“New year…I meant to say the new year. Shortly before the new year,” André hurried to correct himself.
Lazare nodded, allowing Andre’s mistake to linger in the quiet courtroom a moment before he continued. “Captain de Valière, would you please describe for us the circumstances of that evening? Who else was there? What was discussed?”
André turned his gaze, his eyes resting for the first time on the seawater gray of Murat’s. “General Murat was there with us, as was Madame…Citizeness Kellermann.”
Lazare nodded. “And this was the night that the people decided on the execution of Citizen Capet, was it not?”
André thought about that evening. Most vivid in his memory was meeting Sophie. Standing with her outside of the Panthéon in the cold. The desire he had felt, even then, to see her again. But yes, that had also been the night they’d voted to kill the king, which was why Murat had whisked Sophie away so suddenly. “Yes, I believe it was that same night.”
“You believe it was.” Lazare nodded, still pacing, as he rested his chin on his thumb. “And on that night, did you three—General Murat and the Comte de Kellermann and yourself—not discuss that significant piece of news?”
“It may have come up, briefly.”
“You are under oath, Captain, so think before you speak next.” The lawyer’s voice was cold, devoid of emotion. “I would hate for you to lie to the French people and, in so doing, forfeit your own liberty.”
André fidgeted in his seat, uncrossing his legs.
Lazare pulled a paper from his pocket, which he now held at arm’s length, as if it served more as a prop than a necessity. He cleared his throat, making a grand show of reading. “The Comte de Kellermann has been accused, by General Nicolai Murat, of making the following statement when discussing the appropriate punishment for Citizen Capet: ‘I’m not certain that I agree with any of the executions carried out in the name of our Republic.’ ”
The crowd erupted in shock and outrage as Lazare’s eyes slid upward, holding fast to André’s. André turned to Jean-Luc as a feeling of dread gripped him; he did remember Kellermann saying that.
“Captain, do you remember the Comte de Kellermann speaking thusly?” Lazare asked, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. But before André could answer, the attorney turned back to the paper in his hands. “And one more statement, Captain de Valière. On the topic of that Austrian adulteress, the Habsburg princess whom we have sent to the grave, General Murat recalls the Comte de Kellermann saying this: ‘I think that the journals have drummed up and printed many accusations that are false….I believe Marie-Antoinette wielded far less influence at court than many would have us believe. And surely she was a devoted wife. Just look how many children she has given the king.’ ”
Now the crowd above was in a full-fledged riot. Words of support for Louis were damning enough, but a word spoken in support of the late queen, Marie-Antoinette—nothing was more likely to earn one a ride on a tumbril.
The judge rang the bell ferociously, attempting to silence the crowd. “Order! Order, I say! I will have order!” Guards dispersed throughout the gallery, their muskets raised aloft. After the hissing and jeers had quieted, once the women had resumed their knitting and the little children had been pulled back off the balustrade, Lazare resumed his pacing.
“Captain, now that I have refreshed your memory, perhaps you will allow me to repeat my original question: have you ever heard the Comte de Kellermann speak in favor of Citizen Capet?” He held André in his steely gaze, his eyes cold with the certainty that he would have the answer he wanted.
“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember the precise words. I simply remember Generals Kellermann and Murat discussing the Revolution and its consequences—”
The crowd burst into fresh jeers and insults but André, stung by this assault on his integrity, spoke over them. “If you speak of the night of the Jacobin ball, I do recall that General Kellermann said that the monarchy should be disbanded and the king put in jail. But while I’m remembering, I also recall that General Murat said that many of the common people were fools, not yet ready to take over the reins of government.”
Now the crowd was silenced, but only for a moment. And then, not sure with whom to be angry, they began to yell. A fight broke out, prompting another furious round of bell ringing at the judge’s table.
Lazare waited for the rabble-rousers to be ushered out and for order to be restored before he spoke. He was done with André and turned now to face the gallery. “Citizens and citizenesses of France. There’s no doubt that both of these generals have performed great deeds in the service of this land. Like any true soldier, Kellermann was not afraid to shed his own blood. But we are not here today to put his bravery on trial. We are here to determine his guilt as it pertains to loyalty and our Revolution, and whether or not he has sympathies for our dead tyrant—sympathies that would run counter to the progress of our Revolution. You hear now the very statements he has made. Statements which General Murat has sworn to, and which André, son of the Marquis de Valière, has confirmed. You know, now, what must be done.”