Jay pointed at Gontal. You see, the gesture suggested, I will be as ruthless as you are, if I must.
‘I do not know that name, Callan told me, but he was no scholar. He was a stranger to these parts, asking the way to Willdon. I fed him, let him sleep in my hut. The next morning he had gone, and my knife also. I never saw him again.
‘What was his name? I asked. He did not know. The man had said he did not have one. No name, no family.
‘So I asked him: if he knew who had done it, why did he run? It was simple, he replied. He was ashamed. He allowed Pamarchon to take the blame, for fear of being blamed himself; he did not think anyone would believe his story of a mysterious stranger stealing his knife. No one else had met or seen this man, after all. He thought people would say he had invented it as a weak excuse to hide his guilt. Can anybody here say they would not have done as Callan did in such a circumstance?
‘He kept that knife until he was close to death himself, and gave it to me yesterday, as payment for taking his story and in the hope that I might correct the wrongs he had committed.
‘Then my friend, the good forester, lapsed into silence, perhaps his last. I have his story; if I lie now, you may soon enough look for yourselves. But remember: the one person with any real knowledge of this crime was prepared to use his final breath to tell me that both Catherine of Willdon and Pamarchon, son of Isenwar, were wholly, completely and totally innocent of Thenald’s death. Think of that as you reach your verdict, I beg you.’
Jay had departed so far from orthodoxy that no one had any idea what to do when he fell silent and retired to the side, shaky from his effort. Certainly Jay had no idea. His refusal to make his case in the required way so disrupted proceedings that, in effect, the trial collapsed. Ordinarily, he would have finished his speech; the accused — both of them in this case — would have delivered a shorter discourse disputing the use of quotations by the other; the presiding authority would have made some remarks; and the assembled multitude would have voted.
That, clearly, could not happen now. No one knew what to do, or what they were supposed to vote for or even — now that Esilio had appeared among them — whether they were meant to vote. This gave Gontal his chance to reassert himself.
‘A poor speech, excusable in one so young, I suppose. I would have expected better from Henary’s star pupil. What? Not a single reference to authority? A case so thin it can claim no parallel to anything in the whole of the Story Hall? Revealing the contents of a story while the teller is still alive? I could depart from custom as well, were I also undisciplined and lazy. I could say that Pamarchon and Catherine were in league together, for example. Certainly a shadow hangs over both. I recommend once more that the question be postponed. Willdon needs a new Lord urgently, but it cannot possibly choose anyone with the faintest hint of crime about them. Either or both of these two may be guilty still; Master Jay’s speech has cleared up nothing.
‘I am prepared to accept that neither can be convicted, and so will not press for penalties against them. But unless the truth is revealed, will you dare choose one of them as your Lord?’
Lytten weighed up his options. How did this work? Did whatever he said instantly become true because he had said it? Did reality conform to his thoughts, or was it now that his thoughts had to conform to reality? A most peculiar question, a dilemma that he imagined no one else had ever had to deal with.
‘Rosie? What do I do now?’
‘I don’t know. But it had better be quick,’ she said in an undertone. ‘I don’t like the look on Gontal’s face. He looks like someone who is thinking of testing your spiritual qualities with an arrow.’
‘Is he indeed? The cheek of the man.’
Lytten prepared his best lecturing voice, honed over the years so that it was clear and penetrating. He prided himself on being able to wake up a slumbering undergraduate at thirty paces, when in the mood.
‘I call before me Antros, friend of Pamarchon,’ he said loudly. Antros was shocked and came forward with the greatest reluctance.
‘I am under the special protection of Willdon,’ he said defiantly as he approached.
Lytten smiled. ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘I would like to ask you a favour, if I may. I imagine that there are some of your merry band of outlaws carefully scattered around in case something goes wrong here, is that the case?’
Antros didn’t reply. ‘Please go and get them prepared,’ he said quietly. ‘Gontal is in a bad mood, and may soon be in a worse one. Can you tell me which of you is the best archer? It would be good to have someone who is calm and self-confident close by.’
‘I am easily the best,’ Antros said. ‘Better by far than even Pamarchon.’
‘Then you are my man. Now, I would like you to be ready for all eventualities. Settle yourself down in the bushes there.’ Lytten nodded towards his left. ‘Out of sight, if you please, but ready with your bow.’
‘To do what?’
‘You will know if you see it. Just do not be afraid, and trust your instincts. Go now.’
Antros bowed and walked swiftly out of the circle. The encounter had disturbed the crowd, which was now restless in a way which Lytten’s experienced ears knew was impatient, annoyed even. Time to take control properly.
‘Silence!’ he roared suddenly, and the noise shook the clearing like thunder.
Lytten stood up and spread out his arms, the red cloak billowing from the movement.
‘People of Anterwold! People of Willdon! Hear my words!’
Silence fell, absolute and total, as he gazed around him.
‘That’s no good,’ he said. ‘I do not intend to shout. You,’ he gestured to Catherine and Pamarchon, Henary and Jay and Gontal, ‘come and stand over there. Everyone else come closer. Yes, yes. Into the circle. Step over those stones. They are just stones, nothing more.’
Even so, they were reluctant. But soon enough one person stepped over and, emboldened, so did everyone else, then rushed forward until they were gathered around the stone tomb, looking up in awe at the figure standing on it.
‘Good. I will give you my decisions. They are final, not subject to any query. My words will be obeyed. They are the law, unbreakable and eternal.’ He spoke with magnificence and authority, rather like reading the rules of a final exam to a hall of students, but with much greater impact.
‘Firstly, stop looking at me like a bunch of sheep. You believe that I called the Story into being. So I did. It was to help you, not hinder you. To open your minds, not close them. I wish you to question, not obey. Doubt, not trust. That is the purpose of the Story, but you have missed the lesson, if Gontal is anything to go by.
‘It contains your past, I say. It does not contain your future. I have not written that. No one has, and from now on you will be the only people who can write it. Do not rely on words written by the long dead, as Gontal did in his speech. Erudition is no substitute for wisdom. Take what is good and useful in the Story, but do not treat it as a book of rules. Change it as you wish. You have the Story, but you also have your intelligence and humanity. Use all the gifts you have been given.
‘Now, Jay, student of Henary, step forward. Pamarchon, son of Isenwar. Oh — and Aliena, student of Rambert. Let’s have you as well.’
That caused another stir; no one could understand why they had been called, but Jay stepped forward and, after a moment, Aliena also emerged from the crowd, looking alarmed, and took her place beside him.
‘Might as well take care of the star-crossed lovers first, eh? That’s a quotation, by the way. Rosalind will explain it to you. Now, Pamarchon. What can we say of you? Despite Scholar Gontal’s efforts in your defence, I do not find you guilty, tempted though I am to punish his tediousness. I consider innocence to be a considerable failing on your part. You witnessed the injustices of your uncle but didn’t do nearly enough to stop them. I suspect your rather ridiculous deference to your family name always got in the way. Do stop going on about your lineage. It’s tiresome. I do not mean you should have killed Thenald, but I provided everything you needed to challenge him and you didn’t use it. Only when you were forced into the forest did you start to consider anew. Better late than never, but unimpressive. I hope you have learned your lesson, because it seems I am giving you Rosalind here, as beautiful and remarkable a woman as has ever lived, with a lineage that goes back through all of time. She bears a name bestowed by the greatest man in history, a giant among giants. She is, in that sense, the daughter of the gods. I am not entirely convinced you deserve her, but she says she loves you, for reasons which rather escape me, so make sure you earn that love every day of your life that remains. Otherwise, you’ll be in very big trouble, young man. If you mistreat her in any way you will discover what the wrath of heaven really means.’