“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.”<
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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.”
“Could you tell us how you know this gentleman?”
“Didn’t know a soul when I got here. Wife grew ill, cattle were sickly, crops weren’t growing. Thought I was a goner. Robichaud here spent nigh on as much time by my homestead as tending his own holdings.” The burly giant’s beard quivered with fervor. “Aye, I’ll stand up for Robichaud. And count it an honor to do so.”
“Would you call him a man of God, sir?”
“Aye, I would. A papist, indeed. But he’s bowed his head over my table more often than I care to count.” He stabbed the air between them. “I’d call him kin for no other reason than the sweat he’s dropped into my soil, and count myself fortunate.”
“Thank you, Mr. McDougall, you may sit down.” Thomas addressed the gathering. “Do any of you here know of any reason why this man’s testimony should be doubted?”
When none responded, Thomas focused upon Guy himself. “Mr. Robichaud, how do you come to know about the former ownership of this disputed land?”
“Laroux’s holding anchored one end of the village, ours the other.”
Anne leaned forward and whispered to her husband. Thomas called over, “Is it correct that prior to the expulsion your own father was village mayor?”
“We called him the headman, leader of the council of elders.” Guy remained where he was, hemmed in on all sides, fumbling with the brim of his black hat. “But it is true nonetheless.”
“Would you have anything to add to the testimony you have heard?”
“Only that when Laroux arrived, he offered to buy Reynolds out.”
“Is that true, Mr. Reynolds?”
The English farmer folded his arms. “I ain’t selling.”
“That was not the question. Did Mr. Laroux offer to buy you out?”
“Aye, he came traipsing in with some song and dance about how—” “A simple yes or no will suffice.”
“Aye. He offered. I refused.”
“Thank you.” Thomas returned his attention to Guy. “Mr. Robichaud, may I ask, are you currently farming your family’s original homestead?”
“No, sir. I am not.”
“Why not, may I ask?”
“Well, it’s a bit complicated. You see, there were three families whose holdings stood where ours probably was—”
“Probably?”
“Yes, sir.” Ancient shadows creased Guy’s features. “You see, it was not merely our homes which the British soldiers burned. They torched our barns. They set fire to our orchards. Their plan was to wipe out every trace of our life and our heritage.”
Thomas raised a hand to his brow and leaned his head on his elbow. “Go on.”
“When we first arrived back, we searched and searched. But we could not be certain exactly where our farm stood. The road has been moved, new houses built, a whole new village. So as best we could figure, there are three farms sharing what once was our own land.”
“Why is the situation different for Mr. Laroux here?”
“There is no mistaking where their land begins.” Guy’s voice turned more confident. “The Laroux family farmed a natural promontory. A rock cliff on one side, ancient woodlands on another, a steep rise climbing up behind.”
“So this is definitely the same place where Mr. Reynolds lives and works.”
“The new house is situated farther to the northern border, but—”
The chair to Thomas’s left scraped back. Joshua Reynolds leaped to his feet and declared, “I ain’t selling and I ain’t moving. This is my land! Anybody come against me, I’ll put them in the grave.”
“You will remain seated.” Thomas did not raise his voice overmuch, but his certain authority in the situation was clear to all.
“But—”
“Sit down!”Thomas directed a finger at the man.
Reynolds dropped like a shot. “He was the one who started it,” he muttered.
“Started what?”
“Second time he came around, it was to say if I didn’t take his money and move, he’d burn me out.”
Thomas wheeled to his right. “Is that true?”
The Frenchman squeezed tighter in his seat. “The land has been my family’s for seven generations.”
“Have you people failed to learn anything from the tragedy that forced your people from your land?” Thomas was on his feet. “There is nothing to be gained from violence and bloodshed. Nothing!” Both hands came down upon the table. His audience was absolutely still. “You and your community elders have vowed to abide by my ruling. If you will not both retract these foolhardy threats of violence, I will order both farms and crops burned, the homesteads razed to the ground, and the earth salted!”
The gasp that followed his pronouncement was echoed after the translation had been completed. The two men’s faces both were drained of color. Joshua Reynolds was the first to recover sufficiently to stammer out, “Y-you can’t do that!”
“Can and will, sir. Can and will!” Thomas’s iron will was unmistakable. He looked from one side of the gathering to the other, then back again. “We are surrounded by the most dire turmoil any of us have ever known. War threatens from every side. Communities like this one survive by only a fragile thread. Yet you would snap even this thread with your stubbornness and greed and hatred.” His burning gaze swept the group once again.
“Your silence convicts you all.” Thomas methodically gathered together his papers and deliberately stacked them. “This proceeding is concluded.”
Even Anne was caught by surprise.
“I will present my decision in two weeks. Until then, I urge you all to pray for wisdom. Pray for peace.” He stuffed the papers into his carryall and came around the table to stand at the top step. “Pray for us all.”
Chapter 32
The journey into bayou country began with hired carriages to carry them from the New Orleans docks to the main ferry point. On the Mississippi’s western side they hired boats large enough to transport both the men they would recruit and the goods they hoped to purchase. Once they actually entered bayou country, Nicole felt that time seemed to slow with the currents. The waters flowed green and inviting, and branches hung with green veils floated on the humid air above them. The air was laced with fragrances and sounds drawn from her earliest memories.
The journey into Nova Scotia, a
nd the joy found there after a weary and difficult beginning, granted her an assurance of what was yet to come. Even so, there was no escaping how she was now feeling. Do I belong here anymore? she wondered. The softly scented waters of Cajun country no longer seemed like her homeland.
During the several evenings they had spent on their waterbound journey, when tents had been erected, the evening meal completed, and damp wood set upon the fires to ward off the insects, Gordon had seated himself at the fireside. He had taken to drawing out the Good Book and reading a passage aloud. The men he had chosen for this voyage were those most open to its message. His answers were often halting, as he himself sought his way forward through the questions of his men after the readings.
Nicole had reveled in the discovery of her new husband’s depth of character and another aspect to his leadership of men.
Now the oars’ tempo increased to where they almost matched Nicole’s heartbeat. The village began long before she expected. The first houses were set where once there had been unbroken forest. For a moment she thought they had perhaps arrived at the wrong place.
They rounded the final bend in the river, and the village she remembered was there before her. Some who seemed immediately familiar and others who were total strangers stared back at the trio of longboats.
“Alarm!” A voice cried in French from the riverbank. “Soldiers!”
“Peace!” Gordon shouted back across the water in English. “We come as friends!”
But consternation along the riverbank seemed to be heightened only further. Nicole heard French voices cry back, “British! British soldiers!”
The cry was taken up and spread like the sweep of human wildfire. More people were gathering there by the riverside. She saw glints of metal in some hands, heard the angry shouts. She opened her mouth to call out her identity but realized immediately that she would not be able to make herself heard above the tumult.
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