“Kaiser Wilhelm?” Benedict asked.
“Why not? General Ryckman answers to the kaiser, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” the baron confirmed.
Delia’s heart started beating faster as pieces of her plan started falling into place. “If the war is going as badly as you suggest, Kaiser Wilhelm is probably already fearing for his fate after it’s all over. He’ll be worried about sitting down at the negotiating table and being forced to answer for the atrocities carried out in his name. He can start repairing his reputation by showing clemency for Finn and Mathilde.”
Benedict gave a cynical snort. “Do you think that the pompous, bombastic kaiser will be inspired to lift a pinky finger on behalf of two nonentities?”
“Aren’t you a bundle of joy,” she teased. A rising tide of good humor lightened her mind. Perhaps their victory in reopening the port gave her inspiration, or maybe a bit of Finn’s optimism hadrubbed off on her, but yes, she had a bold idea and intended to see it through. “I think it’s possible the kaiser will help if he sees it is in his personal interest. What is the harm in asking? Maybe we are insignificant nobodies, but sometimes a nobody can change the world. I refuse to capitulate without a fight. How do I get the kaiser’s attention?”
“Youcan’t,” Baron von Eschenbach replied, his smile laced with confidence. “But I can.”
32
Mathilde’s trial was to take place at theKriegsgericht, a military court in the center of Brussels. It had once been an ordinary Belgian courthouse, but the Germans had since transformed it. The portrait of King Albert had been replaced with that of Kaiser Wilhelm. Where the Belgian flag once flew, now the flag of Imperial Germany waved with its distinctive black eagle, spreading its wings like an ominous threat. The jury box was empty, as Mathilde’s trial would be decided by a tribunal of three military judges.
Delia and Benedict arrived at the courthouse early enough to claim the bench directly behind the table where Mathilde Verhaegen would sit beside Johannes Bakker, the Belgian lawyer defending her.
A German officer marched to the front of the courtroom, pivoted with military precision, and began speaking in a loud, intimidating voice. Delia’s inability to understand German was frustrating, but after a few moments, Benedict leaned over to whisper, “He’s laying out the rules and warning the spectators to remain silent throughout the proceedings.”
The spectators were ordinary Belgian men and women, theirexpressions uniformly grim. It was doubtful that any of them personally knew Mathilde Verhaegen, who lived a hundred miles away in a small border village, but these citizens of Brussels had arrived to show their support and so it was standing room only in theKriegsgericht.
When the officer stopped speaking, he snapped his heels together and shouted a command: “Alle Aufstieg!”
The phrase needed no translation, and everyone in the courtroom rose as the three officers who would decide the case strode into the room and claimed their seats at the table in the front.
Were they even real judges? Judges were supposed to wear black robes—a sign of their impartiality and legal training—not the uniform of the German Army. Were these men actual jurists, or merely a pack of officers eager to condemn any Belgian who dared lift their eyes from the ground and aspire to freedom?
A side door opened, and two guards escorted Mathilde inside. She was a strong-looking woman with a mass of curly, coppery hair mounded atop her head, the hint of color in sharp contrast to her drab gray prison gown.
The guards directed Mathilde to stand directly in front of the panel of judges. She was joined by her lawyer, who translated the charges as they were read aloud.
The first count was aiding and abetting Finn’s escape from Belgium. The second and more serious charge was the distribution ofLa Libre Belgique. Both counts potentially carried the death penalty, and it was unlikely there would be any mercy shown in this trial. Nevertheless, Mathilde remained stoic as she stood to hear the charges read, her attorney quietly translating throughout. Afterward, she and her lawyer were told to take their seats at the defendant’s table.
Delia lowered her head to pray.
God,are you here in this horrible courtroom today? Do you see whatis happening? Please soften the hearts of the stone-faced men who will stand in judgment of a good woman. Mathilde disobeyedthe laws of man, and perhaps she owesa price for that,but please,not the death penalty. She has children...
It was hard to pray when the harsh voice of the prosecuting attorney opened his case, pacing before the judges’ bench, pausing every few sentences to glare or point at the defendant. Why did people speaking German always sound so angry? The judges paid keen attention, their heads turning to follow the prosecutor as he walked haughtily around the courtroom.
Delia looked away, searching for anything other than the daunting sight of the judges, and noticed an oddly dressed man in the front row of the spectators’ section. He wore a red shirt with a black suit and had a yellow daffodil pinned to his lapel. It matched the yellow gown of the woman sitting beside him. Her canary-yellow gown featured a row of black buttons down the front, and a red scarf was jauntily knotted around her neck. It didn’t really match.
Delia’s breath caught when she took notice of the other spectators in the front row. All of them had something red, yellow, and black incorporated into their clothing. The colors of the Belgian flag.
The citizens of Belgium had been forbidden to fly their flag since the day Germany invaded their country, and this was a subtle sign of solidarity with the woman on trial today.
Delia’s heart was moved as she scanned the rest of the spectators. There was a great variety of colors, patterns, and designs among them, but without fail, every spectator in the courtroom wore red, yellow, and black. The embellishments were subtle enough that the Germans probably wouldn’t notice. But Delia had spotted it. A black armband, a yellow pocket square, red suspenders, yellow-and-black beaded necklaces, red jewelry, or hair ribbons in tricolor stripes. One woman waved a red-and-black fan, which gently fluttered her yellow neck scarf. As for Mathilde’s attorney, he wore a black suit with red cuff links and yellow socks.
Had Mathilde noticed their silent sign of support? Delia prayed she had.
The trial proceeded with shocking speed. The prosecution concluded their case in less than an hour, and Delia didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.
Mr. Bakker rose to present the defense’s case, which was going to be a challenge since Mathilde had been caught with the newspapers in her possession, and she had confessed to helping Finn escape. Mr. Bakker hadn’t completed two sentences when the lead judge interrupted him, and a brief argument ensued.
Benedict leaned down to whisper, “Mr. Bakker tried to present evidence that since Lieutenant Delaney never returned to active combat, Mathilde shouldn’t be charged with causing harm to German military operations. The judge said Mathilde couldn’t have known that when she committed the crime, so he is letting the charge stand.”
It was a blow, but the defense attorney seemed to have plenty of other arrows in his quiver. He immediately launched into another line of attack, yet it was shot down quickly as well.
