Thomas Tryon - The Night of the Moonbow

“I am not!” shouted Leo, straining at his bonds, wishing he could free his hands. Tiger’s knife still sat on his hip; they hadn’t noticed it. If he could reach far enough, catch the hilt with his fingers, maybe… He worked the cords to stretch and loosen them.

“Aw, someone shut him up!” called one.

“Yeah, quit grousin’.”

“Snuff it, Wacko, or we’ll do it for you.”

The fox shook his rattle vigorously, commanding attention. “The prisoner has not been given leave to speak! He is therefore instructed to remain silent until the court advises him otherwise.” He addressed the prosecutor again. “Tell the court, what lies has the prisoner told?”

The bear was inclined toward obsequiousness. “If it please the court, not just one lie, but many. Many lies. And many are those who have heard him speak such lies.” “Make your accusations.”

The bear nodded gravely. The others shifted among their ranks; audible whispers of anticipation ran around the circle; the bear went on. “To begin with, he has made it known to everyone at camp that his father is dead.”

“And is this a misrepresentation of the facts?”

“Yes, Your Honor. His father’s as alive as anyone in this room.” At this disclosure exclamations of surprise erupted; heads bobbed and jockeyed for a better look at the accused. The blood had drained from Leo’s face and he could feel his body trembling.

In the “prosecutor’s” hand was a manila folder with a white tab. “It is the prisoner’s private file,” the bear went on, “loaned to us for these proceedings by Ma Starbuck.” Leo strained forward against the thongs. “I don’t believe you – Ma never would have! Somebody stole it!” “Silence!”

With grimy paws the bear opened the file. “Your Honor, I wish at this point to introduce as evidence the following documents.” He shuffled through and extracted certain items, which he identified in the same solemn tone:

“First, the standard registration forms of Camp Friend-Indeed. Second, copies of the records of the Pitt Institute for Boys, stating the truth beyond any shadow of a doubt. Third, a handwritten letter from one Miss – Miss” – he riffled his way to the end of the letter for the name – “Miss Elsie Meekum, a member of the orphanage staff. Will the court please allow these documents to be noted and entered as ‘Exhibits A, B, and C for the prosecution’?”

The fox looked the documents over with burlesque judiciousness. Leo watched mutely. He knew Ma: she would never have willingly surrendered her file, to anyone. But what did that matter? Now everyone in camp would know the truth about the butcher’s boy.

“Where is his father, then?”

The prosecutor turned to the prisoner for an answer. “Where is your father,” he demanded. “Speak!”

“He’s dead,” he said.

The prosecutor snorted and raised a scornful voice so all could hear. “Do you hear, men? He lies even to this court.”

Leo lifted his own voice to be heard over the other’s. “He is dead. He’s talking about my stepfather.”

“Listen, all of you,” came the bear’s voice, projecting so the sound carried among the trees. “He’s not dead, this father. His name is Rudy Matuchek, and he has drawn the sentence of twenty years imprisonment.”

At this news the band of watchers put their heads together and again jabbered among themselves.

Once more the judge raised a hand for silence and addressed the prosecutor.

“We are interested in your words. For what crime is this man in prison?”

“For the crime of murder!”

Murder! The word swept through the ranks. “It is a fact,” the prosecutor continued. “Here is the proof, in my hand.” Again he waved the documents. “Now ask me, for whose murder?”

“Yes, whose?” they demanded in unison, jostling one another in their eagerness to see and hear. Again the “judge” was forced to call for order.

“For the murder of his wife!” came the reply. “And his wife’s boyfriend.” Another eruption greeted this sensational revelation. The bear eagerly pressed his point. “Hear me, men. It’s all here in the file, every word.” He held up the folder.

The alligator had a further word to add. “His mother was a slut. She was having an affair with this other guy-” He would have gone on, but was silenced by the bear, who with obvious relish provided the details.

“The father was a butcher and he took his butcher knife and stabbed them both to death. He was convicted and sent to prison. That’s why the prisoner was sent to the orphanage. And before that he was in the nuthouse – the loony bin. It’s all here, anyone can read it!” He brandished the papers over his head while the commotion grew louder. Leo strained harder to free himself, his eyes wildly staring at his accuser, who just shook his head at him. “You see how it is – you think you can go around telling these lies-” “They’re not lies!” Leo shouted defiantly. “They’re not!”

“Are they the truth, then?”

“Not exactly, but-”

“Well, there you are! You’re a liar; and furthermore… ” the bear went on, ignoring Leo’s denial and taking up a position close to the fox. “Furthermore… I stand here before this tribunal to accuse the prisoner of being responsible for the death of Tiger Abernathy.” He raised his voice so it echoed off the cellar walls. “Like father, like son!”

Angry mutters ran about the circle. Leo stared at the bear-head. “That’s not true!”

“Silence!” the judge roared. “On what do you base this accusation?” he asked the prosecutor.

“It’s simple. The prisoner is a collector of spiders. One of these spiders was poisonous and it bit the deceased and gave him blood poisoning. If it weren’t for that, Tiger wouldn’t have died.”

Leo again protested. “The spider wasn’t poisonous and everybody knows it! Ten spiders like that one could have bit someone and they’d never have died. The bite became infected because-”

“Silence in the court! The prisoner has not been given leave to speak. Mr Prosecutor, you may continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” returned the prosecutor, bowing. He came closer to Leo. “So, prisoner, you will call others liar, will you? When it is you yourself who is the liar!”

“Everything I’ve said is true.”

“I don’t think so. In fact” – turning to the courtroom again – “I think we have already proved beyond doubt that if there is any lying being done here, the prisoner is the one doing it. And his hands are stained with the blood of Tiger Abernathy, who except for him would be standing here at this very moment.”

“He wouldn't! He’d never be here! Let me go!” Again Leo strained against his bonds. This was more than a game, this was diabolical. He thought of Stanley Wagner. “You have no right!”

“Shut up!”

“Silence him.”

“Give him a poke to shut his mouth.”

“Silence! Silence, I said!” shouted the judge. “Enough of this. If there are any more outbursts I’ll order the prisoner gagged. We won’t waste any more time. We’ll have the verdict. And the sentence-!”

“ ’Ray! ’Ray!” the boys shouted. “Time for sentencing.” “Jury! What is your verdict?” came the call. As one they spat the word out in his face.

Guilty.

Guilty!

GUILTY!

The cellar rang with shouts and cries, while Leo stared in disbelief and mounting alarm. No use for him to struggle more. But the end – where was that? And when it came, what would it be?

The fox again stepped forward and raised his arms for silence. In the sudden hush he spoke to the prisoner: “You have been found guilty of the worst kind of crime

– the crime of breaking faith. Everybody knows it was your spider that killed Tiger. It won’t do you any good to go on lying about it. A liar is what you are and you will be punished accordingly.”