The early spring air held a chill, sun bright and skies clear. However, she felt little of it, the gazebo built with glass windows and wooden panels, as well as an iron fireplace with a chimney. A dozen fine chairs with slight padding surrounded an oval table. Pleasant scents lingered, gentle tones from the apple wood burning, a hint of citrus from a perfume.
It would be the perfect place for a tea party. Indeed, she had hosted several already. The guests today, though, were not the kind to be so inclined.
“My Lady, the guests have arrived.”
Her butler’s words cut through the gentle silence of a crackling fire. She did not react, simply finishing her sip of tea with a nonchalance; only then did she gesture.
She sat with her back to the door as her three particular guests entered the gazebo. Truly, it was a place ill-suited to them. One was of such height that he had to walk with a stoop, another could not keep his nose from scrunching up, and the third looked around until he noticed a certain maid, then pointedly looked away.
Their trouble did not end there as, sitting down, the chairs were a little too small to be comfortable, the padding rather thin, and the table was low enough that it pressed against the largest of the three’s legs.
“Would my guests like a drink? There is fresh tea,” she said with a small smile.
The judge cleared his throat. “My Lady, I think it would be best if we do not tarry and delay your… later appointment.”
“Well, Master Schulz, I suppose that would be best,” she said, a lack of urgency in her voice, then turned to the deacon. “I heard that the Bishop could not attend—am I correct that sir is here is in his stead?”
He bowed his head. “Yes, I am afraid he has important matters to attend to with Easter approaching, but he has conveyed to me his wishes for this discussion.”
For a moment longer, she stared at him, her smile unchanging and yet as if colder, then swept her gaze across the other two. “I did also invite Mr Hase to mediate; however, he thought it would be inappropriate to be involved with matters concerning his replacement. He truly is a man with great respect for the city’s institutions.”
With that, she let out a sigh and a wrinkle formed between her eyes.
“This really is a vexing situation. The letters grow longer, the time between them shorter, and I follow less and less of what anyone is even writing. I pray that we have taken the time to consider our own points carefully and would give each other the respect to speak without interruption. In the end, a debate should rely upon merits, not shouting over each other.”
“Well said, My Lady,” the judge said, giving a polite clap and soft smile.
She smiled back, then turned to the other two. “Mr Mayor, Mr Schmitt, are we also in agreement on this?”
“Yes, My Lady,” came the staggered replies.
“Excellent. Then, as I understand it, this began with Mr Mayor and so I would like him to present his points first,” she said, settling her gaze on him.
He sat there for a second with his hand up to adjust his cap. After taking a breath in, he spoke.
“It is like this. I grew up in the Church as an orphan, I grew up with the teachings, and then I worked with a travelling merchant. I know it is that each place has its own rules and laws and they are to be duly followed. However, it is now the case that I am not a travelling merchant. I have a home. It is not my place to say what laws are written, I know. But it is my place, as a Christian, to ask for clemency.
“In recent months, I have sent these requests to My Lady and she has obliged. Yet the guild complains I bother them too much. So I thought, rather than bother the guild and save My Lady from signing the requests, the punishments could be brought in line with My Lady’s views.”
Silence followed for a few seconds before she picked up her cup and took a sip. “Mr Mayor puts forward his point succinctly. Mr Schmitt, while the Church has been uninvolved so far, I would like to hear the Bishop’s views on this matter.”
He sat completely still, his gaze fixed at a distant point in front of him. At her invitation to speak, though, he brought up a hand and cleared his throat, then returned to his neat position.
“The Church preaches forgiveness and salvation. While some would call how we made judgements in the past barbaric, what words in a book fails to capture is the reality of how the trials were conducted. Those with heavy hearts would confess, knowing the Lord would not spare them, and those with sincerity would undertake the trials without hesitation.
“Miracles are rare, but, rather than divine intervention, we saw the accused’s sincerity when faced with hardship and judged them by that. Few who undertook the trials were judged guilty, and we made the trials appear scarier than they truly were to deter the guilty.
“Compared to the expert judgement of clergy, cases are now decided by conmen being able to forge documents or bribe a dozen others to speak lies on their behalf. Even in cases which require juries, it seems as if the worst sinners should always have a friend on the jury, willing to convince the others of his innocence.
“Regardless of how a law is written, if it is used to punish the innocent and spare the sinner, it is an affront to the Church.”
He spoke with an unusual tone, at least as far as she was concerned, used to his more timid exchanges. How he spoke did not matter to her at this time, though.
“The Church brings a valuable point-of-view to this discussion. My Thanks, Mr Schmitt. Last of all for this introduction, then, we have Master Schulz,” she said, her gaze turning to the judge.
He had not sat comfortably to begin with, what arguments had been made so far doing little to settle him either. However, he was not a man easily unsettled—and he returned her look with what passed as a warm smile.
“My Lady, matters of justice are not simple things. This goes beyond innocent or guilty. Our role in society is to maintain peace and good order, which requires discouraging those with fickle hearts from scheming. I would not send a man to death unless I believed him guilty of such a crime as murder, rape, or treason. God knows my faith best.”
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She waited to see if he had more to say, but he looked content to end it there.
So she sat there and said nothing. For a while, she moved her gaze from one to the other, a frown upon her brow and a slight pout to her lips. In the end, she broke the silence by lifting her cup; her maid stepped over, took it, and went to the fireplace where a teapot kept warm upon the top of it.
As those light footsteps sounded out, she spoke. “Pray tell, do my guests believe we, God’s children, are fundamentally good?”
It was not a question any of the three expected and that showed on their faces, as much as they tried to conceal it. Of them, it was the deacon who answered first. “We are made in the Lord’s image and it is through temptations in life that we stumble.”
She gave a lopsided smile, yet made no comment, instead settling her gaze upon the judge.
He sat firm for a moment and then said, “I fail to see the relevance of that question to this conversation.”
“Oh, but it is a most essential question to ask,” she said, pausing there to accept a fresh cup of tea. “After all, there are so many commoners in the city. Is it not the case that, if they are prone to senseless violence, such things as cities could never exist?”
“My Lady, philosophy is all well and good, but the reality is that our hard work is what keeps the city from falling into such violence—”
She raised a hand and, after hesitating, he stopped there, then she said, “I do not believe sir.”
It was a simple sentence that left behind such a heavy silence. His polite smile strained, eyes narrowed, and the chair felt more uncomfortable than before as he tensed.
“Allow me to rephrase that. While I am sure sir truly believes in what he has said, I believe the commoners would, without laws, simply enforce their own justice. However, as sir has said, justice is not a simple thing and, if left to commoners to enforce, it would be prone to great injustices.”
She paused there to have a sip of tea.
“I shall be travelling to the capital soon and, there, I hope to speak to those educated on laws. Sir surely is an expert on enforcing laws, but I have need of someone who is an expert on writing laws.”
He brought up a hand, only to cover his mouth and give a slight cough. “My Lady, our laws really are sound,” he said, a noticeable politeness to his voice.
“Indeed they are,” she said and she tapped the side of her cup three times with her nail, tings ringing out. “This is something I have encountered many times. Our ancestors gave us these wonderful gifts of civilisation, yet we are averse to trying to leave behind such gifts for our descendants. Sir—sirs—I appreciate this is not a simple matter, I do, and it is because of that that I would seek an expert to assist me in this matter. Perhaps, he will tell me that nothing need be done, in which case I do apologise for wasting our time….”
Trailing off, she took a moment to meet each of their’s gaze, then neatly folded her hands on her lap.
“However, I believe that the illusion of the pursuit of justice is a worthy goal to strive for.”
None present were people of simple minds. Each had their own thoughts on the meandering conversation and where it would end and what that would mean, only for her last comment to be like a turning key, unlocking a thought they had yet to consider.
As if to give them a moment to comprehend the shift in the discussion, she turned her head and looked out upon the grounds for a long second, then turned back to them.
“There is no crime which God will not judge. Master Schulz, I agree there is a need to maintain good order. What I disagree with is how the guild’s resources are being used. I doubt it shall ever be the case that every criminal will find justice in life, so it is the case that we must carefully consider how best to use the guild’s resources.”
He took a deep breath, his hands finding it difficult to find a comfortable position. “My Lady, what you are saying is certainly wise. However, with all due respect, I already do consider how to best use the guild’s resources, among many other matters.”
“I am sure sir does. What sir cannot consider, though, is which laws are the best use of resources to enforce,” she said.
His smile slipped, mouth pressed into a line. “What is the point of a law if it may be broken?”
“Indeed, what is the point?” she said, a muted humour to her voice that still showed in her smile.
As careful as his expression had been so far, a crack appeared as he fell into a frown while pinching the bridge of his nose. “My Lady, I appreciate your understanding this far, but it seems that we are moving farther away from the… purpose of this meeting.”
“Are we?” she asked, tilting her head. “Then pray do allow me to tie this discussion back to its roots. As of this moment, I am declaring that capital punishments are only permitted for verdicts of treason against the King, myself, or the city. For verdicts of murder, rape, and coercion, they are to be jailed until my return. For verdicts of burglary and other non-violent thefts, they are to be fined an appropriate amount; if they are unable to pay it, they are to be jailed for a time equal to how long it would take a man to earn that amount at a respectable job.”
Pausing there, she asked him, “Does sir follow thus far?”
“My Lady, if we are to keep all these men in jail, I fear we shall—”
“Sir is not answering the question I asked.”
Her voice, neither raised nor quiet, cut him off and filled the gazebo with a silence that stretched for a second, seconds, approaching a minute before he broke it.
“I understand.”
She gave a small smile, picking up her tea for a sip, only to frown and hold it out, her maid walking over in quick, light steps to take it away.
“Of course, if sir is in need of certain assistance, Mr Mayor shall deploy the militia in a suitable manner. It would be good practice for if there comes a time when we must hold prisoners of war,” she said, her hand gesturing at her other guest.
The mayor bowed his head in agreement. “As My Lady wishes,” he said.
“On the other hand,” she said, turning her other hand to her other guest, “if the Church wishes to judge, then let them judge. Minor disputes and matters of sin may be entrusted to them—drunkenness, prostitution, these kinds of things where no major harm has been committed to another person.”
The deacon bowed his head. “I believe this is agreeable with the Bishop’s instructions,” he said.
So she brought both her hands together, a gentle clap sounding out, and turned her attention once more to the judge. “Master Schulz, I truly do believe in the good work of the guild. Sir has been gracious enough already to recruit more clerks, which has helped matters of business proceed more smoothly, and now I ask sir to share some of the burden so that sir may focus on the crimes which most disrupt the city’s peace.
“Of course, I would not ask for something while offering nothing in return. To better investigate these most serious crimes, I shall be looking to form something like a small militia whose members would be trained in taking accounts, questioning suspected criminals, and afforded powers of arrest.”
After listening closely, he took a moment, then asked, “How would such people much differ from watchmen?”
“Well, Master Schulz, they would be competent for a start,” she said lightly, covering her mouth as she then let out a titter. “This group would be in my employ, not the city’s, and they would report to the judge of the case. I would also like for them to be trained such that they would be able to act as notary for recording witness statements.”
Her maid walking over, she paused there to accept the fresh cup of tea and, after a sip, she continued.
“I believe that the public would be put at ease by such men. Someone of good-standing, polite in their speech, who may assure the victims that we are doing our best to bring about justice for them,” she said, and her tone held a secretiveness to it, as if bringing the judge into a scheme.
Then, as if to add to that allusion, she leaned forward in her seat and now spoke little louder than a whisper.
“Master Schulz, I believe that we must set an example for the commoners. Let us no longer be people who repay violence with violence. If I am wrong, then we shall at least know what does not work, and we may tell our descendants such. However, if I am correct—I believe it is worth trying for that chance.”
Silence, for a second, seconds, trickling by until he finally nodded.
A smile bloomed on her lips.