This is episode fifty-seven of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD.
The Hearing
Tom followed the constable. They entered the great hall. Murmuring rippled through the crowd. The peasants’ gallery remained quiet, yet they rustled nervously.
The constable pointed to a spot about ten feet in front of the dais. “Kneel, and stand at the order of the earl.”
Tom knelt with his head bowed and waited for the earl’s order. Murmuring broke out.
“Stand,” the earl said.
On each side of the earl, two guards dressed in red and black uniforms stood stolidly. They held lances stiff-armed to their side. The lances had metal tips. Below the tips hung the earl’s family coat of arms.
The earl slouched on his throne. He was a stout, blubbery man. He wore a purple velvet chaperon trimmed in gold and a red robe trimmed in gold. A green and yellow silk jacket and trousers fit tightly beneath the robe. He breathed heavily from fleshy, wide-spread nostrils. His beard was well-trimmed and glistened.
“You are the suitor, correct?” the earl said.
“Yes, my lord,” Tom said.
The earl looked to his left. He flicked his hand at the priest. “Let him swear.”
The priest in a brown hooded robe approached Tom. He held a cross close to Tom. “Place your right hand on this holy relic and swear by it.”
Tom placed his hand on the cross. “I swear by God Almighty that the testimony I am about to give is what I believe to be true, so help me God.” He removed his hand from the cross. And the priest stepped away.
The earl leaned forward and smirked. “State who you are, your rank, and from where you hail.”
“Your lordship, my name is Thomas Bales. I am a free man. I am not from Northumberland. I hail from a small village of no account, far south of here. I have recently served in the service of our king in Normandy as a courier. I have in my possession a passport with the king's seal to verify who I am.”
Tom reached inside his jacket and pulled out a rolled parchment. He held it out to the earl. “This is my passport for your inspection, my lordship.”
A long-faced man next to the earl stepped forward and grabbed the rolled parchment. He handed it to the earl. The earl unrolled it and read it. He handed it to the long-faced man. He examined it and returned it to Tom.
“A king’s passport,” the earl said. “Are you close to the king?”
“He knows me only by my service,” Tom said, “nothing else.”
“You may now proceed with your complaint,” the earl sneered.
“First of all, and most importantly, I wish to express how it is beyond any honor that I could ever imagine that I am here before you today. Your wisdom and sense of justice are renowned in all the land.”
“That pleased my ear,” the earl smiled. “Proceed.”
Tom smiled politely, and his face slowly converted to a more serious demeanor. “I do not take lightly what I am about to utter. Because it is before God and Your Lordship, a regal and just man, that I am about to speak. I believe the Nobleman, Drake Bouchard, with malice and murderous intent, goaded my kindred fellow, Geoffrey Bales, into a sword fight in this great hall. And I believe that Drake Bouchard deceived Your Lordship in pertinent facts. Drake Bouchard, to humiliate Geoffrey Bales and his wife Lattice, ravished Lattice, the wife of Geoffrey Bales. Geoffrey sought satisfaction for Bouchard’s dastardly deed in this court. Geoffrey, being ignorant of the proceedings and with no one available to give him counsel, brought the matter to this court. Unaware that such a charge to a noble can only be settled by the sword, he unwittingly came to this court expecting to be heard fairly. Bouchard is known as an expert swordsman—a master. Even a skilled swordsman could not compete with Bouchard. Bouchard’s actions were no less than murder. Bales, a farmer and peasant wool merchant, could never have prevailed. He was a mere lamb led to slaughter. As for the violation of Bales’ wife, Bales was hoping for the outcome that would force Bouchard to confess. All Geoffrey Bales had was hope. Bouchard had experience, skill, cunning, and a procurator’s knowledge of the law and courts. I rest, Your Lordship.”
“What satisfaction do you seek if judgment is rendered to your advantage?” The earl asked.
“If Bouchard does not confess his dastardly deeds,” Tom said. “I petition the court that we will settle the matter with swords.”
“Bouchard!” The earl called. “I have been informed you wish to bring charges and refute any claims lodged.”
“I do, Your Lordship.” Bouchard stepped from the gallery of the nobles.
“Speak freely without swearing,” the earl said. “A nobleman’s word is his sacrosanct.”
Bouchard confidently strolled a few feet to the side of Tom.
“Thank you, Your Lordship,” Bouchard said arrogantly, lifting his chin. “The man who just spoke before you, not more than two days ago, entered my property without permission. He was asked to leave and was only permitted to return if invited. At that time, he began to level a volley of insults directed at your noble servant. These vile words were before my servants and tenants. It is well established that no one in thought or voice should speak ill of nobility. It is a crime dealt with by the severest of punishments. He continued to bear false accusations against me concerning the woman, Lattice, wife of Thomas Bales.”
“Stop,” the earl held up his hand and turned to Tom. “Bales, is this all true, or do you wish to bring forth witnesses to refute what Bouchard claims?”
“Of all things Bouchard, in the past, has imagined and exaggerated, this testimony is true in every detail and word.”
“I see,” the earl said, “allow me to confer with my advisors before sentencing.”
“Your Lordship,” Bouchard interrupted.
“Yes, Bouchard,” the earl lifted his head in a gesture of attentiveness.
“This man came here for the purpose of settling this dispute by striking swords. If it pleases Your Lordship, I beg Your Lordship, he not be bothered with any further deliberation. Allow Bales and I to settle it in the fashion he has prescribed.”
The earl turned to his right and looked at his advisor. The advisor nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Swords it will be!” The earl called out as if celebrating. “Do my subjects find agreement with such an arrangement?”
The nobility applauded and nodded to one another approvingly. “Here, here,” they all shouted.
The peasants' gallery remained silent.
Lattice and Thomas confidently glanced at one another, yet anxiety paralyzed them.
“One last assurance,” the earl said. “Is this agreeable to both of you?”
Tom nodded solemnly.
Bouchard smirked at Tom and turned to the earl, smiling politely. “Your Lordship, this is most satisfactory.”
The earl chuckled. “I want more than satisfaction, I want to be entertained.”
“No man has ever insulted me as this man has,” Bouchard said. “It will stand as a warning for all the peasants from hence.”
“And when I prevail,” Tom said, “you will be known as long as your name is uttered as a villain, violenter compressit, leogere, murderer, hedge-born, churl.”
The royal spectators gasped. Tittering erupted among the peasants.
“Enough!” The earl said, and the great hall fell silent.
“Squire Wesley!” The earl called out.
“Yes, My Lordship,” a boy’s teenage voice replied.
“Fetch the dueling swords,” the earl said.
A squire bolted from among six younger squires standing around the throne. The patter of his steps smacked against the stone floor and echoed off the stone walls. He made his way through the nobles in the colonnade, and the echo followed him until a door opened and closed.
The noble subjects whispered and waited for the return of the squire with the dueling swords.
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