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“Please continue,” Rathbone said.
Stephan went on. “Colonel and Mrs. Warboys from one of the neighboring houses were guests for dinner two or three times, and their three daughters, and Sir George and Lady Oldham, and one or two others whose names I forget.”
Harvester was frowning, but he had not so far interrupted. Rathbone knew he would, if he did not make some relevant point soon.
“Did it surprise you to find Baroness von Arlsbach and Count Lansdorff invited to the same house party with Prince Friedrich and Princess Gisela?” he asked. “It was well known that when Prince Friedrich left his own country the feeling was not entirely kind towards him, especially from the royal household, and indeed from the Baroness, whom it is said the country would have liked for queen. Is that untrue?”
“No,” Stephan answered with obvious reluctance. It was an embarrassing subject, one which for both personal and patriotic reasons he would rather not have discussed publicly, and his emotions showed in his face.
“Then were you surprised?” Rathbone pressed, some future scene with the Lord Chancellor playing itself out in his mind like an execution.
“I would have been, were the political situation not as it is,” Stephan answered.
“Would you please explain that?”
Harvester rose to his feet. “My lord, the guest list is not an issue. There is no question as to who was present, or was not. Sir Oliver is desperate and wasting time.”
The judge turned his bland face towards Harvester. “It is up to me to decide how the court may use its time, Mr. Harvester. I am disposed to allow Sir Oliver a little latitude in the matter, so long as he does not abuse it, given that this is an adversarial system. I am still primarily interested in establishing the truth as to whether Prince Friedrich was murdered, and if so, by whom. When we know that, we can then apportion blame appropriately to the Countess Rostova regarding her accusation.”
But Harvester was far from satisfied. “My lord, we have already proved that the one person who could not be guilty is my client, the Princess Gisela. Quite apart from her devotion to her husband, her utter lack of motive, we have also demonstrated that she was the one person who had not the means or the opportunity.”
“I have been present all the time the evidence has been given, Mr. Harvester,” the judge replied. “Do you imagine I have not been directing my mind to it?”
There was a distinct mutter of amusement around the gallery, and several jurors smiled.
“No, my lord! Of course not!” Harvester was in some discomposure. It was the first time Rathbone could recall ever seeing him thus.
The judge smiled very slightly. “Good. Proceed, Sir Oliver.”
Rathbone inclined his head in acknowledgment, but he was under no illusion that the latitude would be wide.
“Baron von Emden, would you explain to us the alteration in the political situation which made the guest list understandable to you?”
“Twelve years ago, when Friedrich abdicated in favor of his younger brother, Waldo, so he could marry Gisela Berentz, whom the royal family would not accept as crown princess, the feeling against him was strong. It was even stronger against her,” Stephan said in a calm, level voice, but one in which the memory of pain and embarrassment was sharp. “The Queen, in particular, did not forgive the injury it did to the royal house. Her brother, Count Lansdorff, shared her feelings very deeply. So did the Baroness von Arlsbach. As you observed, many in the country had wished and expected Friedrich to marry her. It was embarrassing for her because there was every indication that she would have obeyed her duty and accepted him.”
He looked unhappy, but he did not hesitate. “Baron and Baroness von Seidlitz, on the other hand, went frequently to Venice, where Prince Friedrich and Princess Gisela had made their principal home, with the result that they were not in any true sense accepted at court in Felzburg.”
“Are you saying that the feelings of resentment, betrayal, or whatever you will, were so deep that even after twelve years, it is still impossible to be a true friend of both parties?” Rathbone asked.
Stephan thought for a moment.
The judge was watching him.
The room was almost silent. There was the occasional creak or rustle of shifting in seats.
Gisela sat rigid. For once there was emotion in her face, as if mention of that old humiliation still tore open a wound. There was tightening of her lips. Her gloved hands clenched. But there was no way of knowing whether it was her rejection or Friedrich’s which she remembered.
“It was not entirely a matter of feelings from the past,” Stephan answered, looking directly at Rathbone. “New political situations have arisen which make all the old issues of very urgent, current importance.”
Harvester moved uncomfortably, but he knew it was useless to object. He would only mark it more clearly in the mind.
“Would you explain, please?” Rathbone pressed.
“My country is one of a large number of German states, principalities, and electorates.” Stephan addressed the court in general. “We have a language and a culture in common, and there is a movement gathering strength for us to unite under one king and one government. Naturally, in all the separate entities there are those who can see the benefits such a unity would bring and those who will fight with all they possess to retain their individual character and independence. My own country is as divided as any. Even the royal family is divided.”
Now he had their total attention. Several jurors were shaking their heads. As citizens of an island nation, they could understand, at least with their heads, the passion for independence. With their hearts, they had no concept of the fear of being swallowed. It had not happened to them in fifty generations.
“Yes?” Rathbone prompted him.
