Afterlife:
The HarrowingI had never been in a courtroom before and had only seen engravings of famous trials in the newspapers. Black chandeliers hung from a paneled ceiling of tarnished gold. Before me, ensconced in a throne on a platform, sat the judge, stiffly preserved in his faded red robe, tall scarlet hat, and bib of moth-eaten ermine. To his left, a thin man in a black robe with an immaculate white scarf tucked into the front stood perusing some papers. His head was bent at an angle so I could not see his face; his hands hidden by voluminous sleeves: the prosecutor, I presumed. Below the judge’s platform, a clerk sat at a desk. From behind the judge’s throne rose the jury box, from which nine ancient men in black robes peered down their pockmarked noses at me.
My left hand chaine
