"Jury, what do you say of the matter?" The judge turned to the row of people that sat nearby.
They muttered, glancing between each other and at Mary. The girl cast a pleading look their way. Many avoided her distraught expression.
"After much discussion," one man said, standing and speaking for the jury, "we've found that the evidence suggests Miss Mary Young did not kill Mr Richard Myers."
There were scattered reactions throughout the courtroom. Many shouted in joy as Mary clutched the stand, feeling her legs go weak as a rush of relief flooded over her. She glanced over to her defence lawyer, Mr Marston, who gave her a victorious grin. Others grumbled, still wanting recompense for Richard's death.
"The arrow found at the scene of the crime suggests that it was a native warrior that killed Mr Myers." The man continued and Mary paled. "With the disappearance of Mrs Anne Myers and the screaming heard from her place of residence before Mr Myers' body was found, we can assume that the native warrior had kidnapped Mrs Myers. Miss Young's involvement is only that she stumbled upon her brother-in-law's body after her sister was taken."
"Wait-" Mary tried but the courtroom was in an uproar. They were baying for blood. The natives' blood.
The girl glanced to the back of the room where one cloaked figure stood still and silent. His stony composure did not join in with the shouting and yelling.
"Those Indians are stealing our women and killing our men!" One man shouted, waving his fist about furiously.
This was met with a roar of agreement.
"No! You don't understand!" Mary called but her voice was drowned out by the people of the courtroom.
The judge thumped his gavel down, the crack of it silencing the mob.
"Order! Order!" He thundered. "I hereby declare that the accused Miss Mary Young is free of all charges and is from henceforth found innocent of the murder of Richard Myers." The judge turned to the girl and waved his hand to the two soldiers that guarded her. "You are free to go."
"But-" she tried again but the soldiers were herding her away from the podium she stood upon.
What had she done? Her life was spared but she had most likely doomed the natives that the blame was set on.
The shackles were removed from her wrists and she rubbed the raw skin as the soldiers left her outside the courtroom, dismissing her with a grunt. She glanced up to see the cloaked figure approach her.
"How's Anne?" Was the first thing Mary asked. "Has she had her child yet?"
Antinanco nodded, a smile on his face as he lifted down his hood.
"She is well. A strong, healthy boy was born yesterday." He said, the father beamed with pride.
"Oh, Antinanco, that's wonderful!" Mary exclaimed and threw her arms around him, thrilled at the prospect of the birth of her nephew.
As the raw skin made contact, Mary winced and withdrew her arms, holding her wrists and biting her lip as the pain shot through her.
"You are hurt," Antinanco said alarmed, taking her arms as she shrunk back.
"No, no, it's just a bit tender, that's all," Mary tried to play it off, but Antinanco knew pain when he saw it.
"We can spend the night in an inn. Let your wounds heal."
"No, I want to see my sister right away!" She exclaimed but Antinanco shook his head.
"They will be there for you to see tomorrow morning," he said with a smile as he led her away from the courtroom and towards a local inn, "you can see little Nathan for yourself."
"Nathan? That's his name?!" Mary gasped.
"Yes, Anne named him."
"Tell me, what does he look like?" She begged as they neared the building.
"He has his mother's fair skin but my dark hair."
"Who's eyes does he have?" The questioning continued, the pain briefly forgotten.
"I cannot say," he shrugged, "in some lights, he has Anne's blue eyes. In other lights, he has my hazel eyes."
"Oh, he sounds beautiful!" Mary grinned as Antinanco held the door open for her as they entered the inn.
"Can I help you?" The man behind the desk asked, glowering at the sight of a native man.
"We'd like a room, please," Mary requested, pulling down her sleeves to hide her red wrists.
"You can have a room," he said to the girl, "but he can't."
"Why not?!" She exclaimed.
"I don't serve the likes of him around here," he growled.
"We have coin to pay," Antinanco put a purse down before him.
The man glanced back and forth from the native man to the purse before he opened it. He checked the coins, squinting, analysing it with a magnifying glass before biting it, all to check its authenticity.
"It's real." Mary snapped before the man was satisfied.
"Here's the key," he tossed it to Mary, "you can have a chair."
"This is ridiculous!" Mary burst, gripping the key hard in her hand. The cold metal bit into her raw skin but she ignored the striking pain.
"Just go," Antinanco pushed her gently towards the stairs, "I am lucky I got a chair."
Mary cast the innkeeper one more disgusted expression before she marched up the stair, the lowly native in her wake.
The room had only one bed. After she washed her raw wounds and wrapped them in bandages, Antinanco insisted that Mary should take it which she reluctantly accepted. After all, she had spent months in a prison cell. Antinanco took the chair by the door and settled himself down in the uncomfortable structure. It was a long night. Both of them could barely sleep, too excited to see Anne and her son the following day. It was only when exhaustion got the better of them did they finally succumb to sleep.
They woke at first light, stretching and groaning from the less than satisfactory night's sleep. Mary was the first to the door, bounding up as she shook her companion awake.
"Come on, Antinanco!" She laughed as he pretended to roll over, a difficult manoeuvre when sleeping on a chair.
When he rose, she left the room practically as she found it; messy bedsheets and dusty furniture. They left the inn without thanking the innkeeper and without ordering anything to eat or drink. Antinanco still had coin left to hire two horses at the local stables and the difference between the discriminating innkeeper to the stable hand was extraordinary.
"They know we treat the horses well," Antinanco explained as he helped Mary to mount her horse. "Better than the others of this town."
The stable hand nodded as the pair set off at a trot towards the town gate. They left Boston and picked up their pace as they made their way to Lexington. Mary breathed the fresh air and sighed as she saw the season change from summer to autumn. It had been spring the last time she had been outside. The leaves crunched beneath their horses' hooves and the birds sang about them, delighting the girl. Antinanco smiled at her as she held up her arms, the bandages showing as she took in the autumn scenery. The journey carried on, with Mary asking about her sister, her nephew and the village they were living in. Antinanco answered each question in turn and the girl listened attentively to the responses. All she had heard for a long while was the groans of prisons, the curses of prison guards and the yells of people outside. She greatly appreciated the change.
The journey continued with the horses at a relaxing walk, allowing the pair to converse casually and admire the forest that they passed by. As they neared Lexington, Mary urged her horse into a trot, heading for her home. With a frown, she saw the door had been boarded up.
Antinanco dismounted and approached the Young's family home.
"No one has been here for quite a while," Antinanco said, his hand to the boards, tracing the nails that were hammered into the door frame.
"No, not since I was arrested," Mary sighed, glancing around. "Maybe I'll be able to reinherit it now that I'm innocent."
As her gaze passed her old home and onto the forest, a strange sight met her. She had often seen thin pillars of smoke emerging from the trees, most likely from hunters or the natives that had ventured further out from their village, but this was bigger, much, much bigger. Clouds of smoke were pluming from the distance. When she focused her hearing, she could hear a faint sound... Screaming.
"Antinanco," she breathed, pointing to the sight.
He stepped back from house and held a hand over his eyes and squinted to see what she was pointing at. Suddenly, his face lit up in alarm. He bolted for his horse, swinging himself up as he kicked it into a gallop.
"What is it?" Mary called as she did the same, pursuing the man as he burst into the forest.
"The smoke is coming from my village!" He yelled back. "Anne is in danger!"