Fly Up into the Night Air

by John Houser

  Harte pulled up a chair and leaned towards his father. "Who do you think I should dismiss?"

  Councilman Walford raised an arm to rest on the back of his chair. "Well, first let's consider this in economic terms ..."

  * * *

  On the morning of the trial of Brin Greer for the beating of the young man known as Raf, Presenter Advocate Harte Walford wore his best lawyer's gown and hat. He polished his boots and powdered his hair to made himself look older and more distinguished. He was gratified, walking across the square on his way to the town hall, to see a troop of watchmen, led by Griff (sporting an exaggerated limp), escorting Brin Greer and his father towards the town hall. They moved unnaturally slowly along the stone path around the outside of the square, a route that took them past a number of prominent residences. It was good to see Griff in high spirits.

  Harte was less gratified to see the morning broadsheet. According to an anonymous source next to the investigation, Presenter Advocate Walford and Patrol Leader Tarren were rumored to have based their prosecution solely on the evidence of a child prostitute. The blood pounded in his ears when Harte read that. Even as he raged, he wanted to believe his reaction was out of concern for Peli's feelings. But he also wondered how Peli would react to the accusation? Making matters worse, Harte had never been able to bring himself to ask Peli if it were true. It was sheer incompetence to allow a delicacy of feeling to get in the way of doing his job. He should have asked, but it was too late.

  The steps of the town hall were populated with overflow from the court. One enterprising soul had set up a stand to sell hot cider. As Harte approached, the crowd first quieted and then burst into noisy commentary. One expensively dressed citizen yelled, "Traitor!" as Harte climbed the steps. Apparently, any prosecution of a member of the ruling class, however justified, made him a traitor. Harte brushed past without turning his head. Inside, the courtroom was jammed with wealthy families from the upper town and ragged folk from the lower. In the front row of the spectator gallery, Peli and Sister Grace sat side by side. Harte wondered how early they had come to secure their places. It was a bright day, and the light from the high round windows created circular spots on the tiled floor. Harte sat at the presenter's table and tried to calm his roiling thoughts. The door opened and the Greer party entered the room with their escort of watchmen. Councilman Greer and his son were taken to the advocate's table. Watchmen took up their places at the judge's entrance and the main door of the courtroom. Griff took a seat on the aisle, towards the rear. The great bell began to ring in the tower above. Ten times it sounded.

  The clerk waited for the sound of the last bell to die away, carefully placed his pen into its holder, rose, and left the room. Conversation slowly died. The door swung open, the clerk stepped in and let his staff rise and fall three times. "All rise! The court of the Town of Walford's Crossing is in session. Magistrate Magnus Tine presiding."

  Magnus Tine was a small man, balding, with a fringe of gray hair around his ears and over the back of his neck. Harte recalled it said of him that he had taken to wearing his badge of office pinned to his collar, because if he didn't, serving girls and barkeeps tended to forget his orders. In court, he was known for his sarcasm.

  "This court is convened to hear the matter of Greer vs. the Town of Walford's Crossing." The magistrate pursed his lips. "Councilman Greer, you are representing Mr. Greer?"

  "Yes, Magistrate."

  "Mr. Walford, you are representing the town?"

  "Yes, Magistrate."

  "The clerk will read the charges."

  "The defendant is charged with assault causing grievous bodily injury, wanton disregard for human life, threatening a witness to a crime, and lying to the watch."

  "The defendant, having previously pleaded not guilty, is entitled to a hearing before a council of court, that council to be made up of persons currently serving on the Walford's Crossing Town Council. Are there any motions before we begin selection of the council?"

  Councilman Greer rose ponderously to his feet. "Yes, Magistrate. The defense moves that the charges be dropped for lack of evidence."

  Magistrate Tine frowned. "Councilman Greer. With all due respect, the Court has already ruled on whether there is enough evidence to justify a trial. It is not my within the scope of my authority to rule otherwise, at this time. If it is the quality of the evidence that you question, than perhaps you might wait until we have actually heard some of it. Today, it is our duty to select a council of court. Have you any motion regarding that process?"

  "No, Magistrate."

  "I'm relieved to hear that. Mr. Walford? Have you any motions to offer?"

  "I move we forward the selection process."

  "Mr. Walford, I like to think of wit as my exclusive domain during these proceedings." He smiled. "Do humor me."

  Harte nodded gravely. "Magistrate."

  Magistrate Tine outlined the process for the benefit of the court. When he was done, sixteen members of the town council filed into the courtroom and seated themselves in the council box.

  "Councilman Greer. You may begin."

  Councilman Massic was the first to be dismissed. After the clerk of court introduced him, Councilman Greer asked simply, "Councilman Massic, do you know Mr. Greer?"

  "No, not really. I have only met him occasionally at social events."

  Councilman Greer hummed a little to himself while he considered Councilman Massic. "Do you know Councilman Senior Magistrate Walford?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Are you not a particular friend of Councilman Senior Magistrate Walford?"

  "I do not know exactly what you mean by particular friend. I have known Councilman Walford for some years."

  "Did Councilman Senior Magistrate Walford sponsor you, when you first came to Walford's Crossing to practice law?"

  "Yes, he did."

  "Thank you, Councilman Massic." Councilman Greer stood. "I request that Councilman Massic be thanked for his duty and respectfully excused from this Council of Court."

  "Very well," said Magistrate Tine. Councilman Massic was excused.

  Councilman Farthington was next. When it was Harte's turn to question Farthington, he chose his words carefully and positioned himself so that he could see both the councilman and Peli. "Councilman Farthington, do you owe any debt of honor to Councilman Greer?"

  "No, I do not."

  "I'm confused, Councilman. Do you not consider a debt of coin the same as a debt of honor?"

  Councilman Farthington looked uncomfortable. "Not precisely, although I suppose they are similar."

  "If you were to fail to pay a debt of coin to ... say Councilman Greer, don't you think Councilman Greer would consider the matter one of honor?"

  Councilman Greer stood. "A point, Magistrate? What has this philosophical discussion to do with the matter at hand?"

  "Have you a point with which to parry Councilman Greer, Mr. Walford?"

  "I will come to one."

  "You transgress, Mr. Walford."

  "My apologies, Magistrate."

  "Councilman Farthington. Hasn't Councilman Greer invested in your milling concern? Do you not, in fact, owe Councilman Greer a considerable debt in coin, if not in honor?" Once again Harte positioned himself to watch Peli.

  Councilman Farthington replied stiffly. "Councilman Greer and I share some interests."

  "Do you believe that you could hear the evidence against Mr. Greer with an open mind and without bias or prejudgment?"

  "Yes, I do." Peli made no sign.

  Harte did not hesitate. He faced Magistrate Tine. "I request that Councilman Farthington be thanked for his duty and respectfully excused from this Council of Court."

  Councilman Farthington was excused.

  So it went, until there were eleven Councilmen remaining. Peli watched intently throughout the proceedings, but never touched his earlobe.

  * * *

  On the second morning of th
e trial of Brin Greer for the beating of the young man known as Raf, Presenter Advocate Harte Walford gave his opening argument. "Councilmen, Magistrate, my esteemed colleague, ladies and gentlemen of Walford's Crossing. Good morning." Harte faced the council of court and nodded. "I know you to be busy men with many interests, so let me start by thanking you for your duty here today. Our system of justice depends on you. We are grateful for your indulgence."

  "This case is about two stories. The first story is simple enough, if gruesome. Brin Greer, offended by a young man named Raf, beat Raf nearly to death. There is perhaps nothing unusual in two men fighting, but Mr. Greer's actions were particularly cruel and heartless. While his friends looked on, he hit, he kicked, and he stomped on Raf. Indeed, Raf eventually died in the hospital."

  Councilman Greer rose to his feet as quickly as his weight would allow. "Objection--"

  Harte raised is hands in mock surrender. "Quite right, Councilman, we cannot know to what extent the young man's beating contributed to his death. The boy contracted influenza in the hospital. However, he would not have been in the hospital, if it were not for the cruel and heartless beating he received. The boy was not just hit, he was hit until he fell down. Then he was kicked, kicked until he stopped moving. Then he was stomped on. The man who did the stomping was wearing hobnailed boots. The damage those boots did was plainly and terribly visible to all who saw the boy afterwards. Those boots left their impressions on his ribs, they tore his skin, they ripped his manhood." There were exclamations and murmurs from the spectator gallery at that.

  "Mr. Walford! There are women and children present," admonished Magistrate Tine. "Choose your words carefully."

  "My apologies to any whom I may have shocked." Harte turned towards the spectators. "It was a woman who first saw the boy's injuries, after he was found where he had been left to die, alone and in the dark. The Sisters of Mercy first saw the boy's injuries and brought them to our attention."

  "This is not just the story of a fight. This is a story about arrogance and power." Harte turned to look at Brin Greer. "The arrogance of a man who thought he would never be called to account for his actions. The arrogance of a man who thought no more of crushing a man's--of crushing a man, than he would of crushing an insect. This is the story of a man who, when he was called to account, tried to hide what he had done by threatening a witness, by trying to dispose of evidence, and by lying to the watch."

  "In the course of this trial, you will hear about four men who went to visit Madam Truman's brothel on the night of six December." Harte looked sadly towards the row where Mrs. Greer sat white faced and stony. "Brin Greer and his friends. You will learn that they met the young man, Raf, on their way home. Raf said something to Mr. Greer, to which Greer replied by beating Raf nearly to death. Afterwards, Greer and his friends dragged Raf's unconscious body off the street and into dark entranceway of a business--a place where they could not have expected him to be found until morning. It was a cold night, thus their actions threatened Raf with death by exposure. They were seen by another boy, Peli. Peli tried to intervene, but was chased away by Greer's friends. Peli did not see the face of the man who beat Raf, but he saw the man's cloak. Remember the cloak, for it is important to our story. Peli saw that this cloak had a distinctive black and white striped, fir collar."

  Harte paused, took a breath, and surveyed the council. At least no-one appeared to be sleeping. He continued, "Peli was not the only witness to Raf's beating. You will meet another man who witnessed the events of that night. He will identify Mr. Greer as the man who beat Raf." At this statement, both Brin and Councilman Greer looked up in surprise. Harte did not look at them, but looked steadily from face to face at the council of court. Griff stared at Harte, a puzzled look on his face.

  "Now comes the part where we may learn something more of Mr. Greer's character. For when Brin Greer heard that questions were being asked about the beating, he went to find Peli, and he threatened him. He told Peli--" Harte looked down at the single sheet of paper he held in his hand. "'If you know what's good for you, you'll forget you ever knew anyone named Raf.' You see, he did not know that Peli had not seen his face. He next tried to dispose of his cloak, the one with the distinctive black and white striped, fir collar. His housekeeper will testify to that. She will also testify that Mr. Greer was fond of wearing hobnailed boots." Harte allowed himself a small smile. "It seems they scrape her floors. Fortunately, Mr. Greer's family follows the common practice of allowing servants to take clothing no longer wanted by their masters, so the cloak was preserved. It has been recovered and is now in the possession of the watch."

  "Next, Mr. Greer went to his favorite haberdasher and purchased a new, black, fur-lined cloak. Why is this important? It is important, because Mr. Greer told the watch that he was wearing a black, fur-lined cloak on the day of the beating. He lied to the watch, ladies and gentlemen. He lied to the watch, in order to make it appear that he did not match the description of the man who punched, kicked and stomped on Raf. We know him to have lied, because we know the date when he purchased the new cloak, and it was almost a week after the date of the beating."

  "Now, you may be asking yourselves why Mr. Greer would perform this cruel and violent act. What could possibly have been his motive? What did Raf say to Mr. Greer that so enraged him? We cannot know, for Raf is not here to tell us. Mr. Greer and his friends cannot tell us, for they have told the watch that they saw nothing, that they heard nothing, during their walk home from Madam Truman's. For them to explain is for them to admit that they were present at the beating, and that they lied to the watch."

  "In fact, we can show them to be lying. By their own admission, they left Madam Truman's bordello at two bells, just before the beating. Madam Truman's is no more than two furlongs from the Red Rooster, the business outside of which the beating occurred. The only way to get from Madam Truman's to Hill Street (and return to the upper town) is by Dock Street, which will take you past the Red Rooster. Thus, if the beating took place just after two bells, as all the witnesses agree, then the farthest away from the beating they could have been was a few furlongs. On a clear, cold night, such as the night of the beating, sound would have traveled very well on Dock Street. While it is possible they might not have seen the beating, they would certainly have heard it. Peli will testify that Raf was yelling loudly as he fought with his assailant--" Harte feigned a look at his notes. "--yelling like a banshee--at least until he lost consciousness. Yet, Mr. Greer and his friends swore to the watch that they heard nothing." Harte paused and scanned the faces of the council, then took another breath and continued with a summary of the facts.

  * * *

  "At the end of these proceedings, it will be my privilege to address you again. At that time, I will merely ask that you do as the evidence argues you must do, and convict Brin Greer of assault causing grievous bodily injury, wanton disregard for human life, threatening a witness to a crime, and lying to the watch. Thank you again for your duty in this court."

  Harte briefly met the eyes of each man in the council of court, nodded, then resumed his place at the presenter's table.

  "Thank you, Mr. Walford. Councilman Greer, your opening statement?"

  "Councilmen, Magistrate, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Walford would make this a case of arrogance. It is. However the story here is not about my son's--the defendant's arrogance, it is the story of a lawyer's arrogance and self-aggrandizing crusade to turn a simple fight, a fight at which the defendant was not even present, into murder. Make no mistake, this young man--" He swept around and pointed at Harte. "--would make this a capital case if he could. But the story of December the sixth is a story of a simple fight, not a murder. As this trial progresses, you will find the cruel and violent man of Mr. Walford's imagination will disperse--" He waived a hand around in front of his face. "--with the fog of half truths and unfounded allegations that he has blown around you, to be replaced by the young man you see before you: a flawed human being
surely, as we all are, but not the man of Mr. Walford's fantasy. What happened on December sixth was regrettable, surely. Fighting, however aggravating the provocation, however human the motive, must of course be discouraged. But young men do fight." The Councilman raised his hands, palms upward. "If we were to imprison every participant in a barroom brawl, every unhappy lover who lashes out--" Here Councilman Greer gazed at his son. "--every man who seeks redress when his manhood has been insulted, we would have to build a bigger gaol. In fact, we would have to cage the very flower of our youth."

  "Fortunately, we need only examine the meager evidence presented by Mr. Walford to understand our only duty is to dismiss this case as the blatant attempt at self-aggrandizement that it is. The defendant and his friends will tell you that they were on Dock Street, on the night of December the sixth. But that is the closest point of correspondence between their story and Mr. Walford's. Did they ever meet the unfortunate young Raf. No. Were they present at his beating? No. Did they drag his body anywhere? No. Did my--did the defendant lie to the watch about a cloak? Well, he might have confused which of his cloaks he was wearing on the that night: a simple enough mistake. But that is no basis for this ... persecution."

  "To put it simply, Mr. Walford's allegations about my son and his friends have no basis in fact. They are nothing more than the wild fantasy of a power-mad presenter advocate." Councilman Greer shook his head sadly at the council of court. "My friends, I'm sorry you must waste your time listening to this sordid drivel. I have no doubt that when Mr. Walford is done soiling this honored hall, you will know how to clean it up." Councilman Greer paced slowly to his seat at the defendant's table and sat down.

  "Thank you, Councilman." Magistrate Tine looked at the clerk and sucked air through his teeth. "I think we have heard enough for one day. I think we shall adjourn and meet here again at ten bells, tomorrow morning." He nodded to the clerk.