James Gardner - Three Hearings on the Existence of Snakes in the Human Bloodstream

His Holiness, Supreme Patriarch Septus XXIV, was an expert on chains.

By holy law, chains were required on every defendant brought to the Court Immaculate. However, my Lord the Jailer could exercise great latitude in choosing which chains went on which prisoners. A man possessed of a healthy fortune might buy his way into nothing more than a gold link necklace looped loosely around his throat; a beautiful woman might visit the Jailer privately in his chambers and emerge with thin and glittering silver bracelets—chains, yes, but as delicate as thread. If, on the other hand, the accused could offer neither riches nor position nor generous physical charms… well then, the prison had an ample supply of leg-irons, manacles, and other such fetters, designed to show these vermin the grim weight of God’s justice.

The man currently standing before Patriarch Septus occupied a seldom-seen middle ground in the quantity of restraints: two solid handcuffs joined by an iron chain of business-like gauge, strong enough that the prisoner had no chance of breaking free, but not so heavy as to strain the man’s shoulders to the point of pain. Clearly, my Lord the Jailer had decided on a cautious approach to this particular case; and Septus wondered what that meant. Perhaps the accused was nobody himself but had sufficient connections to rule out unwarranted indignities… a sculptor or musician, for example, who had won favor with a few great households in the city. The man certainly had an artistic look—fierce eyes in an impractical face, the sort of high-strung temperament who could express passion but not use it.

“Be it known to the court,” cried the First Attendant, “here stands one Anton Leeuwenhoek, a natural philosopher who is accused of heresy against God and Our Lady, the Unbetombed Virgin. Kneel, Supplicant, and pray with His Holiness, that this day shall see justice.”

Septus waited to see what Leeuwenhoek would do. When thieves and murderers came before the court, they dropped to their knees immediately, making a gaudy show of begging God to prove their innocence. A heretic, however, might spit defiance or hurl curses at the Patriarchal throne—not a good way to win mercy, but then, many heretics came to this chamber intent on their own martyrdom. Leeuwenhoek had the eyes of such a fanatic, but apparently not the convictions; without so much as a grimace, he got to his knees and bowed his head. The Patriarch quickly closed his own eyes and intoned the words he had recited five times previously this morning: “God grant me the wisdom to perceive the truth. Blessed Virgin, grant me the judgment to mete out justice. Let us all act this day to the greater glory of Thy Divine Union. Amen.”

Amens sounded around the chamber: attendants and advocates following the form. Septus glanced sideways toward Satan’s Watchboy, an ominous title for a cheerfully freckle-faced youth, the one person here excused from closing his eyes during the prayer. The Watchboy nodded twice, indicating that Leeuwenhoek had maintained a proper attitude of prayer and said Amen with everyone else. Good—this had just become a valid trial, and anything that happened from this point on had the strength of heavenly authority.

“My Lord Prosecutor,” Septus said, “state the charges.”

The prosecutor bowed as deeply as his well-rounded girth allowed, perspiration already beading on his powdered forehead. It was not a hot day, early spring, nothing more… but Prosecutor ben Jacob was a man famous for the quantity of his sweat, a trait that usually bothered his legal adversaries more than himself. Many an opposing counsel had been distracted by the copious flow streaming down ben Jacob’s face, thereby overlooking flaws in the prosecutor’s arguments. One could always find flaws in ben Jacob’s arguments, Septus knew—dear old Abraham was not overly clever. He was, however, honest, and could not conceive of winning personal advancement at the expense of those he prosecuted; therefore, the Patriarch had never dismissed the man from his position.

“Your Holiness,” ben Jacob said, “this case concerns claims against the Doctrine of the, uhh… Sleeping Snake.”

“Ah.” Septus glanced over at Leeuwenhoek. “My son, do you truly deny God’s doctrine?”

The man shrugged. “I have disproved the doctrine. Therefore, it can hardly be God’s.”

Several attendants gasped loudly. They perceived it as part of their job to show horror at every sacrilege. The same attendants tended to whisper and make jokes during the descriptions of true horrors: murders, rapes, maimings. “The spectators will remain silent,” Septus said wearily. He had recited those words five times this morning too. “My Lord Prosecutor, will you please read the text?”

“Ummm… the text, yes, the text.”

Septus maintained his composure while ben Jacob shuffled through papers and parchments looking for what he needed. It was, of course, standard procedure to read any passages of scripture that a heretic denied, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. It was also standard procedure for ben Jacob to misplace his copy of the relevant text in a pile of other documents. With any other prosecutor, this might have been some kind of strategy; with ben Jacob, it was simply disorganization.

“Here we are, yes, here we are,” he said at last, producing a dog-eared page with a smear of grease clearly visible along one edge. “Gospel of Susannah, chapter twenty-three, first verse.” Ben Jacob paused while the two Verification Attendants found the passage in their own scripture books. They would follow silently as he read the text aloud, ready to catch any slips of the tongue that deviated from the holy word. When the attendants were ready, ben Jacob cleared his throat and read:

After the procession ended, they withdrew to a garden outside the walls of Jerusalem. And in the evening, it happened that Matthias beheld a serpent there, hidden by weeds. He therefore took up a stone that he might crush the beast; but Mary stayed his hand, saying, “There is no danger, for look, the beast sleeps.”

“Teacher,” Matthias answered, “it will not sleep forever.”

“Verily,” said Mary, “I promise it will sleep till dawn; and when the dawn comes, we will leave this place and all the serpents that it holds.”

Yet still, Matthias kept hold of the stone and gazed upon the serpent with fear.

“O ye of little faith,” said Mary to Matthias, “why do you concern yourself with the sleeping creature before you, when you are blind to the serpents in your own heart? For I tell you, each drop of your blood courses with a legion of serpents, and so it is for every Child of Dust. You are all poisoned with black venoms, poisoned unto death. But if you believe in me, I will sing those serpents to sleep; then will they slumber in peace until you leave this flesh behind, entering into the dawn of God’s new day.”

Ben Jacob lowered his page and looked to the Verifiers for confirmation. The Patriarch turned in their direction too, but he didn’t need their nods to tell him the scripture had been read correctly. Septus knew the passage by heart; it was one of the fundamental texts of Mother Church, the Virgin’s promise of salvation. It was also one of the most popular texts for heretics to challenge. The presumption of original sin, of damnation being inherent in human flesh… that was anathema to many a fiery young soul. What kind of God, they asked, would damn an infant to hell merely for being born? It was a good question, its answer still the subject of much subtle debate; but the Virgin’s words were unequivocal, whether or not theologians had reasoned out all the implications.