CHAPTER 10
PRECEDENT
Two days later, a full carriage arrived at the newly completed Preddi City Meeting Hall. It was not as grand as the Great Hall of the Keelans, which had been built centuries ago to hold the entire clan, but it was intended for meetings or performances of up to three thousand. Today it would be over capacity.
Savronel waited for them and opened the carriage door. Balwis exited first, followed by Yozef, Mark, Heather, and Ceinwyn. Maghen had volunteered that she would rather take Alys to the beach. Details of the trial had been finalized the previous day, and Yozef had clued in Mark and Heather only that morning.
Savronel whispered something to Balwis, who then turned to Yozef. “Wyfor wants to see me about security arrangements at the trial. It should start on time, but three rings from the Liberty Bell will announce that everyone attending is to sit and be quiet. That’s when the three of us will enter.”
A feature of the hall was a tower with a single bronze bell made from Narthani cannon.
Yozef nodded. “All right, Balwis, I’ll meet you in the room serving as the judges’ chamber in time to get dressed.”
The two men walked away, and Yozef looked at Ceinwyn. “I’ll explain more of what’s going to happen to Mark and Heather. I’ll use English to be sure they understand the details.”
“That’s fine, Yozef. I have a couple of errands to finish before the trial.”
“Mark, Heather, sorry you haven’t seen much of me the last couple of days. They’ve been hectic, what with this trial and meetings. However, I thought your attending the trial might be a good part of your education about Caedellium.”
“So, I take it you’re to be a judge at the trial?” asked Heather.
“I’m one of three judges. There is some slight variation among the clans, but the basic structure is that for serious accusations, an expert in the clan’s laws presides over the trial. He or she is called an adjudicator. The person may be a scholastic associated with a cathedral complex or, in a few cases, someone who has no formal position but whom the clan recognizes as expert in their laws and customs. One of the other judges is the clan hetman. The third is usually a prominent citizen who serves for one year.
“We’re trying to standardize the procedures for all the clans. There’s been some resistance, but not as much as I initially feared. Still, changes can seem to go slow, but I’m leery of pushing too hard too fast. Naturally, I eventually want a single set of laws that apply throughout the island.
“As I said, the adjudicator will preside, but the other two judges are free to ask questions. The proceedings are straightforward. A magistrate, someone who’s sort of a combination sheriff and prosecutor, has arranged for witnesses to be present and starts the questioning, which the judges often take over for each witness. The magistrate decides which witnesses are relevant for the truth of what happened, and the accused gives the magistrate witnesses he or she wants that are not already on the magistrate’s list.”
“Wait. You mean there’s no defense counsel?” asked Heather.
“I know,” said Yozef. “I was a little taken aback at the trial I witnessed shortly after I got here. The system is not adversarial like we had in the U.S., where you have a prosecutor and a defense lawyer. You know . . . the defense lawyer trying to discredit witnesses or calling into question factual evidence, and a jury of citizens deciding what to believe. Here, the judges are also the jury. I’m not sure what you call how they do it here in Caedellium—maybe something of a factual system. It’s got obvious flaws, like how can you be sure the accused is treated fairly? Although I haven’t witnessed many trials, I understand other people can put forward possible witnesses if the accused’s ability is considered impaired.
“On the other hand, it goes fast. For example, a man was killed four days ago in a town north of here, Ponth, and today we have the trial. It helps that serious crimes are relatively rare for the population size, possibly due to it being a fairly close-knit society. I also can’t recall complaints about the system, so the citizens seem to accept it. Of course, I can’t say whether that’s because they approve or don’t know anything different. Now, I have to go get ready.”
Yozef motioned to a teenage girl who had accompanied Savronel. “She’ll show you to your seats. You’ll have a good view of everything that happens and have no trouble hearing. Balwis tells me the architecture of the building is such that all three thousand–plus people should hear the proceedings.”
Thirty minutes later, Heather sat in the front row aisle seat to the right of a stage with a table and three chairs obviously intended for the judges. Several hundred people were already there when they entered the hall. It didn’t take long for every available space to be occupied, seats and standing room only, except for the two aisles separating rows. Between the stage and the audience was a space with three chairs centered and a dozen chairs to one side. On the other side was a seat on a two-foot-high platform.
“I assume that’s the witness box or docket or whatever they call it,” said Heather.
Mark didn’t need to be telepathic to sense she disapproved of the system. “Remember where you are, Heather. This is not the U.S. We’re in no position to judge, at least not yet. I don’t know about the legal system in Sulako, but the fact that you were so easily made a slave doesn’t say much about trusting that system. As for Frangel, I admit to my obliviousness for too long, but the first time I got in trouble, the people I knew accepted it was best to run for it and not trust the system. It was pretty much the same the second time.”
She didn’t appear mollified and was about to speak when she noticed the level of talking quickly subside. A man dressed in black and white and carrying a six-foot staff walked to the front of the room. He faced the audience and waited for absolute silence before pounding the scepter’s base on the floor three times.
“All present heed the justice of Caedellium. All present heed their roles in this proceeding. All present acknowledge the justice that protects the people.”
He then pounded the floor three more times, turned, and walked to the left of the stage. From the right came three men dressed in black-and-white checkered robes. Mark and Heather didn’t recognize the first man they assumed was the adjudicator. Following him were Balwis and then Yozef. The three men sat at the table, facing the audience. The adjudicator waved to a man to his left, who opened a side door. Out came first a middle-aged man, also dressed in black and white, followed by two men holding the elbows of a man in shackles. They sat the middle man in a chair facing the judges and stood behind the man’s chair.
The adjudicator waved to his left, and out of another door came nine men and three women, who sat in chairs near the door.
“I guess we know who the accused is,” said Heather dryly.
“And the witnesses,” said Mark.
When everyone was seated, the adjudicator shuffled some papers in front of him. He picked up one sheet and read from it, occasionally glancing up.
“The trial today is to judge Yulwyn Washton, a citizen of Ponth, Preddi Province, accused of two murders. The judges are myself, Halwis Stritton, Chief Caedellium Adjudicator; Hetman Balwis Preddi; and Paramount Hetman Yozef Kolsko. Anyone present who does not believe these three judges are appropriate for the charge, now is the time to speak.”
A general rustling came from people shifting in their seats, but no words were spoken.
“As if anyone is going to object to Balwis and Yozef being judges,” whispered Mark.
Stritton addressed the man who had led Washton and his two guards. “Magistrate Lalton, present the evidence.”
“No opening statements even by the accused, no defense counsel . . . this can’t be a fair trial,” said Heather in more than a whisper in English. Several nearby men and women turned their heads to her and frowned at the noise, not at the unrecognized words.
For the next five minutes, Magistrate Lalton laid out the case. Kleswyn Moody and his fourteen-year-old son,
Pala, were walking down a street in Ponce when Washton came up behind them, attacked the father with an ax, then turned on the horrified youth and hacked him several times. The father was still alive, so, after killing the son, Washton turned back to the father, finished him, then threw the ax to the ground, and loudly proclaimed justice was done.
“No attempt was made to flee,” said Lalton, “and Washton continued loudly to justify the murder until I arrived with two assistants and took Washton into custody.”
Lalton then called a series of witnesses who had seen the attack, who had heard Washton’s ramblings on justification, or who knew Washton or the Moody family.
“Doesn’t the accused get to question the witnesses?” said Heather, this time speaking low enough that no one seated nearby responded.
“How would I know? Let’s just see how it all plays out.”
Another witness was called forward, a woman, a lifelong Preddi citizen. She testified to personally knowing the Moody family during the entire Narthani occupation and described the Moody family as typical a family as any Preddi. Magistrate Lalton prompted her on whether she knew of any actions by any member of the Moody family against Preddi people.
“Never! They were the nicest family. Always helping others, whether they were Preddi or Narthani. Several times, when they were sure no one else was listening, Kleswyn apologized for his own people and said how they had had no say in coming to Caedellium. They were simply given three days to get ready and then traveled to a city called Ezarkin, where they were put on a ship and taken to Caedellium.”
“One last question,” said Lalton. “Do you know of any harm the Moody family caused the Washton family?”
“None. On the day it happened, I talked with other people who knew the Moodys. A few of them you’ve already heard give testimony and many others not called. None of us know of any reason why this man killed Kleswyn and Pala.”
“Thank you. You may return to your seat.”
Lalton waited until she sat and then turned to the judges. “That is the summary of facts concerning Yulwyn Washton’s killing of Kleswyn and Pala Moody.”
Adjudicator Stritton nodded, made some notes, then first faced Balwis to his right and Yozef to his left. “Do either of the other judges have questions for any of the witnesses?”
“I have no questions,” said Balwis.
“Neither do I,” added Yozef.
“I have a few questions for the witnesses acquainted with Yulwyn Washton. You may answer from your seat.”
Stritton asked if any of them were surprised at what Washton was accused of. One witness declined to give an opinion, saying he didn’t believe he knew Washton well enough. However, two other witnesses were firm in asserting they were not surprised and, in retrospect, believed all the signs were there for what happened.
The adjudicator addressed Washton. “Ser Washton, do you wish to question or refute any of the witnesses?”
Washton snorted. “Why should I? They mainly told the truth. I killed two Narthani abominations and only wish I could have killed more.”
“If you have no questions of the witnesses, then do you wish to explain to the court any justification for the killings?”
Washton proceeded to describe what the Narthani had done to his family. Murmurs of sympathy from the audience were frequent, suppressed by glares from the adjudicator. The more Washton talked, the louder his voice rose and the more agitated his gestures grew. On and on it went, how all Narthani should be killed. That anyone not killing Narthani was a traitor to Caedellium. That he was sorry the rest of the Moody family had not been on the street that morning.
The audience murmurings slackened the more Washton raved. The Moody mother was pregnant. Another of their children was three years old.
“Think they’re going to let this go on?” whispered Heather.
“Maybe there’s no time limit for how long the accused gets to talk,” answered Mark. “I wonder if it’s an indication of how serious they might be. You know. Giving the accused every chance to defend themselves.”
“With this case, it’s more like giving the man enough rope to hang himself,” said Heather.
Mark nodded. “Sure looks that way.”
Either there was no time limit, or it had been reached—or perhaps Adjudicator Stritton determined Washton was repeating himself and had nothing new to add. He waited until the accused paused for a breath and interrupted him.
“I determine that the accused has nothing more to add in his defense. The judges will now retire to consider the case. All participants and observers will remain in their places.”
The man with the staff reappeared and pounded the floor three times, and the three judges went back through the door they had first entered from.
“I’d say this guy is up shit creek,” said Mark. “Telling everyone not to go anywhere, even to relieve themselves, has to mean the verdict is pretty automatic.”
“Well,” said Heather, “this certainly wouldn’t pass muster for a trial back in the U.S., but about the only defense Washton would have back home is if he’s certifiably crazy. I don’t get the impression that would fly here.”
In the little nearby room, the three judges sat at a small round table. Stritton had sheets of notes he set to one side.
“Did either of you hear anything to mitigate Washton’s actions?”
“You’re joking, right?” rejoined Balwis.
Stritton didn’t respond and looked to Yozef.
“I’d hoped he would give us something. Anything we could stretch out as mitigation. It didn’t happen. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice.”
Yozef looked at Balwis. “This is going to fall to you, Balwis. Sorry. Are you still okay with it?”
“He’s my clansman, my responsibility, and my fault that I haven’t had as much control over lingering resentments and calls for vengeance as I should’ve had.”
Yozef reached out and put a hand on Balwis’s shoulder. “You know I don’t put honey on words when it’s something important. This is not your fault. You’ve done better at keeping such things under control than could reasonably have been expected. Unfortunately, it has happened, and Washton gave us as much justification as possible to make an example of him. Neither you nor I want to be in the same position again. Let this be the last time an ex-Narthani is killed by an aggrieved Caedelli.”
“We are all agreed then?” asked Stritton.
“Yes.”
“Agreed.”
“I suggest we wait a few more minutes before going back, so it doesn’t make our decision seem too rushed.”
“I think that train already left the station when you told people not to leave their seats,” said Yozef, slipping into English.
THUD, THUD, THUD, sounded for the third time that morning. The judges filed back and took their seats. Stritton wasted no time as soon as the hall was silent.
“Yulwyn Washton. You are found guilty of two murders with no provocation. In considering a punishment, the judges do not believe you can be allowed to live again on Caedellium without threatening the lives of citizens who were ex-Narthani. In the past, someone guilty of your crimes might have been sold into slavery off Caedellium. However, that is no longer considered an option after the people of Caedellium have experienced the realities of slavery.
“Another punishment in the past has been exile, where the person is taken somewhere on Anyar and left to make a life for himself as best he can. Based on your own testimony, the judges believe that because you so willingly took the lives of Kleswyn and Pala Moody, we would be putting in danger the lives of innocent people wherever you were exiled to.”
Stritton paused briefly and made a hand gesture that elicited a range of responses from the audience: groans, sighs, gasps.
“Yulwyn Washton. You are sentenced to death for the murder of Kleswyn and Pala Moody. You will be taken from this trial and transported to a place determined by Hetman Preddi. There, in a place known only to him or his designa
te, you will be executed and buried, your grave hidden, the location never to be known.”
“Christ,” whispered Heather. “No appeal. No time to settle affairs. Just march him out and put him against the wall?”
“I’m afraid he’s had his appeal,” said Mark. “Yesterday, Yozef told me that the usual appeals are to the province hetman. Now, with Yozef as the Paramount Hetman, it might be that a further appeal could go to him, although this situation hasn’t arisen before. With both Balwis and Yozef as judges, who is there to appeal to?
“Also, did you notice that only Balwis will know where the execution takes place and where Washton will be buried? Does that mean Balwis will be the executioner and gravedigger?”
“The judge said Balwis or his designate, so it could be someone else who does the dirty work. But how do you think this will be received?” asked Heather. “At first, I got the impression there was some sympathy for Washton. You know, how the magistrate described there were people supporting Washton right after the killing, and then some of the earlier responses from the audience today.”
Mark nodded. “I know it wasn’t his intention, but I think Washton did Balwis and Yozef a huge favor by what he said today. Oh . . . I’m sure there will still be sympathizers, but maybe fewer than before. Having the gravesite unknown is probably deliberate to prevent supporters from treating it like a martyr memorial.
“I’d also give you good odds that Yozef intends this to be an object lesson. Let’s neither you nor I forget that whoever Joe Colsco was before the plane collision, he’s now the ruler of this island. I’m sure we haven’t heard all the details of his history and how he got there.”
Only fifteen minutes later, they witnessed Washton being loaded, shackled, onto the bed of a small wagon. The driver was the Ponth magistrate Lalton, whose face was appropriately as grim as death. Pick and shovel handles protruded from the driver box.
Yozef and Balwis, having shed their robes, walked up as the wagon turned a corner and was lost to view.
A Dubious Peace Page 14
