allowed to sit the case—a case, I might add, with which I am allowed no previous counsel. I am usually given the charges as the trial begins. I am not allowed to see clients before that. I am not allowed to bring witnesses for the defense—not that I could find any who would willingly put themselves against a German tribunal. Nor am I permitted to present any real defense with any sort of spirit. It would be viewed as lacking respect for the German court. I am not even allowed to wear my wig or court robes. It is a sham. But now and again the truth won’t be suppressed, as Monsieur Whitlock has said. You can hope for that.”
“Hope? No. That’s not enough.” He wished he could march to Isa’s prison and demand she be set free, demand justice. But he was powerless in a city overrun by those whose definition of justice had somehow been forgotten. “Will you agree to take her case, whenever it will be?”
“Of course—but with one caution,” Painlevé said. “There has been a rumor—a rather serious rumor—that the Germans will decree Brussels a Flemish province. Which means, among other things, that only Flemish will be spoken in the courts. This should not matter in a German tribunal, where they speak mostly German. But they may choose not to recognize my credentials since I am Walloon.”
“Forever trying to separate the two,” Whitlock commented.
The barrister nodded. “And wholly failing, as far as I can see.” He turned his attention back to Edward. “Let me say this, Father Antoine: I am not so sure it matters who represents your parishioner, not as much as it depends on the whim of the court on that day. They may take pity on her—tell me, is she a pretty girl?”
Edward nodded.
“Then they may very well.”
Edward stood. He intended to go back to the church. He’d heard about an abbé who might hold information about bribing Kommandantur guards. He didn’t like going to someone he didn’t know firsthand, but desperation made him bold.
Whitlock followed Edward to the door, much to Edward’s surprise. “Father,” he said quietly, when they were alone, “if indeed you are a priest.”
Edward turned to him expectantly. Brand Whitlock was a bit taller than Edward, lankier. He was known for his eloquence in diplomacy, but just at the moment he had a look of pure consternation on his face.
“Tell me one thing before you go,” he said. “You’ve asked for my help before. As I recall in that case, someone was legitimately guilty, at least as far as German law goes. Have you gotten Isa involved in any of that?”
Edward knew his face went white; he couldn’t stop the blood that drained away. So, Whitlock remembered Edward as one of those who had come begging mercy for earlier victims of La Libre Belgique.
“It’s that way, is it? You’ve put her life in danger.”
“While it may be my fault she’s involved, it wasn’t my idea. Have you ever tried to change Isa’s mind?”
“Tell me truthfully. Do the Germans know about what she’s involved in? Will that come up in the trial?”
Edward shook his head. “No! I tell you, this is all because of that German officer. She hasn’t done anything other than refuse his advances.”
Whitlock sighed. “As an American I may be on thinning ice with the Germans, young man, but they won’t want to add another international incident by condemning one of my countrymen—a woman no less—to a harsh penalty over something as slight as either feeding a spy or refusing to kiss a German officer.”
“I wish you could promise me that.” Edward left without waiting for a reply. No one could make any promises these days.
24
Recall with me the era before the war, when England called for the peace of all Europe, and Germany called simply for neutrality. While today Germany points the finger at England with the feeble hope of laying blame there, is it not obvious the reason Germany wanted extensive neutrality? Did she hope others would not ally against her when she moved to fulfill her plan to expand? How long, O Germany, have you planned this war?
La Libre Belgique
* * *
“He was our only child,” Pierrette whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Isa murmured. Grief was no stranger in Brussels.
Isa dreaded having to spend the night locked in a cell. She’d guessed she must when they’d brought in the second cot, even though part of her had stubbornly hoped otherwise. But at least the Lord had sent