“Like what?” Kalliope looked horrified.
“I don’t know, but just be careful,” Eban warned.
“Will you and Amaranda be there?” Ligia asked.
Eban’s face fell. “We wanted to come over, but Amaranda can’t stop being sick at the moment. Looks like a bug or something. We forgot she wouldn’t have the same immunity system as us. The doctor said she could be susceptible to all sorts of things. It might be worth reminding your new doctor about that, by the way, especially when you’re making regular visits over to Eastland. Amaranda’s been advised not to make the trip, anyhow. I’m real sorry.”
“Don’t worry, bro. Just give her our love and let her know we’re thinking of her. We’ll let you know how we get on. What time do we have to be at the courthouse?” Rechavia and Aitan discussed the arrangements with Eban while the girls made dinner.
* * * *
Early next morning a flotilla of excited islanders set sail for the mainland. As Eban had suggested, they left behind some of the strongest men. They took the doctor with them, however, just in case he was needed. Dr. Jasun had been on one of the more recent ships to visit the island. He and his friend, Farris, had become close friends with Ademia, and decided to stay on the island for a while to see how they liked it. So far, they seemed to be having lots of fun, and it was useful to have a medic on hand. He was affectionately known as Dr. Jay, which made him appear a little more approachable to the women.
Rechavia was at the helm of the largest ship, leading the way across the calm sea. It would take a couple of hours or more to sail to Eastland, so the girls busied themselves preparing food and settling in the cabin. They were joined by another girl, Melantho, and Pallas, the only Elder who still lived on the island. The women were chatting away merrily.
Aitan kept a watchful eye on the rest of the boats, ensuring that they were all keeping up. They were a little concerned about taking the fishing boats all the way to the mainland, but they seemed sturdy enough and the weather conditions were good.
There were four boats in all, taking twenty-five agitated islanders to fight for their rights on the mainland.
Rechavia was quietly in thought. He was used to authority both from giving and taking orders, so he wasn’t overly concerned about the court hearing. What did concern him, however, was how negligent he had been in not getting some sort of legal agreement drawn up in the first place. He had not realized that the Elders of Refrainia had any legal rights, and therefore it had not occurred to him to investigate the matter. The fact that it was an ancient island with pre-historic laws—they were governed by Poseidon, for goodness sake—had clouded his judgement. Now it looked like he might come to regret it.
His attention was suddenly taken by raucous laughter as one of the fishing boats draw up alongside them. Ademia was being taught how to drive with the outboard motor, much to the hilarity of her small crew. Farris, one of the young sailors was guiding her as she tried to steer the boat. She had a tendency to twist the handle toward her, which made the boat go faster, much to her delight and everyone else’s dismay. Rechavia grinned as Dr. Jay stepped up and placed his hand over hers, subtly twisting the handle in the opposite direction to slow them down until they fell in behind the larger ship again. Ademia frowned as she shook her head, evidently peeved at being brought back into line, and the doctor said something in her ear that made her blush. Rechavia rolled his eyes. They certainly seemed to be having fun.
After some food and drink, it was soon time to weigh the anchor in Eastland’s large dock.
Luckily, the courthouse was within walking distance, so the motley crowd of islanders, dressed in a vast array of styles, from beachwear to sailors’ uniforms, made their way up the streets of Eastland. Signposts led to their destination and they followed one another excitedly.
The court was already in session when they burst through the large, oak double doors, and the judge frowned at their interruption. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice was gruff and irritable. His hopes of an open and shut case clearly dwindled at the sight of the rabble in front of him.
“We are here regarding the proposed sale of our home, the island of Refrainia, sir,” Rechavia said in a polite but authoritative tone.
The judge shuffled through some papers on his desk. “You wish to oppose the motion?”
“We certainly do.” Rechavia gestured to his followers to take their seats toward the back of the rows of large wooden benches that stood opposite the judge’s large desk. The second row was taken with smart people in office wear and a rather large lady in a cerise frock with matching hat, while the couple of rows behind seemed to consist of an array of onlookers. He and Aitan remained standing.
“Well I don’t see why we should listen to this,” said a familiar, pompous voice from the bench on the front row.
From their position in the middle, but to one side of the room, Rechavia and Aitan could see Zigor Durango and another man, both dressed in smart suits, sitting on the front bench.
“It is their right to have their say,” said the judge, wearily. He consulted his papers again. “You must be the two gentlemen who lay claim to the running, and therefore ownership, of the island, is that right?”
“Mr., my name is Rechavia and this is Aitan.” They both nodded politely at the elderly judge, who already looked like he needed to lie down in a dark room.
“Yes, I understand from Lamech Gal and his legal advisors on Westland, that you were put in charge by Poseidon, the God of the Sea, is that right?”
There was a ripple of laughter from the audience, and a loud guffaw from Durango and his colleague. The cerise lady scoffed loudly.
“That is correct, sir.” Rechavia concurred, not looking at anyone but the judge.
Sniggers could be heard from the crowd.
“Take your seats, gentlemen.” The judge gestured toward the right-hand side of the front bench. Durango and the other man quickly shuffled farther to the left. Aitan snorted at the businessman as he took his seat, deliberately encroaching on the left-hand side of the bench. Rechavia sat next to him, studying the judge intently.
“So, to recap the situation for the latecomers, I am Judge Roberts and it is my duty today to establish whether or not Mr. Zigor Durango, of Durango Enterprises, is lawfully allowed to purchase the island of Refrainia for his company’s use. There is some controversy over the ownership of the land, as we have a legal document here which states that ‘neither the continents of Eastland or Westland have any judicial or legal rights to govern the island of Refrainia, as the People’s Government stipulates that only conjoined land is covered by their respective laws.’ I understand that Refrainia is governed by those who live there, am I correct?”
“Mr…” Rechavia sighed a little with relief. So far so good.
Judge Roberts wiped a hand over his wrinkled forehead and sucked his tongue before continuing.
“This all looks quite self-explanatory to me. Mr. Durango would you like to explain what your proposals are?”
There was a brief, whispered consultation between Durango and his advisor before he stood. He smiled smugly at the Judge.
“Well sir. I have visited the island on a number of occasions recently and there seems to be no government on the island. The islanders seem to be left to their own devices, doing whatever pleases them. There is no industry to speak of and, as far as I could see, very little to suggest that the island is actually self-sufficient. The little money the islanders make is generally spent on food, as they have no animals and little ability to cultivate the land. As you can see from their attire, there seems to be no discipline. In short, the islanders have been allowed to run amok of late. My proposal is to reintegrate the islanders onto the mainland of their choice, so they can feed and clothe themselves in the regular manner, get jobs and so forth. I think this would benefit all of the islanders, and encourage a much healthier, happier lifestyle for all.”
“What do you know?” Delmer, one of the islan
ders, sneered.
“Who says we’re not happy?” Another shouted out.
“We’re a darn site healthier than you. Has your skin ever seen the sun?”
Rechavia turned around and shot a look to the islanders. He recognised the man sat directly behind him as Benat Ugarte. He seethed, remembering the scene of the two men with their women on the beach. Aitan caught his eye and looked at the man, too. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. Ugarte coughed nervously and looked away.
“That’s enough of that.” Judge Roberts warned the crowd with a stern look.
“So, Mr. Durango, you don’t feel that the islanders are happy or healthy?” He screwed his eyes as he scrutinized the businessman.
“No, sir. I know for a fact that some of the islanders are very unhappy with the way the island has changed. It has gone from being a very historic landmark with ancient traditions to being taken over by a bunch of hooligans who haven’t the first idea how to run a booze-up in a brewery.” Durango looked around with a satisfied grin as the crowd behind him chortled.
“I see.” Judge Roberts screwed his eyes again. Evidently, the proceedings were bringing on a migraine.
“Mr.…er…Rechavia, what do you have to say to these allegations?”
Durango sat down slowly, clearly a little reluctant to give up the limelight.
Rechavia stood and cleared his throat. He straightened his broad back, showing his imposing height of six foot four inches, his muscles rippling through his thin, cotton shirt. He smoothed his tousled hair absentmindedly. “Incidentally, Judge Roberts, surnames are traditionally not recognized on the island of Refrainia, so, as a mark of respect, none of us use them.”
The judge nodded.
Durango snorted.
Rechavia continued. “Sir, I have no idea where the gentleman has got his ideas from but I can assure you that they are far from correct. The island was put in the charge of myself, Aitan and Eban Gal, who recently chose to return to his home on Westland. Since we arrived, we have improved the homes of the people who live there, cultivated fields to grow fruit and vegetables for the islanders, and grown the business of selling the rare flowers on the mainland to buy or exchange for other foodstuffs and clothing. As it is a tropical island there is little use for the kind of clothes you are used to, but we have ensured that everyone living on the island has what they need. We are a close community and the sailors who have settled there are very happy with the new lifestyle. Everyone has a choice whether to stay or leave the island and those who have chosen to stay have been delighted with the improvements we have made. The islanders themselves have learned new skills which they are using to full advantage, and we are more or less self-sufficient, like yourselves.”
“Yes, I have a report here which was compiled from Mr. Gal, stating that there is much more food grown on the island, and that fishing boats have been built and used daily. Living improvements have been made, and you have quite a thriving business going with your flowers.” The judge’s elderly hand shook as he held the papers, squinting his eyes to read them.
Durango snorted again and whispered to his colleague, who nodded.
Judge Roberts frowned at them.
“What about the issue of the Sirens on the island?” Durango’s lawyer interjected, rising from his seat.
The judge stared at him.
“We have reason to believe that there are still Sirens working as prostitutes on the island. Has Rechavia anything to say on the subject, we wonder?” The man in the tailored suit sneered over at Rechavia, daring him to deny it.
Rechavia burst out laughing, joined by Aitan and the rest of the islanders. The judge looked most annoyed at the outburst and slammed his gavel on the desk irritably.
“I won’t have this nonsense in my courtroom,” Judge Roberts shouted.
“I am so sorry, sir,” Rechavia said as he recovered himself. “But I am sure you remember an incident just a few months ago when a similar rumour began, and the embarrassment it caused your government and police force. I understand that a Det. Sgt. Benabu was called to resign over his folly in believing the stories and pursuing the matter to the point that it brought ridicule to those on Eastland. I am surprised that Mr. Durango is willing to risk this sort of embarrassment to his business. Especially as, any accusation of prostitution would have to be followed up and all parties involved would be open to public scrutiny.”
Durango turned red and quickly whispered something in the ear of his representative.
“We…er…won’t be pursuing this particular matter at this time, sir, we were just interested in the islanders’ take on the subject.” The lawyer quickly resumed his seat, amid giggles from the back of the room.
“Nice one, bro,” Aitan muttered to his friend as Rechavia took his seat.
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled.” The judge rolled his eyes, leafing through his papers again. “So that just leaves the original matter of the ownership and leadership of the island.”
Rechavia threw a questioning look to the judge, who nodded his consent to the sailor taking the floor. “The island of Rechavia is owned by Poseidon, the God of the Sea, sir. It was his decision to relinquish the Elders from their positions as leaders of the island, and to pass the duty to us three sailors. Everyone on the island witnessed this.”
There was a loud ruckus as the islanders wholeheartedly agreed.
Durango’s lawyer leapt to his feet as the judge attempted to quiet the crowd. “But this is nonsense. We all know that Poseidon is a myth, he doesn’t actually exist!”
“I would like to ask the gentleman on what authority he makes that statement,” Rechavia said calmly, “as evidently all these people know this to be untrue.” He waved a hand to gesture to the islanders.
“Well if he exists, prove it.” The lawyer had an ugly sneer.
“Sir,” Rechavia addressed the judge, politely observing protocol, “I believe that it is not for us to prove that Poseidon exists, but rather for the opposition to prove that he doesn’t. After all, it is they who are questioning it.”
The judge was thoughtful for a minute and then nodded his head with a smile.
“You are correct, Rechavia. This court is not here to establish the reality of the Sea God, or any other God for that matter, we are here to decide who holds responsibility for Refrainia.”
The lawyer huffed and sat down hard. Durango whispered something into his ear and he shot to his feet again.
“Was there something else?” Judge Roberts sounded in need of a well-earned nap.
“Yes, sir.” The lawyer chewed his lip derisively before resuming. “If this change of leadership was made, where is the documentation to prove it, and was it an amicable take-over or forced? In other words, we would like to know if it was, in fact, legal?”
Aitan gave a big sigh and stared at Rechavia, willing him to come up with an answer. The crowd fell silent for a long moment before Rechavia cleared his throat.
“All of these people will, I am sure, vouch that the change of leadership was amicable.” The crowd roared their consent. Rechavia silenced them with a nod before continuing. “The Elders who had been running the island were ready to retire, and a new committee of sorts was needed. No one contested the change. As for being legal, I take it you mean within the law of Refrainia? In which case, yes. As we are not governed the same as yourselves we do not need the legal paperwork which you might use. Refrainia is a democracy, the people who live there agree to their own rules. Our rules do not state that we need legal documents drawn up to prove anything. The people of the island make their own agreements.”
The crowd was in uproar. Rechavia had so eloquently put their case forward, and subtly put the opposition in their place. Durango and his lawyer seethed openly. Rechavia and Aitan grinned broadly. Even Judge Roberts allowed a flicker of a smile to cross his thin, tight lips.
“But I didn’t make any agreement.”
The room fell silent as a voice croaked from the doorway where
a wrinkled old lady stooped, dressed in a long black tunic. She waved a sheet of paper toward them. “And this form clearly states that the island is run by six Elders, with the Chief Elder as the ultimate decision-maker.”
Hermandine!
Chapter 9
What started as murmurs of discontent and confusion escalated into angry shouts and accusations.
Ligia grabbed Kalliope’s arm as they stared, terrified at the riot that was erupting all around them. Both Dr. Jay and Farris put assuring arms around Ademia, who snuggled into their protection. Sailors were on their feet, arms were waving in the air and voices rose to a deafening crescendo. Meanwhile the elderly judge was thumping the desk with his gavel as hard as he could.
Eventually Rechavia stood and put a hand up to silence the crowd. There were gasps of surprise from the rows of onlookers, astounded that one man could calm the crowd so succinctly. Rechavia nodded to the judge to continue and politely took his seat. The sailors sat back down quietly, though Hermandine received many ugly glares from the crowd.
“Let me see that.” Judge Roberts waved a hand toward Hermandine, who slowly hobbled over to him and offered up the precious form. She leaned on her stick while she waited by his desk, glowering at the audience.
The old man harrumphed irritably after reading it through a couple of times. “I take it you are Hermandine, the former Chief Elder of Refrainia?” He peered at her suspiciously.
“I am Hermandine, Chief Elder of Refrainia.” Her voice was as mean as her beady eyes, her lips tight and cruel.
The judge sighed, clearly unhappy at her attempt to correct him, as he read the form once more.
“And, assuming that this was a perfectly legal document, what decision would you be making in these circumstances?” he asked slowly and deliberately.
“I have decided that, as the Elders have been rudely ousted of their positions on the island and forced to leave our homeland, that the best option is to put the island in the charge of its nearest mainland, Eastland.” The old lady sniffed and tried to look sad. She fooled no one.
Submission of the Siren Page 8
