Walter

started at the voice of the Bailiff. “Hear ye, hear ye! The sentencing is about to begin.”

The courtroom was full of agitated observers: hungry, tired and short of temper. The strained actions of the crowd began to subside as the court Bailiff made the announcement. There was a general “…ohh, ahh…” as those assembled found their seats.

The room was not a small one. Walter's heinous crimes had merited him the largest in the building. The chamber was very tall, and the ceiling was domed, climaxing in handsome stained glass featuring an old man holding a large sword. His apparent nemesis, a small boy of perhaps thirteen years, stood weaponless, mostly naked, and held the helpless man subdued in an intricate wrestling maneuver. The tiny pieces of colored grass cast their peculiar lights on the courtroom below, making it nearly impossible to discern anyone’s face. For most trials, the glass was covered by a very large, very ugly piece of canvas to decrease the disorientation caused by the grass, but the trial of Walter required scrupulous ceremony, and the canvas had been removed.

The walls of the room were of polished cedar that had been recently treated for the case. The natural smell of the cedar was concealed by the reek of the acidic cleaning solution, which had not been properly stripped. This pungent, over-ripe citrus odor had become more oppressive as the body heat from the assembly made the walls moist with condensation. In places, the smell was so stifling that some men in the crowd covered their noses with their ceremonial white caps to protect themselves against the stench. The original Judge had refused to preside over the case because of a terrible malady that was aggravated by the foul odor, and certain officials in the courtroom, whose position allowed for easy access to an escape, frequently left the chamber to recover, despite regulations. The jurors, however, had been in their places since the beginning of the trial and had become accustom to the smell; a few actually began to enjoy it.

The jury box was against the east side of the room. It was made of oak and was intricately carved with scenes of medieval heroes fighting rare and magical beasts. The front of the box was a representation of a knight fighting an impossibly huge demon. The demon had two heads but three faces: one in the middle of his chest. The left head had two horns, one of which had been broken in the course of the battle. The other head was chewing the remains of the knight’s companion. The chest head did not seem to pose much of a threat and simply gazed maliciously at his adversary. The demon’s penis was a large tongue that was wrapped around the soldier’s dead horse, presumably sodomizing it, and the demon’s tail had buried itself in the ground and had sprung up behind the knight who was entirely unaware of the danger.

There were other, smaller scenes on the sides of the box, but the most interesting was on the inside, invisible to everyone but the jurors. A large man was tied to the floor of a forest by scores of tiny web strands that dug into his skin. Each thread came from a small, innocuous looking spider. These spiders held the man down while their queen, a larger spider about the size of a watermelon, had removed the boot from his left foot and sucked his toes, preparing to feast. The man’s right foot had already been eaten, and its remains were the subject of a conflict between a few of the smaller spiders. The queen had the face of a very beautiful preadolescent girl and breasts that were disproportionately large for her age. Several jurors had been so consumed by this detailed work, being unable to determine precisely how it could have been made. An excited discussion took place once the jurors were sent to deliberate the litigation, and one revealed that when he had bent down covertly to inspect it more closely, he could actual]y see the captive’s pores. The only detail of the work that appeared inconsistent was the expression on the man’s face, which seemed, if divorced from context, to be the perfect picture of restful satisfaction.

The rest of the room, despite its immense size, contained few seats. It was configured in such a way as to allow the prisoner, who was customarily marched down each row of spectators, a wide passage. The path that Walter had first traveled three weeks ago had been so cluttered with spectators that only two Guards could accompany him to his place in the court instead of the usual four. And now, due to the extraordinary number of observers, Walter would have but one escort.

The local retail stores and banks had closed to allow their employees the opportunity to go to the trial with their families. The high school allowed its students this vacation with the expectation that each write a theme on the day’s events. Both grade schools were present, and the elementary school teachers were busy trying to maintain quiet and explain the episode to the children. An old woman wearing a long, purple, sequined dress and a dark blue veil passed among the crowd, offering to tell anyone his future for a few dollars. Although no one was interested in her fortune telling, some did buy her incense sticks to combat the reek of the chamber.

Normally, these types of solicitors were not allowed into the judiciary, but the general rules of the court had been suspended to accommodate Walter's particular case. The usual recesses, which by law could only be fifteen minutes long, had each lasted over an hour. During those recesses, the crowd became restless. Some had reported their watches and wallets stolen. This made the crowd very uneasy, and they guarded their things carefully; but more incidents were reported. It soon became popular to complain of being a victim of any kind and falsely report a crime. One lady accused an elderly man of certain obscene acts that were, owing to the limited space in the room, quite improbable.

The preoccupations with the case were by no means confined to the local area. Some of the spectators had traveled great distances to witness it. There were many who did not speak the language at all and had brought interpreters to translate the entire event. Few of these foreigners knew the importance of the case or why so many were interested, but they all wanted the prestige of narrating to their grandchildren Walter's sentencing. Of course, they were restricted to the area in back reserved for such people. Unfortunately, this happened to be very near the western wall, where the citrus stench was extremely strong, and many had gone home quite ill.

The legal capacity of the room was another regulation that was temporarily suspended for this case. Every available space in the room was filled by an eager bystander. The fact that all the seats were taken did nothing to deter the crowd. The best seats in the room were the benches that had been filled for days, and some people had in fact been there since before the first day of the trial. The smart ones had come in pairs: one would protect the other’s place while he ate or used the bathroom. And it was wise to sleep in shifts, too, to prevent mischief of any kind. The last of the room to be filled were the areas closest to the walls, but now they too were inhabited.

Some wealthy latecomers had tried to purchase bench seats, but no one there was willing to sell. Some who sat in the aisles tried to auction their places. At first, no bids were made. But later as the citrus smell became overwhelming, hundreds of dollars changed hands as the poor surrendered their positions to the wealthy.

Small children who could not resist the odor began to squirm, then cry, then vomit. This added to the general feeling of nausea that held the room. One mother whose child was suffering terribly from the smell tried to beg help from anyone who would listen. A kind gentleman who stood near the door offered to trade places, but the woman judged his location to be even worse than her own and politely refused.

In time, Mayor Nattson walked in. The news of his arrival quickly spread through the room and everyone tried to turn around at once to get a better look at him, wondering if his position would permit him a prominent seat. But this chaotic shifting prevented material movement within the chamber and only those closest to the door could actually see him. Mayor Nattson always wore a very long, green coat, even in summers, when he campaigned for re-election every two years. The coat was quite popular when he had first been voted into office, but it now was shamefully outdated. The elbows had worn away and his shirt sleeves often poked through the holes. The inside had been soaked so thoroughly with perspiration that the lining was compromised in several places and would bleed its green color onto his shirts. However, Mayor Nattson realized that his image would suffer without it and he counted on the recognition that the coat granted him.

Mayor Nattson’s advisor, who accompanied him to every social occasion, entered the room moments later but could not tolerate the smell. After he whispered a few words about etiquette to the Mayor warning him not to leave until everyone in the room had noticed him, he opened the door and fled. Mayor Nattson stood against the back wall for some time, surrounded by townsfolk too astonished to speak with him. Occasionally, the Mayor would cough or sneeze to draw attention to himself, but these attempts were noticed only by those who already knew of his presence, and he decided to simply wait until the verdict was given and then deliver his Speech of Liberation that his aide had prepared. It took several minutes for Mayor Nattson to feel the effects of the temperature that began to roast him inside his coat. After a few minutes, the combination of heat and stench made him unwell, and he considered leaving. But many of his voters (those who stood nearby) had noticed his arrival and would certainly notice his hasty departure. He looked about the room and believed that he could remove his coat in such a way that no one would notice; he could then don it quickly after the sentence was read and make his speech. Consoled by his reasoning, he quit his coat. Underneath, Mayor Nattson was abnormally thin. His shoulders did not seem to extend much beyond his ears, and his white green-stained shirt looked as if it could simply drift off his body at any moment. His legs and arms were long, but his feet and hands were extremely tiny for his size.

Because of his position and the surprising dexterity with which he moved not even the people closest to the Mayor had not noticed him as he removed the coat. But as he finished the process, the coat slipped from his hand and fell, making extremely odd noises as it slid down the wall. Several people turned their heads and looked at the Mayor’s exposed body. A young girl tugged on her mother’s dress, pointed at the Mayor, and laughed. Her mother instantly grabbed the little girl’s arm and pulled her around, face front. As she turned to apologize to the Mayor, she did not immediately recognize him. She spotted the green coat crumpled on the floor behind an odd-looking man, and her gaze slowly ascended his body. When she registered his face, she let out a thin squeak and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I voted for you…I voted for you,” she said, mainly to herself, and others turned, one after the other, in an almost rhythmic way which permitted each of them an impossible freedom of movement.

Mayor Nattson looked around the room quickly, without moving his head. He saw the eyes of those who had elected him inspect his body with disgust. He knew that if he twitched, it would break them out of their fixation, and he would have to confront their loathing, but he could not leave without his coat. Its weight had fully collapsed into a remarkably small parcel, and the Mayor was forced to grope for it awkwardly behind him. Desperate, he allowed his hand to glide down the oily wall and finally he was forced to fall down to his hands and knees before the crowd until he finally happened on his coat. He seized it and slid his right arm into the sleeve but discovered that the coat was upside down. He frantically tried to correct its posture. Now children were laughing and pointing, and no parent prevented them. Some parents even joined their children in the ridicule. Mayor Nattson attempted an immediate departure, found the doorknob easily and tried to turn it, but it took several attempts due to the oil that coated his palm. Finally, he opened the door and went the way of his advisor. The laughter stopped, and. the crowd became angry that the Mayor had deceived them. A group resolved to find the procedure for removing an elected official from office immediately after the trial.

Two men who stood directly below the enormous glass sword were engaged in an animated debate over Walter's case. One man firmly believed that the infraction the accused had committed should be answered by nothing less than capital punishment. The other, a young lawyer whose family had only been in the town for two generations, believed that no crime, not even Walter's, deserved such a punishment and that the laws prohibiting such a sentence should never be revoked. Soon people around them sided with one or the other, and smaller, more intense variations of this argument sprang up in the corners of the room. After a short time, this topic was translated for the foreigners, and they, too, took up the issue, although their conversations were contained to the assigned area. Many of these bitter discussions lost their original intent and the occasion was used to air older, more personal grievances that had been left unresolved for years.

Just minutes before the Bailiff made his announcement, a young woman who had been sitting on the bench for weeks suddenly shrieked that she could take the smell and confinement no longer. She stood up, trying to leave, but no one would yield his position. In fact, two very large men leapt forward, trying to get to the seat that she tried to vacate. The woman fell to her knees and was pushed into the aisle as the men fought for her place. It was an awkward fight, because the odd light from the window above and the smoke from the incense sticks made it difficult for the combatants to determine the exact location of the other. The larger of the two finally landed three solid punches: the first two hit the stomach and the last, as his opponent doubled over, hit violently on the back of the neck. The defeated man made a slight grunt, grabbed his injured neck, and fell on the woman who had fainted in the aisle. Several men nearby decided to he1p, and pulled the man off the lady. His nose was bleeding, and he titled his head back and tried to push his way through the crowd saying, “Excuse me,” but his voice, in part because of his broken nose, was incoherent and no one could understand him. Many gathered closer to look at the beaten man, which made it more difficult for him to pass. Eventually, the bleeding stopped, and his pain became bearable. He had not lost too much ground when the Bailiff, approached, so he turned around in time to hear the sentencing.

“Hear ye, hear ye! The sentencing is about to begin! Arise to respect his Honor Jeremiah Booklung and hear his decision in the case.”

Judge Bookrung opened the door by the front Bench and entered his courtroom. He looked horrifying. He walked with a pronounced limp and slowly turned his head to the large room filled with people. His eyes looked very angry and inset. The glow from above savagely sparked red off his glasses and his tiny nose was hidden beneath the shadow. He had an overbite which prevented him from fully closing his mouth and his buck teeth took on an orange hue from the hair of the enormous thirteen year old above him. A child in back began to cry.

Judge Booklung stopped his ascent into his chair and searched the audience for the offending infant. His red gaze swept the crowd like a spotlight. Several other children also started to cry. The Judge finally located one and focused his full attention on it. The little boy was blinded by the intense red glare reflected from the Judge’s glasses and began to scream wildly.

“Remove that little person from our court.” A team of court officers quickly found the child and moved through the room as though no one were in it. The boy screamed more loudly as the squad approached, while his mother, who rocked her son roughly in her arms, urgently tried to quiet him with a soft lullaby. The chief of the officers grabbed the boy’s head and twisted it until he heard the satisfying click, and the boy stopped screaming. He was about to start crying as he saw his mother’s face, which had just moments before been directly behind him. He found this puzzling, but died before realizing what had happened or feeling any pain. The officers took the body from its mother’s arms and quickly moved out of the room so smoothly that it appeared to be one fluid motion. Those who stood closest to the mother did not believe what they had seen. They dismissed the murder as a trick of the strange light.

There was another general muttering of “ohhh’s” and “ahhh’s” when Judge Booklung spoke for the second time. “Bring forward our prisoner.” Walter was brought into the courtroom, this time by only one Guard. The double doors by the Bench opened and a flood of natural light entered the room, and the crowd whimpered at its brightness. At that moment, the strange illusions from the ceiling were dissipated and everyone could at once recognize his neighbor, but was prevented from seeing the accused. After the doors closed behind them, and eyes had re-adjusted, members of the audience gaped in surprise.

In addition to the customary over large grey pants and shirt worn by all prisoners, Walter was also wearing a ceremonial white hat that fully covered his head. It was an option that no prisoner ever exercised. “How DARE he!”' said an old lady in the back. Although she spoke loudly, her voice was muffled through the handkerchief over her mouth. “He’s mocking our traditions!” Several others in the audience expressed similar sentiments. “Has he not done enough? And now to dress like a citizen.”

The Guard began the long and tedious process of escorting Walter down each row of spectators. As he passed, many outraged people tried to seize the hat off his head; but the attentive Guard stopped each attempt. “If it wasn’t for this uniform I’m wearing,” said the jailer discreetly, “I’d rip that hat off of you myself. And your head, too, most like.”

“Guard! Are you speaking with the accused?” Judge Booklung's scratchy voice stopped all conversation in the room. The Guard was startled. Never had he been directly addressed by a courtroom Judge. He meekly turned his face up to see the one who had arrested him.

I’m sorry, your Honor. It’s just…the hat. It made me mad to see him wearing the hat.”

“I see. Accused, your hat seems to be causing quite a commotion here today. All of these people have come to watch us crush you beneath our legal heel, and you choose to upset them.” The Judge paused briefly to savor his authority and said, “Guard, strike him.” The Guard, after realizing he had been given an order, abruptly swung the back of his hand into Walter’s cheek.

“Why? Why do you insist on irritating us so? Guard.” Walter was hit again on his left cheek.

“Here you stand, before us, drawing more of a crowd than the local circus, into MY courtroom, yet you are a criminal! Guard!” Walter was hit a third time.

“You have broken a law and are to be punished. Guard.” A fourth. Now a tiny rivulet of brood made its way down Walter's cheek.

“We have turned you into an attraction, an amusement, and you have begun to enjoy this. Well no more! This is our room!” Judge Booklung began to cough spastically.

“You must answer to the law and we are the law to you. Guard!” The Guard swung his hand a fifth time. Judge Booklung, who was tensely sitting on the edge of his chair, continued his tirade.

“Look around you. Look at every face in this room, Walter. You see hatred. You, sir, are unnatural - you are an invader who has carefully hidden himself for several years, and now has been discovered. You are a foreigner. A foreigner in a perfectly functioning body. You must be plucked from us like a pernicious weed among very healthy plants. Did you honestly believe that you could avoid this? Did you think us so simple? We are not simple, Walter. Do you hear? We are not simple! Guard!” Walter continued his journey down each row of the court, and as the pain in his cheek began to subside, Walter reached the last aisle. A little boy ran up to him, kicked him as he passed by, and returned to his father who patted him on the head as Walter approached the Bench.

“And now, at last, this trial is at an end. Walter, you are a foreigner who masqueraded as a citizen. You played games with our traditions and contaminated our purity for several years. The natural growth of our town was hampered and irreversibly altered by your presence. Altered in ways we will never fully know. The gentle citizens of this town long ago provided that no court shall have the power to strip life from a man, however richly he may deserve it, and so we sentence you to exile. You shall be cut from the body, which has unwittingly fed you, and. you shall leave this place, never to return. For if you do, the mercy of this court will have no alternative but to mete out some very unpleasant justice. Do you understand our verdict?”

Walter had not spoken in weeks. His arrest and incarceration had made him feeble. He had nowhere to go and only wished to be set free. He nodded his head.

“Fine. Bailiff , you shall escort Walter to the city limits and leave him there. This is to be executed at once.” Judge Booklung hammered his gave twice, stood ceremoniously, and swiftly left his courtroom.

After the sound of the Judge’s door ceased to echo in the now-silent room, Walter was not led out of the building. He stood a few moments, without raising his head, before he fully understood the significance of the sentence and the silence. It was not the habit of the townsfolk to allow a guilty man his freedom. His Guard was the first to begin battering him. This blow initiated a mad charge toward Walter, who simply fell beneath the weight of those who had sat on the highly sought-after benches. The jurors tossed themselves out of their box to reach Walter before he expired, and Judge Booklung, who had quickly changed out of his judicial attire, leapt off his Bench and onto the melee, wildly swinging his gavel. The members of the court swiftly and with a precision which did not seem unpracticed separated Walter into his many parts, a punishment which, in the minds of those present, suited his crime perfectly.

At midday, the town was peaceful. The children had gone home and were busy writing their reports, the nurses and doctors in the town were occupied with minor abrasions and fractures, and the foreign visitors had all been carefully guided toward their home lands. The judiciary was cleaned thoroughly to free it from weeks of body odor, cleaning solution, incense, and the day’s extermination. The canvas was placed over the stained grass where it would stay until protocol again required its removal. As his last official duty before stepping down, Mayor Nattson delivered his speech to an empty town common and declared the following day a holiday; families planned picnics and sport.

Walter’s holiday became an annual event: a carnival of emancipation. The stories of his horrible nature became the material of songs and folklore. His fame spread to nearby cities, inspiring a healthy and well regulated tourist trade. Walter's name became tied so strongly to the town that he was an important part of their identity for many generations, but it was generally agreed that a man as dreadful as Walter would never come again; the current, insipid times, they said, would not permit it; and many lamented the decline of a better, more exciting era.