Must the Maiden Die

by Miriam Grace Monfredo

"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Noyes, let us return to the subject of family. Do the children who live at Oneida have parents? Fathers and mothers?"

  "Not in the usual sense, no—"

  "Don't you mean," Polk interrupted, "not in the biblical sense? The legal sense? The decent and moral sense?"

  "All members of the community act as parents, in order to obliterate the sin of possessiveness," Noyes explained patiently.

  "Mr. Polk," the judge reminded. "Soon!"

  "Yes, sir. Now, Mr. Noyes, is Mrs. Derek Jager—oh, excuse me, that would be too conventional a title. Is Elise Jager a member of the Oneida family?"

  Noyes's smile indicated he took no umbrage at Polk's gibe, and said, "Elise Jager lives at Oneida, yes."

  Polk very nearly levitated. "And this, Your Honor," he addressed the judge, "this is the depravity to which the poor, young girl Tamar Jager would be subjected if custody is given to the woman who claims she is a mother!"

  "It does bear serious consideration, Mr. Polk," acknowledged Judge Endicott. "Now, if you have completed your questioning, and I sincerely hope that you have...?"

  With indignation, Polk declared, "Your Honor, there are other illegal, sacrilegious, and immoral practices that take place at the Oneida den of iniquity, but I will rest if you so direct."

  "I so direct, Mr. Polk."

  "Your Honor," said M. B. Blaustein, now on his feet but looking a trifle pallid, "before I cross-examine this witness, may I have a few moments to confer with my client?" When the judge frowned, Blaustein reminded him, "I've had no chance to prepare for this, Your Honor." He shot a look of contempt at Polk, who was beaming with self-satisfaction.

  "Very well, I will recess for fifteen minutes," said Judge Endicott.

  ***

  Glynis had been waiting at M. B. Blaustein's table, and when he returned, she handed him a note she had written during the recess. It contained a question that she requested he put to John Humphrey Noyes. Blaustein scanned the note, and although he looked somewhat mystified by it, he nodded.

  "Proceed, Mr. Blaustein," said Judge Endicott, once again settled, his spectacles again in place.

  "Mr. Noyes," began M. B. Blaustein, "at your Oneida Community, isn't it true that no one is forced to participate in your complex marriage... activities?"

  "Yes, though all are urged to do so. But no one is compelled to do other than routine chores of the community, which are divided equally between men and women."

  "Would you give the court an example of that?"

  "The cooking and the laundry. Those duties are assigned on a revolving basis, so that no one is burdened for any great length of time with tasks he or she might find distasteful."

  "Is there leisure time available?" asked Blaustein.

  "Oh, yes, there is sufficient time for recreation."

  When Polk snickered, Judge Endicott sent him a flinty look over motionless spectacles.

  "What kind of recreation, Mr. Noyes?"

  "We hold Sunday afternoon picnics for our neighbors and frequently conduct musicales. And theater events as well."

  "And does Elise Jager participate in those theater events?"

  "Indeed, yes. She often directs as well as performs in the productions. Elise is a splendid actress, which is why I encouraged her to come to Oneida. Her husband, I understand, forced her to abandon the theater after their marriage."

  Standing at his table, Blaustein picked up Glynis's note, scanned it again, and asked, "Mr. Noyes, did you ever have occasion to meet Roland Brant at the Oneida Community?"

  "Objection," Polk barked, jumping to his feet. "Irrelevant and immaterial."

  "Objection overruled," declared Judge Endicott. "Mr. Polk, I gave you leeway to pursue a prurient line of questioning in an attempt to reach the truth in this matter. Tamar Jager has been at the heart of all that has gone before me today, and if attorney Blaustein's question assists in any way to determine the girl's future, I will allow it."

  Bravo, Judge Endicott, Glynis silently applauded. And she suddenly realized that he had shown her another vantage from which to view Roland Brant's murder. She also saw that for the first time John Humphrey Noyes looked something less than supremely self-confident.

  "Mr. Noyes, shall I repeat the question?" asked Blaustein.

  "No, no," he replied. "I may have met Roland Brant on one or two occasions when he came to purchase some of Oneida's fine cutlery," answered Noyes. He turned to Judge Endicott, saying, "You may have heard of our steel traps or the knives made in our own forge, and of our invention of a revolving oven to temper steel."

  Judge Endicott's expression indicated mild interest, but Blaustein looked unimpressed as, glancing again at Glynis's note, he asked, "Did you also have occasion to meet Tamar Jager's father, Derek Jager?"

  Orrin Polk started to object, but apparently thought better of it upon seeing Judge Endicott glower.

  "I believe that's possible," Noyes nodded. "He was, as I recall, a business associate of Roland Brant's."

  Blaustein swung around to look at Glynis, and she gave him a brief nod. He then turned back to the witness.

  "Thank you, Mr. Noyes. I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor."

  At this point Noyes looked exceedingly cheerful, Glynis thought, for a man who had heard his life's work described as iniquitous. He sat in the witness chair with a slight smile as he stared toward the window, perhaps listening for God's intent. Or Noyes might be thinking, as Harriet Peartree would put it, that compared to God, Orrin Polk was small potatoes and few in the hill.

  Judge Endicott unexpectedly asked, "I am rather curious about something, Mr. Noyes. With all the activity that Mr. Polk has described as taking place at Oneida, how do you people manage to find time to feed and clothe and house yourselves?"

  "Those are pleasurable religious obligations, Your Honor," Noyes answered with a beneficent smile. "It is our duty to God to take joy in all that we do in His kingdom, and you have perhaps heard of our magnificent horticulture. You should visit our landscaped gardens, sir, and observe for yourself our guiding principle: that beauty is inseparable from utility."

  Glynis covered a smile with her hand at Judge Endicott's obvious curiosity. If she'd had the opportunity, she undoubtedly would have asked Noyes much the same sort of thing.

  None at Oneida, so far as she knew, were held captive; they could leave anytime they chose. Moreover, the commune, when subjected to a particularly vicious attack from local clergy, had received the near unqualified support of their neighbors, the largely Protestant farming families that surrounded Oneida.

  Which, she supposed, was all well and good for the adults who chose to live there—but what about the youngsters? Much as she disliked Orrin Polk, she thought his point was telling; as benign as Noyes appeared to be, she couldn't help but equate his exercise of power over young females with that of Roland Brant. A power that was centuries old and unchanging.

  Judge Endicott straightened on the bench and then, looking judiciously grave, addressed the two lawyers, "I must tell you both that, given what I have heard today, I am inclined to rule that Tamar Jager, at age seventeen, has as much right to determine her own future as anyone else in this room. Therefore, I will hear testimony from the girl herself before deciding this matter. Court adjourned."

  Glynis was impressed with the judge's decision. As she rose from the chair, she began to realize that Noyes's testimony here had cast light on some treacherous possibilities. She wondered if the man was aware of them. Or was Noyes merely an unwitting collaborator?

  24

  I am more and more convinced that man is a dangerous creature; and that power, whether vested in many or a few, is ever grasping, and like the grave, cries "Give, give!"

  —Abigail Adams, 1775

  On the carriage ride back to Seneca Falls, Glynis listened none too closely to M. B. Blaustein's measured and mournful analysis of the afternoon's proceeding. She half-heartedly tried to follow his comments, yet, occupied by her own thoughts, o
nly managed to nod periodically.

  She had accumulated over the past days numerous odd scraps of information, which she believed were somehow related if only she could piece them together. But her mind was behaving like a sieve. It wouldn't hold onto a single idea long enough to consider it before it was gone and another poured in to take its place. Followed by another and another. She had to think much of this stemmed from her newly informed view of Roland Brant. That, and her own misjudgment of his character.

  Until a few days ago she had known the man mainly through his many acts of charity; his contributions to numerous Seneca Falls organizations, which included Neva's shelter and her own library. She had not believed Roland Brant capable of evil. Then, while listening to Tamar the night before, she had experienced an intense anger, for what could merciless assaults on a defenseless young girl be called but evil. And her anger provoked still more questions: Had all of Brant's beneficence been intended to make the town beholden to him? Simply the means to increase his influence?

  What had Shakespeare, the voice for all seasons, said? The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones. It seemed to be true, because Glynis felt she had lost all sense of balance. She could not see past the worst of Roland Brant.

  And yet the worst had been all but invisible.

  In Waterloo she had learned some things of significance. While she still believed Roland Brant's family and staff members were the main suspects in his murder, she now included Derek Jager. Brant might well have admitted him through the library door. She recalled Jager's angry words when he had been with Erich in the library. So Roland might possibly have swindled his own business associate.

  Would Brant have opened that door to Gerard Gagnon? Glynis couldn't discount it. And since she knew scheduled arrivals by train could not be trusted, she supposed Elise Jager might have secretly arrived Sunday night, rather than Monday afternoon. After all, Glynis had not actually seen the woman leave the train. If the girl's mother had suddenly discovered what Roland Brant had done to her daughter....

  M. B. Blaustein broke into her thoughts. "Miss Tryon, I'm in Seneca Falls. But are you here?" he asked, smiling.

  "Barely," she admitted with embarrassment, looking around to discover they had arrived at the Fall Street livery. She shaded her eyes with a hand, as light shimmered off the canal with the blinding glare of a sunlit mirror. And she suddenly thought: a mirror.

  She quickly thanked attorney Blaustein, wished him well in the custody proceeding, and then walked briskly in the direction of the lockup. If she was correct, Judge Endicott might not need to make a decision about Tamar's custody.

  She found only one deputy in Cullen's office.

  "You don't have to worry about Sledge," Zeph told her when he opened the door to the lockup's holding cells. "He's gone. Long gone if he knows what's good for him."

  "Cullen released him?" Glynis asked in surprise as they walked down the hallway.

  "Nothing to hold him on. I didn't see him fire that shotgun, and Sledge swore it was his pal did all the shooting."

  "But Sledge would say that, wouldn't he?"

  Zeph shrugged. "There was a wanted notice out for the girl, so he didn't do anything illegal—least not that we can prove. Anyway, Constable made him sign a sworn statement that Gerard Gagnon killed that runty guy in self-defense. Then he told Sledge to get out of his town and not come back."

  "So for company, he's keeping me here!" came Gerard's voice from the holding cell.

  The man sounded as angry as Glynis had expected. "Zeph," she said, "do I have to stand out here in the hall to talk to Mr. Gagnon?"

  "The constable's not around…what did he tell you?"

  "Earlier today he said I could visit Mr. Gagnon. He didn't say I had to do it through the bars of a cell."

  "Ah, but I'm a dangerous character, Miss Tryon," Gerard told her. "Certainly more dangerous than a half-wit bounty hunter armed with a shotgun!"

  "Gagnon, why are you making this so hard on yourself?" Zeph sounded as if he didn't expect an answer.

  "He's not a convicted criminal. So why don't you unlock this cell door," Glynis suggested, "and then leave that door into the office open. That way you'll hear me if I scream." She assumed Zeph would hear this as a feeble attempt at gallows humor.

  He stood looking at her, then gave Gagnon a longer look. "If anything happens, Constable will string me up," he said finally, reaching forward to unlock the cell door. "You give me your word, Gagnon, you won't try anything stupid?"

  Gerard looked as if he were ready to deliver a less than cooperative reply, but after seeing Glynis's warning glance, he apparently reconsidered. "My word, Deputy," he said.

  When Zeph had gone back into the office, Glynis swung open the cell door and stepped inside. Gerard Gagnon's dark hair was shaggy, his face too lean, his frame too gaunt, but he had a quality that reminded Glynis somewhat of Jacques Sundown. She had to hope, however, that he was more approachable than Jacques had once been. She didn't have years to wait while this man learned to trust her.

  Gerard gestured for her to sit on the rumpled cot. "My home is your home, Miss Tryon," he said with a sardonic smile. He lowered himself to the floor to sit with his back against the cell wall and asked, "How is the girl?" The concern in his voice belied his offhand manner.

  "She was much improved this morning," Glynis answered. "One of the reasons I've come is tell you that. I hope you'll be released soon and can see her yourself."

  "You're not alone in hoping that. And thank you. But you said that was one reason?"

  "I wonder if I might ask you several things that I'm curious about?"

  "Depends," he said guardedly. "Would you mind telling me if you believe I killed Roland Brant?"

  "I think you might have. Though you're not the most obvious suspect, at least not at the moment."

  "Who is? Not Tamar!"

  Glynis shook her head. "But you're not in a position to ask about other suspects, Mr. Gagnon. It would be more to your advantage, and to Tamar's, if you help to find the truth."

  He nodded. "All right, ask away. And since you've been straightforward with me, I'll tell you this. For months I had every intention of killing Roland Brant."

  "Why didn't you?"

  Gerard looked surprised. "You're not shocked?"

  "Not particularly, after what I've learned about the man."

  "What have you learned? Was it from Tamar?"

  "First tell me why you didn't kill Brant."

  He seemed to think about it before answering, "I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Call it lack of nerve—or maybe I just didn't want to dirty my hands on him."

  Glynis was aware that she wanted to believe Gerard, and so she couldn't trust herself to remove him yet from suspicion. "Tamar told me that you found her in the swamp." When he nodded, she went on, "Did she speak to you then?"

  "No. And she didn't say anything that made sense until that bounty hunter shot Keeper. My dog," he added.

  "Yes, I know Keeper. Were you told that he's with Tamar at the refuge dispensary?"

  "The deputy said he was."

  "Dr. Cardoza-Levy removed the pellets from Keeper's shoulder. Did you meet her?"

  "Yes, when we left Tamar there," answered Gerard. "Before we came here and the constable decided I was a menace to society."

  "Constable Stuart is afraid you'll leave town. Leave quickly and lose yourself in the swamp, and possibly take Tamar with you."

  "He could be right," Gerard said. "And if she wanted to go, I'd take her. You just asked if Tamar spoke when I found her. She didn't, not to me, but she said a few things in her sleep."

  "What things?"

  "The first night she cried. Most of what she said made no sense, but she kept repeating 'the blood, the blood.' As if she were Lady Macbeth."

  Immediately Glynis arrived at what she knew was an utterly groundless conclusion: a man who read Shakespeare could not be all bad. "Can you guess what she mig
ht have meant?" she asked him.

  "I think so. I told her the next day that she'd had a few splotches of blood on her hands when I found her, but that they were probably from an open cut on her own arm. She seemed relieved."

  As was Glynis. It had been the last obstacle to believing Tamar innocent.

  "But I couldn't help with her other nightmare," Gerard went on. "She kept saying over and over 'Don't hurt me.'"

  His tone held a growing anger. He didn't bother to restrain it when he said, "At first, she was terrified of me, backing away and cringing every time I came anywhere near her. I guessed right away that someone had hurt her badly. May I assume, Miss Tryon, you know what I mean by that?"

  Glynis wondered how much to confirm. The man was intelligent, and he had already recognized the substance of his speculation. Her hesitation was for Tamar's sake, but she decided that she couldn't know what was best for the girl. And that the truth was not negotiable. "Yes, I know what you mean, and I'm afraid you're right," she said at last. "Tamar told me some of it."

  "That swine Brant did it! Didn't he?" Gerard demanded, leaping to his feet. "I should have killed him months ago!"

  The rage in his voice brought Zeph racing down the hall, his revolver drawn.

  "There's no danger, Zeph," Glynis insisted as the deputy stood there with his gun trained on Gerard. "And he has every reason to be angry."

  "Not with you, he doesn't."

  "It has nothing to do with me," she assured him, thankful that Gerard was now silent. Not that he had to say anything; his eyes were fierce, his fury all too evident.

  "You finished, Miss Tryon?" Zeph asked, his eyes still fixed on Gerard.

  "No, I'm not. Would you please go back to the office?"

  "Nope."

  Glynis had guessed as much, and turned to Gerard. "Mr. Gagnon, Brant is dead. What he did can't be undone. But if you care for Tamar, you have to try to look, both of you, beyond the past. He's dead!"

  She could see Zeph's confusion, but this was not the time for explanation. "I have one more question, Mr. Gagnon."