“All rise,” called Deputy Parson from the corner of the room near the chambers. Acting as bailiff, he was the smallest of the Deputies, a skinny whiff of a man whose hat was as nearly as tall as he was. His moustache hung down the sides of his mouth like dripping tar, the ends waxed to a point. He was younger than the other Deputies and had not yet earned the right to patrol outside of the courtroom.

Lady Mae and her mother stood up from their chairs as Deputy Daniels came out of a small door and went to his seat at the bench. He did not look up at Lady Mae or her mother, did not glance at the accused or the other residents that he knew were there. He instead looked down at the stack of papers he held in his hands and read from the one on top.

“Lady Mae Hilvers?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was quiet but clear.

“You have accused these residents of assault, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked up, squinted, and adjusted his glasses, straining to see Lady Mae from across the room.

“Please approach the witness stand,” he ordered.

Deputy Parson walked over to her and waited as she rose from her chair, smoothed her skirts, and came out from behind the table. She tried not to limp, but each step pained her and so though she walked steadily, she did so slowly. The courtroom was sweltering and quiet, and the residents watched Lady Mae as she climbed three steps and took her seat next to the Deputy on the witness stand. She looked directly at him and did not turn her head to look at the residents, though she sensed them in her periphery; if she didn’t look at them, then maybe she wouldn’t break. Maybe she’d keep it inside of her scraped cheeks and cut lips, still her voice from wavering. But whether she looked at the other residents or not mattered little as she heard clearly the whispers, the girl, butcher, penance that floated across the sunny room to land on her pounding heart.

Deputy Daniels leaned toward Lady Mae, putting his weight onto his elbow. He licked his fat lips and combed through his beard with swollen fingers.

“You have asked for one atonement for each of the accused, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He took a good look at Lady Mae, shifting his eyes from one side of her face to the other. Her bruises were fully formed now, dark splotches underneath her skin. His eyes lingered on the scratch across her face, and she brought her hand up to it instinctively. Her fingers felt the gauze, felt how it stuck to her skin and itched.

“They did this to you?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He took in a deep breath and glanced toward the four children that sat across from Lady Mae. Her eyes followed his, and she saw that only Edith was looking at her. The boys had their heads bowed still, their hands in their laps.