My friends and relatives, who knew the whole story by now, told me I should write to Toteel, the Principal Secretary. They said, “Apologize to him. It is foolish to have such pride when so much gold is at stake.”
I said, “No, I will not bend so low to kiss a flop of dung.”
Later, though, I reconsidered, and I did send a letter to Toteel. It was a long one, and very cunningly worded, for it sounded apologetic in tone, but it actually carried other meanings which I knew Toteel would not understand.
I have a copy of it here somewhere, but I have looked for an hour and I cannot find it. Still, I remember some of the phrases in it. I wrote:
“It was wrong of me to have kicked you once with my leg.” (Yes, for I should rather have kicked you thirty times!)
And “Now I look back at my actions, I wish I had done something different,” (Like stuck a dagger in your belly perhaps. Ha!)
And “Be so kind as to retract the lies you have told to the queen, and I will give you a reward to fit your actions.” (Yes, I will torture you, you rogue!)
The whole letter was written in this vein, appearing to be very penitent in tone, although anyone who knew me well would understand its true meaning.
Unfortunately, I did not receive a reply to my letter. It may be that Toteel recognized my hand and did not bother to read it, although I like to think that one of my many friends in the castle had heard of my sufferings at his hand and had already avenged me, killing him in the night.
In any case, that letter was the last one I wrote to the Queen, because a week or so after I had sent it off, my father, who was one of the oldest men in Rowel, caught the same disease that had recently been killing so many of his rabbits. He died just a few weeks later, having seen ninety-two years. At the funeral, the augur examined his feet and his hands to see what message was there for all of us. The message she discovered was: “Forget the losses of the past, and look to the future.”
I said to myself, “Yes, it is folly to spend my own old age worrying about that money. I will never get it back now, for it is too well guarded.”
Then I resolved to make a gift to the future. I would start my own school of building. So I sold the gems which I had so wisely placed upon my special leg as decoration, replacing them with imitations of much lesser value, then used the proceeds to buy an area of land on the western side of Rowel. On this site, working alone, I built a very fine school, with three towers and a small but beautiful abber dome. It took me three years to finish the structure, although you must not draw anything from that, for, if I had had a few slaves working for me, I could easily have completed it in three months.
I lived very pleasantly for a few years, earning my keep by teaching the occasional student in my school, and carrying out a few building repairs about the town. I lived in my father’s old house, which I had to myself now, for, as I mentioned, Hendell had unexpectedly flourished in his business and bought a larger house for himself. It was a very lavish place, and he lived there with his family, which now comprised a wife and six children.
I imagined I would live on in this slow, peaceful lifestyle until I died, but, of course, this was not to be.
About five years ago, a judge was travelling through Rowel and the surrounding area, settling cases for a fee. He pulled a cart behind him, full of books and papers, and he would say, “Come to me, for there is no case I cannot resolve fairly.”
My brother Hendell had seen this man in the town and was much impressed by his claims. He said to me, “Why not see if the judge can settle your dispute with the queen regarding your treasure.”
I said, “Come, do you think such a man as that will have authority over the queen?”
Hendell said, “Who knows, he might.”
I said, “Very well, then, we shall try. It will be an amusing thing to test this judge’s abilities.”
Then we went to look for the judge. We found him coming back along the south road where he had been settling the quarrels which the Gammon brothers had picked for each other.
We stopped the judge on the road, and I said, “The queen has taken possession of a great fortune which belongs to me, and she will not give it back.”
He said, “Do not play games at my expense. I am a judge and very important.”
I said, “This is no game, and if you are as important as you say, then you will help me resolve a great injustice which was committed against me.” I then told him the facts of the matter.
When he had heard it all, he said, “Ho! That is an unusual case.” He sat down on a grassy bank and looked in a book for a time, and then another book, and finally he said, “I cannot settle the case.”
I said, “Why not?”
He said, “If you give me an arran, I will tell you.”
I said no.
He said, “Very well then, give me an arran, and I will also tell you how you can regain your wealth.”
Well, that was a tempting offer indeed, so I looked in my purse to see what I had, which was just a few grotecs, for I had not done any building repairs in some weeks. Then I asked Hendell if he had any money upon him. He had a few more grotecs. It was not quite an arran, but the judge said, “It will suffice,” and took the money anyway.
Then he said, “I cannot resolve this case, and neither can any judge, even those in the Great Courts, for all judges are in the service of the queen, and we may not be used to settle a score against her.”
I said, “Then how is it possible for me to seek redress?”
He said, “There is but one way. You may do so through the Holy Court.”
“The Holy Court? What is that?”
He said, “In the normal way, the Holy Court is a place where decisions are made upon points of theology. However, few people know that this court may also be used to bring to trial those of royal rank.”
Well, this was news to me, for I had always thought kings and queens were accountable to no one. I said, “How may I proceed against the queen in this Holy Court. That is to say, what person should I make my dealings with?”
He said, “I cannot tell you that, but perhaps a priest will know.”
The next day, I talked to several of the priests in Rowel. Some knew a little about the Holy Court, but only of its role as arbitrator upon church doctrine; they had never heard it could be used for settling a dispute with a monarch. They said, “Go to Balcorn and talk to the bishop there, if he will see you. He knows about the Holy Court.”
I did as they advised and made the journey to Balcorn, which is about a day’s travel by sea. The bishop received me at once, without even knowing who I was, for he was a very jolly man, and he loved to have visitors.
I asked him my question about the Holy Court, and he was most perplexed. “I have served at the Holy Court several times, in a variety of capacities,” he said, “but I have never heard of it being used to even a score with a queen.”
Still, he was intrigued by the idea, so he consulted a number of ancient books and documents for a good many hours. At last, he found a book which suited him and said, “Ah! You are quite correct! The Holy Court may indeed be used to bring monarchs and nobles to trial under the justice of God, although the last time the court was used in this way was three hundred years ago.”
I asked, “How should I proceed in this matter?”
He said, “You should proceed in the same way I would, if I wished to have some theological argument resolved. I will tell you this, though, it is a cumbersome process, and very slow.”
He was not exaggerating there, either. In the year that followed, I had to make at least twenty journeys, to all parts of the region, in order to set my case in motion. I will not describe these visits, for most of them were very tedious.
When this was done, it was another two years before the case was heard. I used this time wisely, finding what I could about the customs and pro
cedures of the Holy Court, so I might present my views in the most persuasive way.
My suit was to the tune of 27,882,000 arrans, and for some months the case was the talk of the whole kingdom, for there is no earl in the land who has so much gold, and I believe the amount would have put an impossible burden even upon the queen’s treasury. Still, it was a figure fairly arrived at, estimating the value of all my treasure, as well as all the towns and cities I saved by my actions during the war, not to mention my myrmidons, for which the queen had promised me five hundred arrans apiece.
When the day finally came, I travelled to Meadric for the trial, which was held in a large room beneath the cathedral there. I went in the company of nearly two hundred friends and relatives, who, as I had planned it, would serve as witnesses for me.
I had said to these people, “Come with me to Meadric and serve as my witnesses. If I win the case, I will reward you all handsomely.”
Of course, they were all nervous, and said, “What is it we must say?”
But I said, “Simply speak the truth: say I am an honest man. That is all.”
The queen herself was not at the court but was represented by a man named Isenna, who is widely known as a cunning speaker. (The queen’s absence, incidentally, shows how very seriously she took the case, for she was afraid even to show her face there, and so was the Earl of Tarphonay, who held all my money in her treasury.)
The judge for the case was none other than Agrator, the Bishop of Meadric, who, at first, seemed to me to be a wise gentleman. He said, “Yreth, I have seen some of your old buildings in Oaster. They are very fine.”
I said, “Your words are high praise, especially coming from a person of such excellent judgement.”
He chuckled at this, saying it was a fine play on words, what with him being a church judge and making judgements all the time. Then he greeted Isenna, in a cool way as it seemed to me, and we each sat down and gathered our papers together.
Before I describe the trial, I must first tell you a thing or two about the Holy Court. Matters brought before this body are resolved according to an unusual timetable. Like cases in a Great Court, the procedure begins at dawn and must be resolved by nightfall. However, instead of taking place in a large chamber with a round table, it is held at a long table, with food upon it. The judge sits in the middle of the table, and the two parties, with their helpers, if they have any, sit on opposite sides of him.
The procedure follows exactly that of the first Holy Court, which is to say the Last Supper, where Judas was tried before his friends, with Christ as the judge, and sentenced to be hanged, and to pay a fine of thirty pieces of silver. (If you do not know this story, you may read about it in the Fifth Testament, in the Book of Exploits.)
The trial is divided into nine segments, with the first eight named after the principal food served. The sections are Broth, Lentils, Cheese, First Figs, Fish, Flesh, Second Figs, Bread-and-Wine, and Judgement.
We began with Broth, and little bowls of broth were placed before us. It was a poor sort of broth, no better than a shepherd would eat, with too many oats and not enough meat.
Agrator said, “Well, then, let us get this extraordinary matter underway. Yreth, you claim to be the wronged party. You may begin, if you wish.”
I thanked him and stood to speak. I knew the first task at hand was to show my claims were reasonable and honourable, and not impertinent, for I knew that many people who did not know me were saying, “Who does this man Yreth think he is? He is not even a noble, and yet he brings the queen to trial.”
To settle objections or prejudices of this sort, I had prepared a very eloquent speech, which told everything I knew about the queen—her origins as a hunter and a murderess (albeit the murderess of a wicked king). The speech also told what kind of a person I was—the great armies I have led; my unsurpassed skill in building; my carefree, generous ways; and so on. The speech, as I had written it, showed how I was very much loved by God, while the queen was very sinful in His sight, which is the sort of argument I knew would be well suited to the Holy Court.
Alas, I had hardly spoken two words of my excellent speech when Isenna interrupted me, saying, “I do apologize, but how should I properly address you during the course of this trial—as plain Yreth, or as Archbishop Yreth.”
At this, old Agrator asked him his meaning, whereupon I explained that I had been made an archbishop in America, and, since I had never had this post taken from me, I could only say I was an archbishop still.
But I went on to say, “This is a technicality only, for I no longer carry out the duties of that post, and I do not expect to be treated or addressed as archbishop by any in the court.” Then I made another little joke, saying, “And you, bishop, need not be intimidated by the fact that my standing is higher than your own, because the days when I had disagreeable clerics tossed from the cliffs are very far behind me.”
The bishop was very angry at my amusing and reasonable words, and he rebuked me with great venom, telling me that an archbishop in America is by no means the same as an archbishop here in Cyprus.
Then, in a friendly way, I told him that, as it seemed to me, there was little difference between the church in America and the church here, and that, since I had lived both in Cyprus and in America, while he had lived only in Cyprus, I was in a better position to compare the two than he was. “And if there is a reason why this is not so,” I said, “let me hear what it is.”
Well, the bishop took my challenge to heart, and he gave many reasons why what I said was not so. He talked on and on for so long that I thought I would die of boredom. Yet my polite yawns and drooping eyes did nothing to bring his speech to a quick end, for he was a very rude fellow, and, seeing he had an captive audience, was determined to have the final say upon this matter, which, after all, had little to do with the case at hand.
Unfortunately, the bishop took so long about it that he exhausted all the time that had been apportioned for Broth, and so that part of the trial was completely wasted.
I found out afterwards that Agrator had long hoped for an archbishopric himself, but he had been overlooked for the position many times, despite the fact he had served twenty-five long years as a bishop. This, of course, was why Isenna had raised the matter: he knew it would make the bishop brood resentfully over my archbishop title from the very start of the trial, and the case would be biased against me, which it was.
We then began Lentils, which was conducted while each of us sat facing our own little mound of lentils. I cannot bear lentils in any form, so I did not touch them. However, I noticed that Isenna was eating his greedily, so I spoke in a loud voice to one of the priests standing around, saying, “I do not think I should eat this while there are poor people who have nothing to eat. Please, take these lentils and give them to a beggar.”
Agrator was still angry at me, though, and instead of saying, “What a charitable action! Here is a truly good man,” he said “What, you do not like your lentils?” which made me cross.
Since I had, technically, been the first to speak at Broth, it was now Isenna’s turn. At Lentils, each party must show how the resolution of the case in their favour will augment and magnify the glory of God.
Isenna said the queen’s position in the kingdom was like God’s position in Heaven. He said, “This proves God must love our queen, for, although all of us are made in His image, God has also made our queen like Him in rank, although her post is of finite, rather than infinite scope.”
Then he told a little story. He said, “A drunken merchant, fat and wealthy, came into this very cathedral here at Meadric many years ago. He had a purse full of gold coins, and he tossed one these coins upon the altar, saying, ‘There is my offering to God, for He made me rich.’ Later, when the wine was worn off, the merchant came back to the cathedral and said, ‘Where is my gold coin?’ A priest told him, ‘It was accepted as an offering and has gone
to pay for a fine jewel for the bishop. It cannot be returned.’ Then the merchant pulled out a club and beat the priest to death.”
Isenna turned to me then and said, “Did the merchant do right?”
Well, I was outraged to hear the facts of this story. I said, “No! That merchant should have been knifed for his crime, or smashed open with his own club.”
He said, “Yes, for the merchant had made his gift to God and, once made, it should not have been retracted. In the same way, Yreth, your gift to the queen must also remain where it is.”
You can see from this what a crafty speaker Isenna was. However, I am a good speaker myself, and I knew how to deal with these charges.
I said, “I heard recently of a priest who had gone begging. He collected a good sum of gold, then made his way to his home town to place the donation in the church. On his way, though, he was ambushed by thieves. They stole his money from him. He said, ‘Do not take that money, for it is God’s.’ But they replied, ‘It is ours now.’ Then they killed the priest. Tell me, Isenna, were the thieves right or wrong.”’
He said, “Wrong, of course, for the money had been given, as a gift, to the monarch of heaven, and, as I have said, such gifts should not be taken from that monarch, or from any monarch.”
“Yes,” I said, “and I too would very likely have given my gold to God, or at least a portion of it, but now I cannot, for it all lies in the queen’s treasury. Answer me this, Isenna: What is more important—a gift for God or a gift for a queen?”
I hoped he would say “A gift for God,” for this would mean I should get my money back, so I could donate some of it to the church.
But instead, he said, “In making a gift to the queen, we also flatter God, for the queen serves God, just as the nobles serve the queen, and we serve the nobles. This is the proper order of things.”
I said, “Yes, but whom do you serve foremost—the queen or God?”
Then the sly fox said, “Whom do you most aim to please, the Duke of Oaster, or your queen?”
I knew if I said, “My queen,” then he would say I should please her by letting her keep my gold, whereas if I said “My duke,” then I would support his argument about the proper order of things. So I said, “I aim to please neither, for I serve only God.”
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 41
