Before the trial started, Mister Grignon told us, ‘According to Slave Law, a slave cannot testify on their own behalf.’

Now I understand what him mean. Stella and me can say nothing. Just sit and listen, all day long. While Mister Jackson report on what Stella and me been up to. What other slaves hear, what they see. Some don’t even belong to Rock Pleasant. So how they know? It turn into horse dead and cow fat, just gossip. Nothing except plenty finger pointing at Stella and me.

How many lives backra want to take for Massa? They already hang McKellar, take a life for a life. But I know in me heart backra want blood – slave blood – and the more the better. So we end up in court waiting till they going find a way to make us pay.

Finally Mister Jackson finish. The judge bang him little hammer and the clerk say, ‘All rise.’ Then the judge leave and is the end of the first day.

I want to talk to Stella, but they won’t let me. It take all me strength to stop meself from banging on the gaol door and begging them to let me see her. And when I finally fall into sleep, I find meself in a dream, standing outside a hut. A sunless place, full of sorrow, and I know the hut belong to death, and him is sitting waiting.

On the second day, Mister Jackson stand up and say, ‘The court now calls the sambo slave Sydney to the stand.’

The doors to the courthouse open and Sydney enter. Stella and me look at each other, look at Sydney. As soon as her name get called out, I know is not good. Sydney and Stella been fighting as far back as I can remember. Sydney jealous, think she should be in charge of the Great House. And here she is in the courthouse, getting ready to tell tales bout us, just like she did back on the plantation. And she all dressed up like she going to church. Must be make the dress special for court. I don’t want to admit it, but the new clothes make her look good.

After Sydney come in and stand in the box, she swear on the Bible that she going tell the truth and nothing but the truth before Mister Jackson begin to question her.

‘Now, Sydney.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she say, and smile a little bit to the crowd.

‘Tell us, in your own words, what you saw taking place the night before the accident.’

‘You mean at the Great House, sir?’ she ask.

‘Yes, at the Great House.’

‘William,’ she say, pointing at me, but me look right back. Look at her hard. Make her drop her eyes, wriggle in her seat a bit.

‘That slave, William,’ she say in a quieter voice.

‘Come now, Sydney. Speak up,’ Mister Jackson say, a little vexed. ‘You say you saw the accused?’