Chapter 398: Fists Come Before Law

Ever since the Church’s authority began its decline, the meaning of a sacred oath had faded, tainted by worldliness. Even so, the faithful still regarded it as a symbol of the solemn religious trial, as weighty as a noble’s honor.

Which was why Nikolaus flew into a rage at the accuser who confessed that every word of his own testimony had been false. Witchcraft charges or not, I’d wager his fury right now was aimed squarely at the men who had turned a sacred oath into a lie.

Whatever loyalty the gang had shared vanished without a trace.

The accusers, eyes bloodshot, turned on Dressel.

"Dressel made us do it! He planned the whole thing!"

"We only did what we were told!"

"Verflucht nochmal! Now you’re saying it’s my fault?!"

"You’re the one who held a grudge because that woman turned you down!"

In the end it degenerated into everyone shifting the blame onto everyone else, and the trial itself was shoved aside. It was not only the accusers; the audience was dragged in as well. As the courtroom descended into chaos, Andreas and I took a step back.

"Blasphemy! Blasphemy, I say!"

"You sons of bitches can all bathe together in purgatory!"

"Wiegen! Where is that damned bastard?"

"Defiling a trial with false testimony!"

Fists come before law, and curses before faith. The representatives were kicking at one another, and the audience waded in, not hesitating to land punches on any jaw within reach. Andreas made the sign of the cross.

"Oh, Lord. Is this truly a sacred trial?"

"It must pain you, Father, but to be honest, this is a familiar sight to me."

"I suppose it would be, for a lord who has lived his life from one battlefield to the next. But look at those young monks."

"Hmm, to my eye, they look desperate to join in."

The young monks, exhausted and bored stiff after their sleepless night, were watching the brawl with great relish. They kept glancing warily at the chief monk, but they seemed to be placing bets among themselves on the sly.

"This madhouse is the true state of a Church that has fallen to the ground."

"Don’t blame yourself too harshly, Father. With men like you in it, the day will come when the Church reflects and reforms."

"If I could see that day in my lifetime, I would want for nothing. But it is impossible."

He saw reality with cold clarity. In any case, Norman and I had achieved our goal. The trial itself was in shambles, and the focus had shifted sharply away from the witchcraft charges toward the judgment of the accusers who had given false testimony.

"Guards, what are you standing around for? Restore order at once."

At my signal, Oscar and Ted led the guards into the brawl and put an end to it. Anyone still throwing punches took a gunstock or a sword hilt to the body and went down flat.

Thanks to the swift armed suppression, the wrecked courtroom was more or less brought back to order. More and more people were nursing dark bruises or dabbing on the ointment the monks handed out. An awkward quiet settled over the room.

Watching the scene, Andreas recited a verse of scripture.

"A false witness shall not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies shall perish. Judge, those men have blasphemed against the Church and stained a sacred oath with falsehood. Will you render your verdict?"

"In accordance with Church law, I hereby declare the defendant accused of witchcraft innocent."

Nikolaus pronounced her innocent without resistance.

The Boeven settlers rejoiced, praising it as a splendid verdict.

It seemed Nikolaus found the men who had defiled a sacred oath even harder to forgive than any witch, for he glared at them murderously, grinding his teeth. Dressel and the accusers sank into despair.

Erika, her strength apparently giving out from sheer relief, crumpled to the floor, and it was her beloved who caught her and held her up. And Norman, who had stood calmly through all the bedlam, seemed to smile for the very first time.

"Those men, who stained a sacred oath with lies as if in mockery, are the true disciples of Satan, the true heretics. To purify their pitiful souls, defiled by Satan, I hereby sentence them to burn at the stake."

The shocking sentence froze the courtroom solid. Burning at the stake was a punishment almost unheard of within the Duchy of Beren, so its weight was immense. Andreas and Francisco quietly crossed themselves.

At the sentence of burning, Dressel’s gang went berserk.

"Fick dich! I am no disciple of Satan!"

"Aaaargh! This is unjust! This is all your fault!"

"Drecksfink! I’ll curse you! I’ll curse every last one of you!"

Nikolaus’s eyes were so bloodshot that he hardly seemed sane, and he trembled violently, as if possessed by something fanatical. It was a madness that frightened even the chief monk.

Bang!

"God wills that every one of you burn!"

"Burn the false disciples of Satan! Burn them!"

"Burn them! Burn them!"

The audience, infected by the madness, took up the chant. This is exactly how witch hunts come to run rampant. While the people of Boeven and Feuzen looked on in bewilderment, the out-of-towners screamed for the burning and looked ready to storm the floor at any moment.

As the guards holding them back began to panic, I stepped forward.

I drew a breath up from my core, from the depths of my soul, and let it erupt like a jet of flame.

"ENOUGH!"

"...?!"

The voice I had forged on battlefields bellowing attack orders rang out thunderously, like a lion’s roar. The people who had been mindlessly pummeling one another froze as one, as if by magic, and every eye fixed on me.

Some were so startled that they got the hiccups.

The madness evaporated in an instant. There isn’t a single moment when I can let my guard down, I swear.

"Through this sacred trial, we were able to save a poor soul wrongfully accused of witchcraft. As the secular lord of this land, I offer my heartfelt thanks to the three men who presided over it."

"It was your lordship’s generous rule, fair and wise in all things, that saved that pitiful soul."

Andreas, the first to recover his wits, promptly turned the credit back on me. The chief monk likewise humbly passed the credit around, easing the atmosphere. Only Nikolaus looked sour about it all.

Andreas set about persuading him in earnest.

"Judge, those slanderers blasphemed against a sacred oath, but in the end, was it not their fear of the Lord’s punishment that made them confess? All of this is thanks to the zeal with which you presided."

"Ahem. The Lord commanded that those who consort with Satan must not be forgiven. I merely followed that teaching faithfully. It seems I grew so angry that I lost my reason without realizing it."

Nikolaus finally relented and took a step back.

His disposition literally reads fanatic (neutral), so I’d assumed he was a hopeless zealot, but the mere fact that he knows when to retreat makes him quite a cunning man of the cloth. Clergy like him are the trickiest kind to deal with.

This time it was Chief Monk Francisco who spoke.

But what he said was nothing like what I had expected.

"It is true that those slanderers blasphemed against the Church. Regrettably, however, blasphemy alone is not sufficient grounds for a charge of heresy. Why not hand them over to a secular trial to be punished instead?"

"They committed blasphemy, and you propose handing them to a secular court?"

"As you well know, judge, the standards of punishment for blasphemy under Church law are ambiguous. Unless they are heretics, we have no authority to punish them directly."

Blasphemy was an act the faithful condemned, but the punishment for it was, surprisingly, not all that severe. It was treated as taboo mainly because of the belief that a blasphemer could never enter heaven.

In that sense, since these men’s crimes went no further than blasphemy, the Church could not punish them harshly, and so Francisco was arguing that they should simply be handed over to me, the lord of the land.

Nikolaus knew that loophole in Church law as well, and he looked deeply conflicted. The aspiring inquisitor who had burned with witch-hunting fervor was no longer in that room. He had been finished from the moment the false testimony came to light.

At any rate, if the right of punishment passes to me? Then of course I’ll execute every last one of them. Daring to make light of me and tear Feuzen apart is a crime I can never overlook.

"...Let me ask just one thing. Is this the bishop’s will?"

"His Excellency does not wish to see Rosenheim thrown into turmoil by the papacy."

"Hmph. Hardly words befitting a devout man of the faith."

"You will be departing for Tyrol soon, Father, so it should hardly concern you."

The two churchmen looked daggers at each other.

Well, now I know that the Bishopric of Lanseh and Nikolaus are on terrible terms.