Chapter 70. Trial by Law

The world was turning towards darkness once more, each day a little lesser than the one preceding, each night’s shadows grown a longer reach, until at last there came the day when night and day were as one, and Summer was gone.

It was the day of departure from the New City (as the hobbits called it), the day when King and Queen and all their retinue would begin the long journey to the Southlands, leaving behind a competent Steward to watch over the affairs of the North-land until the King’s return.

The hobbits, too, would be returning to their home-land. Indeed, a part of their party had returned already, a month earlier: the Gamgees, as Rose wished to end her confinement at home amid familiar comfort.

And so that morning the City arose early to bid farewell to her Queen, and Queen and guardsmen, nobles and Shire-folk took their departure down the long causeway from the great Gate as flowers showered about them and songs were sung.

Elessar rode for a time at Arwen’s side, as Pippin rode with Diamond, but when half the morning was gone, Pippin left his saddle to ride with the King. And Elessar, his face sober, turned his horse back to the City and spurred, hard, for he had an engagement to fulfil, and the Steward awaited him. King and Counsellor would catch up to the travellers the next day, or perhaps the day following.

Reaching the City, where the crowd had dissipated to go about their daily business, the King rode direct to the Hall of Judgment, where a sober-faced Denethor stepped up to greet him. The King lifted Pippin down from the saddle and the horse was taken away, and the three, King, Thain, and guardsman, walked into the Hall of Kings together, passing through the bowing crowd that parted for them as they walked down the long line of statues to the dais. The crowd turned to face the throne and fell silent, waiting.

Elessar mounted the dais and took his seat upon the throne, while Pippin and Denethor stood to one side. They did not have long to wait, for soon the sound of chains was heard, and slow-marching feet, and the great door swung open to admit a shackled Man walking between two grim-faced guardsmen, with more following in slow, doom-laden step.

The prisoner, face pale, eyes popping, sweat pouring down his brow, was marched to the foot of the dais, where the guardsmen released their hold on him.

He had only one good arm, and this was chained to his waist, but he raised that arm as high as he could in entreaty and fell to his knees before the throne. ‘Mercy, my Lord King!’ he cried.

Pippin felt a shock of empathy, which he quickly stifled. Thankfully, it was not his place to judge, for he knew what the outcome must be.

 ‘Stand before the King,’ the captain of the Guard said sharply, and the two guards hauled the prisoner, shaking and pleading, to his feet. ‘Silence!’

A Man bearing an open scroll stepped into the space between throne and crowd.

‘Hear ye, hear all!’ he intoned, the customary opening words. He looked down at the scroll he bore and began to read, his voice pitched to reach the onlookers crowding the doorways.

Pippin could hear the faint rattle of the prisoner’s chains as the latter shook with fear and dread.

From the scroll, the herald read a list of charges against the accused.

‘Bill Mugwort of Chetwood Vale, stand forth!’ the captain of the Guard announced when the charges had been read. The prisoner had no choice, really. The guardsmen forced him forward a step, with a rattle of chains that resounded through the hushed hall.

Elessar stood and swept the hall with his glance. ‘Is there any here, to speak in behalf of the accused?’ he said, in accordance with custom. First, those who would bear witness in favour of the prisoner would be given the chance to speak. Then his accusers would testify as to his crimes. When these had finished, the King would invite anyone to speak who could offer evidence contradicting any of the preceding testimony. After final questions were answered, the verdict and sentence would be pronounced.

Pippin stepped forward, and there was a murmur of surprise from the crowd.

 ‘Y-y-y-you!’ the prisoner stammered. One of his guards silenced him with a jerk of his chains.

 ‘I would speak on his behalf,’ Pippin said, turning to survey the watching crowd. ‘In my country there is no Law to put a Man to death, save in the heat of battle, or in defence.’

 ‘Bless you, sir,’ the prisoner quavered, bowing and nodding his head, holding out his one arm in a pleading manner. ‘Bless you!’

Pippin looked to the King. ‘But I know that I am not in my own country,’ he said, ‘and so I defer to the judgment of the King.’

Elessar nodded gravely, and the prisoner straightened in his chains and fell silent once more, looking about him at the grim faces, fear and dread growing on his countenance as he found no friendly eyes upon him.

When no one else answered the call to speak, the herald called out, ‘Bill, face your accusers!’

Elessar resumed his seat on the throne as the guards forcibly turned the prisoner towards Pippin and Denethor. The King nodded to his Steward. ‘You may question the witnesses,’ he said.  

The Steward, an older Man, kinsman to Elessar, bowed and turned to Denethor. With a series of skilful questions he drew from the guardsman the events of that fateful morning, up until the arrow that finished Denethor’s part in the affair, that nearly finished Denethor in point of fact.

At last the Steward turned to the prisoner. ‘Do you have any questions for the witness?’ he said.

 ‘I-I-I,’ the prisoner stammered. His breast heaved as he gulped for air, yet though he was panting, still he was light-headed, feeling that he was in a dream.

Denethor waited.

 ‘I never meant it personal-like,’ the prisoner managed at last. ‘It was all Tom’s idea. He said to put the guardsman out, and he’d snatch the little’un, and...’ He faltered, meeting the guardsman’s steady gaze, took a few more gasping breaths. ‘I never meant it...’ he whispered. ‘Never meant...’ his voice dropped still further, ‘murther.’

 ‘Never meant murder,’ Pippin murmured, stepping forward involuntarily. His voice rose as he continued. ‘You had only the best of intentions in your heart, did you? No one would be hurt? No harm would come of it all? My son would be returned to me, safe and unharmed?’

 ‘I-I-I n-n-never m-meant...’ the prisoner stammered, and fell silent at what he saw in the hobbit’s face.

 ‘Next witness,’ Elessar said.

The Steward bowed and turned to Pippin. He did not allow the hobbit to talk freely, but asked leading questions, the answers to which he was already fully informed. Of a wonder Pippin allowed this leading, following the Steward’s questioning as a sheep might follow the shepherd, never straying from the established path. There was no point to it, really; he had offered his protest, it would be written in the record, and the trial would proceed to its foregone conclusion as if he’d never spoken. Only Elessar had the power to temper the Law with mercy, but in his wisdom, in this case, likely he would bring down the full measure of the Law upon the hapless prisoner’s head.

Instead of allowing the prisoner to question Pippin, the Steward asked his own questions of the prisoner. ‘Your companion took two of the hobbit children,’ he said. ‘It was your plan to shoot and run away with the son of the Thain.’

 ‘Th-that was Tom’s plan,’ the prisoner said cautiously. ‘He told me to put down any trouble...’

 ‘And Tom grabbed two children,’ the Steward said.

 ‘He was only s’posed to take the one,’ the prisoner said, ‘just the one.’ As if that might make his crime a lesser one.

 ‘He could drop the “extra” child into the River while making his escape,’ the Steward said, ‘thus convincing his pursuers of the seriousness of his intent.’

 ‘Conjecture,’ the King said from the throne.

The Steward bowed to him and said to the scribe, ‘I withdraw the statement.’

Nodding, the scribe scratched out what he’d just written and added an annotation.

 ‘You meant to demand gold for the child’s safe return,’ the Steward said.

 ‘I-it was Tom’s plan,’ the prisoner said. ‘I was just going along with what he said.’

 ‘You planned to return the child, safe and unharmed, once your demands were met,’ the Steward said.

 ‘I-I...’ the prisoner said, flashing a desperate look at the Thain, before looking back to his questioner. ‘Of course,’ he said, standing straighter.

There was a murmur from the crowd, and Pippin’s face grew hard. He knew the lie for what it was.

As if to try to rectify the situation, the prisoner cried wildly, ‘It were all Tom’s idea, not mine! All Tom’s! All—’ He was silenced by a vicious jerk of his chains, and fell to pleading and mumbling.

 ‘Is there any other witness?’ Elessar said, sweeping the crowd with a keen-eyed glance. No one spoke.

Elessar stood. 

‘Bill Mugwort of Chetwood Vale, I find you guilty as charged. Death is the penalty for the crimes you have committed. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.’

Bill cowered, raising his remaining arm as if to stay a blow. ‘Please,’ he faltered. ‘Have pity... mercy...!’

‘With the next rising of the Sun you shall hang by the neck until dead,’ Elessar intoned. ‘And may you somehow find grace beyond this world.’

 ‘No...’ the prisoner wailed, sobbing, and his pleas were heard as the guardsmen dragged him through the parting crowd, begging for pity, until the great Door closed behind him, mercifully cutting off the mournful sound.