The Beloved Land (25 page)

Anne moved her head to use the bonnet’s brim as a shield against the westering sun. Yet there was no sign in his expression of what lay behind the elder’s strange tone. “You know I stand ready to do all I can for you and your clan,” she said.

“Apologies, but not you, madame.”

“My mother. Of course, she—”

“Not your mother, bless her, not this time.” The elder nodded toward Thomas. “All the village tells us of the wisdom he has shown in God’s house. He is also trained as a man of law and letters, is that not so?”

“Yes, that is true. But—”

“Then,” the elder replied, “he may indeed be an answer to our prayers.”

Thomas agreed to the meeting held three days after speaking with the French elder. For those three days people in the village spoke of little else. There was no place in the community large enough to hold everyone who wanted to attend.

John Price noticed. “Everybody who passes our house is watching and waiting.”

“Apparently this issue has been building for a long time,” Catherine agreed.

Thomas spent the three days studying the Scripture and praying. When Anne had wondered what he was about, he had simply told her he was making preparations.

Anne queried her mother, “You have known about this disagreement?”

“Not this one in particular. Just the fact that such a problem was bound to arise.”

Thomas moved quickly to the door, saying over his shoulder, “Forgive me, but if I am to do my duty here, I must not be privy to any information in advance of the hearing.”

Andrew rose to his feet and cast aside his quilt. “Do me a kindness, son, and help me out to the garden bench.”

Thomas turned back to ease his arm around Andrew’s form, and Anne slipped her arm around his other side to help him to the bench.

“I am indeed proud of you, son,” Andrew said as the two seated him.

“I have done nothing yet.”

“You have done everything possible,” Andrew countered. “You have equipped yourself with the armor of God, Scripture, and prayer, along with a fine legal mind. You are ready.”

Commotion from the lane beyond the gate drew their attention. A steady stream of people were passing by the cottage, all of them headed toward the center of town. “Where are they going?” Anne wondered aloud.

“They’re vying for the best seats to watch your husband wield the wisdom of Solomon,” Andrew answered with a small smile directed at Thomas.

Thomas at first looked embarrassed, then sheepishly returned the smile. “Ah yes, Solomon it is,” he quipped. Then he turned serious as he asked Andrew, “Do you object to holding this hearing on the church grounds? It seems to be the only area large enough—”

“Not at all,” Andrew interjected. “That would make a fine place for a courtroom—the sky overhead, and all nature as witnesses.”

The grass in front of the church was covered with people, some seated on the ground, others standing around the perimeter. A murmur rose as Thomas approached with Anne at his side. Catherine had decided to stay at home with Andrew and John.

On the front steps of the church, Thomas turned to survey the crowd. A table and chairs had been positioned behind him, and an Acadian conversant in English stood nearby to translate the proceedings into French. As Thomas’s eyes swept from one side to the other, the furrows upon his brow grew deeper.

It took Anne a moment to recognize what was upsetting her husband. Following his gaze, she realized the audience was firmly divided into two groups. To her left were gathered Acadian French families. To her right, the English settlers.

The gathering became absolutely silent before Thomas’s obvious displeasure. “Despite different languages and cultures and histories, despite the wars and turmoil that surround us, still we are one people before our Creator. Our farms lie side by side. Our villages are so close it is hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. We shop in the same market.” He paused for the interpretation, then raised his voice. “We gather in the same church. And now we shall all pray together to the same Lord.” The French words flowed smoothly behind his.

“Let us stand and reach across the divide that threatens us here, and join hands as we ask the Almighty for His blessing and direction on these proceedings.”

No one moved.

Thomas waited a long moment, then grasped the hand of his Acadian interpreter and held it high. “We shall join hands and hearts, or we shall disperse.”

Slowly, reluctantly, people came to their feet and toward the other side.

Thomas raised his face to the heavens and prayed, “Do not let the world’s thinking drive a stake through our midst, Father. Protect us from ourselves! Shield us from the temptation of anger and ire and division. Guide us, we pray. Grant us wisdom. Grant us peace.” He looked out over the group, “And all God’s people said …”

A great murmur arose from the gathering in both English and French. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Thomas confirmed. “Those who can, be seated.”

In the slight commotion of settling once again, the central line of separation became indistinct. Families split up a bit, and hesitant smiles and cautious greetings stirred across the churchyard.

Thomas moved behind the table and motioned two groups forward. The Englishman came with four other men, the Frenchman with five. Thomas turned to the Englishman first, since he could address this man directly. “Are all of you bringing this grievance?”

“Well, no, Your Honor. It’s—”

“I am not a magistrate. I am a simple man with some training in the law, called by your village elders to act as mediator. You may refer to me as Mr. Crowley. So you all own the property in question?”

“No, sir, that is, it’s my farm.”

“I see. And your name is?”

“Joshua Reynolds, Your … Mr. Crowley.”

“And these other gentlemen are. . . ?”

“Neighbors, Mr. Crowley. Friends.”

“Tell me, sir. Are you afraid of standing before me and your God on your own?”

“Well, no, sir, that is—”

“Do you come here seeking to do battle? Are you coming here at the entrance to God’s house seeking to make conflict?”

“It’s them Frenchies there who’ve—”

“A simple yes or no will suffice, sir. Do you seek battle, or resolution?”

“Resolution.” His head hung down.

“Fine. Then the rest of you men disperse. That’s it. Go on. If Mr. Reynolds needs more strength than he can muster on his own, I will urge him to seek it from the Father of all.”

Thomas waited for the four men to make their way back into the crowd, then turned to the Frenchmen. They seemed to understand what they had just observed, and the five Acadians melted back to their families.

Thomas inquired of the crowd, “You village elders, identify yourselves, please.” The interpreter repeated it, and hands raised on both sides of the churchyard.

He then said, “I come here today seeking a divine answer for a thorny question. But I find a battle brewing. I will have no part in a conflict.” He let that settle in a moment, then continued, “I will move forward with this task on one condition. All of you must agree that whatever decision is reached here today is binding upon you all. Not just these gentlemen and their families but the entire community.” He waited for the translation, then said, “Do we have agreement on this point?”

There was a long moment of muttered fumbling, then the Frenchman who had first approached Thomas called to his gathered clan, “Our only alternative is the English magistrate two days’ ride from here. Should we wait for English justice?

One of the Frenchmen demanded, “What do you call this, then?”

“Look at what he has already accomplished!” The elder raised his two hands. “I have joined hands across the aisle that might as well have been a great chasm. The man to my right has been my neighbor for over ten years, but until Mr. Crowley instructed us to do so, I had never even shaken his hand.”

The elder pointed at where Thomas sat. “I say, let us put our faith for justice in this man of God!”

Chapter 31

The two men, one seated on each side of Thomas, took almost three hours to each tell his story. Thomas then ordered a short recess. To Anne’s astonishment, no one moved. Thankfully a gentle breeze had begun to blow in from the sea. Georgetown was close enough to the shoreline for the air to be both cool and seasoned with salt. Anne heard some children playing on the fringes of the gathering in the churchyard, but otherwise the people sat patiently waiting.

If Thomas noticed the throng at all, he gave it no mind. His attention appeared to be utterly focused upon the pages now spread over the table before him. Finally he put the top page down and rapped his knuckles upon the tabletop. “All right. I’m calling this hearing back to order.”

Though the group was sitting quietly enough, Thomas’s Acadian colleague repeated the announcement in French. Most of the settlers spoke enough English to make their way comfortably through a wedding or a market, as the saying went. But following something so complex as this was too taxing. Anne noted the man’s careful efforts at the translation and was satisfied that he was capturing both the meaning and the spirit of the hearing and its various exchanges.

Thomas turned to the Frenchman. “Let me see if I have all the details correct here, Mr. Laroux. You have recently arrived from Louisiana, is that true?”

“Four months ago.”

“And you claim that the land currently farmed by this gentleman, Joshua Reynolds, was in fact deeded to your family.”

“For more than two hundred years, and seven generations of Laroux, my family has tilled this earth and tended the apple groves.”

“Yet you have no actual documents to verify this claim.”

“How could I, when the British soldiers forced us from our home in the middle of the night?” He was a slender man with work-hardened hands of a size for a much larger man. “The last vision I had of my beloved Acadia was of my family’s farm and the farms of my neighbors burning like giant torches.”

There was a stirring through the listeners, but Thomas gave it no mind. “It is vital we attempt to restrict ourselves to the facts of today, sir.”

“But this
is
a matter for this day. Were it not for the expulsion, I would still be farming my land and raising my children in the home my grandfather’s grandfather built!”

Thomas nodded through the interpretation. “Point taken, sir.” Thomas turned in time to stifle the English farmer’s protest. “Mr. Reynolds, you have had your chance to speak, and you shall have it again. For the moment allow me to concentrate upon this gentleman’s words.”

Thomas then inquired of the crowd, “Those of you who can verify Mr. Laroux’s testimony, please make yourselves known.”

Over two dozen men and women about the crowd either rose from their seats or raised their hands. Thomas said to Anne, “Do you know any of these people well?”

She pointed to one man standing midway back toward the left-hand side. “That is my uncle.”

“His name?”

“Guy Robichaud.”

Joshua Reynolds’s obvious dismay bristled in his voice as he demanded, “How am I supposed to get a fair hearing, you being married to a Frenchie?”

Thomas did not respond immediately. Instead he first said to his wife, “Would you please translate his question for the group?” When she had done so, he countered the English farmer by pointing at Laroux and saying, “How could this French gentleman have expected a fair trial from an Englishman such as myself? The answer, sir, is that I seek not to serve one portion of this community, but rather find a solution that is acceptable and fair before God.”

He then addressed the gathering with the previous translator following right after him. “Can any of the English community speak here to confirm that Mr. Robichaud is a man of honor?”

There was a long silence.

Thomas showed no ire whatsoever. “I cannot accept his testimony on something this crucial unless an English citizen is willing to confirm he is a man of honor.”

“Aye, I’ll do that for ye.”

“And who might you be, sir?”

“Ian McDougall is the name.”

“You are from Scotland, sir?”

“Arrived a year and a day hence, Your Honor.”