by Tara Basi
“Yep!” is the clerk’s immediate reply.
“Very well, M. Your point is well made. It seems we shall have to let this appeal continue.”
I am lost and utterly confused by the unfolding events.
The black and white Marys are a whirlwind of flailing arms and choking noises. Mary J staggers to her feet. “My Lord, I must object. This appeal should be denied immediately.”
“I’m surprised at you, Mary J. Are you suggesting that Seven is not as guilty as M purports?”
“My Lord, we respectfully submit that Seven is just the right amount of guilty and no more. Therefore, her punishment, as it stands, is perfectly proportional. We move for an immediate dismissal.”
“Well, M, what have you to say to that?”
“My Lord, I have witnesses of character and specialism who can testify to Seven’s excessive guilt.”
Mary J immediately responds, “My Lord, I too can bring witnesses who will demonstrate unequivocally that Seven is not that bad, only bad enough.”
“This is all very bothersome. One moment while I confer with my two heads that are better than one.”
These unfolding events are very confusing. The Marys are speaking on my behalf while my barrister seeks to prove that I am even more guilty than previously judged. Most unsettling of all, the judge’s multiple-heads are in a three-way conversation with themselves in subdued whispers. Only fragments of sentences are audible.
“Do they have to be camels?”
“Ghosts or gonads? You tell me.”
“Her handbag was full of sick.”
“That girl’s a sperm addict.”
“Cupid, curry and cancer?”
I am thankful that the judge is gowned; it would be unbearable to actually see the horrors under the hoods in conversation. The judges’ murmurings come to an end with all three heads nodding in apparent agreement.
“We shall hear the case, though it must be finished by fifteen past seven as we have a most important foot-nibbling engagement with some fish. Mary J, you may call your witnesses.”
The Marys huddle together for a few seconds, and then a Mary breaks away and comes to stand alone at the front of the court. The clerk approaches and offers the Mary a much-abused, thick book. Its cover is etched in gold letters with the title: The Trial. She takes the book and strikes the clerk across the head with it. The clerk staggers about for a moment, recovers herself, retrieves the book from the Mary and returns to her previous position. Immediately, I turn to Zero to ask the meaning of what has just happened. He only holds his finger to his lips and shakes his head before I can utter a word. I harrumph with frustration and turn my attention back to the proceedings.
The bandaged Mary J approaches her sister. “Now, Mary B, can you please recount to us an event involving Seven which exactly illustrates the point I wish to make. And remember you are under an oath of spontaneous creativity which, if broken, carries severe penalties, particularly if your witnessing is deemed unimaginative.”
“Right, so you are, Mary J. Well, it’s like this. Seven is well meaning and all, but when she brought my brother back from the dead, it was a fecking nightmare. Oh, sorry about that, Mary J.”
“That’s quite all right, Mary B. Colourful, evocative language is exactly what the court is expecting, especially given the distressing nature of your account. But you should direct your testimony to the judge. Please continue.”
“Well, my Lord, it’s not like anybody asked Seven to interfere. I mean, he was my brother, but he was such a dumb arse. He joins the Zealots and attacks a Roman garrison on his own with a piece of cheese. A piece of cheese, I ask you! What’s that all about? Wasn’t even a hard cheese. Well, it was all a bit sad, but we were glad he was finally at peace. And the cross came in handy for kindling and fixing up the roof. Anyway, Seven brings him back. We caged him up in the cellar for a bit, but he gets out, and, before you know it, he’s eaten half the villagers, in both senses, and had unlawfuls with most of the sheep.”
I am vibrating with fury. It is a wonder that my body can contain my thumping heart. What lies. What insane lies. And to what purpose? No one can possibly be deceived by such ridiculous falsehoods.
“What did you do then, Mary B?”
“Well, Mary J—sorry, my Lord—I lopped his head off with a scythe. ‘Try bringing him back now,’ I said to Seven.”
“And how did Seven respond?” Mary J asks, as though everything Mary B has said is sensible and truthful.
“Well, she just looked all sheepish and said she was sorry. A bit late now, I thought at the time, but I didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“Thank you, Mary B. Unless my learned friend wishes to ask you any questions, you may be seated.”
To my amazement, Mary M shakes her head and declines to question Mary B. My attempts to lean forward and remonstrate with Mary M are frustrated by Zero.
Mary J continues, “If Mary C could please take the oath.”
Mary C steps up and takes her oath by balancing the book on her nose before dropping it on the poor clerk’s foot.
“Now, Mary C, will you please recount your unfortunate experience with Seven to the court.”
“Well, my Lord, my family’s always had a bit of a problem with the old devil drink, you know. Then, with the help of them RAC people, we got on the right path, them old twelve-winter-driving-check steps. None of us had touched a drop in years. Not even the old battery fluid. It was a beautiful thing, so it was. So, it’s like this. My cousin Mary O is getting married, and we’re all having a lovely time sipping the old water and acting all sensible. Then that damn bitch Seven turns up. And what does she do? I’ll tell you what she does: she goes and turns the water into wine, so she does. What a fecking disaster. The whole family loses it, including myself. There’s a terrible carry on. There’s mayhem, there’s marauding, there’s murder, there’s finger painting. And it’s all in red. So later, when I’ve sobered up and fallen out of the tree I ended up in, I ask Seven, ‘Why the feck did you do that?’ And herself, cool as anything, says, ‘For a laugh.’ ‘A laugh?’ I say. And I’m thinking I should deck her. Then I’m thinking, ‘But she means well, so she does.’ She can’t help being an evil bitch.”
“Does my learned friend wish to cross examine the witness?” Mary J asks.
Mary M again declines and remains seated. I wriggle and struggle against Zero, but his grip is unbreakable. I can only bite down harder and suffer my aching lungs that are swollen with angry objections that I cannot release.
“My Lord, I should also like to testify.”
“Whatever, J. We’ll assume you’re oathed up. Let’s move it along.”
“My Lord, I was at an exclusive retreat with some mates trying to lose the old love handles before a big mass. We’d been there a good few days, living off onion skins and gym sweat, when Seven turns up. ‘Hungry?’ she asks. Course we’re bloody hungry. That’s what we were paying for. Next thing, we’re drowning in sushi and breadsticks. Me and my mates, we couldn’t help ourselves. And I’m wheat intolerant. Terrible shits. Course, we got kicked out. No refund. Mass plans ruined. Had to let out my gown. ‘Why’d you do that, Seven?’ I asks her. ‘Bit of fun,’ she says. Right then, I felt like having a bit of fun with her head and my boot. Later, I realise that’s just Seven. She’s touched in the head with the idiot evil.”
“That does sound horrible, J. Anyway, are you done?”
I am speechless and frozen in shock. How can any of this be happening? The proceedings make as much sense as a colander chamber pot.
“My Lord, I believe that I and my witnesses have comprehensively demonstrated that Seven is just the right amount of guilty, and her appeal for recognition of greater guilt should be dismissed.”
“I and my right-hand head found that extremely convincing. Unfortunately, left-hand head would like to hear Mary M present her case. I am agreeable. There is still time, though not much. Mary M, be quick about it.”
Mary M waves Yazata forward. He takes the book from the clerk and tosses it into the air and, before it hits the floor, kicks it towards the back of the court, sending the clerk scurrying away after the flying tome. “Yazata, please tell the court your experience of Seven.”
“My Lord, Seven is forever going on and on about her fiendishly evil plans to destroy all of creation. Only last week she was rabbiting on about sending someone called Wormwood to poison pretty much everything and everybody. She doesn’t know the meaning of words like sorry, laugh or fun.”
“Thank you, Yazata.”
With that, he returns to his seat, and I am left open-mouthed and wild-eyed.
Mary J is immediately on her feet. “My Lord, if I may, I should like to cross examine this doubtful witness.”
“Of course, Mary J, you may question him at length after I have delivered my conclusion. The fish are waiting, M. Get on with it.”
Mary M ushers forth Phobetor as Mary J falls back down and sits stiffly with her arms tightly folded. Phobetor takes the book and rips out a single page before handing the book back to the clerk. She then proceeds to shred the page and sprinkle the tiny fragments over the clerk’s hood.
“Miss Phobetor, please, tell the court what you know of Seven’s Terrors.”
“My Lord, Seven plans to spread her Terrors by enveloping the Inns of Court in a great black, smoky darkness.”
All three of the judge’s heads shiver. “That’s a rather horrible thing to do. Doesn’t Seven think the Inns are dark and creepy enough already?”
Mary M nods deliberately and slowly while the judge is speaking before continuing with her questioning. “Exactly so, my Lord. Miss Phobetor, please tell my Lord the worst of it.”
“My Lord, from out of the smoke will emerge an endless swarm of locusts with human heads, lions’ teeth and scorpions’ tails. These terrible monsters will devour us all. Only a harsher punishment for Seven can save us.”
Mary J leaps to her feet, only for the judge to wave her back down.
“Thank you, Phobetor. And now, my Lord, if I may ask my last witness, the Lady Sade, to speak about Seven’s diabolical button scheme.”
“Hurry up, M.”
Lady Sade ostentatiously flounces forward and throws the book at the judge, hitting one of his heads squarely. To my surprise, the clerk calmly recovers the book and the judge seems unconcerned by the assault.
“Seven is obsessed with ushering in the Armageddon. She will raise Megiddo here at the very centre of the Inns.”
“Mary M, isn’t that something that would require proper planning permission?”
“Indeed, my Lord, but Seven intends far more than merely flouting the planning laws. Please continue, Lady Sade.”
“My Lord, she has secretly created seven Great Seals, which she will then break, releasing a reign of destruction on everything everywhere. In my expert opinion, her current sentence is insufficient and will not prevent her from achieving her apocalyptic goal.”
Mary J is unable to contain herself. She jumps to her feet. “My Lord, if I may?”
“You may, J, after I’ve gone. The fish are calling and my toes are a-wiggling with impatience. We shall retire for a moment and deliberate over a light snack and a cold beverage.”
The clerk shouts, “All be upstanding!”
The three-headed judge leaves the court and myself in great tension.
I take my chance and whisper emphatically and with much finger-stabbing, “Zero, please explain how that pandemonium and self-delusion has any bearing on my appeal. Am I not in danger of being punished much more severely?”
“Ma, we have to get to the Supreme Court. Only the Chief Judge dude has the power to change anything.”
“All this is wasted? All our efforts?”
“Oh no, Ma! This is the way we get there. Fingers crossed.”
Mary J approaches. “Mary M, you’re wasting your time and making it worse for her. Take her home and await the nailing up. I’ll make your apologies.”
“Feck off, J!”
“Please, M. She doesn’t know your name. She can’t even remember her own. Come back to us, M. We miss you.” Mary J does not wait for an answer; she only sighs and turns away and takes her seat.
Mary M looks quite despondent. Her head is bowed and her back too. I lean forward and touch Mary M gently on the arm. “Mary M, if you would rather be with the other Marys, then, of course, I release you from any obligation towards myself. We, Zero and I, will somehow manage.”
Mary M immediately straightens up and brings her face very close to mine. “Listen, you. They’re me mates. Good mates, too. Even when they’re talking out of their arses. But they can’t help me. You need to toughen up. Worse is coming. Much worse. If we win here, all this baby-steps bollocks is over with. You remember your name, and mine, and we’ll be good. Don’t and we won’t. Got it?”
Worse? How is that possible? Zero somehow slides between us before I can recover myself and respond to M’s aggressive and alarming outburst.
“Look, M, Ma’s going to remember, right, when she needs to. It’s all cool, M.”
My throat tightens. I must intervene. “That is not true, M. I have no knowledge or memory of another name. I have always been Abi.”
“For feck’s sake! No, you haven’t! Think, woman, think! And you, Admin! Your voice is so hot and creepy familiar; don’t I know you?”
Zero only shakes his head and moves away.
A noise alerts us to the judge’s return.
“Up again! Off your arses!” the clerk screams.
We rise and sit. Every muscle in my body contracts as I await the decision.
“Having considered that much of the testimony we have heard today was clearly fantasy, fabrication or deliberately deceitful, we are entirely convinced that Seven is much guiltier than we had at first appreciated.”
The black and white Marys howl.
“Silence inside those gowns. And whilst right head had nagging doubts, the revelatory evidence that we would be chased through the Inns of Court by a giant locust with lion’s teeth to a horrible death if we left Seven’s sentence unaltered was ultimately convincing. We were, therefore, inclined, M, to grant leave to appeal to the Supreme Court at exactly eight this evening.”
The Marys howl more loudly. Grunge tries to hug Mary M, who slaps him away. I am enveloped in a comforting warmth. My appeal will go forward. I take Zero’s hand and squeeze it tightly. Zero lets out a little bleat.
“However …”
Everyone falls silent and still, the Marys in rather ridiculous poses of despair.
“Right head has pointed out that if we were to allow an appeal, we ourselves could be subject to a Judgement of Up-Bollocking. We were, therefore, faced with a challenging dilemma: how to punish the cursed Seven more harshly without involving a Chief Judge, who has little interest in justice and would be most annoyed and painfully judgemental, in respect to ourselves, if he were to be summoned to court unnecessarily, especially to judge an appeal.”
The Marys have formed a ring with their outstretched arms and are spinning around and jumping up and down. After a few turns, Mary J breaks away from the others.
“My Lord, we are all intrigued and in awe of your judgemental acumen.”
“Thank you, Mary J, and I must admit that we are quite pleased with ourselves. On further study of the Penitentials, with particular reference to the punishment of nailing up, we find that there are variations open to us.”
“My Lord, you are not considering—?”
“Indeed, we are, Mary J.”
The other black and white Marys abruptly cease their leaping about, huddle together and shiver. Grunge is quaking. My witnesses gasp. Mary M is unmoved but perhaps sitting even more stiffly. I look to Zero for an explanation. He only shrugs.
“And so, Seven shall be punished as sentenced, with a nailing up. However, we conclude, based on the excellent case made by Mary M, that it shall be the most extreme version p
rovided for by the Penitentials: the rusty nail nailing up. Consequently, the appeal is utterly denied. Now, my toes and the fish can wait no longer.”
The whole front bench on either side of the aisle visibly relaxes, and there is much sighing of relief, which I find most confusing.
“All be upstanding and experimental for Judge Forgone Conclusion.”
The judge leaves, followed by the clerk. We are left alone with the recovering Marys, who quickly rise and depart the court with much back-slapping and jollity. The occupants of my front bench are silent. Slowly, they rise. Nothing is said. Heads are bowed. They start for the exit, led by Mary M. I step into the aisle and block her path.
“I am confused. What is transpiring? Is my appeal to proceed?”
“Out of the way. Me, Grunge and the witnesses got legalising expenses to claim. There’s lodgement going to waste.”
“Mary M, what about myself and Zero?”
“I told you, Seven: no name, no way. You’d best brush up on your piss-pot washing-up skills.”
It is then that I notice that I am in deep shadow. Looking around, I clasp my hands to my hood-covered mouth. The two giant axemen from the pre-hearing are standing either side of me. My voice is thin, and my words are croaked. “Zero, what is … happening?”
“Ma, I don’t know. But we have a plan B, Ma.”
“Plan B? What is it, Zero? Tell me. I am so afraid.”
“It’s, like, super-secret, Ma. Can’t talk here.”
As Zero is speaking, the axemen have each placed an enormous hand under my arms and lifted me clean off the floor. Before I can protest or speak further, they are whisking me away. My legs are pointlessly running and trying to carry me to freedom without any hope of traction. In seconds, we have passed through a heavily barred door, which crashes closed behind us, separating me from Zero. I cry and scream, “It’s not nine past nine! I have time! I will appeal!”
The rattling axemen ignore my cries and speed along an empty corridor, which is damp, dark and soiled. Through my tears, I see that a little way ahead there is a large figure waiting for me. It is the sinister Liberté, and his poles are extended. The axemen set me down in front of him and block my retreat. His unfurled lamp is dazzling me.
