Benedict explained, “Mr. Bakker tried to claim that distributingLa Libre Belgiquewas motivated not by defiance of the law, but to spread comfort and moral support. The judge won’t allow it.”
Throughout the next hour, Delia kept careful watch on Mathilde. The woman had flawless posture, her shoulders never showing a hint of slumping as the judges systematically demolished the defense’s case. It wasn’t even lunchtime before the case came to a close. The lead judge announced the tribunal would withdraw to consider the charges and then return with a verdict.
Benedict twisted on the bench to speak in a low voice. “I wish I’d gotten the message about attire. I’d have worn my red waistcoat.”
“You noticed too?” Delia asked.
Benedict nodded. “I noticed. I hope Mathilde did as well. It might be the only consolation she will receive today.”
“The case is that bleak?”
“A guilty verdict is all but certain,” Benedict replied. “The best we can hope for is a merciful sentence. They will proceed to thesentencing portion of the trial immediately after the verdict is delivered.”
Delia sighed. Perhaps Baron von Eschenbach would save the day. He’d left to appeal to the kaiser for leniency five days ago, but they hadn’t heard anything from him as yet. Whether he had good news or bad, he ought to have wired them a response by now.
Less than twenty minutes later, the court bailiff strode to the front of the courtroom. “Alle Aufstieg!”
Everyone in the courtroom stood. Mathilde silently crossed herself as the three judges walked in a line to their positions behind the front table. With a loud tap of the gavel, court was back in session, and every muscle in Delia’s body became strung so tautly that she hurt.
The lead judge began reading from a prepared document, his voice as dry as if he were reading a weather report. Yet he was clearly delivering the verdict because a handful of spectators murmured in dismay.
Benedict leaned toward Delia to whisper, “Guilty on both charges, as expected.”
Mathilde’s lawyer translated the verdict for her. Though Mathilde’s expression didn’t waver, she swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders.
Without delay, the case shifted to the sentencing phase. Because both charges carried the death penalty, the defense attorney rose to offer his best case for mercy.
Again, Benedict turned to Delia and translated quietly, “Mr. Bakker is pointing out that Mathilde is a mother to three children. Mathilde’s husband was seized by the German Army in the early days of the war and is not there to help raise the children. The court will be making orphans of the children if they proceed with a sentence of execution.”
Delia watched the expression of all three judges. Their faces might have been carved from granite for all the compassion they showed. The defense attorney then outlined several other reasonsfor the court to show mercy. To her surprise, Mr. Bakker was allowed to speak at length and was never interrupted. Benedict translated the highlights of the defense’s argument for mercy. Mathilde had a spotless reputation and had contributed to her community through charitable works and causes. If she was sentenced to remain imprisoned for the duration of the war, she would cause no additional harm to the German war effort.
At last, Mr. Bakker had reached the end of his prepared argument and gave the judges a deep bow before sitting down.
The lead judge announced something, and Benedict swore under his breath. “They’re ready to pronounce the sentence,” he hissed. “This was a foregone conclusion all along.”
Despair blossomed in Delia’s chest when the judge began reading from a prepared document, proof that the sentence had already been decided while the judges were in chamber. The few people among the spectators who understood German began a low, hostile murmuring, and the judge banged his gavel, shooting them all a glare before continuing to render his sentence.
“Death by firing squad,” Benedict told her. “The sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning at seven o’clock.”
Delia refused to leave the courthouse. They needed to find a way to delay the scheduled execution long enough to hear back from the baron.
Mathilde had been escorted back to her cell, and Benedict intercepted her lawyer for an emergency consultation. Delia joined the two men in a windowless courthouse meeting room that had only a single table and two chairs. Who cared how claustrophobic it felt? They needed to save a woman’s life and had less than eighteen hours to do so. The men took the chairs as Delia, too nervous to sit, began pacing the room.
“What about requesting an appeal?” Benedict asked.
Mr. Bakker shook his head. “Appeals require filing paperworkin Berlin, and Mathilde will be dead before we can cut through the layers of red tape to get the necessary signatures. It’s how they carried out Edith Cavell’s execution before the international community could object, and that is what they’re planning to do this time.”
Benedict muttered a curse and grumbled about the German love affair with rules and procedures.
Delia mulled over the problem. Their best bet for saving Mathilde’s life was a reprieve from the kaiser, but they needed to delay the execution at least until they heard back from Baron von Eschenbach.
Benedict and Mr. Bakker batted ideas back and forth while Delia steepled her hands beneath her chin and continued to pace. Benedict was correct about German adherence to structure and schedules. Delia often teased Inga about her insistence of following recipes to the letter instead of feeling free to experiment.
Perhaps their best chance to save Mathilde wouldn’t be found in the lawbooks or pleading for mercy. How could they use Germany’s fussy preoccupation with rules and procedures to delay the execution?
The answer blazed in Delia’s mind like fireworks.
“The promotion ceremony! Don’t you remember?” she asked Benedict. “General Ryckman said the mid-level officers have all been called to Munich to be recognized for their promotions. There will be atrocious accordion music. What sort of officer will be in charge of a firing squad?”
