Grantville Gazette 37

'Carlos, Carlos, softly, please, Olivia has not seen us yet. Have a bit more faith that justice will be done. In any case, death by hanging is the most severe sentence that court has in its hands-or cares to have. You know the great irony? Bennet would likely not have lived another year, perhaps half a year. He was deathly ill with both leukemia and syphilis.

'Let's go sit over coffee, Carlos. We can talk more there.'

If there was anybody in Grantville Carlos could talk with about any of this, it was old Will Oughtred. He spread his hands for a moment and got up.

Sternbock's Cafe, off the hospital's lobby

Carlos stared down at the cup of espresso cradled between his hands. For all the attention he gave the stained glass window, welcoming as it was even on a day as gloomy as this one, it might as well have been bare mud brick.

Will's voice pulled him back to his surroundings. 'I've come to see much merit in what English law has become here, through the twists and turns of history. Rothrock's trial, I think, will be all about the law.'

Carlos chewed that over. 'The law? I guess so. With that pile of paper you're spreading out, there sure isn't any shortage of evidence.'

'Just so. I have talked to certain people and umm . . . retrieved the information necessary to prepare a complete account of all this, a bit underhandedly, I admit.' He gestured toward one stack. 'Here we have the transcript from Bennet's trial.'

'You, a preacher man, underhanded?'

'On rare occasion. This is essential, if I am to present a report to, um, Arundel. He wanted the intelligence about the law here-and the politics; he has since the beginning. However, this series of events raised his concern to something well past a general interest in ordinary matters or their political implications. Oh, and please, Carlos, I do appreciate your reticence as to my holy orders, with regard to the good ladies of the Episcopal Church.'

'Ffff! Sure, I got your back on that.'

'Thank you. As to Arundel, he harbors both an apprehension and a deep curiosity about, well, everything related to us here-not just the bald facts of our laws and politics, but the full meaning! He seems driven to grok it all-I like that word-from the United States Constitution's fourteenth amendment to what the SoTF has made of it.'

'The fourteenth . . . ? Oh, yeah, equal protection of the laws.'

'Among its other provisions.' Will's eyes flashed for a moment. 'In those few words we see the heart and soul of the entire social philosophy you brought us, not just the formalisms of law. Anyone who hopes to comprehend what the Ring of Fire brought to this world must understand this deeply. I've said as much to Arundel, a time or two.'

'Well, you took up citizenship-'

'Two years ago-and I'm still doing as I agreed for Arundel. Well.

'You know the words of that document, Carlos-but you've had those rights your entire life. They are new and very compelling to us-' Will stopped sorting papers to look across the table at him. 'Just as your reaction to a public hanging is odd to those of this century.'

'Those rights are the only thing worth fighting for . . . but I have trouble dealing with a public hanging. I'm not against the death penalty, but we put that behind closed doors a long time in our past. Sweet Jesus, I didn't need to watch it to know it was done.'

'Mmm? You do trust in justice, then.'

Carlos looked back at him, and waved an acknowledgment.

'But to return to this business, absorbing an essay on our laws here is one thing, fully grasping their logic and origin is another. By the light of German law heretofore, I'm certain Arundel will find it altogether astonishing that because of your old constitution Bennet had the legal right not to incriminate himself, and for that reason, there never was any thought of torturing him for a confession.' He sipped at his espresso. 'Well, Spee's Cautio Criminalis must have echoed down the centuries. I shall advise him to read it closely, if he hasn't already done so.'

'Damn right, he should. It's enough to curl your hair.' Carlos had read the English translation in the newspaper, during the witchcraft uproar a couple of years earlier. 'The crap they used to do. Still do, in a lot of places.' He took a gulp from his coffee.

Will set down his cup and looked at Carlos. 'That aside, there are other things that concern us. In particular, that limestone cave up on the Wall.'

'Huh? I'd just as soon we'd never seen it.'

'I can well understand. However, I went there with a party of the mineral survey a few days ago. We were able to get in further than when it was first discovered, through a narrow passage Rothrock and Bennet hacked open in their search. In the chamber beyond, we saw impressively large calcite crystals.'

That broke through Carlos's sour mood. 'Oh, yeah? That ought to make the optics crowd happy.'

'It would if they were clear, but if any of that kind have been found in the Germanies, I haven't heard. Still, some were beautifully colored. Doctor Jones was rubbing his hands with glee as we shone our lights around. He turned to me and exclaimed, 'Excellent, Oughtred, we must publish!' Here, Carlos, take a look.' He took a small velvet bag from his leather case and spread out a sprinkling of translucent crystals, some almost white and some reddish, the largest the size of a man's finger.

Carlos looked close, then picked up a couple of them and turned them in the light. 'Nice. Looks like calcite, all right. You sure, though?'

'I tested with acid. Little else would react the same way.'

'Yeah. Too bad it's not clear calcite. Or clear quartz, for that matter. They'd be a lot more useful.'

'Yes, well, who knows what else we might find in the lower strata of the Zechstein? But here's the thing. As I said, some of those crystals are rather beautiful, and could draw buyers for that reason alone. Rothrock had no idea what they actually are, but he filed for the right to mine the deposit. He owns it all, or holds a lease, or some other legal formula, I'm not precisely sure. Perhaps it would bring enough to pay a share of what your dear lady's care is costing.'

'Sue the bastard? Well, why the hell not? If the claim's worth anything. I've got no idea what mining law is like by now.'

'Or if his defense lawyers fail to consume it all.' A rueful expression flickered across Will's face as he put away the stones and laid a notepad where they'd been. 'And now, let's try to impose some kind of order on this mountain of words in front of us.'

The second floor

It was very late when Carlos came into Olivia's room. She was already fitfully asleep.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead lightly. It was her soul that mattered; her state of mind tore at him. She twitched restlessly in her dream. He brushed a long curl off her face. Olivia was perfectly beautiful, ageless in a way. He rested his weight on the cot they'd put there for him. Cheerless as it was, it was beside Livie.

He had to persuade her to come home. He would try again in the morning, but gently. He understood her reasons; Bennet had invaded their home and made a wreck of it, besides all his other crimes, but he was finally gone for good. Yet, in her mind, Leahy Medical was safest; it was full of people at all hours, and always prepared for trouble. He hoped she would come 'round, and soon. Her physical injuries had nearly healed.

But after what had happened, he could not, would not, rush their life back together. He would try to sleep. The night terrors would start soon enough; Olivia's or his, then sometimes both of them would wake nearly screaming. Then Carlos would hold Olivia on her hospital bed until sleep came again.

She never remembered anything of the dreams, but he always remembered. For her, Carlos would always remember.

Morning

Carlos stopped short in the doorway when he caught sight of the manuscript stacked beside Will Oughtred's portable typewriter. The old man must have been sitting there in the cafe all night, going without a break. Carlos had agreed to proofread, but he hadn't expected anything as massive as this. It wasn't just Will's report, either. It was the table full of documents and books it had to be fact-checked against.

He took a couple of seconds to get his face back under control, then walked in. You kept your promises, if you wanted to keep your friends.