by Samuel Thews
“Enough!” The judge bellowed, rising to his full height and leaning forward over the edge of the bench.
“This court will suffer no more of your useless banter. You will answer for your crimes before the Jury of Fédaroon.”
Before he could comprehend what was happening, a hard wooden chair scraped across the floor, of its own volition. It slammed into the backs of Phinnegan’s knees, forcing him to sit. Thick metal chains swung up from beneath the chair and clamped around his wrists. Looking left, he saw that Periwinkle was now perched atop a small wooden platform, his hands likewise chained together in front of him, and his feet chained to a post that had arisen in the center of the platform.
With an air of satisfaction, the judge threw himself back into his chair.
“Proceed with the Reading of the charges.”
CHAPTER 7
Judge and Jury
The tall, thin Faë with the dark-hair read the litany of charges with a nasal voice. He droned on for several minutes leveling charge after charge at the recalcitrant purple-haired Faë. When he finished speaking, Periwinkle glanced up at the Honorable Julius Jay, perched high above the dark bench.
“Is that all?”
The judge ignored Periwinkle’s remark, and nodded to the Faë that had been reading the scroll.
“That will be all, thank you.”
The dark-haired Faë bowed deeply in the direction of Julius Jay. When he rose he sneered at Periwinkle before vanishing right before Phinnegan’s eyes. He wondered if he would ever get used to people appearing and disappearing right out of and into thin air.
High above, Julius Jay cleared his throat.
“You have heard the charges brought against you, Periwinkle Lark. You can save us all a lot of time by being honest from the beginning.” He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bench as he peered down at Periwinkle.
“How do you plead?” Jay asked, his voice grim. Periwinkle met the Aged’s bright blue eyes with the purple of his own and smiled a roguish smile.
“What evidence do you have of these crimes? If I am to enter a plea, I should know the particulars of what it is I am accused, don’t you think?”
“The charges against you have been read for all present to hear. To what further evidence do you suppose yourself to be entitled?”
“Pfah! These charges are bogus, Jay, and you well know it.”
The judge’s face reddened and he spoke through tight lips.
“I will not remind you again to show this court due deference. One more slip and you will spend a week in the salt mines. Do I make myself clear?”
Periwinkle’s smile vanished and he nodded his understanding.
“Is that a yes?” the judge asked, peering down at Periwinkle.
“That is a yes.” He paused and seeing that the judge awaited his honorific, clenched his teeth and hurried the words forth.
“Yes, your Honor.”
Julius Jay smiled. He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded across his chest and his fingers intertwined.
“Now. Again I ask you, how do you plead?”
“And again I respond, your Honor, that I wish to know more of the particulars of these crimes of which I am accused. Do you have evidence of these crimes? This treason of which I am accused, for example. Who dares to stand before this court and say that I, Periwinkle Lark, am a traitor to the Faë?”
“You wish to hear the evidence against yourself?” Julius Jay said with a smile. “Very well then.” The judge ruffled through a stack of papers atop his bench and, pulling one out, he read a name aloud in a booming voice.
“This court calls Sextus Sparrow of the Aged, formerly known as Burgundy Sparrow, to appear before this court and offer his testimony.”
Before Phinnegan could blink, a short, round little Faë with salt-and-pepper hair appeared before them, perched upon a small stage that now stood just beneath the judge’s bench. Phinnegan, by this point discerning the pattern that all Faë belonged to a clan and that each clan bore the name of a particular bird, thought if any person looked to be a sparrow, it surely was Sextus Sparrow.
The small, round Faë was quite nervous. Whether this was his normal demeanor or a result of the sudden summoning that had brought him to this immense courtroom, one could not be sure. Beneath the shaggy salt-and-pepper hair was a round face to match the round body. He was dressed in a way that could only be described as foppish; a wrinkled drab brown jacket was buttoned askew across generous girth and the matching colored trousers were a few inches too short. He wrung his hands as he looked anxiously around the courtroom.
“Someone summoned me?” His squeaky voice matched his countenance in every way. High above, Julius Jay leaned over the front of his desk to get a good view of Sextus Sparrow.
“It was I, High Justice Julius Jay of the Court of Féradoon. You have been summoned here to give testimony against this Faë.” He gestured to Periwinkle Lark, drawing Sparrow’s attention to the defendant before him.
“Oh, my,” he squeaked. “P-P-Periwinkle Lark?” He reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and removed a small pair of eyeglasses. Placing them atop the bridge of his nose, he leaned forward to get a better look. Recognizing his old friend, Sparrow jumped from the raised platform, landing awkwardly on the ground, yet keeping his feet beneath him. Before anyone knew what had happened, he had leapt to the wooden platform that held Periwinkle Lark. The round Faë threw his arms around the more lithe body of Periwinkle, chains and all.
“Oh it is good to see you, dear, dear Periwinkle! How long has it been, eh? Four decades? Five? Too long, I dare say!”
Even with the chains on his wrists and feet, Periwinkle was still able to smile and laugh.
“Too long indeed, mate. But, Burgundy, what has happened to the trim young Faë that scaled the cliffs of Hadek with me all those decades ago? You’re a veritable boulder now!”
The brown-haired Faë laughed jollily as he hugged his old friend.
“I’ve put on quite a bit of weight, it is true. But being an Aged does that to you. Did you know that-“
“What is the meaning of this?” the judge interrupted, his voice incredulous and his beady blue eyes bulging wide and ready to pop. “Mr. Sparrow, you have been called before this court to provide testimony against the defendant, not make this sickening display of emotion and fraternization. Return to your place at once! And you, Accused, will refer to Mr. Sparrow by his proper name of Sextus Sparrow. He is no longer one of the Young and it is an insult to his person and to this court for you to address him as such!”
Sparrow reluctantly released his friend and turned to walk away, mumbling under his breath.
“I liked being called Burgundy.”
Unfortunately for him, the judge had excellent hearing.
“Now, Mr. Sparrow. And if I hear language like that again I will find you in contempt of this court!”
Sparrow shuffled to the platform where he had appeared only moments before. Phinnegan felt sorry for him, for he seemed a genuinely nice person and clearly had a liking for Periwinkle. As well, of the three Aged Faë he had seen thus far, Sparrow was the only one that still seemed to retain the friendliness displayed by Periwinkle.
Once Sparrow was settled in position, the judge resumed.
“Ahem. Mr. Sparrow, you have been brought before this court to testify on behalf of our Prince, and King-in-waiting, Vermillion Wren, who has seen fit to charge this court to bring the Accused, Periwinkle Lark, to justice for his high crime of treason against the Faë. You are hereby ordered to provide the exact details of the events which transpired on the eve of April 24 in the 57th year of the 72nd Neptune Cycle. Please proceed.”
“Er, April 24th in the 57th year of the…what was it? 17th Neptune Cycle? April 24th…57th year…17th…I…I don’t believe I was even alive during that cycle. Not even a glimmer in my mother’s eye, I wasn’t.” The judge rolled his eyes and leaned forward over the bench railing, fixing his beady eye
s on Mr. Sparrow.
“It’s the 72nd cycle, Mr. Sparrow, not the 17th. I am quite certain that you were alive then, as were we all. Now, please proceed.” But Mr. Sparrow was still confused.
“72nd Neptune Cycle, 72nd Neptune Cycle…umm, err.”
With a heavy sigh, the judge pressed the fingers of his left hand to his temple.
“Mr. Sparrow, am I to surmise that you do not recall what transpired on the date in question?”
The round little Faë wrung his hands but shook his head.
“Not at all, Juliu- err, Your Honor.”
“Then what seems to be the problem?” the judge asked, squeezing his temples.
“Well, I must admit that I don’t often pay attention to exactly what year it is, so I, uh, well it makes it difficult for me to describe what happened on a particular date, seeing as I don’t know when that was. Err, Your Honor.”
The judge let his hand fall and once again raised himself to peer over the edge of his bench at the round, salt-and-pepper haired Faë. Phinnegan thought that as many times as he needed to peer over the edge of the bench, that perhaps he needed a smaller bench.
“Am I to understand then, Mr. Sparrow, that you do not know what year we are in?”
The round Faë laughed, not at all embarrassed.
“I’m afraid not. I never was one for numbers. Hard to keep track of the years and all, seeing as I have lived so many of them. I suppose that I cannot testify. Sorry old cha- err, Your Honor.”
Periwinkle smirked and chuckled to himself, but the judge was not dissuaded.
“On the contrary, Mr. Sparrow. I am sure that we can in some way jog that memory of yours. I assume that even if you cannot remember exact dates, you can at least remember things that occurred in the last, say year or two?” Sparrow bobbed his head.
“But, of course!”
“Then would you please tell this court what events transpired on April 24th of last year.”
“Err, my apologies, Your Honor,” Sparrow said, raising a finger and shrugging his shoulders apologetically. “But I won’t be able to do that.”
“You mean you do not remember?” the judged asked, sharpness to his tone.
“It’s hard to say really. It’s the dates and all again.” Sparrow shrugged his shoulders. “I’m no good with dates.”
“Ah, to the devil with you! You cannot remember what happened on April 24th of last year?”
Sparrow rubbed his chin in thought for a moment before shrugging once more and dropping his arms to his sides in a heavy sigh.
“’fraid not.”
“But this is preposterous! I have here in my very hand,” and as the judge said this, he held up a cream-coloured parchment, “a sworn statement by you that you possess knowledge of what transpired between the Accused and a certain young Emerald Wren on April 24th, during the 57th year of the 72nd Neptune Cycle. Are you committing perjury?!?”
“Oh, no, I can tell you that. Why didn’t you say so?” Sparrow regarded the judge with a look of curious innocence, the wide pupils of his eyes rimmed with only a thin trim of dark red iris. The judge’s hand shook, and Phinnegan grimaced against the coming torrent he expected. But it never came. Instead the judge placed the paper back on top of his bench and motioned for Sparrow to speak, perhaps too upset to trust his ability to speak calmly.
“Shall I recount then?” Sparrow asked. The judge only nodded.
“Always happy to oblige the court, Your Honor. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the evening that young Master Periwinkle Lark and that beautiful young Faë Emerald Wren met for a drink at the Droopy Mushroom. I remember it like it was yesterday. When I heard from Janus Robin that he had heard from Brutus Magpie that he had seen Periwinkle and Emerald at the-“
“Wait,” the judge interrupted. “Am I to understand that you did not actually see the Accused meet with Her Highness?”
“That’s right, Your Honor. Shall I continue?”
The judge’s face turned a deep shade of red and even from this distance Phinnegan could see his bottom-lip begin to quiver.
“Not exactly admissible evidence is it, Your Honor?” Periwinkle asked with a thin smile. The judge’s lip trembled more violently until finally he slammed an open hand upon the table.
“Bailiff!” he yelled, prompting the thin, dark-haired Faë to reappear. “Please remove the charge of treason from the Accused’s record, citing lack of evidence.” The dark-haired man scowled at Periwinkle.
“Your Honor?”
“You heard me! Remove it. And take this witness with you when you remove yourself. The dark-haired man frowned and glared darkly at Periwinkle.
“Very well, Your Honor,” the bailiff said, sneering once more in Periwinkle’s direction. And then he vanished, as did Mr. Sparrow.
“Strike one, Your Honor,” Periwinkle murmured.
CHAPTER 8
A Lack of Evidence
The next half-hour or so passed with further frustrations for the judge and Phinnegan began to have hope that the purple-haired Faë was indeed right that these charges were little but nonsense. Two more witnesses were summoned before the court to testify on two separate charges. But again, the judge was foiled.
Periwinkle remained in his chains for the duration of these questionings, a smirk on his face and only speaking now and then to taunt the judge whenever a snag in the judge’s case became apparent. Phinnegan thought that in spite of his mounting anger, the judge showed remarkable restraint in the face of Periwinkle’s jabs.
As the judge shuffled through his papers yet a fourth time, a member of the jury rose and cleared his throat.
“Ahem, err, Julius. I trust that somewhere in that stack of documents you do have at least one legitimate charge against the Accused?”
The Aged who had spoken was of middling-height with graying, brown hair cropped short. He spoke politely, but Phinnegan thought his voice betrayed a lack of sincerity and respect. “It would be gravely disappointing if you have succeeded only in wasting the time of myself and the remainder of this esteemed jury. Would you not agree?”
The Honorable Julius Jay clenched his teeth at the use of his familiar name by a member of the jury. He leveled a cold stare at the Faë who had questioned him.
“This court has sufficient evidence, juror, I assure you.” The judge cleared his throat and looked back to his papers. Nonplussed, the juror spoke yet again.
“This evidence may be sufficient for you, perhaps, but it is whether this same evidence would be considered sufficient to we, the jury, that matters with regards to the predicament of the Accused. I am of course certain that a Faë and judge of your honor would have no need to be reminded that while it is the judge who presides and charges the Accused, it is the jury who casts the vote on his guilt or innocence, and when warranted, his punishment. I assure you that the jury would be quite happy to punish the Accused,” he waved his hand in the direction of Periwinkle, “but only if the evidence so permits. I trust that this court at least has the appropriate evidence to have arrested the Accused thus and brought him here before the jury to pass judgment?”
The judge stared blankly at the juror. When at length he spoke, his voice was incredulous.
“Of course this court has evidence and the proper authority to arrest the Accused! Do you dare to question the motives and workings of this court?!?”
The juror only shrugged, a thin, tight smile upon his lips.
“The jury has no desire to delve into the motivations of the court. But the law is the law, and I, that is, we, the jury, would feel better if we were to see this evidence.”
Phinnegan watched as the judge’s face turned first to red and then to white as the color drained completely. His bottom lip began to quiver and when he spoke, his voice was tight and strained.
“Very well. The court will provide the evidence of the Accused’s most recent crime, the reason for his arrest and incarceration, and the fomenter of this trial. Bailiff!”
Once again, the tall, d
ark-haired Faë appeared, and once again he held before him an unfurled scroll. He stared first at Periwinkle and then looked to Phinnegan, who had watched the fall Faë since he had first appeared. When their eyes met Phinnegan felt a chill run down his spine. He looked away and after a brief pause, the tall Faë began to read from his scroll.
“The Accused is hereby charged with the illegal use and activation of a wishing stone beyond the Boundary. The use occurred at approximately four-thirty in the afternoon, yesterday, near the forest outside Ballyknockan, County Wicklow, Ireland, being a part of the realm of Man, and therefore outside the Boundary. At the time of the Accused’s illegal activity, he was in the presence of one human boy,” and here the Faë paused and glanced at Phinnegan, who at this moment, felt quite small, “one Phinnegan Lonán Qwyk, who witnessed the activity of this stone. It is this court’s position that the Accused activated said wishing stone with the knowledge that the human boy was present and indeed, with the express purpose of exposing him to the existence and capabilities of said stone. Therefore, this court has brought the Accused before a jury of Aged to determine the punishment to be handed down for his intentional actions, which, of course, endanger the whole of the Faë race and community, and run in direct opposition to the edicts agreed upon in the Counsel of Eagles, approved in the 32nd year of the 69th Venus Cycle. Thereby and therefore, the court asks that the jury impose the maximum possible sentence upon the Accused, up to and including,” he paused, fixing a glare upon Periwinkle.
“Changing.”
A hushed whisper spread through the jury, themselves veterans of the court of Féradoon, yet surprised by the severity of the requested sentence. Phinnegan had yelped when the bailiff had spoken, having already gathered that the Change these Faë spoke of was an important and personal manner. Yet, he saw that Periwinkle was little phased by this threat.
The judge smiled coldly, his gaze passing between the jury and Periwinkle, triumph written across his face.
“Is the jury satisfied with the reading of these charges and the evidence that this court has provided against the Accused? As you have now heard, not only did the Accused cause the activation of a wishing stone to occur beyond the Boundary, he allowed it to be seen by one not of our race, nor even our world. Further to this, he did so intentionally, baring the ways of the Faë to a human!” The judge slammed his fist upon the bench, fixing his bright blue eyes on each member of the jury one by one.