The Glass Village (11 page)

Hemus shifted his rifle suddenly and spat. “Seems to me you got it wrong, Judge,” he said in a mild voice. “It's law and order we're upholdin'. Aunt Fanny Adams was one of us—born here, growed up here, married here, buried her husband Girshom and her children here, did all that paintin' that made her famous here, and she died here. We're a community. We take care of our own. Our law enforcement officer arrested Aunt Fanny's murderer, a coroner's jury of our electors brought in a findin', and we aim to follow right through as our just due. We don't need no outside help, didn't ask for none, don't want none. That's all there is to it, Judge. Now I'm goin' to ask you, Sheriff, and you, Captain Frisbee, to kindly get on out of Shinn Corners and take your men with you. We got to go to church service.”

“Do you talk about church, Hube Hemus?” cried Samuel Sheare. “Where's your humility? Have you no shame, carryin' a gun on the Lord's day, incitin' your neighbors to do the same—yes, even to the steps of the house of the Lord's congregation? And defyin' the mandate of the law, in the persons of these men who are only doin' their sworn duty? You're the instigator and ringleader, Hubert Hemus. Come back to your senses. Talk your neighbors into comin' back to theirs!”

Hube Hemus said gently, “We had a town meetin' last night, Mr. Sheare. You were there. You know this matter was voted on in the manner prescribed by town regulations, and minutes were duly taken of the proceedin's. You know nobody had to talk nobody into nothin'. You know there wasn't a single nay vote on the motion exceptin' yours and Mrs. Sheare's.”

The minister looked over his congregation, at those whose dead he had buried, whose sick he had comforted, whose troubled he had given faith—at the brides and the grooms, the mothers and the fathers, at the children he had received into his church. And everywhere he looked, the familiar faces were rock, implacable.

Mr. Sheare made a small gesture of despair and turned away.

“I'm saying it again,” said Hube Hemus to the sheriff and the policeman. “Go away and leave us to our own.”

Sheriff Mothless jammed his straw hat over his ears. “What is this, a dime-store revolution? Shinn Corners secedin' from the forty-eight states? You folks stop this time-wastin' tomfoolery and stand aside! Captain Frisbee, do your duty!”

The captain nodded at the two police cars. Ten troopers climbed down into the road. They shuffled to form a line. Then they came slowly up from the north corner and turned into the church walk, feeling their holsters.

The thin arc of village men and boys began to finger their guns.

Johnny watched, fascinated.

“Stop right there, please!” Judge Shinn's voice cracked out like a rifle shot. The advancing troopers glanced at their captain; he nodded, and they halted. The Judge turned to his fellow townsmen. “May I say something more? This is the United States of America, neighbors, one of the few places left on earth where men live by just laws, or try to, and where the law is the same for all. I told you only Friday on the green there what some men are trying to do in our country, how they are undermining the legal structure that protects the principle of equal justice for all, what a catastrophe this could be if it isn't put a stop to. Yet what do I find less than forty-eight hours later? My own neighbors proposing to commit the same criminal folly!

“One of the keystones of our system of law is the protection of the rights of accused persons. We proudly guarantee that every person charged with a crime—no matter who he is, no matter how sickening his offense—that every such person get a fair trial, in a court of competent jurisdiction, before a jury of responsible citizens, with open minds, so that they may weigh the facts of the case without prejudice and arrive at a just decision.

“Now,” said the Judge, “we have a murder case on our hands. Hube, Orville, Burney, Peter, Mert, all of you—can you provide a court of competent jurisdiction? No. The laws of our state specifically designate the Superior Court as the court of jurisdiction in serious criminal cases, with certain exceptions such as the counties having Courts of Common Pleas, of which Cudbury County is not one. True, we have a trial justice, in common with all small communities in our state that lack a town court; and you, Orville Pangman, are the justice of the peace by town election. But if you've read the laws regulating your office, Orville, you know that a case as serious as a murder is not within your jurisdiction, that the accused must be bound over to the next term of the Superior Court or, where such courts are provided for, the court of Common Pleas.

“And do you think—Hube, Orville, Burn, Peter, Merton, all of you,” cried the Judge, “that this accused, Josef Kowalczyk, can get a fair trial in Shinn Corners? Is there one man or woman within range of my voice who is without prejudice in this case? Is there one of you who hasn't already made up his mind that this man Kowalczyk is guilty of the murder of Fanny Adams?”

Johnny thought, You may as well try arguing with the stones in the cemetery there.

“Well?” demanded Judge Shinn. “Answer me!”

And again Hube Hemus spoke out of his gaunt inflexibility. “Fairness works two ways, Judge. He'll get as fair a trial in Shinn Corners as Joe Gonzoli got in Cudbury. We want justice, too.” He was silent; then, with his first show of defiance, he added, “Maybe we can't trust nobody but ourselves no more. Maybe that's it, Judge. Anyway, we voted it that way, and that's the way it's goin' to be.”

Captain Frisbee said instantly, “All right, men.”

Sheriff Mothless hopped aside.

The troopers moved forward in a sort of drift, as if they felt everything was in delicate balance and must not be weighted down on their side by so much as a heavy footfall. The men and boys watched them coming, the boys a little pale but with half-grins, the men's mouths flattening.

Hube Hemus brought his gun up.

The sun flashed along the whole steel barrier.

The troopers halted.

Captain Frisbee looked astounded. Then his red face went redder. “I ask you people to get out of our way. If you don't, we've got to come through anyway. There's nothing we can do about it. The choice is yours.”

“Don't force the issue, Captain.” Hube Hemus's jaws ground. “We'd have to shoot.”

The guns steadied.

The police officer hesitated. The hands of his troopers hovered over their holsters. They were watching him uneasily.

“Judge, please step out of the way,” said Captain Frisbee in a low voice. “I ask the minister there to do the same.”

Neither Judge Shinn nor Samuel Sheare obeyed. The little minister's hands fluttered; that was all.

“I not only ask you to step aside,” snapped the officer, “but if there's anything you can say to get those women and children away from the doorway you'd better say it now. A lot of people are going to get hurt. I call you to witness that I'm not responsible if—”

“Wait,” said the Judge in a gritty voice. “Will you wait? Give me ten minutes, Captain, just ten minutes.”

“For what?” said Captain Frisbee. “These people, Judge, are plain loony. Or they're bluffing, which is more likely. Either way—”

A nervous trooper jerked out his revolver and lunged.

There was a shot.

Johnny thought, This is one of those dreams.

The revolver flew out of the trooper's hand and thudded to the grass beside the walk. The trooper cried out and stared at his hand. Blood was welling from a long crease across the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

Smoke snaked out of Hube Hemus's gun.

“I warned ye. Next time it's through the heart.”

Judge Shinn jumped up and down like a marionette, waving his arms. “For God's sake, Captain, ten minutes!” he shouted. “Don't you realize yet what you've stepped into? Do you want a blood bath on your conscience? Women and children victims as well as yourselves and these mules? I want a chance to phone the Governor!”

Captain Frisbee said in a murderous voice, “Grady, take Ames over to the car and fix up that flesh wound. The rest of you stay where you are. Hollister, take over till I get back.” He nodded bitterly to Judge Shinn. “Lead the way.”

Johnny trailed them across the road to the Shinn house. The Judge sat down in the foyer beside the telephone, wiped his face and hands with a handkerchief carefully. Then he picked up the phone.

“Operator, this is an emergency call. I want to speak to Governor Bradley Ford in the state capital. Governor Ford is either at the Executive Mansion or somewhere in the Capitol Building. I must speak to him in person. This is Superior Court Judge Lewis Shinn calling.”

As he waited, the Judge wiped his ear and the earpiece of the receiver. The foyer was cool, quiet. The sun, still in the eastern sky, streamed in through the screen door. A horsefly crawled and buzzed on the screen, black against the light. The red of Captain Frisbee's face was so deep it was alarming.

Johnny found his pulse throbbing. He made the discovery with some surprise.

“Governor Ford?” said Judge Shinn. Then he said through his teeth, “No, damn it, I want the Governor himself! Put him on!” He wiped his mouth this time.

There was no sound from outdoors at all. Through the screen door Johnny could see the whole tableau before the church. It had not changed. He had the absurd feeling that it would remain fixed that way in time and space, like a photograph.

“Governor? Judge Lewis Shinn,” said the Judge rapidly. “No, I'm calling from my home in Shinn Corners. Governor, Fanny Adams was murdered here yesterday afternoon—yes, Aunt Fanny Adams. I know—I know you haven't heard about it, Governor. Governor, listen—Governor, a man has been caught by our constable and a posse of the townspeople. He's an itinerant of Polish origin and speaks very little English. There is circumstantial evidence that he may have been the murderer. No, wait! Our people have locked him in the cellar of the church and refuse to give him up. That's right, Governor, they insist on retaining custody of the suspect and trying him themselves—I know they
can't
, Governor Ford, but they say they're going to just the same! At this moment a detail of state police under command of Captain Frisbee of the Petunxit barracks is facing almost the entire male population of Shinn Corners before the church. And they're all armed. No, I mean the villagers are armed, Governor. In fact, one shot has already been fired … No, no, Governor, how would militia help the situation? It would only aggravate matters. That's not why I'm calling …
Talk
to them! Governor, you don't understand. I tell you if these troopers try to take the prisoner out of that church, blood will run in the streets. I might add that every woman and child in the village is in the direct line of the troopers' fire and refuses to move. I know—I know, Governor, it is fantastic. But it's also a fact—That's exactly the point. There is something you can do, and that's why I'm calling. First, I suggest you give Captain Frisbee the direct order—he's standing by—to retire with his men. Sheriff Mothless of Cudbury County is here; he's to get out, too. Secondly, and this is of vital importance, Governor, I want you to appoint me special judge in this case, authorized to hold a trial in Shinn Corners—Governor … Governor … No, wait. You don't understand my purpose. Obviously any trial conducted here will be a travesty of justice. Legally speaking, it won't be a trial at all. But it will pacify these people and get us past the critical period, which is my sole concern at the moment … If they find him guilty and insist—? Of course not, Governor! If it should come to such an extremity, I'll notify you at once and you can send the state police in force, if necessary call out the National Guard … No, the status of the accused in my opinion wouldn't change an iota, regardless of what they find. There will be so many errors of legal process—I'll compound them!—so many statutory safeguards trampled on … That's it, Governor. For the record you should make it clear that my request and your authorization constitute a ruse of convenience only, to avert bloodshed, and that they're designed solely to allow tempers to cool down so the prisoner can be got safely away. Then he can be tried in the regular way in a court of proper jurisdiction—No, no, Governor, I don't
want
the State's Attorney of Cudbury County involved! For exactly the reason that he should be! … That's right, Governor. That's it—thank you. Oh, one thing more. Will you keep this quiet? The fewer know what's happened the better. If word gets out and reporters start pouring in here … Yes, yes. Please instruct Captain Frisbee to that effect for himself, his men, and Sheriff Mothless. I'll take care of the county coroner and the one or two others here who know—Yes, I'll keep you informed … God bless you, Governor. Captain Frisbee's right here.”

With the departure of the troopers and the sheriff everything softened into natural shapes and colors. The air lightened as if a gas had blown away and the people changed from stiff figures in a photograph to men and women and children.

Samuel Sheare turned away, his lips moving. His wife went up to him, putting her stout body between him and the danger that had passed.

The women chattered and scolded the children; the big boys elbowed one another, horsing around; the men grounded their weapons and looked sheepish. Only Hube Hemus did not change expression; if he felt a personal triumph, no sign of it appeared on his gaunt features.

Judge Shinn held up his hand, and after a moment, good-naturedly, they listened.

“With the consent and cooperation of the Governor of our state, neighbors, you are going to have your chance to demonstrate that Shinn Corners is as strong for protecting the rights of an accused murderer as you are for asserting your own. Governor Ford has just empowered me to conduct the trial of Josef Kowalczyk in Shinn Corners.”