‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I mean did you believe in what he said, in his public statements, in his theological doctrines? In his work?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was his work? His great work?’
‘I don’t know . . . nobody except Mardo knew.’
‘Yet you believed in it?’
‘I believed that Mardo was inspired.’
‘Inspired . . . I see. Then you accepted his precepts as being the code by which you lived.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it would be illuminating to examine some of those precepts, might it not?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh, I think it would.’ Korrogly turned a page. ‘Ah, here we are.’ He read from his notes. ‘“Do what thou wilt, that is all the law.” Did you believe that?’
‘I . . . yes, I did.’
‘Hmmm. And this, did you believe this? “If blood is needed for the great work, blood will be provided.”’
‘I don’t . . . I never knew what he meant by that.’
‘Really? But you accepted it, did you not, as part of his inspired doctrine?’
‘I suppose.’
‘And this? “No crime, no sin, no breach of the rules of what is considered ordinary human conduct, shall be considered such so long as it serves the great work.”’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And I assume that included under the label of sin would be the sin of lying?’
Her stare was hard and bright.
‘Do you understand the question?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well?’
‘Yes, I suppose. But . . .’
‘And included under the label of crime would be the crime of perjury?’
‘Yes, but I no longer hold to those beliefs.’
‘Don’t you? You’ve been heard recently to characterize Mardo Zemaille as a paragon.’
Her mouth thinned. ‘Things have changed.’
Korrogly knew he was invading dangerous territory, that she might make specific reference to the changes he had brought to her life; but he thought he could make his point and clear out before damage was done.
‘I submit that things have not changed, Miss Lemos. I submit that the great work, whatever its nature, will go on under your aegis. I submit that all the miscreant rules attaching to that work still hold, and that you would tell any lie, commit any . . .’
‘You bastard!’ she cried. ‘I’ll . . .’
The courtroom was filled with babble, Mervale was objecting, Wymer pounding his gavel.
‘And commit any crime,’ Korrogly went on, ‘in order to assure its continuance. I submit that the great work is your sole concern, and the truth is the farthest thing from your mind.’
‘You can’t do this!’ she shrilled. ‘You can’t come to my . . .’
Judge Wymer’s bellow drowned her out.
‘No further questions,’ said Korrogly, watching with mixed emotions as the bailiffs led her, still shouting, from the courtroom.
Shortly after beginning the examination of the first witness for the defense, the historian and biologist Catherine Ocoi, a striking blond woman in her late thirties, Korrogly was summoned to the bench for a whispered conversation with Judge Wymer. The judge leaned over the bench, pointing at the various displays that Catherine had brought with her, indicating with particular emphasis the huge painting of the mountainous dragon set beside the defense table.
‘I warned you not to turn this into a circus,’ he said.
‘I scarcely think that displaying Griaule’s image . . .’
‘Your opening statement was a masterpiece of intimidation,’ said Wymer. ‘I didn’t censure you for it, but from now on I will not allow you to intimidate the jury. I want that painting removed.’
Korrogly started to object, but then saw virtue in having it done; that it was deemed important enough to be removed only gave added weight to his thesis.
‘As you wish,’ he said.
‘Be careful, Mister Korrogly,’ Wymer said. ‘Be very careful.’
As the painting was carried out, the jury’s eyes followed it, and once the painting was out of sight, they expressed a visible degree of relief. That relief, Korrogly thought, might be more valuable than the oppressive presence of the painting; he would be able to play them, to remind them of Griaule, to let them swing between relief and anxiety, and so exercise all the more control.
He led Catherine Ocoi through her testimony, the story of how she had been manipulated by Griaule to live inside the dragon for ten years, the sole purpose being for her to oversee a single event of Griaule’s internal economy; then he let her testify as to the marvels to be found within the dragon, the drugs she had distilled from his various secretions, the strange and in some instances miraculous parasites and plants that flourished there. She had no knowledge of The Father of Stones, but the wonders to which she was able to testify left little doubt in the jury’s mind that the stone could have been produced by Griaule. Her exhibits – every one of them taken from the interior of the dragon – included a glass case filled with spiders in whose webs could be seen all manner of fantastic imagery; cuttings of a most unusual plant that was capable of creating replicas of the animals who fell asleep in its coils; and most pertinently, nodes of an amber material, very like a mineral form, which she claimed was produced by the petrification of Griaule’s stomach acid.
‘I have no doubt,’ she said, ‘that Griaule could have produced this.’ She held up The Father of Stones. ‘And touching it now, I know it is of Griaule. I had ten years to become intimately familiar with the feeling that attaches to his every element, and this stone is his.’
There was little Mervale could do to weaken her testimony: Catherine Ocoi’s reputation was above reproach, her story and discoveries celebrated throughout the region. However, with the witnesses that followed, philosophers and priests, all of whom presented opinions concerning on Griaule’s capacity for manipulation, Mervale was not so gentle; he railed and ranted, accusing the witnesses of wild speculation and Korrogly of debasing the legal process.
‘This does seem to be degenerating into something of a metaphysical debate,’ said Wymer after calling the attorneys for consultation at the bench.
‘Metaphysical?’ said Korrogly. ‘Perhaps, but no more so than the debate that underlies any fundamental point of law. Our laws are founded upon a moral code which comes down to us through the tenets of religious faith. Is that not metaphysics? Metaphysics are rendered into law based upon a consensus moral view, the view nourished by religion and commonly held in our society as to what is right and appropriate as regards the limitations that should be placed upon men in their behavior. What I’m establishing first and foremost is that there is a consensus regarding the fact of Griaule’s influence. I could go out into the street and not find a single person who doesn’t believe to some degree or another in Griaule. That kind of unanimity can’t even be found as relates to a belief in God.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ said Mervale.
‘Secondly,’ Korrogly continued, ‘I’m establishing through expert testimony the consensus regarding the extent of Griaule’s influence, the range and limitations of his will. This is simple foundation. Essential to any decision regarding the validity not only of my client’s claim to innocence, but also to the validity of the precedent. If you disallow it, you disallow the plea. And since you have already allowed the plea, you’ll have to allow foundation to support it.’
Wymer appeared to be absorbing all this; he glanced inquiringly at Mervale, who sighed.