‘Here, he can’t talk to me like that!’ said the outraged Holder.
‘Indeed he cannot,’ said the bishop. ‘You will apologize for that outburst, Master Shaddler.’
‘I would sooner dine on dog’s vomit,’ Shaddler told him.
‘Another twenty lashes will be your reward, you impudent rascal!’
‘Thank you, my lord. I have no more questions for this witness. He may now crawl back under the rock from whence he came.’
‘And another twenty!’ shouted the bishop.
The following morning Arlin Bedver called Jorain Feld to the stand. Feld was a sallow-faced individual in his late twenties. Tall and stooping he stood in the witness box, his long thin hands clasped together as if in prayer. His voice was deep and sepulchral. Under Bedver’s questioning he told how his father, Parsis, had become a changed man in the years since he had been in partnership with Maev Ring. He had taken to strong drink, and to visiting houses of low repute. His language had coarsened, and he had begun to gamble heavily. Once, while drunk, he had told Jorain he had ‘sold his soul for the sake of his business’.
In cross-examination Alterith asked him at what point he had begun to believe that witchcraft was responsible for his father’s condition.
‘As soon as we discovered he had given half of his business to an ill-bred highlander,’ he answered.
‘I see. Why was it, then, that when you petitioned the Moidart, you said nothing about witchcraft? You asked the Moidart to rule on the legality of the business dealings. You suggested Maev Ring might be guilty of owning pistols. But not sorcery, Master Feld. Why was that?’
‘I don’t have to answer to you,’ Feld told him.
‘You do, Master Feld. That is the beauty of the Varlish legal system. While you stand in that box you will answer to me, and to Master Bedver, and to the bishop and his panel. Later you will answer to a higher authority. One day, Master Feld, you will stand before the Source of All, and you will answer Him too.’
‘My conscience is clear. The woman bewitched my father. She will pay for it.’
‘Do you support the church, Master Feld?’
‘I do.’
‘Have you made donations to it?’
‘Yes.’
‘When was the most recent, and for how much?’
‘I do not see what that has to do with anything,’ answered Feld, transferring his gaze to the bishop.
‘Nor do I,’ said the bishop. ‘Where is this leading, Master
Shaddler?’
‘It is my understanding that Master Feld made a donation of five hundred pounds on the day that Maev Ring was arrested, my lord. I find the timing interesting, and wished to see that it was placed on record.’
The bishop sat very quietly, and a silence fell over the courtroom. “Are you suggesting,’ said the bishop at last, ‘that Maev Ring’s arrest was bought for five hundred pounds? Are you accusing me of corruption?’
‘What I am doing, my lord, is ensuring that all relevant information is being recorded. I have no doubts as to the initial outcome of this abominable action. I also have great faith in the Varlish system, which, despite what many in this area believe to be iniquitous and cruel, is based on principles of justice and truth. Truth has a habit of making itself known, no matter how well it is hidden within an army of falsehoods and deceits. The truth will come out, my lord.’
‘You sanctimonious wretch!’ shouted the bishop. ‘I’ve had my fill of you.’ He signalled to the guards at the rear of the building. ‘Take this man out and administer twenty lashes to his back. By heaven, I want to see blood on him when he returns!’
Alterith was removed from the Holy Court and taken to the rear of the building. He was allowed to remove his coat and shirt, then his hands were tied to a stake. A guard appeared alongside, holding a small strip of leather. ‘Put this between your teeth, sir,’ he whispered. ‘It will stop you biting your tongue.’ Alterith bit down upon the leather. The guard put his mouth close to Alterith’s ear. ‘I am sorry for this, sir. I’ll go as easy as I can. You’re a good man.’