The Trials of Empire, page 48
“Certainty is the opposite of chaos. Certainty is knowing that when I wake up in the morning I can go about my day in safety and security. Certainty is knowing that a productive day’s labour will benefit me and my peers. Certainty is paying my social dues, paying my Imperial taxes. Attending my temple. Respecting my elders and enjoying my leisure. It is being able to speak my mind without fear of undue reprisal.
“Chaos, conversely, is the herald of evil. There is a reason why the Neman Church has long described Prince Kasivar as the chief agent of chaos. It is the antithesis of good. Chaos is rampant, uncontrollable communicable disease. Chaos is plague. Chaos is warfare, slaughter, death. It is a total lack of structure which makes civilised existence impossible.
“Certainty, and the systems which precipitate it, all stem from our belief that some things are absolutes. Immutable. Moral and ethical principles which exist above man-made laws. In my line of work, we would call this the natural law, and I give it a great deal of weight. It is not difficult to see why; there are many things which we know intrinsically. Things that, however we contrive to structure our society, apply to all men and women. We are born free. We have a right to our lives. A right to our freedom. The right to be free from the malicious infliction of pain. The right to avail ourselves of a system of law common to all citizens.
“The common law is something that we Sovans have developed to give meaning to these natural laws. To codify the things that we know instinctively. The common law is a set of rules which provides certainty. Not simply a reference guide for moral behaviour, but a tool to enforce what is right and what is wrong. To bring structure and procedure to the resolution of conflict. The legal system is a system by which everyone, from the lowliest villein to the most elevated lord, can seek redress.
“These things are important, ladies and gentlemen, dry, philosophical concepts though they may seem. We are talking about the beams which make up the structure of our world. In the same way that we would not tolerate a man walking up to our house and smashing it down with an axe, so must we find intolerable the actions of a man who would destroy the scaffold about which we construct our society. The actions of Bartholomew Claver were not just egregious because they were illegal and wicked; they offended the very core of the fabric of our existence.”
Here, Vonvalt paused. The courtroom was silent. Claver had not moved. He sat like a sullen statue. Vonvalt replaced his hand on the Neman Creed next to him. I saw that it was an expensive, unabridged version, illuminated beautifully.
“Much like the system of common law, religion is its own system. In our case, we of course refer to the Neman Creed, the orthodoxy as transmitted from Nema, as well as Savare, the Deti, and a whole pantheon of angels and demons to, predominantly, Saint Creus. Saint Creus, for those of you ill-versed in the Creed, spent a period of time which we know as the Long Insanity in a place south of the Empire, called Balodiskirch. There, Creus was told a number of sacred principles which they committed to paper. Over time the Creed has been added to by various other saints and holy men and women. And because it is a medley of teachings, histories, recollections, and parables from so many different people, it is inherently inconsistent. It is why the canon law, which gives effect to the Neman Creed and the Book of Creus, was itself largely abandoned. As a system, it does not produce certainty, the wellspring from which civilised existence flows.”
Now I saw Claver, for the very first time, react slightly. It was no more than a twitch of the muscles of his jaw, but I saw it even from where I sat.
“Nonetheless, the Neman Creed remains the official and only legal religion of the Empire. And thus we must look to its tenets in order to evaluate the actions of a man who purports to act in furtherance of it.”
Vonvalt now opened the volume and turned to the first of his bookmarks. He turned briefly to the warden. “Apologies, my lady; I was about to go straight into my questioning.”
The warden turned to Claver. “Indeed. Mister Claver—”
“Obenpatria.”
There was a sudden and pregnant silence. The word had come out of Claver’s lips like the bark of a dog.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Not Mister: Obenpatria.”
The warden looked at Vonvalt.
“Who elevated you? Out of curiosity?” Vonvalt asked.
Claver said nothing.
“As far as I am aware, you went to Keraq, and then somehow became an obenpatria, but we have only your word that you were properly so ordained.”
Claver looked venomous. He would do anything except explain himself to Vonvalt – which was unfortunate for him, given the circumstances.
Vonvalt looked up at the warden. “Let us settle on ‘patria’, shall we, since that at least was properly imparted.” He managed to inject a lifetime of condescension into that sentence.
“Very well. Patria Claver. Would you like to make any opening remarks before your questioning?”
“I do not recognise the legitimacy of these proceedings,” Claver said, unable to help himself.
“It is not your business to recognise the legitimacy of them,” Vonvalt said, in the same way he might have lazily slapped the man. “Say what you are going to say, if anything, though your actions have already done a great deal of talking for you.”
“I have nothing to justify to you or anybody in this room.”
The warden all but rolled her eyes. “In which case, my Lord Regent, you may proceed.”
Vonvalt placed his finger on a line in the Book of Creus. “You are familiar with this book, I take it?” he asked Claver.
Silence.
“Patria? Are you able to hear me?”
Silence.
“I have before me an extract from the Book of Creus. This is from a chapter called ‘Pillars’. If you will permit me to read it, it says: ‘No man shall slay or cause to be slayed another without righteous justification.’” He closed the book again. “A simple phrase, isn’t it? Not so much a divine injunction as a reflection of simple human nature. At the risk of sounding a little disrespectful, I don’t think any of us needed Nema to tell us that, did we? Patria Claver?”
“What is it you want me to tell you?” Claver sneered.
“Well, I’m just curious as to how you would interpret that. ‘Pillars’, after all, is one of the fundamental chapters of the Book of Creus, is it not? That which sets out some of the most immutable tenets of the faith?”
“My actions were righteous.”
We had to wait a little while for the inevitable storm that this comment engendered to die down.
“We have several ways to evaluate the moral value of an action, do we not? The action in and of itself, or the consequences of that action.” Vonvalt nodded over to where the laughably lengthy indictment sat on the warden’s bench. “Let us look at the actions themselves then. You conspired with Margrave Westenholtz and Baron Naumov to lead a collection of five hundred armed men on the Hauner town of Galen’s Vale. Why did several hundred of the city watchmen and commonfolk of that town die?”
Nothing.
“You used the Rune of Entrapment to bind the mind of Justice Resi August into the body of a fox, thereby enabling Margrave Westenholtz to kill her. Do you deny that?”
Claver of course said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Vonvalt could have had the man executed on that charge alone.
“I do not think anybody in the Empire, let alone this courtroom, would agree that the slaying of the commonfolk of Galen’s Vale in order to secure the release of Obenpatria Fischer was righteous. Do you think it was righteous?”
“Yes,” Claver said immediately.
“I suppose you would say the same thing about leading a Templar army on Sova?”
“Unquestionably.”
“You have no problem at all with the many thousands of deaths you have caused?”
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
“I would like to hear it said.”
“I was on a divine mission—”
“And what was that mission, exactly? What was it? What was the thing that you needed so desperately that it was worth the lives of thousands of people and the disintegration of the Empire?” Claver opened his mouth to speak, but Vonvalt cut across him. “Do not tell me, tell the jury.”
Whatever Claver was about to say died in his throat.
“Let us hear it. You have a thousand gallons of blood on your hands. The people in this courtroom want to know what their husbands, wives, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and friends and lovers died for.” He spoke louder and louder until he was practically shouting by the end. “Tell them!”
Claver did not tell them, and Vonvalt reopened the Book of Creus. “Was the nature of your mission divine?” He paused, but there was no answer. “I think you believed it to be, at the beginning. You have long detested the fact that the Draedist arcana—”
“Do not call it that!” Claver snapped. Then, surly, he added, “Draedism is a rot.”
“—was given into the custody of the Magistratum. The secularisation of the Draedist magicks.”
“I told you—”
“I do not care,” Vonvalt said smartly. “You hated it, didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You have resented it for as long as you have been capable of resentment.”
“It was theft!”
“Blasphemy?”
“And more besides!”
“Because you believed your mission was divine? A calling? From the mouth of Nema?”
“It was divine!”
“It was divine will that you return the magicks to the Church, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And to dismantle the Magistratum?”
“To destroy it! Yes!”
Vonvalt sneered. “And the common law with it?”
“There is no common law! There is only the will of Nema!”
Vonvalt jabbed a finger at the book. “And you would go to any length to achieve that mission, would you not?”
“Any length, aye!”
“But you would not blaspheme yourself?”
Claver’s response caught in his throat. After a moment, he said, “Of course not.”
“Think on it! Would you blaspheme in order to achieve your mission?”
Claver paused. “No,” he said firmly.
“You would not use methods forbidden by the Neman Church?”
“No.”
Vonvalt flicked to his next bookmark. “‘… for the man who does not follow the example of Vangrid the Martyr, who consorts with the agents of Prince Kasivar and who does not renounce their teachings, shall be guilty of the crime of apostasy.’ Do you recognise that passage?”
Claver gritted his teeth.
“I asked you a question. Do you recognise the passage?”
“I give no weight to the apocrypha.”
“Do you recognise the passage?”
“Of course I recognise it,” Claver snapped.
“From the Prophecy of Zabriel.”
“I do not recognise the apocrypha!” Claver thundered.
Vonvalt affected confusion. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that…” Claver gestured impatiently, unable to hold back in the face of Vonvalt’s affected ignorance and heresies. “The Prophecy of Zabriel is illegitimate.”
Vonvalt frowned, and picked up the Creed. He inspected it as one might inspect the inside of a horse’s mouth. “I took this copy from the office of Matria Martinović in the Temple of Creus. Are you saying it has been tampered with?”
“I am saying that not every part of the Creed is correct. The Neman Church does not give equal weight to all parts of it.”
“So what you are saying is that it is permitted to consort with demons?”
“No I’m… Do not twist my words with your lawman’s tricks.”
“That’s fine. I’ll say nothing. You explain whether it is or is not acceptable to consort with demons. Take all the time you need.”
Claver faltered. “The Prophecies have long been considered by the Neman Church to be apocryphal.”
“But they remain in the text.”
“As curiosities.”
“And so every aspect of them can be disregarded?”
“Obviously not!”
“I want to know whether the passage I have read to you should be considered a valid Neman teaching.”
“No.”
“No, it is not valid?”
Claver floundered. “The prophecies are invalid – no, many parts of them are. Not all.”
“So you are saying that a man can consort with demons without committing the crime of apostasy? That seems a little contradictory, does it not? To ally oneself with the enemies of the very Church one is purporting to serve?”
“I know what you are doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“You are trying to get me to confess.”
“I am not trying to get you to confess. I do not need you to confess. What I am trying to do is to explain to the people in this courtroom how a man who considers himself to be one of the holiest men in the Empire could prosecute such an objectively evil course of action and still consider himself to be a Neman. To consider his mission a divine one. To consider himself to be a good man.”
“I am not an apostate.”
“But you are. According to Zabriel Himself.”
“Zabriel was a fool! No weight should be given to the Prophecies.”
Vonvalt drummed his fingers on the cover of the Creed. “All right, Patria. Let me ask you this, then. Do you consider yourself to be an adherent to the Book of Creus?”
“Obviously I do.”
“To the teachings of Nema?”
“Yes.”
“And of Savare?”
“Yes!”
Vonvalt opened the volume. “This excerpt is from the ‘Letters of Saint Creus’. Can I count on your familiarity with this part of the Creed?”
“Yes!”
“These do not form part of the so-called ‘apocrypha’?”
“No,” Claver said, now more guardedly.
“You know what these letters say?”
“The majority. I have not committed the entire volume to memory.”
“Then allow me to refresh it.” Vonvalt cleared his throat. “From a letter from Saint Creus to Giselbert. ‘You have heard it said that there is no separation in the dominion of angels and demons; that in the holy realms the word and teachings of all creatures are to be afforded equal weight. But I tell you this: those who dwell in Kasivar’s Country, who know well the stones of the Broken Path and who have dined in the Halls of Hell, their words are to be disregarded as poison, a pox of the soul, a moral rot, for no man who truly heeded the tenets of Nema could weigh their words and find favour in them. Such a person would have fallen away from the light of heaven, and would be shrouded in evil. Apostate I name you. Heretic I name you, to have taken on this most malignant wine and so embalmed your soul.’ Has a rather familiar ring to it, does it not?”
Claver’s features were so twisted in displeasure that he looked as though he were about to spit on the table.
“Do you think that a man who stole, studied and deployed forbidden and illegal magicks to summon and consort with a demonic entity known as Ramayah the Progenitor, could be considered a holy man?”
“It depends on his intentions.”
“No, it does not.” Vonvalt gestured to the book. “It says right here in the Creed, from the very lips of Creus. If you consort with demons you are guilty of apostasy.”
Claver was quiet for a moment. “I did not consort with demons.”
Vonvalt cocked an eyebrow, and took a step back, folding his arms. “So now you simply deny it outright?”
“I did not ‘consort with demons’.”
“Perjury is a crime.”
“You have no evidence.”
“Do I not?”
Now Claver looked uncertain. “No.”
Vonvalt turned to me. He nodded, and held out his hand, and I unstrapped the Spear of Vangrid from my waist. It was swathed in a small parcel of cloth, and Vonvalt carefully unwrapped it.
“Do you know what this is?”
Claver blanched.
“Patria?”
“How do you have this?”
“‘This’? What is this, Patria? Tell the court.”
“It is the blade that cut out the heart of Vangrid,” he whispered.
“It is indeed the blade that cut out the heart of Vangrid. A sacred Neman relic. It was said that after Ramayah cut out Vangrid’s heart, he could not bear to lay eyes on the blade nor touch it, so great and profound was his heresy. It is from the Book of Histories. You are familiar with it? Or do you reject the Histories, too?”
Claver was trembling. He did not look at Vonvalt. He could not look at Vonvalt.
Vonvalt casually approached the jury. “Take it, ladies and gentlemen; examine it. A rather extraordinary blade, is it not?”
He passed it to the nearest man, and the jurors, somewhat uneasily, passed around and examined the weapon. Eventually, it made its way back into Vonvalt’s hands.
“Vangrid the Martyr, murdered by Ramayah, with this very blade. A profound heresy, and a well-known episode within the dogma of the Neman Church.”
Claver was as white as a senator’s toga. Perspiration marked his forehead, and he gripped the bench in front of him.
“Justice…” he said.
“Did you consort with demons? Did you seek to manifest Ramayah in the mortal plane?”
“Justice, please…”
Vonvalt advanced on Claver with the blade. “Take it. Look upon it. If what you say is true, you should have no difficulty in doing so.”
Claver’s chair scraped against the floor as he pushed himself away from the blade.
“Justice, stop!” He was changing. People within the courtroom gasped. Veins bulged against Claver’s skin. A scream welled up in his throat. As Vonvalt came to within a few feet of him, Claver was supplanted by a flickering image of a ghastly, spectral form, a demonic entity screaming in agony. Runes of pink light, hitherto invisible, appeared in the air around him. It was as though the blade revealed the truth of things, cutting away the skin of the aether as surely as it had cut out the heart of the Martyr.
