Stephen Lawhead - Taliesin

Avallach looked up and smiled. “No, I suppose not. And anyway, who can say the new age will not be better?”

While they talked, the deep, resonant peal of an enormous Bell tolled through the open window. Avallach and Seithenin pushed themselves from the table and moved toward the door. “The convocation begins. I had hoped to have a day or two to talk with some of the others before meeting in council,” remarked Avallach.

“The matters before us are not pressing. There may still be time later. The important thing is to discover what Nestor has been up to.”

Avallach stopped. “Despite my words to Belyn, I fear in my heart that he is right.”

“Come,” said Seithenin, “put those thoughts from you. We will need all our wiles to outwit Nestor.”

They walked out into a wide corridor and continued toward the sound of the Bell until they reached a large vestibule. In the center of the vestibule was a tree of wrought gold on whose branches were hung cloaks of royal purple. A few kings were already gathered around the tree as a Mage with a gold hook on the end of an ebony pole reached up among the branches and gently lifted down the cloaks.

Another Mage then placed the purple cloak on the shoulders of a king, who tied the bands at the throat and moved off. Avallach and Seithenin took their places at the tree and received their cloaks. Each cloak was silk, richly embroidered-the right side in gleaming gold sun signs, the left in silver moon disks. The hem was worked in orichalcum thread as was the collar and bands which secured the cloak.

After donning the cloak, each king made his way to the rotunda beyond: a great circular hall filled floor to ceiling with niches. Nestled in each was the bust of a king, carved in marble by a master sculptor. The presence of these images gave the room the appearance of being thronged with a silent yet ever watchful audience.

The kings entered the room by way of an arched doorway and proceeded to their chairs, which were set in a great circle around the room. Each chair was carved from a single piece of ironwood which had been enameled with the colors of the kingdom it represented; over each stood a sun disk whose rays formed the back of the chair. Behind the ring of chairs were stepped ledges where attendants and onlookers could gather to watch the proceedings.

Avallach took his place and watched as the others were seated. He saw that the chair directly opposite him remained empty: Nestor’s. Avallach glanced at Seithenin and indicated the empty place. Seithenin nodded thoughtfully.

Once the kings had been seated, doors in the side of the rotunda were opened and the audience took its place. A gong sounded in the outer vestibule and everyone rose as the High King entered, carrying a staff in his right hand and an orb in his left. The staff was of myrtlewood and had a gold sun disk at its head; the orb was a sphere of pale moonstone.

All those gathered in the council chamber bowed and raised their hands in the sign of the sun. Stewards brought forth a tripod and stand; the orb was placed on the tripod and the staif was set in the stand. The High King was seated and a footstool placed under his feet. “Let the first convocation of the Great Council begin.”

The kings and the audience sat down and Ceremon said, “We are here to deliver justice to our people. May Bel in his wisdom guide our thoughts. Let the Keeper of the Record call the first case.”

A serious-looking man in white approached with a scroll in his hand. “Let Jamalc of Azilia come forward and present his grievance,” he called, his voice ringing from the dome of the ceiling.

From an upper ledge behind the ring of kings came a man dressed in the garb of an ordinary laborer. He came to stand before the Keeper of the Record, who demanded, “Do you know the penalty for speaking falsely before this assembly?”

Jamalc wrung his hands and bobbed his head.

“Very well,” said the Keeper, withdrawing, leaving the man alone in the center of the circle. “Relate the truth of your grievance in as few words as possible.”

“My name is Jamalc,” said the man timidly. “I come from Lassipos where I am a tanner and dyer with my brother.’ He raised his hands to show rich brown-stained palms sis verification of his occupation. “Ten months ago I purchased the shop and stall next to my own in the market square. It was owned by a man who died, and I bought it from his widow. I moved my goods into the stall at once.

“The next day but one a man came and confiscated my goods, saying that he owned the stall. He showed me a paper with the seal of the man who died. He told me that he had bought the building before the man died.”

Jamalc’s voice climbed as he warmed to his story. “But I knew my neighbor, and I know he had never sold his stall. When I went to my neighbor’s widow, she would not see me. So, I sent my brother to see her, but when he arrived she was gone and could not be found. We Believe she has left the city.”

The tanner spread his hands helplessly. “The man who says he owns the stall has taken all my goods, claiming they are his by virtue of the fact that he owns the shop and everything in it. I have lost my goods and the money I paid for the stall and shop. I come before you to seek your judgment and ask that justice be done.”

King Itazais of Azilia was the first to question the man. “Where is the man you accuse of this deed?”

“I have not seen him again.”

“What of the stall and shop?”

“He has let it to a spice merchant.”

Musaeus of Mykenea was next to speak. ‘ ‘Is the man you accuse of taking your shop here today?”

Jamalc gazed around the circle. “I do not see him.”

‘ ‘Did you not receive any papers from the widow of the man who owned the stall?” asked Ceremon.

“I was to receive them, Sire,” explained Jamalc, “but they were never delivered to me. And afterward I could not find the widow to ask for them.”

“How much did you pay for the shop and stall?” asked Itazais.

“Six thousand kronari in silver.”

“That is a great deal of money to pay for a market stall, is it not?”

“It is a good stall, Sire, with an excellent shop. It is on the corner of the square near the entrance where everyone must pass.”

“I see,” replied his king. “What judgment do you recommend? “

“I ask only for the return of my goods and papers of ownership to the shop and stall.”

“Are there other questions?” asked the High King. No one ventured any further questions, so Ceremon said, “Then how do we judge?”

One by one the kings rendered their judgment, saying, “We find for the tanner.”

When the judgment had been rendered, Ceremon said, “Itazais, will you see that the will of the council is carried out and that justice is administered?”

“I will, Sire,” replied the king. He turned his attention to the tanner. “Jamalc, writs will be delivered to you authorizing the repossession of your property. The man who wronged you, and the former owner’s widow-for I perceive that they conspired together to defraud you-will be required to pay you three thousand in silver as punishment when they are found.”

“So be it,” said all the kings at once. Jamalc, beside himself with joy, bowed quickly and was ushered from the room.

The Keeper of the Record then called the next case, and so it went, the kings sitting in council, hearing grievances and dispensing justice for their people until the sun began to set and the big Bell tolled once more. The High King declared the convocation adjourned until the Bell should call them back to their places.

The kings filed out of the rotunda and their purple cloaks were hung on the golden tree once more. Belyn joined Aval-lach and Seithenin as they emerged from the vestibule and the three walked back to their rooms together. “You saw- what do you think?”