Ivory Judgement
By Samuel Sullins
It is a charge of murder.
The Judge Legate waves his hand. The rustling of robes and the stone tapping of shoes die away as the loaded silence falls on Judgement Hall. In the silence, His Excellent Honor the Lord High Judge is guided to the Most High Seat by a forbiddingly dressed lackey.
Judgment Hall is the greatest of all the Government halls, built to stupendous scale. It is nearly half a mile from the Great Gate to the foot of the Seats, where the Judge Legate stands on his ornate marble stage. Great columns stand like ivory trees down the length of the hall, row upon row upon row, framing the distant Gate with a cold elegance.
The Seats are built in great stair-stepped tiers that tower behind the Judge Legate’s platform, each row further behind the last. There are at least fifty tiers of Judges, the twelve ranks of Patrony Judges at the bottom, the many ranks of Bulwark Judges in the middle rows, and the greatest and Most High seat reserved for the Lord High Judge. The Judge Legate surveys them with cold certainty; none are missing. Each clad in the inevitably suffocating attire proper for his rank. Each seated in the correct manner, all the forms properly observed.
The trial, then, can be allowed to proceed. The Judge Legate turns slowly on his marble stage, looks upward at the Most High Judge, and nods once, just once. Always, now, it is the single nod. Everyone understands the meaning of the single nod—this trial is necessary, but merely a form. An important form, though. All the questions must be duly asked, all evidence duly approved and correlated, even if it is only, more or less, a sentencing and not a true trial. The Judge Legate has not needed the double nod, the sign that the trial would be a free trial, for more than seventy years.
The Lord High Judge, high upon his throne, clears his throat into the sculptured voice-magnifier before him. The Judge Legate turns again, facing the great, distant Gate, raises the two ceremonial staffs, one silver and one gold, and crosses their jeweled ends before him.
From the tiny door beneath the Gate, three figures come forward. Two of them are recognizable, even from that distance, as soldiers of the Ivory Guard. Their heavy robes sweep the marble floor behind them, and their cream-white helmets have the familiar squarish silhouette.
They draw closer, walking at a steady pace. Between them walks the prisoner, a young woman clad in a dark green uniform of simple, unembellished cut. Her hair and her skin are dark, and she stands out strangely against the ivories and marbles and great fluted columns. Here is one, thinks the Judge Legate privately, who does not belong here. He feels a tinge of unrest at having such a one in Judgement Hall—it is simply not fitting, and should not be so.
The guards stop, unsheathe their weapons, and thump their tall white shields on the ground, twice, in rhythmic unison. They step back from the prisoner, leaving her to stand on the Prisoner’s Mark—the only black tile in the entire Hall.
The Judge Legate speaks. His voice is high and sonorous.
JUDGE LEGATE: On this day, let the trial begin. Let the Guardsmen bring forth the Detained Person, she who shall, for the duration of this trial, be called the Prisoner.
Silence falls in the Hall again, interrupted only by the scratching of black fountain pens as the Patrony Judges record what has been said. Finally, the Judge Legate lowers the staffs to his sides, turns smoothly to the left, and fits each carefully into its receptacle.
The first to speak, as always, is the Lord High Judge. If all goes well, he and the Judge Legate should be the only ones that will need to speak. His voice is amplified to echo down from his seat, washing over them and encompassing them all.
HIGH JUDGE: Announce the prisoner’s name, Judge Legate. Who is the Prisoner?
JUDGE LEGATE: The prisoner’s name is South Bulwark A8109, Your Excellent—
The prisoner interrupts, suddenly, stepping forward from the black tile, hands clenched at her sides.
PRISONER: My name is Dyan.
HIGH JUDGE: You have taken a common name?
PRISONER: My name is Dyan.
JUDGE LEGATE: Whenever possible, you will answer the questions of the Lord High Judge with either “Yes” or “No.” Is this understood, Prisoner?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: You are from the Healing Wards, are you not?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: In the South Bulwark?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: What are your duties there?
PRISONER: I am a healer. I tend to the unwell.
HIGH JUDGE: Are there many of these unwell?
PRISONER: As you know, Judge, there are a great many. The Ward is always busy. The unwell are almost too great in number to be handled by the Ward.
HIGH JUDGE: Yet these are all but common people, are they not?
PRISONER: They are people.
JUDGE LEGATE: You have been told to answer with “Yes” or “No” whenever possible.
HIGH JUDGE: Tell us then. Are these unwell not simply common people? Neither of the Lordship nor of the Judicy?
PRISONER: I repeat what I have said. They are people, and that is enough.
JUDGE LEGATE: You will comply with the Lord High Judge’s request. Are the unwell to which you tend merely common people, or are they of the Lordship?
PRISONER: They are nearly always workers, workers who have fallen ill during their toils. Stonemasons and stonecutters—
JUDGE LEGATE: We will not tolerate mention of such low matters in the Hall. Let us focus only on the Prisoner and her Crime.
HIGH JUDGE: You are brought here on a charge of murder. Describe to us the grievous act you have committed, Prisoner, that it may be laid upon the record.
PRISONER: silent
JUDGE LEGATE: You will speak to answer the questions given by the Lord High Judge. If you refuse to answer these questions you shall receive the punishment due for such an offense.
PRISONER: I do not see that I have commited any offense.
HIGH JUDGE: Yet you are here.
PRISONER: It is well known to all of us that many who have commited no offense are brought here.
JUDGE LEGATE: The matters of the Judgement Hall and its operations shall be nothing to you. We speak of your crime and will have you explain yourself.
PRISONER: silent
HIGH JUDGE: It seems that, at a certain time, one of the Lordship was admitted to your ward. Is this true?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: Who was this Lord, and what was his title?
Among the Bulwark Judges, there is a grand rustling of record-books and a smatttering of agreeing whispers. One of them, gray-haired and aged, rises and leans toward his speech-magnifier.
TWELFTH BULWARK JUDGE: The Lord in question was High Federate Latimus Delamel, Your Excellent Honor.
HIGH JUDGE: And, Prisoner, did you recognize Federate Delamel when you saw him?
PRISONER: How should I know him? I knew him only as a Lord, from his clothing.
HIGH JUDGE: Why had Federate Delamel come to your Hospital, if it is only a place of Commoners?
PRISONER: He was unwell, sir, and needed Healing. I do not know further. It may be that the Lordship Hospital was full, or that their staff were inadequate.
HIGH JUDGE: You knew, then, who he was?
PRISONER: I repeat that I knew only that he was one of the Lordship. I knew neither his name nor his rank, when I first saw him.
HIGH JUDGE: You are unable to recognize the ranks of Lordship?
PRISONER: I care not for such matters. They are meaningless to me.
JUDGE LEGATE: You will not deride the Lordship. You will always speak of them with faithfulness, respect, and honor.
PRISONER: I will not.
There is a sudden soft rustle as the guards step forward, blades lowered. The Judge Legate lets his face darken to a frown, considering.
JUDGE LEGATE: You will explain yourself, Prisoner.
PRISONER: Very well. I cannot speak of the Lordship nor the Judicy with respect, as I neither honor nor respect them.
JUDGE LEGATE: The consequences for such words…they are high, as you well know.
PRISONER: I understand that I am to recieve such punishment regardless of my conduct.
The Bulwark Judges and the Patrony Judges burst into a smattering of whispers again, turning to talk to one another. A wave of silence washes over them as the Judge Legate turns, slowly, to look at them..
JUDGE LEGATE: Prisoner, you shall not…h-hem. We shall let the Most High Judge resume the Questioning of the Prisoner.
The Judge Legate falls silent, looking downward.
HIGH JUDGE: I understand, Prisoner, that you tended to this Lord, Federate Delamel?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: He was under your care from the beginning?
PRISONER: He was admitted to my ward nearly a week after his arrival.
HIGH JUDGE: He was originally in a different ward, then?
PRISONER: Yes.
HIGH JUDGE: Why was he moved to your ward?
PRISONER: We had need to fit more patients. Several wards distributed patients to other wards to make space for newcomers.
HIGH JUDGE: Is this a customary operation?
PRISONER: Surely you would know, High Judge. Indeed, the Healing Wards in South Bulwark bear your own name.
HIGH JUDGE: Silence! Let us continue. Prisoner, what ailed Federate Delamel?
PRISONER: He was unwell.
HIGH JUDGE: Evidently. However, you are to give me a better answer than that. I ask again, what ailed him?
PRISONER: He was afflicted with the Murmurs.
HIGH JUDGE: I understand that there is a treatment, a cure, for the Murmurs? Many have survived this disease, have they not?
PRISONER: Yes, there is a cure.
HIGH JUDGE: Then would you care to explain, Prisoner, why it is that Federate Delamel was brought out from your ward, dead?
PRISONER: As you know, I have been in custody three days. If he has died I can only assume the Murmurs took him.
HIGH JUDGE: Federate Delamel was found dead in your ward. You were arrested directly, were you not?
PRISONER: I repeat that I know nothing of his death.
HIGH JUDGE: Yet he has been dead these three days, and you blame the Murmurs. However, you yourself have acknowledged that a cure exists. May I ask, then, why it is that you assume he died of the Murmurs? Did you not administer the cure?
PRISONER: I did not.
HIGH JUDGE: You will explain yourself.
PRISONER: You will not understand me.
JUDGE LEGATE: Prisoner. Answer the Most High Judge: let him be the judge of his own understanding. Why, then, did this Lord, Federate Delamel, not recieve the cure?
PRISONER: I had not enough of the medicine.
HIGH JUDGE: Is this so? I understand that the Wards recieve medicine at the first of the month. Is this not true?
One of the Bulwark Judges rises to his feet, flipping through a sheaf of yellowed papers.
SEVENTH BULWARK JUDGE: Indeed, it is true.
HIGH JUDGE: Today is only the third day of the month, Prisoner. How is it that you did not have enough medicine? Did you not recieve your new supplies?
PRISONER: I did.
JUDGE LEGATE: Do not be afraid to answer. You have said, have you not, that you expect punishment regardless of the trial’s outcome.
PRISONER: I had other patients with the Murmurs. The cure must be given every third day. I set aside enough for each patient, and found that I had not enough for him.
JUDGE LEGATE: You considered Federate Delamel last? Should not a member of the Lordship be considered before mere commoners?
PRISONER: No.
JUDGE LEGATE: Explain yourself.
PRISONER: A true leader will give his life to save his people.
The Judge Legate pauses, his hand resting on one of the staffs. He waits, but there is no sound from the Most High Judge.
JUDGE LEGATE: Federate Delamel, instructed you to do this, perhaps, of his own accord?
PRISONER: Turly he did not. He was unconscious. Surely you know the effects of the Murmurs, Judge Legate.
The Judge Legate nods, remaining silent.
HIGH JUDGE: You admit that you had enough of the cure, but set it aside for others, without using it. Is it common practice to set aside medicine for future use?
PRISONER: Truly, I have never done so before.
HIGH JUDGE: It is clear, then, that you did this to cause the death of Federate Delamel. You have admitted as much in your own words.
PRISONER: I did not wish him dead, nor did I work to cause his death. I simply set others before him. Undoubtedly such an experience was new to him.
The Judge Legate moves his head in a slight nod, then stops himself, and crosses his arms.
JUDGE LEGATE: Explain yourself, Prisoner, that the full Court may understand.
PRISONER: I did not want Delamel to recieve any medicine that could save the life of another. Therefore, I set aside the medicine needed to cure the other patients first.
HIGH JUDGE: And you consider a Lordship’s life of such low value?
PRISONER: The Lordship have caused many deaths. In the words of the Sayings: Let them pay with their own blood.
HIGH JUDGE: You speak treason in the sight of the full Court, and quote the Sayings against us. There shall be consequences, indeed.
PRISONER: You have said so.
HIGH JUDGE: Judge Legate, tell us how the trial stands.
JUDGE LEGATE: It seems that we are nearing the conclusion of the trial. The Prisoner has admitted that she…knew of the possibility of Lord Delamel’s death.
HIGH JUDGE: Correct your words, Judge Legate. The Prisoner quite certainly caused Federate Delamel’s death, with cruel intentions. Additionally, you neglected the Prisoner’s further crime: that of treason.
The Judge Legate swallowed once, turned toward the Most High Judge momentarily, then stood stiffly again.
JUDGE LEGATE: The Prisoner has admitted that she…intentionally caused the death of High Federate Lord Delamel. She has also, by her words, committed…hem…committed treason against both the Judicy and the Lordship, and therefore against the Bulwark.
PRISONER: I had thought better of you, Judge Legate.
The Judge Legate stands silent. He does not move.
PRISONER: You, who have spent a lifetime in this service, decades of telling guilty from innocent, good from evil. I should not expect you to accept an accusation of treason for words alone.
HIGH JUDGE: Let us now pronounce the prisoner’s sentence. In accordance with the known laws, the Sayings, and in the name of the Ruler, I hereby annouce the sentence in my own name, the name of the Most High Judge. The Prisoner’s sentence shall be death, as supported by the laws against murder of a Lordship, especially a High Lordship.
JUDGE LEGATE: cough.. Your Excellent Honor. In accordance with the law, we cannot pronounce such a sentence upon the Prisoner.
A soft sigh of turning heads rustles along the Seats as the rows of judges shift to watch the Judge Legate.
HIGH JUDGE: Explain this, Judge Legate. Is it that you support her action? Do you turn yourself against the Judicy? Do you ally yourself so boldly with a Commoner?
JUDGE LEGATE: No, Your Excellent Honor. I but fulfill my duty, as according to the laws of the Sayings, the Ruler, and Your Excellent Honor. The laws do not allow for such a sentencing when there is no evidence of action against the victim by the accused.
Silence, everywhere, as the echoes of the word die away, repeating faintly, into nothingness.
HIGH JUDGE: It seems you are correct, Judge Legate. Let the sentence be the highest possible for the crime. You shall see to it, I trust. I hereby pronounce this trial closed.
The tiers of seats become a blur of robes as the Bulwark Judges, the Patrony Judges, and the Most High Judge himself rustle to their feet and leave through slotted ivory doors at the ends of the tiers. A moment passes, then there is a dull echo as the last door closes and Judgement hall is left emptier and somehow brighter.
PRISONER: What then is my sentence, Judge Legate?
JUDGE LEGATE: You shall be held in custody one week, then set free again. The Most High Judge…shall not know of this.
PRISONER: I thank you. You have saved me from death, and from years of pain and toil.
The guards approach and tug the prisoner away.
JUDGE LEGATE: in a whisper, barely audible. You are welcome, Pris……Dyan.
The prisoner turns suddenly back, fixes her green eyes on his face. She sees past the headdress and the formality, past the white beard and whiter hair, and sees a man there. She smiles at him, then turns away again.
The guards march her to the Gate.
Author’s Note
I was re-reading Foundation the other day. Right in the beginning, there’s a whole chapter where Hari Seldon is on trial before the Empire.
It has a really interesting question-answer format, and I wanted to try my own take. I wanted to write this in past tense but the format forced me to use the present tense instead.
Hope you found it interesting.
— Samuel
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