'A Stolen Look' by Jan Lloyd

It was a hot and dry day and I had walked for many miles to the courtroom in Winchester. My feet were aching and blistered as I struggled along the dusty road to reach my destination. I had left my farm and young children in the village of Burghclere to catch a glimpse of my seventeen year old son who was appearing in court on this warm summer's day. The dusty road gradually turned into a busy town road and horses and carts were being steered toward the town to make their various deliveries. One cart slowed down as the driver tried to avoid me on the roadside. I shouted out for a ride and the kind gentleman told me to jump on the back which I gladly accepted and melted back against the warm hay on board. I gradually dozed off with the rocking motion of the cart and woke with a start when the man shouted out that we'd reached the bakers where he was delivering his wares. I thanked him for the ride and speedily made my way towards the courtroom.
I reached the large courtroom building and squeezed through the bustling doorway where men crowded round dressed in black gowns and wigs. I was shaking and felt a sense of foreboding as I took my seat at the back of the courtroom. I sat intently listening to the list of proceedings and a dark mood fell upon me as I heard the harsh sentences being issued by the imposing figure sitting in judgement over these helpless beings. Finally I recognised the name being shouted out by a man with bushy side whiskers and the customary wig which appeared to have slipped sideways.
"Edwin Cranfield step into the dock and repeat after me," the gruff man bellowed.
I saw my son step nervously onto the dark wooden stand and repeated the oath recited to him.
I strained to hear and to catch my son's eye. I wanted to encourage some hope and to show that I was there for him. Instead he looked forward with an icy stare appearing to have lost any will or optimism. His hair was matted and he looked thin and frail. He had been locked away for two months awaiting the trial so had not been looked after. The man with bushy whiskers read out the accusation against my son.
"You have been brought here to testify against the accusation of the theft of a gold pocket watch from William Danfield at the White Swan Inn on 1st May, 1849, located in Lower Burghclere, Winchester. Do you plead guilty or not guilty"?
I heard my son's reply and his husky and pitiful voice pierced into my brain like an arrow firing from his lips.
"Not guilty," Edwin said bluntly, standing to attention to appear confident as he uttered his plea.
The judge turned to the man in the black gown and spoke slowly, with an air of indifference and weariness.
"Have we William Danfield present in the court Mr Bartholomew?"
"Yes, he will now provide evidence against the accused."
William Danfield stepped forward and proceeded to describe the night he stayed at the White Swan Inn on his way to Southampton to visit a business associate.
He claimed that my son was drinking in the bar, and already drunk, and had spied the watch when he had asked him the time. He had replied that it was 10.35pm and after drinking a nightcap retired upstairs to his room. He had undressed and left his belongings on the dressing table before having to return downstairs to request a supply of candles as he needed to read some paperwork before the morning. It was at this point that Mr Danfield claims my son went into his room to steal the gold pocket watch. It was morning before he had noticed it was gone.
My mind drifted back to that day and I remember that later that day my son had gone into the town to visit the market to purchase some cattle for the farm and it was there that he was arrested. I hadn't seen him until now and I had continued to struggle on my own with running the farm. Albert, my husband, had died last autumn from an infection of the lungs and Edwin had taken over the daily tasks. My other children, Alice, Dora, Charlotte and Fredrick, helped but were aged six, eight, ten and twelve. They would feed the pigs, chickens and cattle, milk the cows, muck out the barns but they couldn't manage the heavier work. I had battled on since Edwin had been imprisoned and was now praying that he would be free to return to his family. I thought that if Edwin had been guilty of this theft he would have committed it purely to help me and the family as we were so very poor. He was never greedy or selfish and I was ready to forgive him his sin and continued to ask the Lord that he should be found not guilty.
I was feeling overcome with the heat in the stuffy courtroom and wished it could all be over soon when I heard the judge ask Mr Danfield to confirm the identity of Edwin as being the thief who stole his watch. Mr Danfield was adamant and boldly pointed towards my son as being the culprit. The jury swiftly returned with their verdict and read the fateful words to the judge.
"Guilty!”
The one word rang in my ears and once more my heart continued to break into shattered fragments.
The judge read out the sentence.
"You will be taken to Portsmouth docks and placed upon The Waverley and will be transported to New South Wales where you will serve a sentence of fifteen years."
"No, no, no," I shouted.
It was then that Edwin turned and saw me as he was escorted by two policemen out of the courtroom. As he turned toward me there were tears in his eyes, his face pale and frightened. I mouthed the words that I loved him and to be strong but as he turned away I knew that this would be the last time I would see him and yearned to hold him and rescue him from his plight. This was a cruel blow and I tried to banish any thoughts of the horrifying and desolate journey which lay ahead of him. Edwin never stood a chance and was not given any opportunity to defend himself, instead the jury took the word of Mr Danfield. Where was the evidence? The watch had never been found, was he guilty? I left the court hardly able to face my journey home. The sun was low in the sky now and I trudged back to care for my other children with Edwin's tragic face etched in my mind.