The Justices laughed; so did the audience. Benito tried not to squirm in his seat.
"He's a troublesome young blade," confessed the counsel. "And yet, to those of us who know him, he is utterly reliable. So reliable that Prince Manfred of Brittany chose to make him his personal messenger—and that Eneko Lopez, a churchman whose moral integrity is a byword, also trusted him to bring further vital information to the Hypatians, and thus, the Grand Metropolitan."
The chief Justice nodded. "You have made your point. Continue, signor."
Counsel turned to Benito. "We have now read the synopsis of your journey as transcribed by the Clerk, Michael Di Coulo. Benito Valdosta, you have had an opportunity to hear it. Is this a faithful and accurate account of your travels and your efforts to bring word to Venice?"
Benito nodded. "Pretty much."
"You do not mention your dealings with the Hypatian church in Messina, other than to say you overnighted there."
Benito shrugged. "I accidentally recovered their property and returned it to them. It didn't seem to have much bearing on either Corfu or Venice."
Rather dramatically, the counsel brandished a sheet of paper. "Nonetheless I have here a letter from the Patriarch, thanking you for your efforts for the Church, and stating that the Church would be glad to provide witnesses proving you were of great service to them." He paused. "Your Honors, we have here a young man who has served the Republic well, and the Church also. His banishment was for acts not of treason, but simply youthful folly. The banishment was due to be considered by the Senate on this very day. It seems likely that it will be rescinded, in any event. This case, with respect, must be considered on its merits. I appeal to you to consider any transgression in the light of the service performed."
The chief Justice steepled his fingers. "Does the prisoner have anything to add to this?"
Benito shook his head. "Except to say that if there had been anyone available who could have done what I did, or have done it better, they'd have been sent. We didn't have much time to make up our minds before the cannon were emplaced. And it is my intention to return to Corfu as soon as I can. I may not be able to get back into the Citadel, but I can join the irregular forces who are harrying King Emeric's rear. I've only stayed on here to show my respect for the law of the Republic and for the Doge. I came to give warning. I'll leave as soon as I am permitted to go. Unless there is need to warn or need to stand by the Republic I won't be back."
He allowed a trace of hurt to enter his voice. "I know when my presence is unwelcome. But the Valdosta honor their responsibilities, their promises, and their debts. We owe a great deal to Doge Dorma and to Venice."
The chief Justice scratched his chin. "Benito Valdosta, it is not that this court is unaware that the Republic owes the Casa Valdosta and you in particular a debt of honor, or that we do not understand why you undertook this mission. It is not even that Venice does not want you back, despite the fact that, as your eloquent defender put it, you're a troublesome young blade. The problem that this court faces is that despite the best of intentions your actions breached the law. And Venetian law is not arbitrary. It applies to everyone, regardless. What we wish to see is how we can combine Venetian law with Venetian justice. The court can grant clemency for your breaking of your banishment, under the circumstances. What is difficult is your conduct within the court. We cannot allow anyone to assault a Justice within his own court and get away with it."
Admiral Dourso rose to his feet. "Your Honor, may I offer the court a piece of information. The Justice to whom you refer is not on the bench today. The reason for his absence is that he is in fact in custody of the Signori di Notte, charged with treason and conspiring to aid an enemy of the Republic."
The Schiopettieri had to sound their rattles to restore order.
"Nevertheless . . . Yes, what is it, Signor Di Coulo?"
The little clerk who had written out Benito's story had advanced to address the Justices. "Your Honors. To prosecute Benito Valdosta for threatening Justice Capuletti you will need witnesses. I have to tell Your Honors, there are none. I will however testify that Justice Capuletti gave me this black eye when he assaulted me on that day. Schiopettieri de Felts will also testify that he inflicted an injury on the Justice, who appeared to be in a violent and disturbed state. The Justice was plainly not in his right mind that day, your Honors."
The chief Justice looked severely at the little clerk. "As a clerk of this court, you must be aware that you and these others are thwarting the law."
The little man didn't quaver. "We are aiding justice, Your Honors."
At this point a messenger entered the courtroom with a note, which he took to the chief Justice. The latter peered at it. "Ah. It appears that the first charge of breaking your banishment no longer stands. The Senate has decided to lift your banishment, and override the court for what is described as reasons of state." There was disapproval written on every line of the chief Justice's face. "And they have made this retroactive from the sixth of June of this year. So this charge is thereby struck from the roll. And as it appears we have no witnesses for—"
Benito stood up. "Your Honor. I appreciate the gesture of Senate. I also appreciate the fact that the people of Venice have shown their love for the Casa Valdosta in their testimony . . . or lack thereof. But I cannot accept it. The truth is—I did return when I was banished. I must admit that I didn't even give it a thought. My period of exile is both fair and right. I came to give warning because that was more important. I'll leave as soon as I can. I transgressed the letter of the law. If you like you can put me in prison, or, as is common in times of war, put me into the military. I'm volunteering anyway. My name is already on the list on the pillar of the Winged Lion of Saint Mark. Why not put me into a military encampment—like the Arsenal—until I leave for Corfu, and my banishment can continue? As for Justice Capuletti, I admit I did threaten him with a naked blade in his own courtroom. If need be I'd have cut his throat for the people of Corfu's sake. You need no witnesses. I admit guilt. Now the Court can decide what it is going to do about it."
In the silence that followed, only one person spoke. Lodovico Montescue. "Valdosta honor!" he said, almost shouting.
Then, with satisfaction and pride: "Now, Justices of Venice, the Valdosta have challenged your honor. What is more important? The spirit of justice and the honor of the Republic for a loyal son—or the dry letter of the law?"
The Justices looked to the chief Justice. He sat with his fingers steepled looking at Benito.
One of the younger Justices suddenly spoke. "I would like to recuse myself. I cannot give impartial judgment."
The other young one—young being a relative term, thought Benito, the fellow must be about sixty—cleared his throat. "I, too, am going to recuse myself."
The chief Justice looked more than a little taken aback. "Spinosa! You cannot just abandon the law when it suits you."
"We who administer the law tend to begin to think it sacred," Justice Spinosa said, stoutly. "It isn't. Justice is. And we forget that the law we administer is by grace of the Republic, and the Republic stands by the vox populi. Anyone who believes the law can stand without the people and without justice, is deceiving themselves."