The Knowledge Stone

by Jack McGinnigle

  The Master held his head in his hands: ‘So what am I to do?’ A voice of despair.

  ‘Master, I have a proposal for you. First you need to know with certainty whether the girl is guilty or innocent. You have already tried to do this by your own rigorous examination and the girl still insists she is innocent. At the Town Jail, I have men who are experts at finding out the truth and I suggest that you send the girl to the Jail for just one day, after which you will know the truth. If she is guilty then my men will make her tell us where she has hidden the medallion. If she is innocent, then we will talk again about the thief, because then we would know this to be someone who secretly knows where to find the jewellery box key.’

  After some thought, the Master spoke: ‘Sir, I must ask you one question. When I was examining the girl and threatened her with beating, my wife intervened to protect her. She is fond of the girl and does not think she is guilty. Will the girl be severely beaten during the examination at the Town Jail?’

  The Court Jailer smiled.

  ‘Master, she will not be beaten at all. After all, she is not a prisoner. The techniques my men will use are much cleverer than beating. We have moved on from the techniques of the Dark Ages; as you would expect, we are much more sophisticated now.’

  The Master was reassured.

  ‘Then I agree to your proposal and I thank you for your expert advice.’ Without any further words, the Master slid a bag of coins across the table which the Court Jailer slipped into his pocket with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Master, you can depend on me. I will arrange this for tomorrow if that is acceptable to you? My assistant will call at nine.’

  Early the next morning, the maidservant was visited by the Housekeeper. ‘Get cleaned and dressed. Today you are going to the Town Jail.’

  ‘Am I to be a prisoner without a trial?’ the girl wailed. ‘Madam, I am innocent.’

  The Housekeeper looked at the girl sympathetically: ‘I am sorry this is happening to you. I don’t know what it means. It is something arranged between the Master and the Town Jailer. Just go, be brave and tell the truth.’

  ‘Madam, you know I always tell the truth.’

  The Housekeeper nodded. ‘I have certainly never found you to be dishonest. I have already told the Master that.’

  ‘Madam, how long will I be held at the Town Jail. I am frightened to go there. I have heard there are many violent criminals there who may do me harm.’ She burst into loud tears.

  ‘Hush,’ the Housekeeper said softly, ‘you must be brave and tell the truth. I will come for you when the Town Jailer’s man arrives.’

  So the maidservant found herself in the darkness of the Town Jailer’s wagon, rumbling and jolting along the road to the Town Jail. She heard the terrible sound of the Jail gates closing and, shortly afterwards, was marched into the building and into a bright warm room occupied by two men sitting at a table. There was also a dirty, ragged little boy sitting on a low bench against the wall.

  ‘This is the maidservant from the Manor House,’ the Town Jailer’s assistant said as he pushed her rather roughly into the room. ‘I must leave you now, I have other work to do.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ The two men looked at her, quite kindly, she thought. One then said: ‘Fetch yourself a stool and sit here at the table with us. I am in charge of this jail and this is my assistant. We want to speak to you about the trouble you are in. I suggest you tell us all that has happened.’

  The girl poured out the whole story. She was the Mistress’s maidservant, a very important position in the household, especially for a young girl like herself – she was only sixteen. She was completely trusted in her position and had access to her Mistress’s jewellery box. She was the only servant who knew where the key was kept. Of course she had never divulged this to anyone – and she never would! Somedays ago, a valuable piece of jewellery had been stolen from the box, a large gold medallion with a gold chain. She had seen this item mixed up among the many other items in the jewellery box but had never examined it. It was not a piece that the Mistress ever wore. She understood it was a sort of family heirloom, something that was very old. Because of her position, she had been blamed for the theft but she was innocent; she would never have done such a dishonest thing or have been so disloyal to the Mistress. All the time the girl was speaking, the two men looked at her intently.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘So if you didn’t steal it, who did?’

  ‘Sirs,’ the girl gasped, ‘I cannot know. It must be someone who knows where the key is hidden. They must have taken the key, opened the box and stole the medallion.’

  The men looked at each other. Then the First Jailer said: ‘Miss, now listen to me very carefully. This man (he indicated the Second Jailer) and I are both experts in the truth. Experts, you understand? Hundreds of times each year prisoners are brought to us here and it is our duty to determine the truth about their crimes. And do you know what happens? These prisoners start off telling us lies but, by the end of our examination, they tell us the truth about their crimes. They tell us everything about them, down to the last detail and they are very glad to do it.’ Now looking even more intensely at the girl, the man repeated: ‘We are experts in the truth. You should believe it.’

  Then the man continued: ‘This is why you are here. You are not a prisoner but you will spend the day with us here while we examine you to determine the truth about the crime at the Manor House. You, Miss, will tell us that truth before you return to the Manor House. We will, of course, communicate that truth to our master, the Court Jailer and he will inform your master. Do you understand all this?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, I understand, thank you. Your task is easy, for I have already told you the truth.’

  The man looked at her kindly: ‘Well, these are early times yet and we will see what happens. Meanwhile, we must start our day’s work.’ Both men stood up and stepped away from the table.

  ‘Miss,’ the First Jailer spoke again, ‘do you see this little boy?’

  ‘Yes Sir.’ The girl looked more closely at the boy. ‘He seems ragged and dirty. He also seems to be very frightened.’

  ‘Yes, you are right, he is frightened; he is here because he is a thief. He stole an apple from the food shop. This apple.’ The man held up a small, wrinkled apple. ‘He was caught by the shopkeeper and had the apple in his pocket. So here he is with us now. Furthermore, we know him. He has been here before. He is a beggar boy from the town and we know that he is eight years old.’

  The girl now looked at the frightened little boy with sympathy.

  ‘I want you to help us now, Miss,’ the man continued. ‘Please ask him if he stole this apple.’

  Reluctantly, the girl took the apple in her hand and addressed the boy: ‘Boy, did you steal this apple?’

  ‘No, Miss. It wasn’t me, it was another boy who stole it and gave it to me.’ The boy’s voice was quavering and filled with terror.

  The man sighed. ‘You see what I mean? Is this the truth he tells you? What would you do now?’

  The girl was confused.

  ‘Maybe we should believe him. Maybe …’

  The man interrupted: ‘You see, Miss, you are forgetting that we are experts in the truth.’ The two men now spoke briefly and the Second Jailer unhooked a thin springy branch from its hook on the wall.

  ‘Come with me, boy.’ He grasped the boy by a shoulder. ‘You come, too, Miss.’

  A mere ten minutes passed before the Second Jailer and the girl returned to the room, the man smiling and relaxed, the girl white with shock. The First Jailer looked up: ‘What does he say now?’ This with a cheerful grin.

  ‘Oh, he admitted his guilt, of course. He said he stole the apple. In fact he told us every detail about how he did it; how he waited till the storekeeper’s back was turned – you know, every part of
the truth.’

  ‘Have you dealt with him?’

  ‘Yes, I took him to the gate and pushed him out. I also told him that worse would happen to him next time if he committed another crime. I told him I would use a whip next time.’

  ‘Good!’ The First Jailer turned to the girl. ‘You see, Miss, you know what he told you when you asked him, don’t you? But, you see, my friend and I, we are experts in the truth.’

  ‘But if he is guilty, why does he not go to the Court?’ the girl said faintly.

  The man smiled: ‘Miss, the Court might not convict an eight year old boy for stealing an apple. The Judge might be feeling kind-hearted on the day the boy was tried. It is part of our duty to apply the Law sensibly. That is what we have done this morning. That is what we do here all of the time.’

  The man now gestured towards the table.

  ‘Now, Miss, we will sit here and you will tell us the truth about the theft of the medallion at the Manor House. This time we will ask you some questions. Here is the first question: ‘Did you steal the medallion from the jewellery box?’

  ‘No, Sir, I have told you already, I did not.’

  ‘The jewellery box was not damaged, was it? It had been opened using the key?’

  ‘That is what the Mistress said. It was she who opened the box and noticed the medallion missing.’

  ‘So, if you are the only servant in the whole house who has access to the key, it must be you who stole the medallion, mustn’t it? That is precisely why you have been accused, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, Sir, that is why I am accused but it is not true. It was not I who stole it.’

  ‘Miss, is that not what the little thief said to you when you asked him about the apple?’

  The girl looked shaken: ‘Yes, Sir …’

  ‘And after he had been examined by my assistant in the next room, what did he say?’

  ‘He said he was guilty, that he was a thief.’

  ‘Is it not possible that you, too, are a thief? If we examined you rigorously, what would we find?’

  The girl’s face was a mask of terror. She replied in a quavering voice: ‘Sir, you must not say that. It is not true. I did not steal the medallion.’

  There was complete silence for several minutes. Then the man rose from the table and said: ‘Now we must continue to show you what we do here at the Jail. My friend here will now educate you about the techniques we use to change lies into truth.’ The man smiled pleasantly as he said this and patted the girl’s hand reassuringly. ‘Later, we will take you on a tour of the Jail. You must see everything before you leave us.’

  The Second Jailer now conducted the girl around the walls of the room: ‘You see, Miss, we are very neat and methodical. We keep most of our equipment here in the room; we have a place for every item – we take it, use and then return it. Sometimes, the item needs to be cleaned after use and I do this at the pump outside.’ The man then worked around the room, showing her each item, explaining how it is used and describing the specific effects he would expect it to have.

  ‘You see, Miss, you need to be an expert to get the job done as efficiently as possible – we don’t want to waste time. So you need to plan, you know, maybe this one first to prepare the flesh and then, perhaps, this one to apply sharp persuasion to obtain the truth as quickly as possible.’

  Finally the man led her back into the small room next door.

  ‘You see, Miss, this is a very well-designed room. We fasten most of the adults to the hook there – it’s a good strong hook and will take the full weight of a man, you know. When they are fastened there, all parts of the body are fully exposed and easy to reach, aren’t they? Of course, if the prisoner is small, we can use the table and the straps, just like we did earlier today. You see how the straps are cleverly designed to hold the body still in absolutely any position we choose? As you have already seen, we are very precise in everything we do.’

  Standing back, the man now said: ‘Now, I have shown you everything. Do you have any questions?’

  White and trembling, hugging her arms around herself protectively, the girl whispered: ‘No, Sir.’

  They returned to the main room. The First Jailer said: ‘Please sit here, Miss, you must excuse us for a while; we have our work to do in the Jail.’

  The two men were absent for some time, although, from time to time, one or other returned briefly to the room. Eventually, both men returned and the First Jailer said: ‘Now we will all have our daytime meal. You must join us, Miss.’ Their meal was simple but good and they ate and drank leisurely, talking gently of many things, after which both men closed their eyes and dozed for a while.

  When they awoke the maidservant said: ‘Sirs, may I clear the meal away and clean the plates and cups?’

  ‘Why, Miss, that would be lovely! The pump is in the courtyard, just outside the door.’ The girl enjoyed the fresh air outside and was in no hurry to return! When finally she reappeared in the room, the First Jailer spoke kindly.

  ‘Come and sit down, we need to talk again.’ The men sat at the table, one on either side of the girl: ‘Now, Miss, why did you steal the medallion?’

  ‘Sir, I did not do that. I have told you the truth.’

  ‘But Miss, you are the one who is accused. So answer me this – If you had stolen the medallion, why would you have done it?’

  ‘Sir, I have no reason to steal the medallion. There is nothing I could have done with it.’

  ‘Miss, we are seeking your help. If you had stolen the medallion, where would you have hidden it?

  ‘Sirs, you must not ask me that. There is absolutely no place I could have hidden it without it being found.’

  ‘You could have buried it in the ground, in a place only you know. Then, later, when all the hubbub died down, you could go to that place and retrieve it.

  ‘No, Sir, I could not …’

  ‘Yes, you could, Miss. And then you could sell it to a gold merchant, couldn’t you? Then you would be rich and you would be able to set yourself up as a fine woman …’

  ‘No, Sir!’ The words screamed. ‘I could never do that. I wouldn’t know how to do that. I never touched the medallion. I never stole it. It was someone else who stole it …’

  ‘Who?’ The word was like the crack of a heavy whip.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the girl wailed.

  ‘Another servant? A member of the family? A thief from elsewhere?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The girl wept bitterly and slumped across the table. They gave her a cup of water to drink and the girl gratefully drank it down. Then the two men sat at the table attending to some papers while the girl recovered herself.

  After about half an hour, the First Jailer looked up and said: ‘Miss, it is now time we showed you the rest of the Jail. This is something you must see before you go back to the Manor House.’ Going back to the Manor House was something the girl looked forward to, eagerly! ‘There is just one thing,’ the man continued, ‘where we are going is very dirty and it is best that you wear clothes from the Jail. My colleague has laid some out for you in the next room. Will you change into them, please?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ the girl replied, ‘I will do whatever you think is best.’ The girl went into the next room, shivering a little at the sight of the hook, and found a thin shift and a rather worn but clean white gown spread out on the table. Obediently, she took off her own clothes and donned the shift and the gown, which proved to be quite voluminous. She returned a little self-consciously to the main room and the men looked at her with approval.

  ‘That is good, now your own clothes will not be soiled or damaged. Let us go now.’

  The men and the girl now made their way into the cell areas of the Jail. The First Jailer stopped by a large door and bid the girl look through the large grill. A frightening
low moaning sound came from this room. Gingerly, the girl looked into the room. She could see that the large dark room had little furniture. The walls were steaming with damp and the smell was dreadful. Several miserable-looking women sat on rough bunks; the moaning was coming from them.

  ‘This is the communal women’s cell. If you were a prisoner here, this is where we would put you.’ The girl held the grill bars tightly, feeling faint and nauseous. Suddenly, one of the women sprang up and ran to the door, screaming profanities. The girl jumped away from the door, her heart pounding.

  ‘Get back,’ the First Jailer shouted to the woman, ‘do you want to be flogged?’ The woman quieted immediately and disappeared.

  ‘Sometimes, quite often, actually, they get quite aggressive.’

  The men continued down the dank corridor, guiding the girl between them. Soon, they came to a large barred door from which emanated a terrible noise of screaming and shouting.

  ‘This is the men’s communal cell; they’re always fighting in there. Do you want to look?’ The man placed a hand in the middle of the girl’s back and propelled her forward.

  ‘No, Sir, please, I don’t …’ she screamed, resisting his push. As she was impelled forward towards the bars, suddenly, there were many hands and arms thrust through the bars, reaching out into the corridor, casting around, writhing in the air like snakes.

  The First Jailer spoke quietly into the girl’s ear: ‘Sometimes we use these men to help us with the truth, you know. If someone won’t tell us the truth about their crime, we put them into this cell with these men. Not for long, you understand, maybe only for an hour or even a half an hour. Funny thing, no matter how they’re dressed when they go in, they always come out naked!’

  As he spoke, the First Jailer had been pushing the girl towards the door. She struggled but could not stop the movement. Slowly, inexorably, the grasping, clawed hands came closer and closer until they could seize and tear at her clothes, her hair, her flesh …