The Treasure of the Isle of Mist Part 12

"Before we dance to-night," he said, "we have, as you know, to try two prisoners." He turned to the officer of the guard, and said, "Let them be produced."

The officer at once produced the Urchin from nowhere in particular, as a conjurer produces half-crowns. The boy looked rather large among the Little People, but otherwise he was much as Fiona had last seen him; his shirt and knickerbockers were covered with earthstains and he still had the same length of useless rope coiled round his waist.

But Jeconiah? Was this the prosperous financier, this wretched apology for a living being which the officer held out on the palm of his hand?

Not two inches high, its white waistcoat hanging in loose flaps, speechless, and wide-eyed with terror and abject entreaty, it was like the ghost of a parody; the officer had to set it on one of the great toadstools, and mark the place with a stick, lest it should be lost.

The King regarded it with interest.

"I understood that the elder prisoner was a very stout man," he said.

"That was so, your Majesty," said the officer. "He was so stout that we thought it useless to attempt to take him through the doorway as he was, so we left his body behind and only brought away the essential part of him. This is all that there really is of him, sire; the rest was wind. When we began to sift him we were afraid that he had no real existence at all, and that there would be nothing to bring before you."

"Well, well," said the King, "there's enough of him to be tried, anyhow. Are the prisoners provided with counsel?"

The Public Prosecutor was understood to say that they were not yet represented.

"Counsel had better be a.s.signed them in the usual way," said the King.

"Catch, somebody."

He took a guinea from his pocket and flung it, apparently without looking, into the crowd. But thick as the crowd was, the guinea pa.s.sed straight through the forest of hands held out for it, and fell into a tiny brown hand behind them. Fiona knew where she had seen that hand before.

The owner of the hand at once stepped forward into the ring. He seemed to be the most singular being in Fairyland. Fiona's first impression was that he was just a large bald head, the color of parchment and wrinkled all over; and this impression remained, even when she realized that he did possess a small body, with the usual allowance of arms and legs. Out of his great head looked a pair of quite incongruous eyes, bright as beads, and full of happy drollery. Behind him came a couple of stout goblins, each laden with dusty law books.

They piled the books up in a stack on the ground, and the singular creature with the head proceeded to climb to the top of the stack, where he sat down, cracking his fingers and laughing hugely at some jest of his own, evidently on the best of terms both with himself and his audience. Then he caught Fiona's eye, and deliberately winked at her; but somehow it carried no offence, for the creature seemed absolutely free from malice.

"Privilege honorable profession defend oppressed," he remarked; "duty clients submit large number points," and he patted the books he sat on. He had a habit of clipping his words as he spoke which was totally destructive of the smaller parts of speech, and made his remarks sound like a series of unedited cablegrams.

"We will take the younger prisoner first," announced the King; whereupon the Public Prosecutor proceeded to read, all in one breath, the indictment against the Urchin, to the effect that he did on or about the 20th day of September then last past in despite of the peace of the realm and the safety of the lieges with a stone or some other missile or thing throw at and break the wing of or otherwise hit, cut, hurt, maim, destroy and do wrong to one of the said lieges, to wit, a sh.o.r.e lark, and so forth. When he had finished, instead of evidence being taken, the King merely glanced into the beryl throne.

"True in fact," he said. "Any defence?"

The creature on the bookstack began at once.

"Please Majesty duty client submit series points. First point no intention."

But Fiona did not wait to hear what it had to say. Forcing her way into the ring, she said:

"Please, your Majesty, it was my fault. I told him he couldn't."

The King turned to look at her.

"So this is the young lady," he said. "Very good of you to come, you know. We rarely receive visitors now. We shall try to make you welcome when the trial is over." He turned again to the bookstack, and said: "I will hear the defence."

"It was my fault, your Majesty," said Fiona again.

With grave patience the King started to explain to her.

"Your part of it was your fault, of course. But we are not trying you, for you have come here of your own free will, so we can neither try nor punish. But his part of it was equally his own fault, and unless there is a good defence he will have to be punished."

The creature on the bookstack was nodding and signing to Fiona, but she was too engrossed with a single thought to notice him.

"Then I claim my wish, your Majesty," she said.

"Quite in order," said the King. "The trial will be suspended while the young lady wishes. Officer!"

And immediately the fairy ring was strewn with a strange collection of objects, looking rather like the contents of an old curiosity shop that had gone bankrupt. The officer held them up one by one for Fiona to see.

"When we heard you were coming," said the King, "we collected a few little things for your inspection. It is so long since we had any use for any of them that many of them seem to have developed serious defects, which we regret; but they are the best we could find at short notice. This," he pointed to an old ring, "is a common wishing ring.

It used to do all the usual things. The genie attached to it has unfortunately become very deaf with age; but if you can make him hear, we believe he is still in fair working order. This," as a frayed girdle was held up, "is the famous cestus of Aphrodite, which she lent to Helen of Troy. Its wearer used to become the most beautiful and unpopular creature in the world. It will still confer beauty, though hardly suited to the modern style; the unpopularity we guarantee. This," pointing to a huge book, "contains the truth of that which in your world pa.s.ses as knowledge. It would delight your father.

He might publish selected chapters, and watch the critics cut them to pieces. This," as a battered trumpet was exhibited, "is Fame. Your praises would be sung all over the world; and the world would say, 'Never mind what she has _achieved_; tell us about her faults.' This,"

and he contemplated an old iron sceptre, "is Power. You would become a great ruler, and would probably die in exile. And under this," and he pointed to a sheet of black velvet, thrown loosely over some object, "under this is the treasure of the Isle of Mist, which I am told that you have heard of. Do any of these please you? If not, we have others."

Fiona never thought about it for a moment, of course. She had not done all that she had done to hesitate now. She did not look at the King's face, and she took not the least notice of the creature with the head, who was dancing about in a perfect agony, trying to attract her attention.

"Please your Majesty," she said in breathless haste, "I came here to find the Urchin and take him home with me. That is my wish."

She had hardly spoken the words when her instinct told her something was wrong. A sort of chill seemed to run through the air, and the color seemed to go out of the fairy world. The creature with the head stopped dancing about and began to wring its little hands. She looked up at the King's face, and read there, was it disappointment? was it regret? She hardly knew.

"A very natural and proper wish," said the King gravely. "We shall of course accept it as such, and grant it with great pleasure. The younger prisoner is discharged. Take the next case."

And then Fiona saw. She saw the thing which had once been Jeconiah, with that look of abject terror and entreaty in its eyes; and she realized that it would have meant nothing to her to have included Jeconiah in her wish, and that for Jeconiah it would have meant everything. And she realized also that, worthless and evil as he had been in life, selfish, mean, a thief and a liar, he was still a human being, and had a soul and possibilities of which the fairy world could know nothing. She felt a wave of humiliation pa.s.s over her; and she resolved that, whatever he was, and whatever happened, she would not go home without Jeconiah.

The charges against Jeconiah were then read: stealing a treasure, and being a worthless character.

"Any defence?" said the King.

The creature with the head got to work.

"Please Majesty," he said, "admit second count. Character worthless.

Object pity however not vindictive punishment. Behalf client offer submit State cure. First count plead not guilty; intention steal treasure admitted but did not succeed."

Fiona, in her new-found humility, had been listening to what the creature with the head was saying. And suddenly it dawned on her that, all through, both he and the King had been trying to help her, so far as was consistent with their own rules; and that perhaps the creature with the head, for all his oddity, knew what he was doing. She asked the Leprechaun who he was.

"You might have asked that with advantage before you interrupted him,"

said the Leprechaun severely. "He is our Chancellor here. He is the King's most intimate friend, and far the ablest lawyer in Fairyland."

"Defence to first count not admitted," the King was saying. "Your client cannot plead his own bungling of the theft in mitigation of his wrongdoing. Only the intention counts here."

The Chancellor looked immensely relieved at the King's words, though it pa.s.sed Fiona's wit to see why.

"Apply formal ruling," he said. "Take down," this to Whitecap.

"I hold that nothing counts here but the intention," said the King.

"Majesty pleases," said the Chancellor. "Settles point. Retire defence this prisoner. Submit excellent point younger client."

"We will pa.s.s sentence here first," said the King. "Jeconiah P.

Johnson, your counsel has very properly thrown up his brief. You are convicted of stealing a treasure, and it is admitted that you are a worthless character. On the first count, I sentence you to be handed over to the executioner to be extended until you become a proper size.

If you survive, you will then undergo, as offered by your counsel, the State cure at the hands of the State hypnotizer." He turned to the Chancellor. "Any further submission?"

Fiona had gone over to the stack of books, and bent down over the little creature with the head.