, help me find my redemption.
Recalled to the stand, he began his testimony firmly when asked to describe Iago’s treatment of his assigned prisoners. ‘The Devil Himself was rightly named. The youngest lads were scarce thirteen. He broke their spirits then rewarded them with food that was legally their share of government stores.’
‘Did you personally witness their physical abuse?’
‘No, only when they were flogged.’ He hesitated. ‘But it was common knowledge he used the youngest boys for his gratification.’
The judge was moved to ask, ‘Do I understand you refer to sodomy? This abomination draws the death penalty.’
Daniel hesitated before answering. ‘There was no doubt. One lad from Killarney committed suicide to escape Iago.’
He glanced at Keziah to steel himself before delivering the words that would wound her. She stared at him, willing him to continue.
‘And we all knew that Gypsy Gem Smith only took up arms after he was forced to accept Iago’s special punishment.’
The prosecutor was openly scathing. ‘I put it to you, Browne, your testimony holds no water under the law. It is diabolical hearsay. You did not witness the heinous crime you alone claim was committed by a dead man who was highly respected in our community.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’ Daniel demanded.
The prosecutor’s shrug was a nonchalant insult. ‘You’d not be the first husband to perjure himself to save his wife from the gallows.’
Humiliated by his dismissal, Daniel stumbled back to his seat. Had he done Keziah more harm than good in the jury’s eyes? He felt sure he had failed her. And Jake. Joseph’s subtle gesture of reassurance was small consolation.
Keziah stared resolutely ahead, her hand on the small of her back to act as ballast for the weight of her belly.
When Mary Iago took the oath, Daniel gave her a nod of encouragement. Although she was dressed in black, she had avoided full widow’s weeds. Her nervous smile revealed the gap in her front teeth.
Daniel saw that Joseph Bloom was studying her every gesture and nuance of speech. After her initial outburst the widow seemed to have shrunk into her timid shell, but under Joseph’s sympathetic questioning she regained her confidence.
‘For nine years of marriage I lived in fear of my husband. He only married me because I came free from Cornwall. That put him in good light with the master, being Cornish himself. Husband beat me so bad I ran off to hide in one of the master’s properties in the bush.’
Daniel saw Keziah lean forward in her seat, alert.
‘But Husband dragged me back to Gideon Park and flogged me regularly where none could see my scars. He said the only pleasure I gave him was when he beat me.’
Joseph waited for the spectators’ murmurs to quieten before he continued.
‘Your marriage was not blessed with children, Mrs Iago?’ ‘How could it?’ she whispered. ‘We never had connection after the wedding night.’
The judge straightened his wig again. ‘Enough of this public airing of marital discord. Must I remind the defence counsel he’s not in a Prussian court of law? Pray establish if the witness can corroborate specific claims of abuse by Iago against his assigned men.’
Joseph turned to his witness. ‘I regret the distress my questions must cause, Mrs Iago. Are you aware of what society defines as unnatural acts?’
Mary Iago raised her eyes to the light dome above them as if seeking a guardian angel. She looked back at Joseph Bloom, who gave a slight nod of assent.
‘One night Husband said I deserved special punishment for scorching his best shirt. He tied me to a chair and gagged me. Called in a young lad who always did his bidding. Husband made me watch while he had connection with him. Everything men do to women but more.’ Her voice broke. ‘When Husband finished his business he untied me. Made me serve them their supper.’
Daniel watched the way Joseph Bloom looked at each juryman before asking his next question.
‘Are you able to identify your husband’s companion?’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘I won’t!’
Daniel heard a man’s voice call out, ‘He’s here in court!’
White-faced, Daniel looked around before he realised the strangled voice had come from him. He stood up to answer.
‘Mrs Iago speaks the truth, Your Honour. I was Iago’s companion. That night and many months after. I was not man enough to kill him.’
Mary Iago called out to Daniel as she was led sobbing from the court. ‘God forgive me. I couldn’t help you, lad!’
The whole courtroom erupted in a whirlpool of confusion. Daniel stood rigid, the muscles of his face contorted in fear as every single person turned to register disgust, pity or disbelief. Will my confession prove my own death warrant?
Keziah stretched out her hand towards him with the expression of compassion he remembered. This was his Keziah – less than a wife, yet more than a wife.
At the same time Joseph Bloom abandoned his professional stance and reached across the barrier to place a protective arm around his shoulders.
Daniel had no chance to evaluate the danger of his confession. He expected the jury would retire to consider their verdict. He was shocked. They did not even vacate their seats, simply bent their heads to confer together. Their spokesman delivered the verdict with relish. Guilty.
The full weight of that word hit Daniel, as if the verdict had also been passed on his own life. He had exposed himself as Iago’s partner in sodomy all in vain.
• • •
Guilty. Keziah had no time to feel the full impact of the verdict. At the moment of judgement her gaze was held by the woman in blue who had risen from her seat in the gallery and was staring at her. A raging fire seemed to consume Keziah’s whole being, body and soul. Now she recognised the truth. Mrs Hamberton’s face was the face of a stranger but her eyes were unmistakably the eyes of Stella the Whore.
Vivid childhood images fused with flashes of this woman’s recent presence at Jake’s trial and her own. Keziah cried out in anguish. It was then her body betrayed her. She staggered to her feet, searching desperately for the face of her doctor.
‘Leslie!’ she cried out in a strangled whisper. ‘It’s coming now!’
She clutched her skirt to her thighs in a useless attempt at camouflage. For the second time Keziah’s waters had broken early. Jake’s babe was demanding to be born.
Pandemonium broke out as the court was hurriedly cleared. Under shouted instructions from Dr Ross, two men formed a human cradle to carry Keziah from the court. Leslie ordered them to take her to the nearby inn, but one English guard argued the toss.
‘Call yourself men?’ Keziah shouted. ‘Do you want me to give birth in the street?’
The guard was a stickler for the law. ‘We must take you back to your cell. Judge ain’t yet passed sentence.’
Keziah grabbed the man by his ears and pushed her face into his. ‘I’ve already killed one man. Do you want to be the next?’
Leslie Ross roared at him. ‘Damn your eyes! Do as the lady says or I’ll charge you dogs with obstruction!’
Keziah’s nails dug into the man’s ears. ‘Get me to the Surveyor-General’s Inn now or I’ll put a Romani curse on you. I’ll cover you with boils so bad no one will be able to tell your face from your arse!’
The guards’ jaws dropped. Leslie thundered out the order. ‘You heard the lady. Full speed ahead!’
They carried her at breakneck speed, tumbling through the entrance of the Surveyor-General’s Inn with Keziah yelling blue murder. Drinkers scattered in all directions.
Keziah grabbed hold of the billiard table with both hands and refused to let go. ‘The babe’s coming – now!’
The guards dumped her onto the table and fled for the exit. The publican’s wife rushed in ready to do the doctor’s bidding.
Leslie rolled up his sleeves. ‘Hot water, sheets, towels! On the double!’
As Leslie was removing Keziah’s undergarments a drunk stuck his head around the door. He looked at the scene in disbelief and hollered out, ‘No women allowed in the pool room!’
Keziah released a mighty bellow and the drunk vanished from sight.
Remembering Gabriel’s birth, Keziah rode every contraction like giant waves that would take her to the shore. In a brief moment of respite she gripped Leslie’s hand.
‘I beg you! Don’t ever tell anyone I said all those terrible things! Promise me!’
‘Believe me, lass, I’ve heard worse language from a priest on the operating table. Right now I want you to do your damnedest not to push for a bit, even if you feel you must. The babe’s coming feet first. I need to give it a wee helping hand.’
‘Mi-duvel, it’s a breech?’ She bit her lip and made every effort to restrain her violent urge to bear down. ‘I don’t give a tinker’s damn which end comes out first – just get it out!’
His words conveyed quiet confidence. ‘Right you are, lass. Coming, ready or not.’
As she felt something very large and determined pushing its way out of her womb, she closed her eyes and begged her ancestors, Please don’t let Jake’s babe die!
Leslie’s face was red and his beard damp with sweat as he worked to free the squirming wet mass from between her thighs.
Keziah lifted her head and tried to look between her raised knees to see what he was doing. ‘I don’t care if it’s a boy or girl. Is it alive?’
As if in answer she heard a gutsy wail that sounded sweeter than an angels’ choir. Leslie wrapped its slimy little body in a towel and returned her joyous smile. He placed the lusty red-headed baby Viking in her arms, swaddled in a towel emblazoned with the trademark Albion Ale.
Keziah looked into a tiny face that was bright red with outrage.
‘I don’t know who you are, little one, but you’re very clever to begin life on the billiard table of your papa’s favourite inn.’
‘Aye, you’ve done well, lass. A fine, healthy boy. Made his entrance kicking and screaming – he’s got every mark of Jake’s bloody-minded determination.’
Keziah gave the babe her breast to calm him and tenderly whispered his true Romani name. ‘That will trick The Beng, if the devil should come looking for you.’
Mr Harper, the publican, stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest like a proud father. Leslie responded warmly to his invitation to wet the baby’s head.
‘Thank you kindly, Sir. A neat whisky would go down quite nicely. It’s been a damned difficult day, one way or another.’
Harper brought him two double whiskies and the bottle they came from. Leslie raised the first glass in the direction of the prison walls.
‘To you, Jake, Slainte!’ He tossed it down and before downing the second one, tactfully lowered his voice to distract Keziah from her inevitable sentence. ‘Above all, lass, here’s to your freedom!’
Keziah was so exhausted she scarcely had strength enough to hold the baby. ‘We both know what’s ahead, Doctor. I told the truth and put my head in a noose.’
She grabbed his arm, her fingernails biting into his flesh. ‘For God’s sake, don’t let Jake play the hero and try to rescue me! They’ll shoot him down like a dog.’
‘I promise you he’ll be safe. Now rest easy, lass. You’ve earned it.’
‘No! I’m a lost cause. I’ve ruined everyone’s lives.’
He gently removed the babe from her arms. ‘Tomorrow the world will be a better place.’