Surrender to a Stranger

November 1793 She stood tall in the dock, her hands resting lightly on the polished surface of the bar that separated her from her accusers. The wooden rail was warm despite the chill of the room, it sent heat into the icy flesh of her fingers, and Jacqueline wondered if the prisoner before her had gripped the bar in fury or in desperation. As she faced her five judges, who were yawning and shifting with weariness and boredom while the charges against her were read, she decided it was easy enough to feel both. "Citizeness Jacqueline Marie Louise Doucette, daughter of the convicted traitor Charles-Alexandre, former Duc de Lambert, you are charged with being an enemy and a traitor to the Republic of France. . . ." read the public prosecutor. He went on to list the charges against her. Viciously attacking a member of the National Guard and thereby interfering with the execution of his duties. Engaging in counterrevolutionary activities, including the hoarding of gold, silver, jewels and food, and the illegal transfer of said money and jewels out of France. Assisting with the illegal emigration of members of her family, and conspiring with enemies of the Republic. Corresponding with emigres and writing counterrevolutionary propaganda. The list went on, some of the charges accurate and some purely fictional. It did not matter. The trial was merely a formality. Her sentence was inevitable. She pulled her gaze away from the judges, who instead of listening to the public prosecutor were busy arguing over how many cases they had yet to hear before they could retire for the day. Her eyes swept over the audience. The rough men and women who packed the courtroom were obviously enjoying the proceedings immensely. They shouted at her as her indictment was being read, calling her a traitor, a whore, demanding that she lose her head for her crimes. They laughed and jostled each other as they yelled at her, some spat on the floor to show their contempt, while others drank and ate and knitted as if they were watching an amusing piece of theater. She stared at them, dressed in their rough, greasy clothes with their red woolen caps and their tricolor sashes looped about their chests and waists. She was not upset by their hatred of her. She simply wondered how they could believe that her death, and her father's, and her brother's, could possibly make their miserable lives any better. Tonight, when she was lying stiff and cold in a pit of dead bodies, they would not have any more bread or wine on their tables than they had before. "Citizen Barbot, would you tell us if this is the woman who attacked you as you were attempting to perform your duties to the Republic of France?" demanded the public prosecutor, Citizen Fouquier-Tinville. "It is," replied the soldier in the witness box. He looked at Jacqueline and smiled. She could see the dark hole in his mouth where she had knocked out two of his teeth. "And before she attacked you, did she make antirevolutionary statements?" "She did," affirmed the soldier with a nod. "Would you tell the Revolutionary Tribunal and the citizens of this court exactly what Citizeness Doucette said to you?" The soldier paused and cleared his throat. "She said the National Guard was an outfit of thieves and pigs and that we could all go straight to hell." It was obvious even repeating such an antirevolutionary statement made him uncomfortable. "It's that bitch that's going straight to hell," shouted a man from the back of the courtroom. "Carrying her head in a basket," added another. The crowd in the courtroom burst into laughter. Citizen Fouquier-Tinville waited for his audience to settle down before continuing. "And is it not true, Citizen Barbot, that Citizeness Doucette attempted to prevent you from entering her home,Monk, Karyn is the author of 'Surrender to a Stranger', published 1995 under ISBN 9780553569094 and ISBN 0553569090.