Post by debreos on Jan 29, 2020 19:53:37 GMT
“30 leagues,” mused the young man, peering down at the roadside marker stone in the dusk. “Still a long way to Paris – at least three days walk. I hope that is lieue ancienne, rather than lieue de Paris, or it’ll be even longer. It is a shame the King cannot standardise all these measurements, it would make an advocate’s life so much easier!” Continuing to mutter to himself, he started to look around for a hayrick in which to spend another night.
One thing about travelling southwest from Picardy, there was a very slight increase in temperature – more from the increased distance from the winds blowing in from La Manche than from change in latitude. Not that he was feeling much apart from tired and hungry at the moment – there was little to forage in the fields, and there was little in the way of wildlife to be seen in this farming area. Tomorrow he would have to spend some of his meagre funds on a simple meal at a farmhouse – he could not afford the cost of an inn.
When he reached the city he would have to look into ways of increasing the weight of his purse. He needed solid backing for the future.
His mother’s sudden death had forced him to try to achieve one of his dreams – to travel to Paris, to make his way in the courts of the capital, to match wits with the foremost advocates of the day, perhaps even to serve the King! He knew that his provincial legal background would not suit him to the more rarefied arguments of cosmopolitan practitioners, but aimed to acquire the necessary skills before launching his career.
“May it please your Honour,” began the prosecutor, “Patricia de Burgh stands before you accused of wanton behaviour in a public place – appearing naked in Le Coq d’Amiens, a notorious den of iniquity!.”
“Indeed,” murmured the Judge, looking admiringly at her svelte form. “And who appears for the defendant?” he asked, obviously not recognising her advocate.
“I have the honour to be Guillaume Fitzbraose,” returned the young man behind the table for the defence, leaping awkwardly to his feet and revealing a mismatched gown as he did so.
“I trust your legal arguments will be better suited than your clothes,” commented the Judge drily, causing the advocate to blush and seat himself hastily. “Monsieur Prosecutor, you may proceed.”
“I believe, your Honour, that this is an open and shut case,” he began. “This strumpet…”
“Objection!” exclaimed Fitzbraose. “Mademoiselle Patricia is no whore, but a singer of some note, as well as a terpsichorean ecdysiast!”
“Terpsi-what?” asked the bemused official.
“Terpsichorean ecdysiast,” returned the prosecutor. “A common stripper!”
“Nothing common about Patricia!” interjected a wit from the public gallery. “Patricia is the best stripper in town!”
“Order! If I need an expert witness I will call for one!” the Judge declaimed. “Continue.”
“Granted the lady in question apparently has some skill, my Lord,” the prosecutor admitted. “I believe she is known as “The Lady in Red” – why, I don’t know.”
Guillaume stood. “Milord?” The Judge nodded for him to continue. “I believe the term refers to the colouration of the ostrich feathers used in her act – I have them here in fact,” as he produced a pair of long rouged feathers.
It was almost an hour before they returned, his Honour clearly recovering his breath and Mademoiselle de Burgh unaccountably flushed. Resuming his seat, the Judge declared the session resumed.
“I can confirm,” he began, “that the lady in question is certainly an expert witness, and certainly no strumpet!” He looked reprovingly at the prosecutor, who paled and bowed. “Objection sustained! Moreover,” he continued, “I believe I have sufficient information to proceed to judgement already. Mademoiselle de Burgh, pray stand.”
Once on her feet, he spoke to the court in general. “As the Prosecutor stated at the beginning, I believe this is an open and shut case, demonstrated in fact by my remarks to her advocate on his clothing. I expect advocates in my court to wear the appropriate clothing for their profession – a fact which is common to all professions. In this case, Mademoiselle Patricia was clearly in her working clothes on the occasion in question. Case dismissed!”
One thing about travelling southwest from Picardy, there was a very slight increase in temperature – more from the increased distance from the winds blowing in from La Manche than from change in latitude. Not that he was feeling much apart from tired and hungry at the moment – there was little to forage in the fields, and there was little in the way of wildlife to be seen in this farming area. Tomorrow he would have to spend some of his meagre funds on a simple meal at a farmhouse – he could not afford the cost of an inn.
When he reached the city he would have to look into ways of increasing the weight of his purse. He needed solid backing for the future.
His mother’s sudden death had forced him to try to achieve one of his dreams – to travel to Paris, to make his way in the courts of the capital, to match wits with the foremost advocates of the day, perhaps even to serve the King! He knew that his provincial legal background would not suit him to the more rarefied arguments of cosmopolitan practitioners, but aimed to acquire the necessary skills before launching his career.
In the meantime, he fought off the chill of the night in his prickly nest by sinking into the warmth of remembrance of one of his most successful cases……
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“Case No. 7 – the Crown vs. Mademoiselle de Burgh!” The call from the court official quietened the talk in the public gallery as the beautiful young woman entered the dock.
“Indeed,” murmured the Judge, looking admiringly at her svelte form. “And who appears for the defendant?” he asked, obviously not recognising her advocate.
“I have the honour to be Guillaume Fitzbraose,” returned the young man behind the table for the defence, leaping awkwardly to his feet and revealing a mismatched gown as he did so.
“I trust your legal arguments will be better suited than your clothes,” commented the Judge drily, causing the advocate to blush and seat himself hastily. “Monsieur Prosecutor, you may proceed.”
“I believe, your Honour, that this is an open and shut case,” he began. “This strumpet…”
“Objection!” exclaimed Fitzbraose. “Mademoiselle Patricia is no whore, but a singer of some note, as well as a terpsichorean ecdysiast!”
“Terpsi-what?” asked the bemused official.
“Terpsichorean ecdysiast,” returned the prosecutor. “A common stripper!”
“Nothing common about Patricia!” interjected a wit from the public gallery. “Patricia is the best stripper in town!”
“Order! If I need an expert witness I will call for one!” the Judge declaimed. “Continue.”
“Granted the lady in question apparently has some skill, my Lord,” the prosecutor admitted. “I believe she is known as “The Lady in Red” – why, I don’t know.”
Guillaume stood. “Milord?” The Judge nodded for him to continue. “I believe the term refers to the colouration of the ostrich feathers used in her act – I have them here in fact,” as he produced a pair of long rouged feathers.
“Hmmmm,” pondered the Judge. “I believe in this case I DO need an expert witness. Bailiff – escort Mademoiselle de Burgh – and her feathers - to my chambers. This court is in recess!” All rose as his Honour stood and exited the room.
“I can confirm,” he began, “that the lady in question is certainly an expert witness, and certainly no strumpet!” He looked reprovingly at the prosecutor, who paled and bowed. “Objection sustained! Moreover,” he continued, “I believe I have sufficient information to proceed to judgement already. Mademoiselle de Burgh, pray stand.”
Once on her feet, he spoke to the court in general. “As the Prosecutor stated at the beginning, I believe this is an open and shut case, demonstrated in fact by my remarks to her advocate on his clothing. I expect advocates in my court to wear the appropriate clothing for their profession – a fact which is common to all professions. In this case, Mademoiselle Patricia was clearly in her working clothes on the occasion in question. Case dismissed!”