FROM THE GAOL TO THE COURT
Many hours later,
guards drop a rope line and successively lift Fild, Tom, and Gem up from the common pit.
A guard rouses Gertie from her cell.
When she tells him she will pay Mook's fines in court, the man rouses Mook, as well.
The carrier staggers out, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Gertie now sees her neighbor for the first time: a smallish, balding, stooped shoulders, and sallow skin, dressed in shabby clothes. He smiles at her.
"Thanks, Gertie."
Guards escort the prisoners to a small room where a clerk sits behind a desk, flanked by two sword-bearing jailers.
The clerk assesses jailing fees.
"That's what you owe for room and board thus far. Pay now if you can."
He marks down any money paid.
He instructs prisoners to sign their names or make their marks in the ledger.
After that business is conducted, the jailers escort the prisoners across the street to a squat, low-domed, and ivy-clad masonry building.
Inside, they find a large, draughty room with some other people already seated on benches at one end. An empty, high-backed, elaborately carved wooden chair sits atop a dais at the other side of the room, facing the benches. Behind and above the chair, a large oil painting hangs in a gold-tinted frame. It depicts a gaunt, hairless man with parchment-colored skin and hollow eyesockets , seated on a massy throne of gray stone. The painted figure wears black robes and a white , curly wig. On his right shoulder, a fat baby with wings leans in as if whispering in his ear. On his left shoulder, a red imp sidles up to the judge's other ear with a sly look on its face in semi-profile.
The bailiff of the court uses his partisan to direct the prisoners to take seats on wooden benches at one end of the chamber.
Moments later, a bewigged, blacked-robed magistrate enters from a side door, and the Bailiff orders everyone to stand and bow to him.
The magistrate eats two
raw eyes from a silver ewer brought to him by a liveried attendant, and then recites an incantation in archaic dialect.
After that, he requires oaths from all present.
With the oaths to the gods administered, he then rolls through the cases, quickly questioning the accused and whatever witnesses are present before rendering judgment.
A minstrel draws a sentence of thirty lashes for slandering the honor of the Civic Council with bawdy songs.
Two men found guilty of brawling over support for rival aristocratic families receive fines.
Gertie pays Mook's debt to the court on what turns out to be a public nuisance charge (he was caught peeping into the window of a wealthy merchant, scaring the maid and the cook).
And then comes the trial of the accused burglars and disturbers of the peace.
Tom talks quickly and much, presenting the essential details of the case in the most favorable light. He never actually lies, but he neglects to mention certain things. He never gives Aldron Folbre's name, nor does he suggest his patron's actual wealth and importance.
The judge gets the rest of the story off a yawning watchman.
"Fine, fine, so you lot of wet-behind-the-ears foreigners have gone into business as thief-catchers. You could have made things easier on yourselves by obtaining the correct permits. This is a proper city with laws, not some anarchic pisshole mining camp. However, given your recent arrival, the failure of any supposed vineyard residents to show up today, testimony of the Watch officer, other extenuating circumstances, et cetera, et cetera, I’ll let you off with a warning and a fine. Two pence each to the purser before you go free and collect your things from gaol. And you had better get down to the Guild of Thief-Catchers and Lawful Repossessors. Register, or the next time you get brought in on something like this, you’ll be treated like the robbers you were chasing.”
He clears his throat with a loud cough.
“Next!”