Читать книгу The Devil's in the Detail - Matthew S Wilson - Страница 8
ОглавлениеCHAPTER 3
David was sure that every defendant in the history of British law and order had worn a suit of some description to court. While it seemed that in America, serial killers were kindly provided a pair of bright orange overalls to wear by the State during their trial, British defendants always wore a suit. Those who were accused of fraud wore suits. So too did those who had assaulted somebody. Burglars. Extortionists. Rapists. Even those contesting a speeding fine had the good sense to wear a suit to court. But here, in the trial of his life, or indeed death, David Shepherd appeared in a pair of jeans, t-shirt and polar-fleece that had cost him all of fifteen quid from Primark. He only owned one suit. He wished he were wearing it now.
He was seated at a large stone table next to Olivia. As she busily rifled through that folder she carried, his eyes wandered around the courtroom. Truthfully more of a church than a courtroom, dim light barely penetrated the filthy stained glass windows perched high upon the stone walls. Trapped within the grimy glass were depictions of figures kneeling. Pleading. Hoping. Praying for redemption. This was indeed a place of judgment.
A set of six columns reached high up to the vaulted ceiling, each adorned with a statue of what he presumed was a Saint. He tried to remember his Bible studies. Was the one carrying the keys Peter? And the one opposite him with the sword, was he Paul? Although only statues, he could have sworn that they’d changed their pose since he first walked in. Now each of their eyes were fixed on him and their fingers seemed to be singling him out. Six saints, each pointing long, cold fingers of blame. He must be going mad. Perhaps dying didn’t entirely agree with him?
Behind him were about five empty rows of seats, presumably for the gallery. What sort of a person came to watch a trial in Purgatory? Was the afterlife really that dull?
At the front of the room was a raised bench. This must be where the judge sat. A small witness stand stood to the right of the bench. He looked around for where the jury may sit, but couldn’t see anything. Judgement must be administered by a higher power.
On the wall directly behind the bench was an enormous seal, depicting an upside down crucifix and a key with Latin words emblazoned around its edge. It was flanked by two flags that stood upright. David didn’t recognise either – one seemed to be pale blue in colour, with a golden sash, whilst the second was black with a crimson sash.
Aside from the rear doors through which he and Olivia had entered, there were three other entry points, or exits, in the chamber. One was located in the back corner of the room and David guessed that this was some sort of anteroom. The remaining two exits were a pair of gates, one located in each corner of the front wall. They were both roughly eight feet tall and both revealed nothing but darkness beyond their bars. At first they appeared to be identical, but David soon noticed that they were indeed quite different.
The gate on the left hand side of the room seemed to have bars that were made of the most beautiful arrangement of pearls that he had ever seen. Olivia noticed David’s gaze.
‘Didn’t you ever wonder where the phrase “pearly gates” originated from?’
David hadn’t. In fact, he’d never considered Heaven at all. When he’d attended funerals and priests had spoken of Heaven, his mind usually went blank. Perhaps on reflection he had never really believed that such a place existed. Maybe it was just a place that people had invented to make them believe that their loved ones were residing somewhere happier than six feet under, next to the M25. Yet there they were. The Gates to Heaven.
His eyes shifted to the right hand side of the room and he looked at the other gate. The bars were made of dark iron, with razor sharp jagged edges that prevented anyone from entering. Or more probably, prevented people from leaving. The thought of Hell made him shudder and he instantly wanted to get things underway and prove his innocence.
‘Where is everybody?’
‘The prosecution wanted to change their counsel.’
He looked alarmed.
‘Is that common?’
‘Not common.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘Who knows how they think down there?’
Down there. David suddenly remembered that Olivia wasn’t merely talking about the room down the hall. Or a few floors down in the building. She was talking about Hell. His eyes flicked to the black gate. How could a place that was bathed in fire send such cold chills down his spine? And it seemed that if Hell were taking the time to change their counsel, then somebody “down there” was taking this case very seriously indeed.
But why? Hadn’t he lived his life in a relatively good way? Why had they picked on him? He was just a London cab driver. What had he ever done that was bad? Admittedly, what had he done that was any good? He looked up at the majestic courtroom and wondered how a no good lay-about like him warranted all of this.
‘So will there be witnesses?’
‘No.’
‘A jury?’
‘No.’
‘How can you have a trial without witnesses or a jury?’
‘Both are human Mr Shepherd, and humans are particularly susceptible to emotion. And emotion, I’m sure you will agree, can be awfully counter productive when it comes to discovering the truth.’
‘The truth? But surely the truth is what somebody says it is. Isn’t it?’
Her face suggested otherwise.
‘I mean, the actual truth is a myth,’ he continued, ‘Who on Earth knows the bloody truth about anything?’
‘You are quite right Mr Shepherd. Nobody on Earth does.’
She gave a little knowing smile, quite pleased with her clever little quip. David was less amused.
‘God? We’re expecting God to take the stand?’
‘Lower your voice,’ she hissed at him. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that we could certainly do with Him on our side.’
Although they were the only two people in the room he found himself whispering.
‘Seriously? How can he testify?’
‘He won’t be testifying Mr Shepherd. There isn’t any need. He has already told us everything that you’ve ever done, said or indeed even thought. It’s all in your Liberiudicium.’
‘My Liber-what?’
‘Your Liberiudicium. It means your Book of Judgement. Your Liberiudicium is a chronicle of your entire life.’
‘God? God writes a book about everything for absolutely everyone?’
‘Well nobody knows precisely how it’s transcribed, but ….’
She shrugged.
‘…more or less.’
‘How is that even possible?’
‘He is God.’
David had always hated when people had explained the unexplainable with “He is God” or “He moves in mysterious ways”. It had always struck him as exceptionally lazy.
‘So have you seen it?’ he asked.
‘Seen what?’
‘My Liber-whatever it’s called?’
‘Your Liberiudicium. I’m your counsel. Of course I have.’
‘So you know everything about me?’
She quickly shook her head.
‘Not everything, I’m afraid. As you might imagine, with approximately 150,000 people dying every day and only about 40,000 courtrooms, our resources are extremely stretched. Whatever cases we don’t close out in a day means that we have a backlog. There is a real push from above to keep the cases as short and concise as possible. So they give us a very limited time to study your Liberiudicium in the short time between your death and your trial.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes, myself and the prosecution. Once we are assigned to your case, the Dominion…’
‘What’s the Dominion again?’
She gave a patient smile.
‘The Dominion, the Judge presiding over your trial. The Dominion allows both counsels access to your Liberiudicium for a period of two hours only, in order to acquaint ourselves with the facts of the case. Based on this, we compile our case files.’
She tapped the folder on the desk. He saw that it was labelled “David James Shepherd, London, England. Born 14th October 1969. Catholic.”.
‘May I see it?’
He reached for it, but she quickly snatched it away from him.
‘I’m afraid that is against regulations Mr Shepherd. Regulation 57 states that “Any defendant in Purgatory …’
‘Okay, okay. Forget about it. But, what’s your gut feeling?’
‘I don’t speculate on my client’s chances Mr Shepherd. I merely represent them to the best of my abilities.’
‘But you must have some sort of feeling on it. Would you say that I’ve committed more sins than most?’
‘The Court of Saint Peter isn’t concerned with all of the sins that a soul has committed on Earth. It is only concerned with ten sins that a soul may transgress.’
‘Only ten?’
‘Indeed. Heaven is His Kingdom and a place of pure goodness. He hasn’t the time, nor the inclination, to offer eternal paradise to those who are susceptible to temptation and evil. He’s tried that once, and we all remember how that little experiment worked out.’
It sounded as if there were no apple trees in Heaven anymore. Or serpents for that matter.
‘So which ten sins does the court consider?’
She looked at him in shock.
‘Are you making a joke?’
‘No,’ he said, defensively.
She gave him a disappointed look.
‘They have been referred to in various forms through history. The Greeks called them the “Decalogue”. The original Hebrew term was “Assert HaDibrot”, which translates to “The Ten Statements”.
She could see that he still had absolutely no idea.
‘I believe that you would know them as the Ten Commandments.’
She motioned behind them to the rear of the courtroom and the double doors through which they had entered a moment ago. Above the doors, hung two enormous stone tablets which he had missed upon entering the court. Inscribed on each were five lines of ancient engravings.
‘Are you having a laugh? The Ten Commandments? That’s what God uses to judge everyone’s passage to Heaven by?’
Olivia did not appreciate his tone.
‘Not everyone, no. Different religions have different criteria into the afterlife, but you were christened as Catholic, were you not?’
‘Well I suppose so, but …’
‘Then you will be judged by the Ten Commandments.’
He wasn’t even sure he could recite the Ten Commandments, let alone be sure that he hadn’t broken any of them. He started to read them.
I. I am the Lord your God.
II. Thou shalt have no other Gods before me.
III. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.
IV. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
V. Honour thy father and thy mother.
VI. Thou shalt not kill.
VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
VIII. Thou shalt not steal.
IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.
X. Thou shalt not covet anything that belongs to thy neighbour.
The one that caused David the most concern was “Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbour”. A few years ago he’d reported the botched extension to his neighbour’s garage. It was hardly false testimony though - that garage looked as if it could have tipped over onto their fence at any moment. Besides, it was a bloody eyesore.
“Thou shalt not kill” also caused concern, but he remembered that Olivia had said that he hadn’t killed any of the thugs that had attacked Helen. He should be fine. Shouldn’t he?
‘So what, if I’ve broken any of these Commandments I’m going straight to Hell?’
‘It isn’t that simple.’
‘Well, how many am I allowed to break? Two? Three?’
‘It’s not like baseball Mr Shepherd. Three strikes doesn’t necessarily mean you are out.’
‘So if I’ve only broken one or two I’d be fine?’
‘In these trials, it is rather common for people to have broken two or three commandments.’
‘And they go to Heaven?’
‘Most of them certainly do. As you know God forgives us. Even if people have broken the Commandments, if they’ve atoned and asked God for forgiveness, they generally pass to Heaven.’
‘What about those that don’t? They go to Hell?’
‘Please do lower your voice Mr Shepherd. It isn’t as black and white as you make it sound.’
‘Surely you can’t get more black and white than Heaven and Hell.’
‘Well, Hell has many circles. There are different sentences that can be handed out.’
‘What do you mean “different circles”?’
‘Mr Shepherd, rather than debating what will happen to you if we lose, I suggest we focus on ensuring we win. Wouldn’t you agree?’
She had a point.
‘Where do we start?’ he asked.
‘As I said, I’ve reviewed your Liberiudicium and given the short timeframes, have focused on the periods of your life where statistically, most Commandments tend to have been broken.’
She flicked open the folder.
‘For men it is their seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays which, in your instance, were relatively uneventful, if you don’t mind me saying.’
David’s mind drifted back to watching Countdown in his room, eating birthday cake.
‘For male souls who were married, such as yourself, a number of Commandments are typically broken in the weeks preceding the wedding. And whilst I can’t say that I approve of the activities of your “stag weekend”, technically no Commandments were broken.’
She squinted as she familiarised herself with the details.
‘Although I’m sure the prosecution will not miss their chance to point out that livestock should never be treated that way.’
They both blushed and he was relieved to see her snap the folder shut again.
‘Now, before we go any further, are there any sinful actions in your life that I should know about? Are there any Commandments that you, yourself, know that you have broken? Being able to anticipate the prosecution will greatly assist our case.’
David’s eyes flicked back to the tablets again.
‘Potentially “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain”?’
She didn’t look amused, so he decided to back-track.
‘Perhaps not. I can’t remember really. Maybe once at school?’
She didn’t speak a word, but gave him yet another disappointed look and made a note.
‘Thankfully, He forgives us Mr Shepherd. You say that you committed blasphemy once - can you remember when? We can reference the confession that you made after it so that the Dominion will clear you of the charge.’
‘Making a confession makes a difference?’
She looked at him in disbelief.
‘Of course confession makes a difference. Did you think that people attend confession to hear the sound of their own voice?’
He bit his tongue. That was precisely what he thought.
‘When was your last confession?’
He looked at his feet.
‘I can’t remember exactly.’
She reopened her folder and ran a finger down the page.
‘I couldn’t find any regular attendance of church whatsoever within your Liberiudicium. I assume you usually pray at home?’
‘Only during the World Cup,’ he joked.
Olivia’s face confirmed that it had sounded funnier in his head. She looked as if she was after something a little more serious.
‘Well, the thing is, I was raised Catholic, but in later years I probably practiced less than I should have.’
‘Many souls feel that way. But you still prayed to God?’
He took a deep breath as he tried to recall.
‘I can’t remember.’
She made another note.
‘I suggest you don’t volunteer that in your trial.’
One count of blasphemy – who was he kidding? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered the amount of times he’d used the Lord’s name in vain. His beloved Arsenal were a hard team to watch at the best of times.
‘So if I haven’t asked for forgiveness for any of my sins, then I’ll be going to Hell?’
‘Confession and prayer would certainly demonstrate remorse and help your case, Mr Shepherd.’
‘Using the Lord’s name in vain will send a person to Hell - are you kidding?’
‘I’m afraid this isn’t a laughing matter.’
He pointed to the stone tablets at the rear of the courthouse.
‘I mean…. Killing. Or adultery. I can understand those type of sins leading to Hell. But blasphemy … really?’
She shrugged.
‘When God issued the Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, he didn’t include a weighting system. They are all as important as the other.’
It suddenly hit him. She wasn’t joking. And this wasn’t something he could blag his way out of. It appeared that any breach of these Commandments, no matter how trivial it may have appeared at the time, lead directly to an eternity in Hell.
Olivia placed a reassuring hand on his elbow.
‘Try not to despair Mr Shepherd. I only had two hours studying your Liberiudicium and you seem a thoroughly decent soul.’
David still looked troubled.
‘And just remember, the prosecution has changed their counsel,’ she said encouragingly.
He looked up at her.
‘And?’
‘And … it’s unlikely that their replacement counsel had a chance at all to study it in any great detail, if at all.’
A small smile spread across his lips. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps they didn’t know a thing about him. Perhaps he’d have no charges to answer to at all. This incredible thought was immediately interrupted by the sight of the Pearl Gate silently opening and a creature emerging that David couldn’t quite comprehend.
It looked like a human being, in as much as it had legs, arms and a head. It moved like a human being, striding confidently from the left of the courtroom across to the right. But that was where its similarities to a human being ended. Its skin was bronze in colour and seemed to glow, emitting a shimmering, golden aura around it. It wore a pale blue tunic that reached its knees and a coat of silver armour that covered its body. Upon its wrists were armoured bracelets and a short silver sword swung from its hip as it walked. The arms and legs were as muscular as any man he’d seen, but its long golden hair and facial features had a beauty that was almost feminine. An enormous set of folded wings emerged from its back.
As David leaned across to Olivia, his eyes were transfixed on this amazing looking creature.
‘Is that an Angel?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she replied with a frown. ‘That is Ezekiel. He is an Archangel.’
Her gaze poured scorn on the beautiful creature.
‘I told you they were theatrical.’
Ezekiel reached the end of the room and halted smartly by slamming one foot down next to the other. Standing rigidly at attention, he smoothly pivoted to face the courtroom, his eyes staring blankly ahead with a hint of a grin on his voluptuous lips.
Olivia cleared her throat.
‘I suppose you neglected to read Regulation 109 then, Ezekiel?’
Ezekiel sneered.
‘I am an Archangel and the bailiff of this court, Olivia. I’m supposed to be intimidating.’
Their glaring was interrupted by the Pearl Gate silently opening once more. Ezekiel’s voice rang through the courtroom. It was higher pitched than David would have imagined from somebody possessing biceps that large.
‘The Holy Court of Saint Peter will now hear the case for and against David James Shepherd for his passage in the afterlife. The Honourable Dominion Galloway shall preside over this matter.’
Another imposing figure strode out. Dominion Galloway had a more recognisable shape than the Archangel, but he was no less intimidating. Although the Dominion must have been in his eighties, his distinguished white hair and dark foreboding eyebrows endowed him with a regal look. His tall wiry frame was draped in a thick purple tunic, with a golden brooch on the front, bearing the same insignia as the crest behind the bench.
He walked up the three steps and without looking up at David and Olivia, sat down in a high-backed leather chair behind the bench. He pulled on a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses and opened a set of drawers that were located by his knees.
‘Be seated.’
Though an elderly man, his voice reverberated against every stone in the room. He lifted an enormous, dusty looking book from the draw and placed it on the bench.
Olivia leaned across to David and whispered in his ear.
‘That is your Liberiudicium. Every action you have ever taken, whether it be good, bad or indifferent, resides in that book.’
David’s eyes were transfixed on it. Everything that has happened in his life was in that book? Although it was about twenty times thicker than the last book he’d read (“Head on – the Ian Botham Autobiography”), he still couldn’t understand how every act he’d ever committed could possibly fit within it. Surely, his behaviour at his stag-weekend alone would have filled that book?
Dominion Galloway had opened the cover and proceeded to leaf through the book. He moistened his finger, before flicking to the next page, in the same way someone stands in a shop, leafing through a magazine that they have no intention of buying. Without looking up from what he was reading, his deep voice boomed out once more.
‘And how does the defendant plead?’
Olivia kept a pleasant smile on her face.
‘Not guilty, Your Honour.’
He flicked another page. His expression betrayed nothing.
‘I see.’
David immediately felt sick at the thought of anyone reading an account of his stag party.
‘And is the prosecution prepared to commence?’
Silence.
Dominion Galloway looked up, one of those thick black eyebrows arched.
‘And where, may I ask, is the prosecution?’
Silence again. Although it wasn’t Ezekiel or Olivia’s fault that the prosecutor hadn’t yet arrived, David interpreted their uncomfortable squirming to signify that a Dominion wasn’t the sort of Angel that you kept waiting. Ever.
Just as Olivia opened her mouth to speak, there was a loud clank of a key being turned in a lock and the Black Gate now began to swing open. A waft of sulphur filled the courtroom and David felt a blast of heat on his face as though somebody had just opened the door to a furnace. As they heard heavy footsteps approaching from the darkness beyond the open gate, David leaned across and whispered to Olivia.
‘Another Angel?’
She kept her eyes on the blackness as the footsteps drew closer.
‘Angels aren’t permitted through there. Only Demons are.’
He felt scared, but was also physically incapable of taking his eyes from the direction of those awful footsteps. The first thing he saw was its hair. Black, shiny hair, slicked back slightly – presumably with blood. As it took another step into the light, he could see its forehead. He couldn’t see any horns, but perhaps they only came out when it whipped helpless souls. It had black eyebrows, arched and thin … almost human like. And then David saw them. The eyes. They weren’t the red slits he was expecting, but rather an emerald colour that in other circumstances may have been quite striking. Next were its lips – currently closed, but undoubtedly hiding a set of fangs that were so sharp that they could even slice through a steak from a cheap pub.
The creature had now fully entered the room and was walking toward the prosecution’s bench. David could plainly see its face and upper body. Strangely, it wore a suit – undoubtedly removed from one of its unfortunate previous clients. He prepared himself for the imminent sight of its hind legs. He imagined them to be fawn-like, with little trotters. But they weren’t. They too, were remarkably human. Dressed in matching suit trousers and wearing a pair of leather shoes that, truthfully, put David’s pair of trainers to shame.
Dominion Galloway raised an eyebrow in surprise.
‘Gabriel? We were expecting Baal to represent the prosecution.’
‘Pardon, Your Honour. Monsieur Baal had a trial in the South Western precinct which required his attention. I will be this trial’s prosecutor. And I apologise for being late, but there are many more stairs than I remember.’
David had expected the Demon’s voice to be rough. Gravelly. Almost snarling. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was decidedly and quintessentially French.
And like all French accents, it was absolutely lovely.
As Gabriel took his place behind the prosecution bench, David realised that this “Demon” was in fact a man. And not just any man. One of the most beautiful, well dressed and courteous men that David had ever set eyes upon. He smelled good too.
The Dominion remain unswayed and flicked away the apology.
‘Well if you both would be so kind as to make your opening statements, perhaps we’ll be finished in time for the Second Coming.’
Gabriel dispelled his sarcasm with a polite smile, clicked his heels and neatly opened a folder on the bench before him.
‘Oui. Of course, Your Honour.’
And although he was technically dead, David Shepherd was now officially in the fight of his life.
