stopped there.
'Udwin Pridde?' he said.
'Sir/ Pridde answered.
'On the 42nd day of 380.M41, you called upon the house of an unlicensed practitioner of apothecary in Clude and purchased two phials of umbilical blood, a hank of hair from the head of an executed murderer and a fertility doll carved from a human finger bone/
'I did not, sir/
'Oh/ said Menderef amiably, 'then I am mistaken/ He turned back and nodded to me. 'It appears we are done here, lord examiner/ he said. He paused just long enough for Pridde to sag with relief and then wheeled round again. Glory, but his technique was superb.
You're a liar/ he said. Pridde recoiled, suddenly alert once more.
'S-sir-'
The apothecary was executed for her practices by the Eriale arbites in the winter of 382. She kept annotated records of her dealings which, I presume, she foolishly thought might serve as some kind of bargaining tool in the event of her apprehension. Your name is there. The matter of your purchases is there. Would you like to see it?'
'It is a fabrication, sir/
'A fabrication… uhm…' Menderef paced slowly around the defendant. Pridde tried to keep his eyes on him but didn't dare turn from his spot. Once Menderef was behind him, Pridde started to shake.
You've never been to Clude?'
'I go there sometimes, sir/
'Sometimes?'
'Once, maybe twice every year/
'For what purpose?'
There is a feed merchant in Clude who-'
Yes, there is. Aarn Wisse. We have spoken with him. Though he admits to knowing you and doing business with you, he says he never saw you at all in 380 or the year after. He has no receipt of purchase for you in his ledger/
'He is mistaken, sir/
'Is he? Or are you?'
'Sir?'
'Pridde… your pardoner has already taken up too much of the day extolling – and magnifying – your multiple virtues. Do not waste any more of our time. We know you visited the apothecary. We know what you purchased. Make us like you more by collaborating with this line of questioning/
Pridde shuddered. In a small voice, he said, 'I did make those purchases, sir. Yes/
'Louder, for the court, please. I see amber lights winking on the vox-recorders. They're not picking up your voice. The lights have to glow green, you see. Like they are now, hearing me. Green means they hear you/
'Sir, I did make those purchases!'
Menderef nodded and looked back at his manuscript. Two phials of umbilical blood, a hank of hair from the head of an executed murderer and fertility doll carved from a human finger bone. Are those the purchases you mean?'
Yes, sir…'
'Green lights, Pridde, green lights!'
Yes, sir!'
Menderef closed the manuscript and stalked round in front of Pridde again. Would you like to explain why?'
Pridde looked at him and swallowed hard. 'For the stock/
The stock?' .
'My breeding stock of cattle, sir/
Your cattle asked you to make these purchases?'
Koth and Verveuk laughed.
'No, no, sir… I had purchased fifty head of breeding stock from a farm in the South Uvege two years before. Cosican Red-flank. Do you know the breed, sir?'
Menderef looked back at us, playing to the gallery with raised eyebrows. Verveuk laughed again. 'I am not on first name terms with cattle, Pridde/
They're good stock, the best. Certificated by the Administratum Officio Agricultae. I was hoping to breed from them and establish a commercial herd for my combine/
'I see. And?'
They sickened, over winter. None would carry to term. The things they whelped were still-born… such things… I had to burn them. I asked the
Ministorum for a blessing, but they refused. Said it was a failing in my stockmanship. I was desperate. I had sunk a lot of capital into the herd, sir. Then this apothecary told me…'
Told you what?'
That it was the warp. Said the warp was in the feed and the land, the very meadows. She said I could cure the trouble if I followed her guidance/
'She suggested you used rural warpcraft to mend your ailing cattle?'
'She did.'
'And you thought that was a good idea?'
'As I said, I was desperate, sir/
'I know you were. But it wasn't for the cattle, was it? Your wife had asked you to make the purchases, hadn't she?'
'No, sir!'
Yes, sir! Your wife, of the Samargue bloodline, desperate to restore power and vigour to its ailing fortunes!'
Y-yes…'
'Green light, Pridde!'
'Yes!'
From the documentation and my preparation, I already knew that House Samargue was the biggest game we were after on Durer. To his credit, Verveuk had suggested we begin with Pridde, a minor player, no more than an accomplice really, and use him as a lever to open up the noble family. On the basis of his testimony, the corruption of the ancient House would be easy to force out into the open.
Menderef continued his questioning for over an hour and, to tell the truth, it made for captivating theatre. When the Minster bell sounded nones, he cast a subtle glance at me to indicate there was no point pressing Pridde further for the time being. A break, with opportunity for the defendant to pace and worry, would serve us well for the day's second session.
'We will suspend the hearing for a brief term/ I declared. 'Bailiffs, conduct the accused to the cells. We will resume at the chime, an hour from now/
I was hungry and stiff. Lunch offered a decent respite, even if I would have to tolerate Verveuk.
Bastian Verveuk was thirty-two standard years old and had been an inquisitor for seven months. He was a fresh-faced boy, he seemed to me, of medium height with a centre-parted bowl of heavy blond hair and slightly hooded, earnest eyes. He looked like he was yearning all the time. Yearning and swept up in some spiritual rapture.
He had a brilliantly ordered mind and had doubtlessly served Osma well as an interrogator. But now his hour had come and he was pushing up the ranks with immodest ambition. His transfer to Rorken's staff – for 'supplementary schooling' – had probably been the result of Osma losing patience with him.
