The Twisted Root

due time I heard that the child was delivered, a healthy boy, my son Lucius. I was the happiest man alive. Some short time after that I returned to duties in England, and saw him. He was beautiful, and so like my wife." He could not continue. It took him several moments to regain even the barest mastery of his voice. When he spoke it was hoarse and little above a whisper.
    "I loved him so much—I still do. The truth has no—has nothing to do with that. That will never change." He took a deep breath and let it out in a choking sigh. "But I now know that he is not my son, nor is he my wife’s son."
    There was a shock wave around the room as if an earthquake had struck. Jurors sat paralyzed. Even the judge seemed to grasp for his bench as if to hold himself steady.
    Rathbone found his lips dry, his heart pounding.
    Harry Stourbridge looked across at Lucius. "Forgive me," he whispered. "I have always loved you, and I always will." He faced forward again, at attention. "He is the baby my wife’s brother, Aiden Campbell, begot by rape upon his twelve-year-old maid, Miriam Speake, so that I should have an heir and his sister should not lose access to my fortune, should I die in action or from disease while abroad. She was always generous to him."
    There was a low rumble of fury around the room.
    Aiden Campbell shot to his feet, but he found no words to deny what was written on every face.
    Two ushers moved forward simultaneously to restrain him, should it become necessary.
    Harry Stourbridge went on as if oblivious to them all. He could not leave his story unfinished. "He murdered the midwife so she would never tell, and he attempted to murder the mother also, but distraught, hysterical, she escaped. Perhaps she never knew if her baby lived or died—until at her own engagement party she saw Aiden wield a croquet mallet, swinging it high in jest, and memory returned to her, and with understanding so fearful she could only run from us all, and keep silence even at the price of her life, rather than have anyone know, but above all Lucius himself, that he had fallen in love with his... own ... mother." He could no longer speak; in spite of all he could do, the tears spilled down his cheeks.
    The noise in the court increased like the roar of a rising tide. A wave of pity and anger engulfed the room.
    The ushers closed in on Aiden Campbell, perhaps to restrain him, perhaps even to protect him.
    Rathbone felt dizzy. Dimly he saw Hester, and just beyond her shoulder, Monk, his face as shocked as hers.
    He looked up at Miriam. Not for an instant now did he need to wonder if this was the truth; it was written in her eyes, her mouth, every angle of her body.
    He turned back to Harry Stourbridge.
    "Thank you," he said quietly. "No one here can presume to know what it must have cost you to say this. I don’t know if Mr. Tobias has any questions to ask you, but I have none."
    Tobias stood up, began to speak, and then stopped. He glanced at the jury, then back to the judge. "I think, my lord, that in the interests of truth, some further detail is required. Terrible as this story is, there are ..." He made a gesture of helplessness and left the rest unsaid.
    Rathbone was still on his feet.
    "I think now, my lord, that Mrs. Gardiner has nothing left to protect. If I call her to the stand, she may be prepared to tell us the little we do not know."
    "By all means," the judge agreed. "If she is willing—and if she is able." He turned to Stourbridge. "Thank you, sir, for your honesty. We need ask nothing further of you."
    Like a man walking through water, Harry Stourbridge went down the steps and stood for a moment in the middle of the floor. He looked up at the dock, where Miriam had risen to her feet. There was a gentleness in his face which held the room in silence, a compassion and a gratitude that even in her anguish she could not have failed to recognize.
    He waited while she came down, the jailer standing aside as if he understood his duty was over.
    Miriam stopped in front of Harry Stourbridge. Haltingly, he reached out and touched her arm, so lightly she could barely have felt it. He smiled at her. She put her hand over his for an instant, then continued on her way to the steps of the witness stand, climbed up and turned to face Rathbone and the court.
    "Mrs. Gardiner," Rathbone said quietly, "I understand now why you preferred to face the rope for a crime you did not commit rather than have Lucius Stourbridge learn the truth of