(He keeps looking at somebody, someone in the third row observed to his neighbor, but I can't quite see who. It's like he's taking a cue, or looking for approval.)
"Note, in passing, the malignant subtlety of the abominator Vaatzes; and, by the same token, the culpable simple-mindedness of your colleague, Commissioner Psellus. As an inducement to persuade us to allow him to return home, Vaatzes offered Psellus information about the likely itinerary of the Vadani convoy. It was in his power, Vaatzes claimed, to persuade Duke Valens to change course and head across the desert, making for the home territory of the Cure Hardy. He was aware of a safe route, made passable by a string of oases. He gave Commissioner Psellus a copy of a map showing the route, together with further notes and commentaries that would allow a substantial force of cavalry to cross the mountains at the edge of the desert with relative ease while avoiding observation by the Vadani. Meanwhile, he would lead Duke Valens and the convoy over the mountain by another, harder route, thereby forcing them to abandon their armored wagons and much other essential equipment, and reduce their food supplies to an inadequate level. Softened up by these privations and taken unaware in the middle of the desert by our forces-who would have been realistically provisioned and adequately briefed on matters of geography and topography-the Vadani would prove easy prey, and could be eliminated once and for all."
Pause; or was it hesitation?
"Commissioner Psellus," he went on eventually, "would seem not to be familiar with the expression, too good to be true. Arguably, it was not his fault that Vaatzes had already arranged through other contacts for our forces to ambush the convoy at an earlier stage; as we all know, the ambush was beaten off with heavy losses, as Vaatzes fully intended it should be. The fact remains that, had Commissioner Psellus reported his deal with Vaatzes promptly and to the right quarters, the first ambush could have been countermanded and valuable lives saved. What is both indisputable and unforgivable, however, is the Commissioner's simple stupidity-you may care to regard it as willful blindness-in not appreciating the quite appalling implications of Vaatzes' proposal-namely, that a safe and practical route across the desert exists, and that, should the Cure Hardy become aware of it, the security of the Republic would be hopelessly compromised forever."
Even Philargyrus, with his dreary delivery and unfortunate style, couldn't fail to get a frisson of horror out of his audience with that. It was, of course, the only point that mattered, and the only thing on anybody's mind, ever since the news broke. It was what Psellus had been brought here to be condemned to death for; the question was…
"You may argue," Philargyrus went on, perhaps a shade too quickly, "that since Vaatzes had come across this terrible information, it was inevitable that he should convey it to Duke Valens in the hope that he would pass it on to the Cure Hardy, to use against us; that Psellus' part in this debacle was not wholly instrumental in bringing this disaster down on us. I beg to differ. As a result of Psellus' criminal stupidity, we have sent an army into the desert, demonstrated to the Cure Hardy-a vicious and irrational race-that we too know the secret passage across the supposedly impassable barrier; we have sent an army that has engaged and been completely destroyed by Cure Hardy forces. It is highly likely, given the paranoid mentality of the barbarians and bearing in mind their reaction to our forces' incursion, that they will choose to view what has occurred as an act of war. In short; even if it was done innocently and without malice, Commissioner Psellus has left us at the mercy of the only power on earth with the capability and the will to inflict serious damage on the Republic, perhaps even-it has to be said-to destroy it. There can only be one possible response on the part of your Commission; you must find Commissioner Psellus guilty as charged and impose the severest penalty available in law."
"Well," said one commissioner to another during the recess, "he got there in the end."
His friend looked round before replying. "If you care to tell me what that performance was in aid of, I'll be very greatly obliged to you. Who was sitting at the end of the fourth row? I couldn't see; that stupid fountain was in the way."
"I couldn't see either. But you're right, he did keep looking up and glancing in that direction." A deep frown and another glance round. "You didn't happen to notice where Boioannes was sitting? I can't remember seeing him."
Before his friend could reply, the bell rang for the votes to be cast. That didn't take very long; and, after the sentence had been passed and the prisoner led away, the usher called them back into the cloister for an announcement.
This time everybody knew where Boioannes was; he was standing right in the middle, holding a crumpled piece of paper. His eyes were very wide, and he spoke entirely without expression.
"I have just been informed by the Chief of Staff," he said, "that the council of delegates representing the officers of our mercenary forces have unilaterally canceled the contract of employment between themselves and the Republic. Their grounds…" He had to repeat the words several times before he could make himself heard again. "Their grounds for so doing are that they were engaged to fight the Eremians and the Vadani, not the Cure Hardy; and the arrival at our newly established frontier station at Limes Vitae of an emissary from the Aram Chantat bringing a formal declaration of war-"
It took the ushers several minutes to restore some sort of order.
"We have pointed out to the council of delegates that, under the penalty clause in the contract, a unilateral breach of this kind entitles us to withhold any and all further payments, in money or kind, including all arrears and agreed bonuses. I have to inform you that the council of delegates accepts that the contract has been forfeited and that they will receive nothing from us, but refuse to change their minds. In short, at noon tomorrow the Republic will no longer have an army, and must look for its defense to its own citizens, at least until some alternative source of manpower can be-"
They could hear the shouting down in the cells.
"I can see why he was reprieved," the tall, thin commissioner said to his short, stout colleague. "And reinstated, come to that. Though if you ask me, he shouldn't have been convicted in the first place. After all, what'd he done, except follow orders? It was all there in writing…"
"Ah yes." The short, stout commissioner nodded wisely and helped himself to cinnamon and grated cheese. "It was all there in the copy in the minute book they found in Boioannes' office when they searched it. What we got shown at the hearing was something quite other. Besides, I don't seem to remember you voting for acquittal. It was unanimous."
"Well of course." The tall man shrugged. "But that's by the bye. The thing is, the only point at which Psellus exceeded his authority was once he'd found out about the existence of this confounded secret way across the desert; and of course, he does the only possible thing he can do in the circumstances. He tries to have the Vadani column wiped out to the last man before they can reach the savages and tell them about it. Didn't work, as we know. In all probability, he was set up by Vaatzes, just as they say he was. Doesn't matter. Simple fact is, the only thing that could possibly have saved us was wiping out that column before they met up with the Cure Hardy; he tried to do it, gave it his best shot; give him his due, it nearly worked, only a day or so in it. At least he tried."