Ironbark (67 page)

He watched her drink it. ‘It takes a wee bit of time to work but it will calm you, lass.'

After his departure Keziah dressed herself in the gown. She carefully positioned a lock of hair to disguise the patch singed by the fire, then braided it in a plait to give the jury the conservative impression Joseph needed to counteract the label of ‘The Killer Schoolteacher'.

Keziah felt strangely calm seated beside her guard, waiting to be escorted to the courthouse. She would have preferred to be alone with her thoughts, but this garrulous guard was intent on entertaining her with gaolhouse gossip about the Dunkley-Beech executions.

‘Old Lucretia was Welsh like you, but different as night is from day.'

‘I'm from Cheshire,' Keziah corrected, but the guard continued his tale.

‘Had a face as tough as a man's, pitted from the pox. Thought she was clever enticing her ticket-of-leave lover to murder poor old man Dunkley for his farm but all she copped was a date with The Finisher. They packed her skull off to them phrenologist blokes in Sydney to read the bumps on her head.'

Keziah was appalled. ‘They cut off her head?'

He puffed up with pride. ‘Aye. Helped bury her headless corpse, I

did. Made a prisoner dig a grave under the flagstones here.
Standing upright
she is. There's no chance in hell that bitch'll ever rest in peace!'

Suddenly aware of her horror he added quickly, ‘Don't worry, Mrs Browne. Any fool can see you're a lady. They'll treat
you
different.'

Dead or alive?
She found herself slipping back into that state of unnatural calm which had isolated her from reality since the night of the fire. She felt a rush of suspicion recalling Leslie's words.
‘It takes a wee bit of time to work but it will calm you, lass.'

Too late she understood the significance of his words.
Tea? He's laced it with a drug!

• • • 

Outside the prison walls the guard escorted Keziah across the laneway to the courthouse. The world around her seemed to be filtered through a mist – the gaping faces of early spectators drawn to the excitement of a woman's trial, their hands pointed at her in recognition. To escape their gaze she looked up at the massive dome, which she remembered from Jake's trial was the court's only source of natural light. The sandstone walls were indented with ‘blind' windows.

Her guard followed her gaze to an oriental wagon parked in the lane, where a pigtailed Chinaman sat with an Aboriginal girl. Nerida and Sunny Ah Wei gave her a tentative wave to which Keziah smiled acknowledgement.

The guard was disdainful. ‘Funny company you keep!'

All emotion was sealed inside her but Keziah forced herself to defend them. ‘My friends have courage.'

‘They won't let no blacks in nohow!' the guard said, as if to settle the matter.

Inside the courthouse Keziah felt Daniel's eyes follow her progress as the guard escorted her from the female holding cell to the prisoner's box. No chair had been provided for her.

Daniel's voice rose in protest. ‘My wife can't be expected to stand in her condition!'

Keziah glanced at the women spectators seated in a tiered box like a miniature grandstand at a cricket match. In the back row, she was vaguely aware of a woman whose face was obscured by the wings of her handsome bonnet, the woman Daniel had identified at Jake's trial as the wife of Magistrate Hamberton.

Keziah scanned the faces of the ‘twelve good men and true'. Although she could see no quality of mercy in their features, she could not sustain any feeling of anxiety. What business was that of hers? The world was pleasantly but unnaturally hazy.

In front of the tipstaff's bench a large mahogany table was scattered with scrolled documents tied with pink ribbons.

I need ribbons like that for Pearl's hair. Where is she? Where's Gabriel?
The answers needed a degree of concentration that was beyond her, so she allowed her thoughts to drift.

A clerk of the court scratched away with a quill as white-wigged, black-robed figures milled around the central table like figures in a puppet show. Only Joseph Bloom looked human. His eyes smiled at her over the top of his spectacles.

She noticed Daniel's knuckles were white as he gripped the railing that divided them, as nervous as if he were the prisoner on trial. His eyes tried to convey some message but the scarlet-robed judge diverted her attention. He looked out between the side flaps of an elaborately coiled wig that was too big for his head. Keziah smiled.
He looks as stern as the
gaujos'
god would if a Romani wandered into his heaven by mistake.

Keziah was grateful when a chair was provided ‘due to her delicate condition'.

She tried to concentrate when Daniel took the stand. Was this the same suit he'd borrowed from Mac Mackie for their wedding? She was surprised that Daniel had shaved off his moustache. She remembered Joseph's words.
‘A clean-shaven witness has the advantage over a bearded man as his every emotional nuance will register with the jury.'

As she listened to Daniel's evidence she felt a vague stirring of pride that he was her friend. His manner was respectful but no longer servile.

‘I am now a free man but on arrival in the colony I was assigned to Mr Jonstone at Gideon Park. He was always a good and decent master. In practice I was directly answerable to his overseer, the deceased Iago, at best a man most difficult to please. For years I worked desperately hard to avoid the floggings he ordered to punish our slightest misdemeanours. Death was my sole hope of escape. Until my dear Saranna married me.'

Daniel described Saranna's devotion to him, their children and their coming babe. How she abhorred violence so much she became hysterical whenever she saw a kangaroo shot. Keziah saw from the looks on the faces of the jurymen how impressed they were by Daniel's fervent declaration.

‘My gentle Saranna is incapable of murder!'

Keziah felt a wave of guilt that her violent crime had dishonoured the dead girl's name.

The next witness was a young woman identified as Lizzie Fleet also known as Lizzie Jones. She avoided looking in Keziah's direction when asked to describe the woman she had directed to Iago's cottage the night of his murder.

‘Dark-haired, big with child and spoke posh like she was better than the rest of us. She was dead eager to visit the Devil Himself and we all know what
he
got up to!'

Asked to identify this woman in court Lizzie hesitated before pointing. ‘That's her in the prisoner's dock.'

‘Did you hear a gunshot? Or see Mrs Browne leave the cottage carrying a weapon?'

‘I don't know nothing about that. That's all I'm saying.'

Keziah saw that the woman again avoided her eyes as she left the stand.

The next witness was Sean Kirby, a nervous lad who pulled his forelock, clearly intimidated by the bullying prosecutor's tactics. Keziah had no memory of ever seeing him.

The prosecutor confidently hooked his thumbs in the folds of his robe as he reminded the youth how heavily the law came down on those who committed perjury.

‘You say you saw the accused lying near Iago's burning cottage. Is it possible she concealed a murder weapon?'

Young Kirby was sweating. ‘I saw naught but she was holding a letter, Sir.'

‘This letter?' The prosecutor waved the signed evidence as if it were a toerag.

‘Can't say, Sir. Ain't got no reading. Can only make my mark, Sir.'

‘I repeat, is it not possible this woman concealed a murder weapon?'

‘I don't know. We was all running to stop the fire spreading. Holding a letter in both hands, she was, and keening.'

The prosecutor appeared to be caught off guard. ‘Keening?'

‘Like our Irish women mourn for the dead, Sir.'

The prosecutor looked irritated as he dismissed him. In contrast Joseph's manner to Sean Kirby was as respectful as if he were questioning a free man.

‘Had you ever seen Mrs Browne prior to the night of the fire, Mr Kirby?'

‘Once, Sir. After she married Daniel Browne she came to Gideon Park one day I was working in the garden. This lady she handed Mrs Jonstone a package. Mistress said, “Women understand these things. Feel free to call whenever you're passing, Mrs Browne.”'

‘Feel free to call whenever you're passing, Mrs Browne,' Joseph slowly repeated the words for the jury's benefit. ‘So an open invitation might well be the reason for Saranna Browne's presence at Gideon Park on the night in question. Thank you, no further questions.'

By this point Keziah had a stronger grasp of the proceedings, but she felt emotionally distanced as if she was seated in the back row of a theatre watching a play.

She noted Julian Jonstone's annoyance when he was called to the stand. He was fulsome in his praise of his deceased overseer's character.

Joseph Bloom was polite. ‘It would appear Iago was a paragon of virtue when you were in residence at Gideon Park but as you just stated, you were absent many months of the year. You are known to be a pillar of the Church of England, Sir, so we can presume you would abhor any cruelty practised by your overseer towards a woman, would you not?'

Although Jonstone's manner was haughty, Keziah sensed he was no liar.

‘All my female assigned servants are quartered under my roof. On my direct orders no woman has ever been treated harshly at Gideon Park.'

Joseph waited as if to give the witness enough rope to provide the answer he wanted.

Jonstone faltered. ‘However if a man chastises his own wife for a misdemeanour the law and the church have no right to intervene, as well you know.'

Joseph's voice suggested the barest trace of sarcasm. ‘Indeed, physical cruelty to a spouse is a grey area under British law.' He spun around. ‘One last question, Sir. Under oath it is claimed Mrs Browne delivered a parcel to your wife. Please describe the circumstances.'

Jonstone grew flustered. ‘Don't see the relevance but very well. My wife suffered the loss of three stillborn sons. This Browne woman paid an unsolicited visit with herbs that she claimed would help my wife carry full-term. Arrant nonsense. Little better than witchcraft.'

‘My sympathies for your loss, Sir, but perchance your wife used the herbs?'

‘Against my better judgement.'

‘Quite so. I believe we must congratulate you on the safe delivery of
Julian Jonstone Junior some twelve months ago. This little chap makes good progress, I trust?'

‘He's thriving. Thanks be to God,
not
pagan herbs!'

‘Be that as it may,' Joseph Bloom said gently, ‘Mrs Browne drove some distance in an
attempt
to give healing aid to your wife, did she not?'

At Jonstone's nod, he continued. ‘In some eyes Mrs Browne's action might be regarded as that of a ministering angel. I take it there was no monetary transaction? A simple act of kindness would you say?'

‘No, there was no payment,' Jonstone conceded. ‘Intended kindness, albeit misguided.'

‘Thank you, that will be all.'

Keziah felt an unexpected flicker of emotion. Herbs had done their job. Charlotte's son was thriving. She noticed Joseph looked distinctly pleased with Jonstone's testimony. Her feeling of pride switched to unease when the name of the next witness was called.

Caleb Morgan! Is he going to take advantage of me being in gaol to steal Gabriel?

Caleb appeared to be in total control of the situation as he took the oath in ringing tones. Keziah was convinced he would retain his inborn air of superiority until his dying day.

‘Mrs Browne is well known to my family in England. In the period before her marriage she was Miss Saranna Plews, a house guest at my father's country estate, Morgan Park, Lancashire. My father, John Morgan, is well known to Governor Gipps.' He paused to allow judge and jury time to be impressed by this proof of status.

Keziah felt torn by conflicting emotions.
Me a house guest of the Morgans! That's a lie for a start but he actually sounds as if he's on my side. What's he up to?

Caleb continued to answer Joseph's questions, needing little prompting.

‘Saranna's kindness and pharmaceutical skills were of enormous
benefit in restoring the health of my stepmother. I came to the colony with the expressed intention of repaying Mrs Browne for her great service to my family. We Morgans owe her a debt of honour. Mrs Browne is a lady of innate gentility and honesty, quite above fiscal considerations. And she is totally incapable of committing the violent crime of which she is accused!'

To Keziah's surprise when the prosecutor waived the right to question him, Caleb paused in the act of crossing the courtroom to make a respectful bow in her direction.

Although her lawyer seemed well satisfied with Caleb's testimony, Keziah was growing restless.
What a load of rot! And
gaujos
have the hide to call us Romanies liars!

Dr Leslie Ross's sworn statement was read out in his absence. It consisted of a careful selection of facts supporting his opinion that trauma made her incapable of giving accurate evidence.

Keziah was livid with rage when she saw the doctor was present at the rear of the court.
What is going on? I will not be silenced by drugs. The law treated my father as a lying Gypsy vagabond. I'll show them a Romani woman is as honest as the best of them.

When Joseph formally asked for her to be excused from giving evidence, the judge appeared to be on the point of agreement until Keziah interrupted with a shout of denial.

‘There's been some mistake. I am quite capable of telling the truth, Your Honour!'

For once, Joseph Bloom seemed lost for words.

When the clerk offered Keziah the
gaujo
bible, her response was polite but firm.