To Those Without Pity
"I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything." -F.S. Fitzgerald
There were no whispers to be heard. The crowd did not look about, and they did not mutter to one another. They simply stared ahead, their mutual gazes fixed on the masked man who stood up serenely and approached the stand. He was sworn in like the others, though his discerning stare at the Bible did not go unnoticed by many. Nevertheless, he put his hand over it and repeated the required words before he sat down easily.
"Please state your name," Philippe said, his tone clipped and unforgiving. The tension in the room had increased ten-fold in a matter of moments, and Christine could feel each of the spectators sitting on edge as they studied the scene before them.
"Erik," he replied, utterly unfazed by the Count's thinly veiled aggression.
"Your full name?" Philippe pressed, narrowing his eyes on the defendant.
"Erik," he repeated, merely blinking at the prosecutor blankly. Philippe lingered momentarily, hoping that he would elaborate, but he made no move to explain. Rather, he folded his hands in wait until Philippe spoke once more with exasperation.
"A husband and wife without a surname—what kind of marriage is that?" He did not try to hide the bite in his words or the malice in his face, causing several viewers to shift uncomfortably.
"I don't believe marriage is a thing to be mocked," Erik replied a bit quieter, yet with perfect composure. The spectators looked amongst one another, a few glancing at Christine in hopes of catching a reaction, but she wasn't watching them. Her eyes were glued on Erik, unmovable and silently bold.
"Of course," Philippe muttered reluctantly, barely taking a moment before he continued on. "Now, why did you marry Christine?" he redirected, and Christine felt sudden discomfort. There was something so jarring about being spoken of as if she was not in the room, but she pushed the uneasiness aside.
"Because I love her," Erik told him, his eyes never leaving Philippe's. Christine could hear the subtle whispers amongst the crowd as more eyes turned towards her, and her heart quickened perceptibly.
"Not because you knew of this loophole in the law," Philippe asked doubtfully, crossing his arms.
"I knew nothing of that until today," Erik reasoned, almost smiling at the mere coincidence of it all. Whether that was the truth or not, she could not say, but she very much doubted that he had reasoned so far into the future when he took her away.
"Did you force yourself upon her?" Philippe asked sharply, and the courtroom fell silent once again, all eyes focused on the masked man on the witness stand.
"I believe Christine answered that question," he murmured, and Christine did not fail to see the spark of fleeting pain that ran across his eyes.
"I am asking you," Philippe responded, cocking his head in interest.
There was a moment's pause, though Erik's eyes did not waver once. "No, I did not," he said finally, the faintest bit of resentment towards the Count hiding in his words.
"And yet you forced her to marry you," Philippe replied, something akin to confusion appearing on his face, as if he truly did not understand. "I'm afraid I cannot see the point."
"I suppose it would be hard for someone like you," Erik replied, his lips curling into a slight smile that made Philippe stiffen. "You, who has not been in love," he amended just as Philippe opened his mouth to make a rebuttal. It seemed for a moment that he was at a loss for words, but he eventually went on to his next question as he straightened out his prideful shoulders.
"Can you describe the events of that night?"
"My opera was premiering, and due to circumstances that I became aware of, I planned to take Christine away." Erik spoke with clarity, but there was a hint of animosity in having to say the words.
"Circumstances that you became aware of?" Philippe repeated, his eyebrows shooting up as he turned out to the spectators briefly. "Can you please explain that cryptic bit to us?"
Erik paused as his eyes narrowed faintly on Philippe. Still, his face showed no signs of his potent temper, and he responded calmly. "It is no secret that the Viscount and Christine were engaged. I hoped to convince her to keep her previous promises." Christine stiffened ever-so-slightly, for she knew that their "engagement" was not common knowledge.
"Previous promises?" Philippe questioned, a hint of true interest finally lacing his tone.
"She was bound to me," Erik said, his eyes purposefully locked with Philippe. Christine stared at him hard, willing him to glance at her, if even for a moment. He would not, though, and continued on passively. "Perhaps you never noticed that while she wore the Viscount's ring around her neck, she wore my ring on her finger." Christine's eyes flickered to Nadir, whose mouth hung slightly agape, clearly ignorant of this fact until this very moment.
Philippe seemed equally stunned by this, but tried to conceal his shock as he continued. "And so your plan was to steal her away to remedy the situation?" he asked after a beat, crossing his arms in disbelief.
Erik's mouth twitched at this. "I believe we established that I cannot be accused of stealing her anymore. But yes, if that's how you'd like to put it, then fine." That hint of ill will was returning to his tone, though Christine was unreservedly amazed at his capacity for self-control—a trait he had never been known for in the past.
"And my brother happened to get in the way?" Philippe pressed, a bit of melodrama bleeding into his manner.
"Unfortunately," Erik replied, swallowing down his hatred.
"Unfortunately?" Philippe asked, his jaw clenching in resentment. "You wish to convince us that you regret that he is out of your way?" he spat, shaking his head almost imperceptibly at the thought.
"I do not regret that he is out of my way, yet I do regret that he is dead by my hand," Erik bit back. Christine saw his hands ball up into fists, and she felt her heartbeat quicken under the duress as she tried to block out the mounting tension radiating throughout the room.
"So you admit that it was, indeed, by your hand?" Philippe asked, quietly triumphant by the admission. Erik seemed utterly untroubled by the statement, though, and continued on without pause.
"I don't believe there is any use in hiding such a fact. Nor does it seem useful for me to deny the fact that I am remorseful," he replied peacefully, his hands relaxing in his lap.
"Remorseful towards the death of your rival, whom you had never even met?" Philippe challenged, and Christine could nearly hear the smirk in his tone.
"Oh, I had met him," Erik replied, a smile of his own coming to his lips.
"Excuse me?" Philippe faltered, and Christine felt herself lean forward. Had they ever met each other? Of course, they had unknowingly been in the same room—on the night of the Masquerade, for instance—but had they ever interacted alone?
"We have encountered one another before," Erik repeated simply, and Christine felt her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Surely he wasn't blatantly lying under oath…
"Under what circumstances?" Philippe demanded, crossing his arms once more belligerently.
"He shot at me." Christine's face broke out in outright puzzlement, and she looked immediately to Nadir, but he looked equally confused. He had never told her that such an event had transpired, and yet Erik looked so sure of himself.
"With what?" Philippe exclaimed, ignoring the irresolute glances that the jurors exchanged.
"A pistol, of course," Erik told him, his eyes drifting in thought momentarily. "He missed, but I have no doubt that he aimed to kill."
"Objection, your honor—this is an inflammatory statement!" Philippe cried out in a frenzy, and Erik raised an eyebrow quickly.
"I do not mean to cause prejudice against the deceased, your honor," Erik defended, his eyes turning up to the judge who remained mute, perhaps too overwhelmed to interrupt. "Merely stating the truth, which I have sworn to do."
"On a book that you do not believe in!" the Count accused, looking to the silent judge once more in hopes of receiving some aide.
"Do not presume to know what I believe in," Erik said sharply, his tone suddenly icy and grave.
"Do you mean to sully the name of God by claiming you are a Christian?" Philippe demanded, and Christine's eyes flew between the judge and Nadir, waiting for one of them to redirect the questioning. No one said a word, though, and merely remained wide-eyed and gaping.
"I could ask you the same thing," the defendant pointed out coldly.
"This is not about me," Philippe shouted, having apparently forgotten how many people were watching his every move and hanging on each word desperately.
"Isn't it?" Erik asked quietly, his face expressing subtle sympathy while his eyes burned with a quiet antipathy.
"This is about the shameful act that you committed without the blink of an eye!" the prosecutor shot back, pointing his finger accusingly at Erik.
He remained unshaken, though, as he spoke in a soft and painfully lucid voice. "I think that's where you're wrong."
"Oh, do you?" Philippe asked, his words filled to the brim with condescension. Yes, it was clear that he was no longer willing to play nice, no longer patient enough to put on courtesies for the court. This was war, and they were fighting one another hand to hand. "Please enlighten me."
"I believe this is about your avarice and your conceit. I think that you find great pleasure in each and every moment that I remain in custody, but you should not find pleasure in such things." The court remained in silent awe as he spoke, and she felt their attention linger on him for a moment before their gazes moved in sync to Philippe, who was fuming.
"And why is that?" he cried, his rage giving way to unrepressed frustration and anguish.
"Because if you had a shred of decency, you would be too busy mourning your brother to worry about crushing the happiness of two people who are no trouble to the world." Christine knew the rebuttal Philippe would find before the words left his mouth, and yet they still brought shivers down her spine when she heard them.
"Because you killed him in cold blood!" he shouted, his body shaking with emotion.
"And I am sorry!" Erik yelled all at once, his voice echoing throughout the room vibrantly. Each spectator, Nadir, even the judge remained perfectly still as they watched Erik, anxious and expectant. "If I could bring him back today, I would. Even if it means that I could not be with Christine."
His eyes finally drifted to her, their gazes locking for the first time as he bore on. "And that would tear me apart. But I believe it would be easier, for I would not have to bear knowing that I caused her pain." Her breath left her, and she felt several eyes turn to her. She refused to take notice of them, though, even as tears threatened to escape her eyes. Finally, Erik's eyes broke from hers as he turned to look at the jury members sadly.
"I wish I knew how to express my thoughts to you all, but I have never been one to understand human communications. I am painfully limited in my abilities to articulate such delicate things. And so, I will only say this," Erik said, his eyes shifting between each of the jurors slowly before he looked out to the courtroom.
"To those without pity, I will not blame you if you indict me. I am terribly accustomed to receiving no compassion. And in truth, I have done reprehensible things over the course of my miserable life. It was bound to catch up to me one day." Christine's focus drifted momentarily as she observed those around her, their faces all afflicted with lines of concern.
"But if you discover a shred of sympathy within you—" Erik began, but Philippe cut him off abruptly.
"No," he spat piercingly, approaching the witness bench slowly. "You will not deceive these people!"
Erik's eyes slowly trailed to him, a sad smile forming on his lips. "You are a strange, unhappy man, Philippe de Chagny."
His jaw hung slack at this, and he shook his head rapidly. "I am perfectly happy!"
"You see, I understand—I was once the same, after all," he replied, his words carefully packed with coherent understanding.
"We are nothing like one another," Philippe muttered as he reached the stand, his hands resting on the rail. They remained there for several moments, staring at one another, reading each other's expressions, daring the other to speak. "Take off your mask," he finally muttered, and Christine felt instant terror course through her veins. She looked to Nadir desperately, but he had already stood up.
"Objection, your honor—immaterial," Nadir called out calmly, though she could hear the hidden dread in his tone. She looked back to Erik, who hadn't moved an inch.
"I hope you find peace," Erik said finally as he stared unblinkingly at the prosecutor. It took several moments for Philippe to finally back away from the witness stand, cold-hearted spite written in his features.
"No more questions, your honor," he said as he moved back to his desk and sat down stiffly.
She watched as the judge looked expectantly at Nadir, yet the Persian shook his head subtly. Clearing his throat, the judge then turned to the jury, nodding to them. "You will deliberate, and we will reconvene when you've come to a decision."
Erik was taken out first, but this time she saw his gaze flash towards her as he was being led away. He was so very serene as he walked out, accepting of what was to come. His anger, which had become so engrained in his soul for so long, had dissipated. And yet, what was to come? It seemed that Erik knew his fate, but Christine couldn't find a way to quell her uncertainty. Before she could say a word, though, he had passed by and exited the courtroom.
It was Madame Giry who approached her as the spectators were released, and without a word they left the courthouse and found their way to a bench just outside the courthouse. They didn't need to speak, even as the minutes ticked away, turning languidly into hours. Instead, they merely listened to the sound of the wind as it drifted through the bare trees, ignorant of the stares of those who had watched the trial.
Dusk was fallen on Rouen by the time they were called back into the courtroom to hear the jury's decision. She hadn't noticed how weak her body was from lack of food, but she pushed away the pangs of hunger as she sat back down at the front of the courtroom. Erik was led back in, and he and Nadir sat down at the defendant's table stoically. Philippe made his way back as well, sauntering to his own table with false and preemptive victory.
And then the jury filed in, one by one, and the judge watched attentively as one of them stood up. "Has the jury reached its verdict?" he asked, all eyes turning to the lone juror in uninhibited suspense.
"We have, your honor." Christine felt herself holding her breath as they spoke, her mouth dry and her heart racing in anticipation. "We, the jury, find the defendant guilty."
Oh boy, my heart was racing by the end of that. Believe it or not, I anticipate that there will only be one more chapter, just so you all know. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter—it was a joy to write, if not an immense challenge. Thank you all for each of your reviews, and I hope to hear from you so that I can hear what you think! Again, thank you for reading, and I hope I leave you on edge until next time!
Christine