Isa was about to move, but the man at her side put a hand on her wrist. She looked to see Hindemith stand in front of the judges.
“Is this the woman who gave you aid when you posed as an Allied soldier?”
He turned around to face Isa, taking a leisurely look at her. She remembered thinking he was a fine-looking young man, apart from the one crooked tooth, but now she noticed something he’d hidden before, more an attitude than tangible. He looked overly confident, puffed up.
“Yes, this is the woman.”
“How did she give you aid?”
“She took me into her home and gave me food and drink.”
“And did she offer help for you to find your way back to the Allied army?” another of the three judges asked.
At this the man lost a measure of that pride. “She was obviously in sympathy for me as an Allied, as proven by the meal she offered.”
“But did she offer a path out of the country?”
He folded his hands behind his back. “No, but when I inquired how she returned to Brussels so suddenly, she was obviously hiding something. There is no doubt she smuggled herself into the country as a spy.”
Isa opened her mouth to deny it, but the man beside her once again put a hand around her wrist. She looked down at him, every bit as bewildered as alarmed. Was he here to defend her or to aid the Germans with their charges?
“You may be seated,” one of the judges said. “Isabelle Lassone, you will step forward.”
Isa stepped around the table and took the spot the German spy had vacated. She held her chin high. If this was their strongest evidence, how much danger could there be? It was ridiculous, ludicrous to accuse her of something even their own witness denied.
“Is it true that this man, claiming to be an American fighting for the Allies, came to your door seeking help?”
“Yes.”
“And did you offer him help?”
“He was hungry; I gave him bread. He was thirsty; I gave him drink.”
The judge-advocate in the center merely raised one cynical brow. “So you are saying you would have done this for any stranger coming to your door?”
“Yes.”
“And did you discuss helping him get out of Belgium to ultimately rejoin his supposed army?”
“He said that was his desire.”
“And you did nothing to discourage this?”
“I don’t remember what I said, only that I could not help him.”
Another judge, the one on the right, spoke up. “How is it, Fräulein Lassone, that you vacated Brussels with your parents on the eve of this war and two years later showed up at your family home, demanding the soldiers billeted there be evacuated so you may live there again?”
“I wished to live in my own home.”
“Yes, but where were you for those two years?”
“In hiding,” she answered, truthfully enough. “From my parents. They didn’t want me in Belgium.”
“And do your parents know where you are since you’ve resumed residence in your family home?”
“I haven’t been in contact with them.” Lately.
“Have you been in touch with anyone outside of Belgium?” He spoke quickly as if to catch her off guard.
“No.”
There was a pause, and at some length the judge in the center told her to be seated. He looked to the Germans seated at the table next to Isa’s, and one stood to launch their case against the accused. Obviously she was an Allied sympathizer, one who did nothing to alert the proper authorities of an alleged Allied soldier at her very doorstep, thus permitting him to go about his proposed illegal plan. Not only did she hide this from said authorities, she willingly fed him, strengthening him to leave Belgium and rejoin the Allied armies. Thus, she gave sustenance to the enemy. Not to mention the suspicious circumstances of her sudden appearance at her family home. Where was she for those two years? Why had she chosen to return to that home? He doubted she told the complete truth, and therefore she was capable of treachery. She should not be allowed to leave until a penalty was paid.
Before any mention of specific penalty, the man at Isa’s side at last stood to address the court. He might have looked rather scholarly if he wore the robes of an advocate or at least a uniform like the others in the room. But although his jacket was tailored, his suit was shabby from wear.
“Officers of the court,” he began with obvious respect, “I ask you to