A Different Flesh (23 page)

A second look was plenty to warn Jeremiah to beware of Judge Scott. The man had a long, narrow, unsmiling face, a nose sharp and thin as a sword blade, and eyes like black ice. Even when young, he would not have changed his mind often, and he had not been young for many years.

Hardesty's features were nondescript but rather thoughtful. High Judge Kemble looked like a fox. He had a sly mouth, a sharp nose, and wide blue eyes too innocent to be altogether convincing. Jeremiah would have bet he was rich.

“What case, bailiff?” he asked in a mellifluous tenor.

The bailiff shuffled papers, though both he and the judges knew perfectly well what case it was. He read, “An action brought by Charles Gillen, a citizen of the Commonwealth of Virginia, to regain the services of his absconded black slave Jeremiah, the said Jeremiah stating himself to be a freeman and so not liable to provide said services.”

Kemble nodded, Hardesty scribbled something, Scott looked bored. The High Judge glanced toward Hayes. “The plaintiff may present his opening remarks.”

The lawyer rose, bowed to Kemble and to each of the junior judges in turn. “May it please the honorable judges, we propose to prove that the nigger seated at the defendant's bench is and has been the slave of our client Charles Gillen, that he did willfully run away from the estate of Charles Gillen, and that he has received no manumission or other liberation to entitle him in law to so depart.”

“What evidence will you produce to demonstrate this claim, sir?” Kemble intoned.

“I have beside me here the owner of—”

“I protest the word, your excellencies,” Douglas broke in. “For all that he borrows books from me, Mr. Hayes is surely too learned to assume what he wishes to prove.”

“The
claimed
owner,” Hayes amended before the judges could comment. “The
claimed
owner of this
claimed
slave” (Douglas winced at the sarcasm) “and his son and his overseer, all of whom can identify the individual in question. I shall also produce a bill of sale demonstrating the chattel status of that individual.” He sat down, looking as smug as a scrawny man can.

Judge Kemble glanced toward Douglas. “And how does the defendant plan to refute the evidence that counsel for the plaintiff shall put forward?”

The lawyer waited for Jeremiah's hesitant nod before he spoke. The magnitude of what they were about to undertake still terrified the black, though they had hashed it out together and agreed it was the best chance to squeeze justice from the court. As Douglas had said, “If you hit something, hit it hard.”

For all his brave front, Douglas must have felt a trifle daunted too. His voice was uncharacteristically nervous as he replied, “May it please the honorable judges, we do not seek to refute the plaintiff's evidence. Indeed, we stipulate it as part of the record.”

All three judges had to work together to quiet the courtroom. Cries of “Sellout!” from the few black spectators rose above the buzz of the rest of the audience. The judges stared at Douglas as they wielded their gavels: Hardesty in surprise, Kemble in frank speculation, and Scott resentfully, as if the lawyer had awakened him for no good reason.

Zachary Hayes also spent a few seconds gaping at his colleague. He recovered quickly, though, exclaiming, “If our evidence be admitted, then the case is proven for us. May I ask your excellencies to order the nigger bound over for return to his rightful owner?”

“Bailiff—” Judge Scott began.

Kemble overrode him. “A moment, please. Surely, Mr. Douglas, you could have chosen an easier way to surrender. Why this one?”

“Surrender, your excellency? Who spoke of surrender?” Douglas's voice was at its blandest now, and Hayes's face suddenly clouded with suspicion. Douglas went on, “To stipulate that Jeremiah was held in involuntary servitude does our case no harm, as our contention is and shall be that such servitude is not only involuntary but contrary to law.”

“On what ground, your excellencies?” Hayes waved the documents he had intended to introduce. “These are all executed according to proper form.”

Douglas leaned down to whisper to Jeremiah, “Here we go—no turning back now.” The lawyer took a deep breath, faced the judges, and said slowly, “On the grounds that for any man to hold another man in slavery clearly contravenes the Articles of Federation and must therefore have no standing in law anywhere in the Federated Colonies.

The court was silent for a few seconds, while judges, opponents, and audience worked through the legal language to the implications behind it. Hayes furiously shouted, “Your excellencies, I protest!” at the same time as a black man raised a whoop and a white growled, “You hush your mouth there or I'll hush it for you!”

Getting quiet back took longer this time, and the bailiff and court scribe had to eject a couple of particularly obstreperous people. Finally, with some sort of order restored, Judge Scott brought down his gavel and said, “To me, the plaintiff's protest has merit, despite the defense's attempts at obfuscation. This small, open-and-shut case is not one from which to adduce large legal principles.”

“Is it not?” Judge Hardesty spoke for the first time. “The principle would appear germane to the issue at hand.”

“As Judge Scott has seen, your excellency,” Hayes continued his protest to Kemble, “this is but a desperate effort on the part of the defense to shift the case away from the area where they are weakest: the truth. Its merits are clear as they stand; no need to go beyond them.”

“On the contrary,” Douglas said. “The claim I make is of paramount importance here. If one man may in law own another, when does application of that right end? What would the feelings of the plaintiff and his comrades be, were they at this side of the court, hearing my client lay claim to their services?”

“Any nigger wants me to slave for him'd have to kill me first,” Harry Stowe snarled.

Judge Kemble's gavel crashed down, loud as a pistol shot. “Sir, that will be the last such outburst from you. You look to have seen the inside of a courthouse once or twice, enough to have learned the rules of behavior here.” The chief judge glowered at Stowe until the overseer dropped his eyes and mumbled agreement. Kemble nodded. “Very well, then; we'll overlook it this time. As for the motion of the defense, however, we rule it is relevant to this case and will hear arguments based thereon.” He used the gavel again.

As Hayes rose, he seemed to be fighting to hold his temper. His voice came out steady as he asked for a two-day extension “to study the new situation.” Kemble granted it and adjourned the court.

Back in Douglas's office, Jeremiah was jubilant. “That Stowe hurt Mr. Gillen more'n we did?” he grinned. “Without him opening his fool mouth that way, the judge wouldn't have got mad and gone along with your motion.”

“Associating with me has made you cynical,” Douglas said, drawing the cork from a bottle of whiskey and taking a long swig. “Ahh! Better. Actually, I think you're wrong there. Ruling against us, Kemble probably would have lost on appeal, and he's too clever to leave himself open for anything like that. He'll let us hang ourselves instead of doing the work for us.”

That assessment shattered the black's cheery mood. “We ain't won yet, then?”

“A skirmish,” Douglas shrugged. “You aren't back in the fields, are you? But no, we haven't won. The real fight is just starting.”

When Jeremiah's case reconvened, the courtroom was even more packed than it had been before. At the bailiff's command, the people who had managed to gain seats rose to honor the judges. Those at the back—blacks again, mostly—had been standing for some time already, and would keep on until court adjourned.

Judge Kemble rapped for order. Slowly, silence descended. Kemble nodded to Zachary Hayes. “You may begin, sir.”

“Thank you, your excellency,” Hayes said, rising. “Though I regret the necessity of belaboring the obvious, still it may not be amiss to remind some of the citizens of the Federated Commonwealths of the principles upon which it was built.”

He sent a sour glance toward Alfred Douglas before continuing, “I shall not even attempt to cite the precedents sanctioning slavery. Suffice it to say they are both numerous and ancient, dating back on the one hand to the Old Testament, the foundation of our faith; and on the other hand to the history and institutions of the wise and noble Greeks and Romans, upon whose usages we have modeled our own.”

Listening, Jeremiah felt his heart sink. Hayes sounded too knowledgeable, too self-assured. The black's nails bit into his palms. He should have run while he had the chance. All Douglas wanted to do was show off how brilliant he was. Why not? If he lost the case, it would not hurt
him
any.
He
would not be the one hauled away in chains.

Douglas might have been reading his thoughts. He leaned over and whispered, “Don't give up just yet. He's not saying anything I didn't expect him to.”

“All right.” But Jeremiah remained unconvinced.

Hayes was saying, “At first glance, it might seem strange that the Federated Commonwealths, whose pride is in upholding the freedom of their citizens, should also countenance slavery. Yet when properly examined, no inconsistency appears. More than two thousand years ago, Aristotle demonstrated in the
Politics
that some men are indeed slaves by nature, and that it is only proper for them to serve so that, by enjoying the fruit of their labors, the rest may be truly free.

“How may we judge those who are slaves by nature? Whenever two groups of men differ widely, so that the inferior group can do no more than use their bodies at the direction of their superiors, that group is and ought to be slaves by nature: they reason only enough to understand what they are told, not to think new thoughts for themselves.

“Finally, for us a kindly providence has distinguished this class of individuals by their dusky skins and other features different from our own, to make display of their servile status. This being the case, I trust your excellencies shall soon bring an end to the farce we have seen played out here, and that you shall return this nigger Jeremiah to the station God has intended for him.” Conscious of a job well done, Hayes sat.

“Mr. Douglas, you may reply,” Judge Kemble said.

“Thank you, your excellency,” Douglas said, slowly getting to his feet, “although I naturally hesitate to do so when my learned opponent, as he has demonstrated, is on such intimate terms with the Almighty.” Judge Scott's gavel crashed to stifle the small swell of laughter in the court; Hayes gave Douglas a distasteful look.

The younger lawyer brushed a lock of his thick, dark hair back from his forehead. He went on, “I should also like to congratulate Mr. Hayes for the scholarship and energy he has expended to justify the ownership of one man by another. I only find it a pity that he has wasted so much ingenuity over an entirely irrelevant result. ‘The mountains labor, and bring forth a ridiculous mouse.'”

This time, all three judges used their gavels, though Jeremiah saw Judge Hardesty's mouth twitch. Hayes sprang out of his chair as if he had sat on a pin. “See here, your excellencies!” he cried. “If this mountebank has a case to make, let him make it, instead of mocking mine.”

“The entire proceeding of the defense has skated on thin ice,” Judge Scott observed.

“Your excellency, I hope to demonstrate otherwise,” Douglas said hastily; not all the sweat that beaded on his face came from Portsmouth's humid heat. “If the court will indulge me, I believe I can do so by summoning two individuals to the witness-box. One is currently in the courtroom; the other, whom I should like to call first, is just outside.”

The judges conferred briefly among themselves. “Bunch of damned nonsense!” Jeremiah heard Judge Scott say. He saw the jurist's powdered wig flap indignantly. But after a few minutes, Judge Kemble said, “You may proceed.”

“I thank you, your excellency,” Douglas said. “I should like the bailiff to fetch in a certain Rob, whom he will find, I expect, sitting against the wall opposite this courtroom.”

Bearing a martyred expression—the things half-smart lawyers put him through!—the bailiff went out into the hallway. Jeremiah heard him call, “Rob?” He returned a moment later, his face now frozen. Accompanying him was a male sim, the hair on its head and back and chest grizzled with age.

“Mr. Douglas, I do not know what you are playing at, but I assure you I am no longer amused,” Judge Kemble snapped. “You know perfectly well that no testimony by a sim is valid in a court of law, they being incompetent to understand or take oath.”

“Yes, your excellency, I am aware of that,” Douglas answered. “It was for that very reason that I summoned Rob (who belongs to a friend of mine) before you. The presence of sims on these shores, you see, has a vital impact on the question of slavery.”

“Why? Are you planning to liberate them next?” Judge Scott asked.

Such sarcasm from the bench was dangerous. “No, your excellency,” Douglas replied at once. “I believe it just that they serve mankind. But their just service points out the injustice of forcing men to similar servitude.”

“I fail to see how,” Scott grumbled.

“Then let him show us, if he can,” Judge Hardesty suggested softly. His partner's face did not clear, but Scott kept to himself the protest he still plainly felt. After glancing at Judge Kemble, Hardesty said to Douglas, “You may proceed.”

“Thank you, your excellency.” Douglas pointed toward Rob, who sat calmly in the witness-box, looking rather bored and working its massive jaws to help pass the time. “Here we have a being gifted with intelligence—”

“Not much!” someone called from the audience, which raised a laugh and made the judges pound loudly for order. Jeremiah spent the next several minutes looking down at the table in front of him, until he trusted his control over his features once more. Douglas, he knew, had paid the fellow three denaires for that interruption.