A Defiant Liaison

XXIX

"You just need to be a flea against injustice. Enough committed fleas biting strategically can make even the biggest dog uncomfortable and transform even the biggest nation." Marian Wright Edelman

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XXIX.

Belle could not believe her eyes. She had to convince herself that she was not dreaming, and that Peter was really there with her. But it had to be real. Belle's dreams were rarely of the good.

She felt dreadful. She felt tired and weak, her stomach felt empty and heavy, and there was a strange pain in her arm. But she paid no attention to any of that, not while Peter was there. She had been so frightened that she would never see him again, that her letter would find him too late.

Belle knew that they were going to kill her. That was what white men did when a slave attacked them. It was allowed. It was lawful. Had she not been with the lieutenant at the time of her arrest, she was certain that they would find the nearest tree and strung her up just like every other poor soul before her who had tried to fight back.

"You shall never need to be sorry for what you did," Peter promised her quietly.

But Belle felt it in her bones that if she found some ounce of remorse that she might be able to plead her case as a moment of insanity or something. But she couldn't. She was physically incapable of feeling any sense of guilt. And she worried if that made her wicked. Not as a victim, but as a human who harmed another.

Adam and Alex huddled over her then, and she finally could comprehend that there were three men in her tiny, filthy cell. They had all come for her, and they were all frightened for her. More tears fell from her eyes then, and they were not tears of sadness.

"I don't want to die," Belle managed to say, her voice cracking as her eyes returned to Peter.

Peter's large hands cupped her face then, and his thumbs brushed away her tears. "You are not going to die," he promised her.

"It is not a death sentence you face," added Adam. "The magistrate believes your punishment would likely be transportation to Australia."

Australia. Where on earth was that? Was it far? Was it in England? For how long would she have to go?

"But you are not going anywhere," Peter said firmly. "When the judge arrives, everything will be put right. I'm certain of it."

Belle got a sense that Peter was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. Whatever the charge, it was inevitable that she would be punished. Punished for fighting. Punished for winning.

"Tais-toi et laisse-moi dormir!" shouted a voice that echoed along the corridor outside the cells.

Belle gasped.

"What is it? Who is that?" pressed Peter.

"Claude," replied Belle with a whisper. "He is ... he is Jean's right hand." Belle had pleaded her case with the magistrate when she had been arrested, but she hadn't known that he'd listened and had actually arrested Claude as well. Did that mean that Jean was also somewhere in this building? The very thought made her blood run cold.

Alex leapt up and gripped the bars of the cell in his hands and rattled them with such force that the entire wall shook. With such strength, he would have been able to break through the door with enough effort.

"Je vais te teur!" Alex bellowed out into the darkness.

So vicious was his tone that Belle believed him. Had Alex been able to get his hands on Claude in that moment, he would have killed him.