“Aye,” replied Arbuckle.

“And do you believe them to be full of truth?”

“Aye.”

“May I ask how you came to such conclusions?”

It was his chance to clear his own name. All he had to do was say that he had spoken to Lady Mae over the course of days, months, years. She’d be called to the stand, and there she’d be charged with blasphemy. But he’d never do it, never. It had been in his voice; a stoic confession that held much more than the words he had written. “Just knew is all.”

“And did you ever hear Lady Mae Hilvers state directly any of the things you claim?”

“No, I did not.”

“Has Lady Mae Hilvers ever given you reason to doubt her allegiance to the Deputies?”

“No, she has not.”

“I hereby declare that the accused has admitted to speaking on behalf of a member of our lawful entity and in accordance shall and will be charged with blasphemy. The court shall seek the maximum allotment of twenty atonements. In an effort to keep you from writing any further blasphemy, the butcher will take both of your hands. That will count for ten atonements. The other ten are at your will. Do you understand, Mr. Anfield?”

Arbuckle had looked at Lady Mae the entire time Deputy Daniels spoke. He did not blink nor flinch at any of the words but instead had held fast to her own eyes. The sentence wove in and out of her and pulled her down down down through the filthy floor and into the dank earth.

“You must report to the depot tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning,” said Deputy Daniels. “Two Deputies will escort you to your place of lodging to tend to anything necessary before your scheduled atonement. They will remain there throughout the night to ensure that both you and Miss Hilvers obey the law to the greatest extent. Is this understood?”

Lady Mae saw the Deputy Magistrate’s lips move as he continued reciting the full sentence, but she did not hear him. Slowly she moved her eyes to Arbuckle and saw not the fear she herself felt brimming, but a calm that enveloped him in that dusty courtroom. It remained even as the Deputies retrieved him from the stand and led him down the aisle and out of the courtroom on that late summer’s morning. Lady Mae, who heard nothing but the whooshing of panic underneath her skin, instinctively reached out as he walked by. Arbuckle grabbed her hand and before the Deputy could pull it away, he’d squeezed it three times, each one pressing up against her beating, breaking heart.

15

Lady Mae waited outside of the courthouse for Arbuckle. She sat on the steps, uncaring of the crowd that had gathered below. Though they pointed and whispered, she ignored them and instead stared at her hands. Two things were true. The first was that she could never harm Arbuckle. The second was that the Deputies would never let her recuse herself. She saw it clearly then, how the Deputies had finally found a way to make them all pay—her mother, his father, the two of them. They were pitted against the other, each having to follow a law they no longer believed in. In the end, the Deputies had them, and she felt the bending of her fingernails on the wood step. How much would they give until they snapped? She tested it, pushing down into the sawn oak so slowly that she felt certain they would bend entirely. Her nails lifted away from the tender skin underneath, but it did not hurt. Blasphemy. An eye for an eye, just as the law says.