“What is the significance of the black-and-white robes?” Yozef whispered to Cadwulf.
“It’s supposed to symbolize even-handedness. The judges should not come to any predetermined conclusions until they hear the charges and evidence.”
From where they sat, Yozef at first couldn’t discern the faces of the three judges, but once they turned and took their seats, he could see that the one on his right was the abbot.
“You recognize Father. On the left is Longnor Vorwich, boyerman of our district, containing Abersford and St. Sidryn’s. Vorwich lives fifteen miles away near the town of Clengoth, which serves as the district center.”
“Are abbots always judges?”
“Not always. One judge is a citizen of high regard from the area. For this year, Father was proposed by Vorwich and approved by village chiefs and mayors. I think it’s the third or fourth time he’s had this year-long duty.”
Yozef didn’t recognize the white-haired, vigorous-looking man. “Who’s the man in the middle?”
“That’s Scholastic Andris Carys. He’s the adjudicator and is a scholastic from St. Tomo’s Abbey in Caernford. He’s an expert in the law and previous cases. While normally he would be addressed as Brother Carys, for these proceedings he is Adjudicator Carys. He will preside and advise Father and Boyerman Vorwich on law and precedence, and all three vote on each case. He oversees all cases in Keelan. Most of the time, the three men will agree on the verdict. When one judge disagrees with the other two, those cases are referred three times a year to Caernford, where the case will be presented again with Hetman Keelan becoming a fourth judge. In that case, if the disagreement is 2 to 2, the case is dismissed. If 3 to 1, then the decision of the three is determinative.”
“Are the three judges always men?”
Cadwulf turned to Yozef. “Well . . . yes, of course.”
Of course? Women’s rights had quite a ways to go here.
Yozef filed this information away and sat back to take in the first case. Carys called two men to stand before the judges. A dispute originated over a cow claimed to have been stolen by one of the men. The other man claimed it had been a sale. The case sped to a conclusion after the judges asked to see the bill of sale for the cow. The accused said he had forgotten to get a written bill and had no witnesses to the sale. The cow in question was characteristic enough that several witnesses agreed the cow in possession of the accused had been the same cow owned by the accuser. There were no other witnesses.
It was over in less than ten minutes. Adjudicator Carys consulted briefly with Sistian and Vorwich, then announced, “The verdict is that there being no other witnesses or evidence, it cannot be concluded for certain that the cow was stolen. Therefore, the accused is not considered guilty of theft. However, since the supposed sale was not registered with the local registrar or witnessed, and since original ownership of the cow is supported by several witnesses, the accused is required to deliver the cow or one of approximately equal value to the accuser. If a different cow, the value will be determined by the local magistrate.”
Yozef whispered to Cadwulf, “So, if the cow was actually sold, the original owner gets the cow back because the buyer didn’t have proof of sale, and the owner keeps the money paid for the cow?”
Cadwulf looked disgusted. “The accuser has done this before and likely is lying about the sale, but the law is clear. You must have proof of sale, either written or witnessed. Otherwise, it’s not recognized. The buyer in this case was foolish to deal with the seller.”
“Next case,” announced the adjudicator.
A man and a woman rose and came before the judges. They stood well apart, with a rugged-looking man in his mid-thirties standing between them.
“The man in the middle is Magistrate Denes Vegga. He enforces laws around the Abersford area and serves to support the court.”
The sheriff, Yozef assigned the title.
The woman’s right arm was in a splint, she had several bruises on her face, one eye was swollen shut, and she limped when she rose to stand. Boyerman Vorwich read from a paper in front of him. “Hulda Camrin accuses her husband, Yuslir, of beating her and their two children repeatedly and asks for justice.” He stopped reading and addressed the husband, “What do you say to these charges, Ser Camrin?”
Your ’onor, I only beat ’er when she deserves it. A man ’as to keep order in his ’ouse, and she is lazy and doesn’t do ’er duties in cookin’, caring for the ’ouse, and our bed. As for the kids, she spoils ’em and tries to turn them ’gainst me. I then ’as no choice but to beat ’em.”
Yozef leaned right and whispered in Cadwulf’s ear. “Am I hearing right? The man seems to speak differently than everyone else.”
Cadwulf kept his eyes on the proceedings, using a hand to direct a mumble back to Yozef. “He’s from Nyvaks Province on the far north Caedellium. You can tell them by how they don’t pronounce some first letters, like most other clans.”
It was Adjudicator Carys who rejoined the defendant, “Granted that a man has the right to maintain order in his family by reasonable means, the question before this court is whether the punishments given were justified or not.”
So much for women’s lib, Yozef thought. I assume there’re going to be quite of few more differences in the justice system here compared to the U.S.
Carys turned to the abbot. “Abbot Beynom, you have a report on experiences with this family?”
“Yes,” said the abbot, casting a stern eye at the husband. “Ser Camrin has been admonished numerous times in the past about excessive violence against his family. I and several other brothers have counseled him repeatedly. He has appeared twice before this court on similar charges. In those cases, the accusations were brought by medicants who had treated his wife or children for beatings. In neither case would the wife admit her husband had beat her. She said she ‘fell.’ It was believed by all she was lying, either because she was afraid or still didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
No prohibition for hearsay evidence or opinion instead of facts.
Carys addressed the wife. “Sen Camrin, on the current treatment by the medicants you told them, and then later Magistrate Denes, that your injuries were caused by a beating from your husband. Do you still assert this as fact?”
The wife edged next to Magistrate Vegga and looked around him at her husband. Then she took several deep breaths. “I do, Ser. He’s just beat me too much. I’m afraid he’s goin’ to hurt the children even more. Gettin’ worse all the time. I don’t want to be married to him no more.”
The husband flushed, glared at her, and started to say something, until Vegga barked, “No talking until the adjudicator asks you a question!”
And no objections from the defense—not that he has his own advocate.
The adjudicator continued talking to the wife. “In two previous instances, you have testified that your injuries resulted from your own accidents and not beatings by your husband. Do you still say the same?”
The wife’s face took on a defensive and somewhat fearful look. “Your Honor … I … I was scar’d. He’d threatened to beat me and the kids worse if I said anything. What was I to do?”
“What you were to do is tell the truth. You deliberately lied to the court at those times.”