William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

a few yards from the table when Harvester approached him. When he was not actually in front of a jury his face was more benign. In fact, had Rathbone not known better, he would have judged it quite mild, the leanness of bone simply a trick of nature.
    “Morning, Sir Oliver,” he said quietly. “Still in for the fight?” It was not a challenge, rather more a commiseration.
    “Good morning,” Rathbone replied. He forced himself to smile. “Isn’t over yet.”
    “Yes, it is.” Harvester shook his head, smiling back. “I’ll stand you the best dinner in London afterwards. What the devil possessed you to take such a case?” He walked away to his own seat, and a moment later Gisela came in wearing adifferent but equally exquisite black dress with tiered skirts and tight bodice, fur trim at the throat and wrists. Not once did she glance towards Zorah. She might not have known who she was for any sign of recognition in her totally impassive face.
    The shadow of a smile flickered across Zorah’s mouth and disappeared.
    The judge brought the court to order.
    Harvester rose and called his first witness, the Baroness Evelyn von Seidlitz. She took the stand gracefully in a swish of decorous pewter-gray skirts trimmed with black. She managed to look as if she were decently serious, not quite in mourning, and yet utterly feminine. It was a great skill to offend no one and yet be anything but colorless or self-effacing. Rathbone thought she was quite lovely, and was very soon aware that every juror in the box thought so too. He could see it written plainly in their faces as they watched her, listening to and believing every word.
    She told how she too had heard the accusation repeated as far away as both Venice and Felzburg.
    Harvester did not press the issue of reaction in Venice, except that it was at times given a certain credence. Not everyone dismissed it as nonsense. He proceeded quite quickly to reactions in Felzburg.
    “Of course it was repeated,” Evelyn said, looking at him with wide, lovely eyes. “A piece of gossip like that is not going to be buried.”
    “Naturally,” Harvester agreed wryly. “When it was repeated, Baroness, with what emotion was it said? Did anyone, for example, consider for an instant that it could be true?” He caught Rathbone’s movement out of the corner of his eye and smiled thinly. “Perhaps I had better phrase that a little differently. Did you hear anyone express a belief that the accusation was true, or see anyone behave in such a manner as to make it apparent that they did?”
    Evelyn looked very grave. “I heard a number of people greetit with relish and then repeat it to others in a less speculative way, as if it were not slander but a fact. Stories grow in the telling, especially if the people concerned are enemies. And the Princess’s enemies have certainly received great pleasure from all this.”
    “You are speaking of people in Felzburg, Baroness?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “But the Princess has not lived in Felzburg for over twelve years and is hardly likely ever to do so again,” Harvester pointed out.
    “People have long memories, sir. There are those who have never forgiven her for taking Prince Friedrich’s love—and, in their eyes, for having induced him to leave his country and his duty. She is like all people who have risen to great heights; there are those who are jealous and would be only too delighted to see her fall.”
    Harvester glanced at Zorah, hesitated as if he were considering asking something further, then changed his mind. His meaning was abundantly clear, and yet Rathbone could not object. Nothing had been said.
    Harvester looked up at the stand. “So this appalling charge has a possibility of causing great harm to the Princess through the agency of the envious and the bitter, who have long disliked her for their own reasons,” he concluded. “This has put a weapon into their hands, so to speak, now of all times, when the Princess is alone and at her most vulnerable?”
    “Yes.” Evelyn nodded. “Yes, it has.”
    “Thank you, Baroness. If you would remain where you are. Sir Oliver may have a question or two to ask you.”
    Rathbone rose, simply not to allow the whole issue to go by default. His mind was racing over the thoughts that had come to him the previous evening. But how could he raise them with a witness with whom Harvester had been so circumspect? All he had was the right to cross-examine, not to open new and