The Knowledge Stone (19 page)

‘I am summoned by the Master.’ The Court Jailer was a small portly man, dressed wholly in black. He was the first point of contact when there were matters of criminality to be dealt with. He was in charge of the Town Jail, a festering building in the centre of the town. He was also responsible for preparing the indictment which would be the basis of the case if it went to the Town Court. Someone from the crowd ran around to the back of the stable building to seek the Master. Here, he found the Master and his daughter sitting on a low wall, deep in conversation.

‘Master,’ the man said with great deference, ‘the Court Jailer has arrived and requires to speak with you.’

‘Bring him to this place for the conversation. We will be able to speak here and will not be interrupted or overheard. What I have to say is private.’

Shortly after, the Court Jailer arrived with his burly assistant who sat down some distance away. ‘Greetings, Master.’ The man removed his headwear in deference, ‘I hear you may have work for me?’

‘Yes, that is correct,’ the Master replied, ‘it has been necessary for me to arrest one of my stable boys. This is embarrassing to say but I must say it for my lovely daughter’s sake. This boy deliberately touched her lower body when she was thrown from her horse earlier this afternoon.’

‘I see,’ the Town Jailor murmured, writing steadily. ‘And does the boy admit his guilt?’

‘No, quite the contrary, he protests his innocence. He maintains my beautiful daughter is a liar. And there is another stable hand who was present who also says the boy is innocent. He may need to be arrested, too, although his offence is not so grave. I have struck him grievously and this may be punishment enough. I will think about it and decide before you leave.’

The Court Jailer finished writing and heaved himself to his feet. ‘Master, I think I have heard enough. Do you wish me to take this boy into jail custody, where I will examine him rigorously and construct an indictment for a Court case?’

‘Yes, that would be satisfactory. Please do so.’

‘And what of the other man, Master?’

The Master thought for a moment. ‘You may leave him here with me. I will deal with him without the Court.’

‘Thank you, Master. It has been a great honour to speak with you today. May we go and inspect the prisoner?’

Meanwhile, Kati had been sitting beside the men, listening raptly to their conversation – a real adult conversation – and she was only thirteen! What a joyous honour all this was. Mind you, she reminded herself, thirteen is not so young. Some girls get married at thirteen or even earlier. Not that she wanted to have anything to do with marriage or men. Men are brutes (except her Father, of course); all they want is sexual coupling.

Kati was not sure what sexual coupling was exactly but she knew it was concerned with something very nasty and painful. And she knew for certain that this thing happened to girls when they were married. So Kati’s mind was made up; she wanted nothing to do with men or marriage or sexual coupling – and she had already told her father that.

‘Don’t worry, my lovely girl,’ he would say playfully, ‘I would never force you to do anything.’

Now she tagged along as they went to inspect the prisoner. He was held in a wooden cage which had been designed for hunting dogs.

‘Goodness,’ she breathed, ‘he certainly is a sorry sight. But then he deserves it. He should never have been impertinent to me!’ Her eyes shone with pleasure.

The boy lay in his blood-soaked clothes, weeping with pain and despair, still holding his gashed face in an attempt to stop it bleeding. He looked up with fear at the Court Jailer – of course he knew who he was and what it meant. He looked pleadingly at the Master, who turned his eyes away. Then the boy’s eyes found Kati and his wailing ceased abruptly. He addressed her from his cage in a broken voice. ‘Miss Kati, you know the truth. Tell them the truth.’ She looked at him impassively.

‘You know I have already told the truth, boy. I feel very sorry for you.’ To say she felt sorry for him was a master stroke, she thought with glee.

‘Kati,’ the Master cried, ‘you are so sweet, kind and generous but this boy is a criminal and he must pay the price for his crime.’

In the shadows, the Head Stableman listened silently and shifted uneasily.

The assistant of the Court Jailer dragged the boy from his cage and expertly placed his hands and feet in heavy manacles. Then he hustled him out to the stable yard where the waiting crowd spat on him and struck him with punches and slaps, opening up the wound on his face once more. Eventually, he reached the safety of the black covered wagon. The assistant lifted him high and threw him bodily into the back of the wagon, fastening the canvas cover securely. The crowd howled insults as the heavy vehicle manoeuvred to turn around and then rumbled away to head for the nearby town.

The light was now beginning to fade on this very eventful day – a real adventure, Kati thought, which could not have been planned more perfectly. The Master spoke to all the servants who were assembled in the stable yard and assured them that justice would be done. They should now return to their livings. The crowd dispersed slowly, everyone animated and having a great deal to say to each other. Kati and her father walked hand in hand towards the Manor House. It would soon be time for the evening meal and, after that, gleeful recollections in her soft, warm bed.

‘I bet that boy will not be so comfortable where he is tonight. What an insolent boy he was – speaking to me without permission and making a personal comment about me. There is no doubt that he deserves everything that he will get.’

That night in bed, after she had reviewed once again the absolutely glorious events of the day, her thoughts turned to the boy in the town prison. ‘I don’t know what happens to criminals like him when they go there. I hope they beat him and make his body very sore. Kati liked to think about such things and tried to imagine what it would be like to be an observer at such an event: ‘I’m sure it would be very interesting and it would add to my considerable knowledge,’ she thought. She had seen public whippings before and they were very interesting – and they made her tingle with excitement!

Finally Kati turned over luxuriously, and, contentedly, drifted off to sleep with a serene smile on her lips.

The boy felt better and looked forward eagerly to the time he could tell his story.

He was pulled roughly from the wagon and, still in chains, was driven through a heavy studded door into the prison building. Here he was delivered to two jailers. To his surprise, both these men were pleasant, rather cheerful men who were eating and drinking together at a table.

The Court Jailer’s assistant pushed the boy into the room saying: ‘Here’s another one for you. He says he’s innocent!’ The three men laughed uproariously. The Court Jailor’s assistant bent down and removed the manacles from the stable boy’s wrists and ankles and turned to leave the room. ‘The Court Jailer is outside and will come to you in a moment,’ he said.

‘Sit down on that bench over there,’ the First Jailer said to the stable boy with a smile, ‘the Court Jailor will be here in a moment and then we’ll see what is to be done.’ The men returned to their food and paid no further attention to him.

The boy looked around. The room was warm, bright and cheerful, whitewashed and lit by several bright lamps. The walls had been decorated with some very old prison items, like heavy leg irons, chains and whips, etc. The boy had not expected it to be so pleasant in the Jail.

‘Maybe it won’t be so bad in here,’ he could not help thinking.

Shortly after, the Court Jailor bustled into the room. The two jailers rose to their feet and greeted him respectfully.

‘Good evening, Sir,’ the First Jailer said, ‘where will you examine the boy?’

‘Here will be fine. This should not take long.’ The Court Jailer sat down at the table.

‘Boy, come and stand here.’ He indicated the area in front of the table. The boy obeyed. Then the man gave close attention to his papers for some time. At last he looked up: ‘Now, boy, can you read and write?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Do you know right from wrong?’

‘Yes, Sir, of course. I have always been honest.’

‘Do you know what truth is?’

‘Yes, Sir, I am always truthful.’

‘Good. I have just one question for you. When you touched the Master’s daughter on her body, was your hand on her bare skin?’ The boy was shocked.

‘Sir, no, I didn’t …’ The man interrupted: ‘Be very careful how you answer this, boy. It’s always best to tell the truth, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ the boy whispered, ‘I always tell the truth.’

‘Right, well, I’ll ask you again. Did you touch the girl’s naked body under her clothes?’ This question asked testily.

‘Sir, I beg you. You must believe me, I did not do the thing you ask about. I was not even there …’

The Court Jailer snorted. Paying no further attention to the boy, he wrote in his papers for a time and finally turned to the two jailers: ‘Listen, men, you have heard my examination of the boy. My decision for the indictment is that the girl unfortunately fell off her horse (thank God she was not injured) and the boy took the opportunity to touch her naked body beneath her clothes, which, no doubt, were in disarray. Now I pass the matter to you for your action. I will return tomorrow morning with the indictment fully completed. Here is the confession for the prisoner to make his mark upon. As you know, he cannot read or write. You can return it to me tomorrow. Now I bid you good night.’ With these remarks, the Court Jailer left.

In the ensuing silence, the boy wailed: ‘But Sirs, this is not right. I am innocent of this crime. I would never …’

‘Quiet now, boy.’ The Second Jailer spoke for the first time. His tone was gentle. ‘The Court Jailer has examined you and the matter is decided. Go and sit down on the bench.’ The two men paid no further attention to the boy but sat down again to finish the remnants of their meal, talking cheerfully about everyday matters concerning their friends and families.

After a while, they rose from the table. Unhurriedly, the First Jailer unhooked a bundle of twigs from the wall (one of the wall ornaments) and handed it to the other man. ‘I’ll see him again when he’s ready to make his mark upon the confession paper.’ The man smiled as he said this.

‘It shouldn’t take too long, I think,’ the Second Jailer said. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Turning to smile at the boy, he crooked a finger. ‘Come with me, boy.’ Tucking the bundle of twigs under his arm, the man put his other arm around the boy’s shoulders and led him gently from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

The small windowless room next door was devoid of furniture, save for a long narrow table placed against one wall. Some leather straps were piled on the table. The most striking feature of the room was a large hook set into the low ceiling in the exact centre of the room. Immediately beneath it, there was the grating of a small drain. In this room, the man, though still friendly, became brisk and professional. Placing the bunch of twigs on the table, he said to the boy: ‘Now just stand still and leave everything to me; I have done this before many times.’

A few minutes later, the boy had been made ready with his wrists strapped to the hook above his head. Now the man stood directly in front of him and looked straight into his eyes, saying quietly: ‘I have an important question to ask you. Listen to it carefully and think before you answer. Will you put your mark on the confession paper next door? If you say “yes”, I will unfasten you and you may get dressed. Then we can leave this room and all will be completed.’

‘Sir, I cannot do that. I am innocent. You must believe me. I never did this …’

Unusually, the man was touched by what the boy had said. He looked at the beauty and sincerity of the young face before him and then down at the smooth perfection of the naked young body below. As he did so, he felt a pang of sorrow. Moments passed and then the man shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. He raised his eyes to scan the boy’s face once again. ‘Just let me know when you change your mind.’

The boy hobbled back into the room painfully. Sobbing quietly, his face white with pain and shock, he accepted the pen and was about to make his mark on the paper when the First Jailer held up a hand: ‘Just a minute, boy. You cannot read so first you must listen. It is the Law.’ The jailer now read out the confession in a loud voice. When he had finished, he returned the paper to the table and handed the pen to the boy – but the boy’s eyes now had a new light in them.

‘No, Sir,’ he whispered. ‘You must hear me. I cannot make my mark on this confession. It is all lies. I never touched her. I would never do what this confession says. You can ask anyone …’

There was complete silence in the room. Then the Second Jailer sighed. Stepping close to the boy, he squatted down, gently cupping the bruised hips of the slim body in his hands and swivelling them around each way to inspect the ridged, swollen flesh with expert eyes. He addressed his colleague: ‘I think the whip might be best for this. What do you think?’