Among the spectators, Makepeace leapt to his feet and shouted, “A contract is a contract!”
The judge banged the gavel.
“I kept the contract, too,” said Alvin. “I worked the full term, even though I was kept as a servant, there wasn't a thing he could teach me after the first year or so. So I figured at the time that I had more than earned the price of the iron that was lost. Now, though, I reckon that was just an angry boy talking. I can see that Makepeace was within his rights, and I'll be glad to give him the price of the iron, or even make him another iron plow in place of the one that's gone.”
“But you won't give him the actual plow you made.”
“If he gave me gold to make a plow, I'd give him back as much gold as he gave me. But he gave me iron. And even if he had a right to that amount of gold, he doesn't have the right to this gold, because if it fell into his hands, he'd destroy it, and such a thing as this shouldn't be destroyed, specially not by them as has no power to make it again. Besides, all his talk of thief was before he saw the plow move.”
“He saw it move?” asked Verily.
“Yes sir. And then he said to me, 'Get on out of here. Take that thing and go away. I never want to see your face around here again.' As near as I can recall them, those were his exact words, and if he says otherwise then God will witness against him at the last day, and he knows it.”
Verily nodded. “So we have your view on it,” he said. “Now, as to Hank Dowser, what about the matter of digging somewhere other than the place he said?”
“I knew it wasn't a good place,” said Alvin, “But I dug where he said, right down till I reached solid stone.”
“Without hitting water?” asked Verily.
“That's right. So then I went to where I knew I should have dug in the first place, and I put the well there. And it's drawing pure water even today, I hear tell.”
“So Mr. Dowser was simply wrong.”
“He wasn't wrong that there was water there,” said Alvin. “He just didn't know that there was a shelf of rock and the water flowed under it. Bone dry above. That's why it was a natural meadow– no trees grew there, then or now, except some scrubby ones with shallow roots.”
“Thank you very much,” said Verily. Then, to Marty Laws: “Your witness.”
Marty Laws leaned forward on his table and rested his chin on his hands. “Well, I can't say as how I have much to ask. We've got Makepeace's version of things, and we've got your version. I might as well ask you, is there any chance that you didn't actually turn iron into gold? Any chance that you found the gold in that first hole you dug, and then shaped it into a plow?”
“No chance of that, sir,” said Alvin.
“So you didn't hide that old iron plow away in order to enhance your reputation as a Maker?”
“I never looked for no reputation as a Maker, sir,” said Alvin. “And as for the iron, it ain't iron anymore.”
Makepeace nodded. “That's all the questions I've got.”
The judge looked back at Verily, “Anything more from you?”
“Just one question,” said Verily. “Alvin, you heard the things Amy Sump said about you and her and the baby she's carrying. Any truth to that?”
Alvin shook his head. “I never left the jail cell. It's true that I left Vigor Church at least partly because of the stories she was putting out about me. They were false stories, but I needed to leave anyway, and I hoped that with me gone, she'd forget about dreaming me into her life and fall in love with some fellow her own age. I never laid a hand on her. I'm under oath and I swear it before God. I'm sorry she's having trouble, and I hope the baby she's carrying turns out fine and strong and makes a good son for her.”
“It's a boy?” asked Verily.
“Oh yes,” said Alvin. “A boy. But not my son.”
“Now we're finished,” said Verily.
It was time for final statements, but the judge didn't give the word to begin. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Folks, this has been a strange trial, and it's taken some sorry turns along the way. But right now there's only a few points at issue. If Makepeace Smith and Hank Dowser are right, and the gold was found not made, then I think it's fair to say the plow is flat out Makepeace's property.”
“Damn straight!” cried Makepeace.
“Bailiff, take Makepeace Smith into custody please,” said the judge. “He's spending the night in jail for contempt of court, and before he can say another word I'll inform him that every word he says will add another night to his sentence.”
Makepeace nearly burst, but he didn't say another word as the bailiff led him from the courtroom.
“The other possibility is that Alvin made the gold out of iron, as he says, and that the gold is something called 'living gold,' and therefore the plow belongs to itself. Well, I can't say the law allows any room for farm implements to be self-owning entities, but I will say that since Makepeace gave Alvin a certain weight of iron, then if Alvin made that iron disappear, he owes Makepeace the same weight of iron back again, or the monetary equivalent in legal tender. This is how it seems to me at this moment, though I know the jury may see other possibilities that escape me. The trouble is that right now I don't know how the jury can possibly make a fair decision. How can they forget all the business about Alvin maybe or maybe not having scandalous liaisons? A part of me says I ought to declare a mistrial, but then another part of me says, that wouldn't be right, to make this town go through yet another round of this trial. So here's what I propose to do. There's one fact in all of this that we can actually test. We can go out to the smithy and have Hank Dowser show us the spot where he called for the well to be dug. Then we can dig down and see if we find either the remnants of some treasure chest– and water– or a shelf of stone, the way Alvin said, and not a drop of water. It seems to me then we'll at least know something, whereas at the present moment we don't know much at all, except that Vilate Franker, God bless her, has false teeth.”
Neither the defense nor the prosecution had any objections.
“Then let's convene this court at Makepeace's smithy at ten in the morning. No, not tomorrow– that's Friday, election day. I see no way around it, we'll have to do it Monday morning. Another weekend in jail, I'm afraid, Alvin.”
“Your Honor,” said Verily Cooper. “There's only the one jail in this town, and with Makepeace Smith forced to share a cell in the same room with my client–”
“All right,” said the judge. “Sheriff, you can release Makepeace when you get Alvin back over there.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Verily.
“We're adjourned till ten on Monday.” The gavel struck and the spectacle ended for the day.
Chapter 17 – Decisions
Because Calvin used to keep to himself so much in Vigor Church, he always thought of himself as a solitary sort of fellow. Everybody in Vigor who wasn't besotted with Alvin turned out to be pretty much of an idiot, when it came down to it. What did Calvin want with pranks like luring skunks under porches or pushing over outhouses? Alvin had him cut out of anything that mattered, and any other friends he might have had didn't amount to much.
In New Amsterdam and London, Calvin was even more alone, being concentrated as he was on the single-minded goal of getting to Napoleon. It was the same on the streets of Paris, when, he was going around trying to get a reputation as a healer. And once he got the Emperor's attention, it was all study and work.
For a while. Because after a few weeks it became pretty clear that Napoleon was going to stretch out his teaching as long and slow as possible. Why should he do otherwise? As soon as Calvin was satisfied that he had learned enough, he'd leave and then Napoleon would be the victim of gout. Calvin toyed with the idea of putting on some pressure by increasing Napoleon's pain, and with that in mind he went and found the place in the Emperor's brain where pain was registered. He had some idea of using his doodling bug to poke directly into that place of pure agony, and then see if Napoleon didn't suddenly remember to teach Calvin a few things that he'd overlooked till now.