January 10, 2012

• Té Teperedcé Kroné: The Debtor King, Part V

  

              On the third day, which was the sixth of the week, King Médash summoned the princesses all to the Throne Room where it was his custom to sit in judgment over cases of injustice among his people. When it was that the women entered the room they beheld his grand, golden throne all carved in the manner of a great hand, upon the palm of which sat the king. The tip of the middle finger, which rose above the others, bore upon it a crescent moon which symbolized wisdom, and in the king’s hand he bore two large, golden keys that symbolized his power to imprison and set free, to loose and to bind. Already he was hearing a case and the women marveled at his wisdom and attentiveness that he showed to his subjects. When came time to pass judgment he held the keys out before him in his fist and declared it openly in a mighty voice, and no one questioned or doubted.

              While the people went off to see that the king’s judgment was carried out he descended from his throne and came to the women, saying, “God’s blessings to you each this morning, and may His wisdom tend to you! It is my desire to have each of you sit in judgment over my people, to see if you have the discerning heart of a ruler. You will bear hence these keys and thus bear too for a time my office, and whatever you declare from that seat shall be law, binding those you chose to bind and setting free those you free. Know that you are not the law itself, but rather its servant; you give voice to the silent law God has written in our hearts. Now, who first will judge?”

              Edhsél it was that took into her hands the golden keys and sat upon the throne. Her posture was regal and her visage indomitable; those who beheld her felt already condemned merely for being a lesser being. Thus was the next case brought forward, the sight of all falling upon a man who was in his middle years, with seeming more to come. Upon a stone seat did he sit, and soon after he had done so the guards brought in another man, young and all shackled in chains. He wore the simple gray tunic of a prisoner and his hair was shaggy like that of the northern cattle, his skin pale and wan. The older man, seeing an unfamiliar face upon the throne, cried out saying, “I have waited long to hear the king’s judgment; who is this that sits upon the Golden Hand?”

              Médash, sitting off to the side with the other four princess’s, stood and spoke in a booming voice, “Your king shall witness all that occurs here, yet it is his will that this highborn lady sit in judgment for this case, that he may see if she is fit to do so in the future. Let it be known that she bears the keys of office and she speaks in my stead; what is her ruling is mine also.”

              Thus did the man speak aloud, pleading his case, “Highborn Lady, who sits in judgment, may God grant you wisdom to see the truth. I was called by my parents Huendlucérn at my birth, and it is by this name I am known as a merchant here within the mountain; I sell fine woods with which craftsmen make their goods and I sell too more plain woods for burning. Twenty-three days ago it was that I was in the marketplace having discourse with a friend when I felt someone walk into me. Upon turning to pardon them I saw but a bustling crowd and thought nothing more, but when I moved to pay my friend a coin in thanks for a favor done me I found my purse missing. For six days I was without it and it was a great soreness to me. Then upon the sixth day a guard informed me that a young man had been caught trying to purchase goods using my purse, and thus was it returned to me and the young man to my left imprisoned.”

              Edhsél remained quiet a moment before asking of the man, “How was it known that it was your purse? Though I am a foreigner here I must say that in my country, there are many coinpurses that are alike in appearance.”

              “Highborn Lady, I am happy to share with you the wisdom and foresight of our king. You see each true citizen of this mountain is given a special coin, called a signet, and upon this coin appears the name of the citizen and the seal of their household. That coin, though it is solid gold forsooth, has no monetary value, but should it be found upon the person of one other than the proper owner, it and all goods it was discovered with are considered stolen. Thus is it my custom and the custom of many to keep within my purse this special coin in the hope that should the purse go missing or, as in this case is stolen, a watchful and honest merchant might spy my coin and see to the purse’s return.”

              “I see,” said Edhsél with great approval, “This is a custom I must promote in my own country, for it is indeed wise. I wonder, however, and I mean no dishonor to your king, but is thievery common here under the mountain, that such a custom must be practiced?”

              The merchant looked at her as though he were the one dishonored and said, “Good Lady, it is as uncommon as the sight of a comet! In fact this is the only second case of theft I have known of in my lifetime, and I am nearly come two centuries of age.”

              Edhsél seemed to weigh these things in her mind for a time, and all the while she bore her eyes into the face of the thief. To her surprise he opposed her with his own gaze, and she was compelled to ask but one question of him, “Did you steal this man’s purse, boy?”

              “Yes, Lady.”

              “Then I have no further need of thought. Thief, you are found guilty of theft. You shall work off a debt equal to that of the purse’s worth plus six times, once for each day the owner was without it.” Stretching forth the hand within which she bore the keys she pronounced solemnly, “I have spoken.” The guards then took the thief away and the merchant bowed gracefully before departing. Médash, his heart heavy, came forward to the throne to speak alone with Edhsél.

              “My king,” she said, “Are you pleased with my judgment?”

              “Indeed, Lady Edhsél, you are a capable judge, but you are a harsh one.”

              She said nothing aloud, but her tense posture and incredulous visage spoke on her behalf.

              “Why did not you ask what it was that the thief was attempting to purchase? Would that not have had an effect upon your judgment?” the king asked of her, gazing toward the entrance to the court as the prisoner vanished through its yawning portals.

              “My Lord, no, it would not. I asked if the boy had stolen the purse and he admitted it before all. Thus was guilt established and thus was the crime punished.”

              Médash smiled as though recalling to mind a distant memory, and indeed he did so for Edhsél’s words brought to mind the kingship he exercised in his first days, “Indeed guilt was established, but justice was not done to its fullest measure. For you see, my lady, the boy was attempting to purchase bread; he stole the purse in order to feed himself, or perhaps others. Knowing this now, how would you have judged differently?”

              “It would have changed nothing; the lad took what was not his own.”

              “I agree, Lady; this has been clearly established. But would not it have been more just to simply let the merchant go with his gold and perhaps give from the royal kitchens the gold’s worth in bread to the boy? Thus would the theft be undone by the merchant having not only his gold and his case heard and the humiliation of the boy admitting theft, but too the boy would thieve not again for his needs, by the giving of bread, would be met. For under this mountain I would rather see every merchant penniless than a single boy go hungry. Now come, join me as we observe the next case. Who shall go?”

   

  • 9:03 pm
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