He said, “I fear that answer smacks of treason, which is a thing that pleases neither the queen nor God.”
And Isenna had no sooner spoken those words than Agrator declared Lentils to be at an end, for he had just finished his plate and was hungry for cheese.
Cheese was next, then, and plates of soft cheese were placed before each of us. It was a good cheese, made from goat’s milk, or possibly from sheep’s milk.
During Cheese, it is the judge who asks the questions, clarifying the various points which have been established in the case so far. As I have said, though, he was very biased in his approach, and he asked me only two questions, about my birthplace and my profession, before turning his attention to Isenna.
Isenna then told all manner of lies about me, and the judge asked for details, which Isenna dutifully invented. According to the rules of Cheese, I was not permitted to speak unless the judge first spoke to me, so you can imagine how infuriating the whole thing was. Still, I soon realized that, although I was prohibited from speaking, there was no reason I could not laugh, and so, whenever Isenna told one of his lies, I gave a laugh—either a gentle snort, or a chuckle, or a loud roar of mirth, depending upon the extremity of the lie. This did a fine job of distracting Isenna.
Agrator glared at me several times, but I merely shrugged and pointed to my lips, to remind him I was not speaking. And of course he could not criticize me for what I was doing, for he would have to speak to me to do so, and then I could respond to Isenna’s outrageous falsehoods.
We then moved into First Figs. This is a short break, where those in the courtroom may wander around, talk to others at their pleasure, and eat from the trays of figs and other fruit which are placed upon the table. I talked at length with a very pretty young priest who was impressed by my keen wit. She said, “You may have set off on the wrong foot, but I think you will yet take the day.”
I said, “When my foot offends me in that way, I simply pluck it out.” Then I pulled off my golden leg, which amused her very much indeed.
When First Figs was done with, we began Fish. This is the most important part of the trial, for it is the time both parties may bring in the witnesses who will support their claims.
Isenna went first, and he brought in six of the military men I talked about earlier, the young courtiers. As I have said, they were envious of all my skills, and so they said many wicked things about me. I will not repeat their words here, for it was all lies and you do not want to hear it.
It was then my turn, and I called upon my two hundred witnesses, one or two at a time.
They did very well at their appointed task, coming forward, one after another, and saying, “Yreth is an honest man,” and “There never was such an honest man as Yreth,” and “I declare that Yreth is the most honest man in all the world,” and “Yreth’s honesty is so great that I weep to think of it.”
I had given a few of them additional things to say. My sister Wegnir said, “Thank you, Yreth, for all you have done in spreading the word of God around the world.”
And my brother Hendrick held up a robe and said, “I have brought your second cloak, Yreth, in case you are cold on the long walk home.”
To which I replied, “I have a cloak already. Give it instead to someone who has no cloak at all. Perhaps to an old blind priest.”
In this way, I showed Agrator my virtue and my reputation for honesty, so he would know my claims were all true, and the words of Isenna and his commanders were lies of the basest sort.
That was Fish, anyway. And, in case you are wondering, the fish served was perch, covered in a sauce made from olives and onions. It was very good.
It was now early evening, and time for Flesh, where each side may speak at length upon the case.
I spoke first, saying, “It pains me exceedingly to have to bring such a case as this against the queen, even though she is a vulgar sort of queen who was once a hunter then married Bellay and murdered him and now lives her life ruled by lustful passions.”
You will see how I incorporated, as part of my address at Flesh, many of the points I had intended to make in Broth.
Then I said, “This matter may be divided into two important questions. The first of these is: ‘Does the queen owe me a large sum of money?’ The second is: ‘How much does she owe me?’ I will deal with these questions in the precise order I have asked them.”
Then I repeated the first question, for those who may not have heard it properly. I said, “Does the queen owe me a large sum of money? My friends, the answer to that question is yes. I assure you, upon my honour, and upon my dead father’s honour, and upon the holy name of the one true God, that the queen does owe me a large sum of money. As proof of this, I offer nothing more nor less than my own statement of the fact, supported as it is by the testimony of two hundred witnesses, people who know me well, and have confirmed that I am exceedingly honest.”
Then Isenna said, “Yes, but we have also heard from my witnesses, fine commanders all, who claimed you are a liar and a rogue.”
I replied, “Yes, we heard from six of your witnesses. But what are the opinions of six compared to the opinions of two hundred? Especially when these two hundred know me well, while your six barely know me at all.”
I saw Isenna cringe then, for he had not thought of that, and all the other priests there murmured to themselves saying, “Yes, this is the argument of an godly man, for, like Christ before Pharaoh, he offers no papers or documents as his evidence, but simply his own honest words.”
I said, “We come then to the second question. How much does the queen owe me. We can divide the sum into four parts. In the first place there is the money and the treasure which I placed into her treasury, under the care of the Earl of Tarphonay. I estimate the value of this gold and treasure at a little over five million arrans.
“In the second place, there is the interest which is payable to me over the time the money was unavailable to me, which comes, at a rate of one-fifth per year, to another five million arrans.
“Thirdly, there is the money which the queen agreed to pay me for my twelve myrmidons. This comes to five hundred arrans per myrmidon, for a total of sixty thousand arrans.
“Fourthly, there is the reward the queen said she would pay me for my heroic actions in saving Cyprus. She gave me the post of Queen’s Own Builder for this service, but since she saw fit to take the post away again, I will insist upon a golden payment instead. I have calculated a fair reward, in line with the sums the other commanders were paid for their victories, and it comes to seventeen million arrans or so.
Then I said, “As must surely be clear, each of these sums lends weight and validity to all the others. My claim is thus self-reinforcing in each of its parts, and quadruply so in its total, which, having being calculated for me by an excellent priest and mathematician, exactly matches the amount of my claim—specifically 27,882,000 arrans.”
Then Isenna rose. While he spoke, I turned my attention to the meat before me, which was goat and ham, cut into delicate slices.
Isenna said, “I will not speak further on the subject of Yreth’s honesty. Enough has been said about that.” I was pleased at this, for I sensed he was half beaten, and I waved a piece of ham in his direction to annoy him. Then he said, “I will turn instead to his extravagant claim for compensation.” He then launched into an speech which was remarkable for its blatant fraudulence. It was such a foolish and desperate argument that, for most of the time he spoke, I did not even bother to dispute him, but merely ate my meat, shaking my head at his sorry efforts.
He said, “In the first place, the gold which was placed into the queen’s treasury had been earned overseas, in America, and once brought into Cyprus, it was subject to a great many tariffs and fines. His failure to pay these fines promptly rendered the sum subject to confiscation.”
He then brought out various documents showing the L
aws of Tariff, and letters, and all manner of tiresome things, thereby wasting a good deal of time.
He said, “Moreover, most of the gold within this hoard was in the form of American arrans, a currency which is not recognized here as having any legitimate value at all.”
As evidence of this claim, he brought out more ancient papers and passed them around. I did not lower myself by looking at them.
“Thirdly,” he said, “in transporting gold to Cyprus, Yreth passed through enemy waters without sinking enemy ships, rendering him subject to still further penalties. I could list other infractions too, but I am sure I do not need to, for it must certainly be clear that, whatever sum was initially placed within the treasury, it was subject to so many fines, taxes, penalties and tariffs that its value is reduced to nought.
“It follows that the interest owed to Yreth must also be of no worth, for one cannot earn interest on nothing.”
I said, “Your tedious arguments have not dealt with the matter of my myrmidons.”
He said, “Under the law, the possession of myrmidons by anyone other than a noble is a grave crime. In promising you such a generous sum for the myrmidons, the queen was simply trying to offset the fines which you surely owed for your offences. Her calculations were precise, and you will be pleased to hear that the sum you must pay for possessing the myrmidons is exactly negated by the amount the queen owes you for buying them. This matter, then, is settled equitably.”
I objected to this line of reasoning, saying that, at one point while I was in the service of the Emperor of Saskatoon, I held the rank of a duke (which is absolutely true, although I have not told of the event here). I was, therefore, a noble of sorts and entitled under the law to own myrmidons.
But the bishop said, “We have heard enough of your past ranks, and we care nothing for them. At present, you are merely Yreth, a stonemage of some repute, and I will acknowledge no higher claim.”
I said, “What of my bounty, then? Am I not owed a generous reward for my actions in lifting the blight of war from Cyprus? I should say seventeen million arrans was a very modest price to pay for such a happy transformation.”
Isenna replied, “In the first place, there is no proof that these giant ships and great black myrmidons you have spoken of actually laid waste to the lands of India, or that they existed at all. But even if their existence and actions were to be proven beyond doubt, the payment of a victory bounty is not an obligation. If the queen wishes to pay one, or to grant some boon, whether for real or imagined victories, she is at liberty to pay it. But no person may compel her to do so.”
I said to Agrator, “I have heard enough. Now, let me give you my opinion of this man’s words.”
Unfortunately, the judge would not allow this, claiming the time for Flesh had elapsed, and we must now move into Second Figs, which, like First Figs, is another break from the debate.
During Second Figs, Isenna was in a jolly mood, and he demonstrated a silly hopping dance to the judge, saying it was greatly enjoyed by the queen.
For myself, I talked further with the pretty young priest, who had been winking at me throughout Flesh. After a time, though, I became annoyed at Isenna’s prancings, and I shouted out, “Ho, there! Your bland steps are no way for a man to dance. Watch this.”
Then I hauled myself up onto the table and performed a magnificent quafe, stamping and marching in a very rousing manner, despite my leg. I sang a song too, which was The Murderous Whore, and all the priests around clapped heartily at my fine performance.
After Second Figs came Bread-and-Wine. The bread served was just plain loaves, but the wine was that very rich, strong variety, which is known as bloodwine. I do not normally take such things, but I made an exception here, for this was holy wine. It tasted so delicious I drank three full goblets, and it went to my head very powerfully.
Isenna then gave a summary of his arguments in the case, for the general purpose of Bread-and-Wine is to render the past arguments into a brief form. He was a fine speaker, certainly, but his arguments sounded no more plausible when stated concisely than they had done when stated at length. I knew though, that the judge would be impressed by Isenna’s words. The weather had been foul for me ever since the trial had begun, thanks to Isenna’s comments about my archbishop’s post. I also knew I would not get a fair hearing, no matter how cleverly I spoke my piece.
When it was my turn, I said, to Agrator, “I will not summarize my arguments, for they are so simple they need no summary. My case rests upon the words of an honest man, which is to say, me. Instead of more talk, let me challenge Isenna to a form of combat. We will throw knives at each other and see who is the first to die. The one whom God chooses to survive will win all the gold at stake in this case.”
Agrator replied, “That method of determination would not be appropriate. Moreover, since you do not wish to summarize your arguments, I declare Bread-and-Wine to be at an end.”
Judgement followed immediately. Agrator said Isenna’s arguments were compelling in every respect (which should tell you all you need to know about that judge’s wisdom!) and I should be paid nothing by the queen.
Truly, I expected no less, for I knew Isenna and Agrator were conspiring against me. Moreover, when we left the court, I saw Isenna and Agrator go off together, doubtless to indulge in some unnatural act.
Still, I was not angry, as you might think, for in my heart I felt justice would yet be done. Later, when I returned to the inn where I was staying, I had a strange and vivid dream, brought on by the holy wine. In this dream, I saw myself standing upon a hill, which I knew to be one of the hills of Heaven. Before me was my pile of treasure, exactly as it had appeared when it was in the caves above Rowel. A voice said, “Here, Yreth, your treasure is waiting for you.”
Then I saw five more piles of treasure, identical to the first, floating in the sky all around my treasure. I knew then that I was seeing the future. These five piles were my rightful interest, and the amount of it indicated the passage of twenty-five years, meaning I would live another twenty years before I died and was reunited with my treasure. (You see, five years had already elapsed since the money was taken, and twenty-five less five is twenty.)
Then my old friend the Holy Ghost came before me, assuming a visible form. He had the appearance of a hanging lamp, with a cosy red flame on his wick, and a gentle smile upon his base, but no eyes or ears.
I said, “Holy Ghost, where is Queen Sarla?”
His lips moved and he said, “She is in Heaven, but she lives in poverty, no better than a street dog.” Then he showed me a vision of Queen Sarla, dressed in rags, with dry leaves around her in the place of gold.
Then I said, “And where are Isenna and Agrator, the Bishop of Meadric?”
He said, “Those sinners are burning very nicely in the flames of Hell.”
I said, “Ah, I am glad of that, for they were unjust.”
He said, “Yes, you must forget about them. There are great new battles for you to fight, my friend. Return to your own palace of learning, Yreth’s School of Stonemagery and Architectural Knowledge, and make it your fortress in a great war. It will be a war not of soldiers, but of aesthetics, and your opponent will be the loathsome new style of building.”
I said, “Will you guide me in this war?”
The Holy Ghost replied, “Not in a pigeon’s ear! No, God has decreed that this is the last time we will speak together while you are alive. But when you are dead, we will chat again. I have a fine joke to tell you.”
Then the vision vanished, and I awoke feeling unspeakably serene and tranquil, and ready to emerge triumphant from the great struggle that lay before me. In the next part I will tell of my fight against the new style of building, and of the wonderful victories I have achieved in it so far.
The Twelfth Part
In Which I Explain The Meaning Of The Term “My Name Is Writ In Stones”
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Henry Eagles, the great stonemage, was once asked why he did not place upon his buildings a cornerstone bearing his name. This, you see, was the fashion in those days, and all his contemporaries did it. It is said that he replied by gesturing to the great tower he had built and said, “My name is writ in stones.”
I have followed his wise principles. I never inscribe my name on any building I have created. Instead, I let the building’s stones speak for themselves—although usually I add a frieze or pattern which cunningly contains my name repeated over and over in its swirls. In fact, you can visit any of the buildings I have described in this book, and if you study their decorations carefully, you will find my name written into the stones somewhere, just as Eagles recommends.
The fame of Henry Eagles became so great that he founded the school at Eopan, and I have followed his guiding star in this too, for I too have founded a school, where I teach others to become stonemages, so my wisdom and experience can be passed onto them, and my name will be written in the stones my students work.
Although my school is very small, its reputation is spread over the continent—and even beyond, to America, I am certain—for I teach many things, not merely stonemage techniques, but also how to deal in matters of business, and also in such day-to-day skills as how to eat at the table of a noble and how to handle a weapon.
I leave out no field of study which might benefit my students, teaching them even of the True Religion, for God can be a greater ally than any king, except at those times when He plays His jokes.
Mine is the only school in Cyprus where the classical techniques are still taught in their pure form, unsullied by the vile methods of the Piatian stonemages which have become so popular.
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 42
