Chapter No. 8 Comprehendō

Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name.

The enclave of Terra is alive with activity. Merchants hawk their wares from stands that encroach on the narrow cobblestone avenues of commerce. Jesters, jugglers, and a puppeteer troupe entertain people crowding these busy thoroughfares that seem to wind around like snakes through the city-state of the Terrin Empire. Costumed mummers act out pantomimed plays from crude stages while troubadours sing peasant songs. The atmosphere is typical of harvest festival when farmers tried to earn some extra coin of the realm.

Hilton wasn't here to soak up atmosphere. His was a mission of espionage. He so desperately wanted to discover some piece of information about the royal family, some tidbit that would be of use to the cause. Failure would mean disgrace.

For this mission, he was dressed in the typical garb of a middle class male: long cotton tunic emblazoned with leather swatches that crossed horizontally, long woolen stockings, soft leather calf-high boots, and a wide leather belt to which he attached his money pouch. Men keep this pouch in front and to the right to protect it. Underneath, he wore a short-legged cotton pant, the typical undergarment of a man.

He kept his hair cropped short so that he fit in with much of the middle class peasantry here. The titled class males wore their hair in page style and lower class men often grew their hair long enough to brush their collars. Hairstyle is an important statement of status-for men. Women, regardless of class, always wear their hair long. No gender confusion is permitted.

Hilton had hoped to catch a glimpse of the royals in the streets, but he hadn't seen any in the five days he had been here. He roamed the streets and byways trying his best to blend into the crowds of revelers, but his efforts to obtain pertinent information had been in vain.

He had also tried asking questions of people that he judged to be long time residents of Terra, but no one would give him information. Fear obviously ruled this place.

Maybe this calls for a bolder plan, he thought, a plan that would guarantee him a view of the royals. He wasn't getting anywhere the way he had been operating.

Ha, I know. The royals often walk in the Park of Dreams. Perhaps, I will find eye fruit there.

Hilton strolled nonchalantly through a back alley that led up to a twelve-foot high stonewall. The fabled Park of Dreams, a vast array of fountains and flower gardens, lay beyond.

Perhaps he could get a good look at the Lady Estard, the daughter of Lord Grimsley. It's rumored that her beauty can blind a young man. He desperately wanted to test his vision on so fabled a female.

Climbing this wall was not going to be easy. He would require much planning. Perhaps, a vine would be of aid.
Hilton pulled a long stringy vine out of a trellis on the other side of the alley and fashioned a loop at one end. He lassoed the loop over an iron spike at the top of the wall and began his climb.

"You, boy," a gruff voice bellowed from below. "Get down from there or I will order my bowman to shoot you."

Hilton looked down at the two men and sighed. They were members of the Royal Grenadiers, an elite group of soldiers assigned to protect the royal family. One was a typical burly man with tree stumps for arms. The other was tall and thin and he was pointing a loaded crossbow.

After Hilton climbed down, the man without the crossbow grabbed him by his collar. "Why are you climbing this wall? Don't you know that this place is off limits for commoners."

Hilton gave him a sheepish look. "I only wanted to catch a glimpse of Lady Estard, sir."

Both men laughed.

"Haven't you heard that her look can blind foolish young men like you?" the burly guard said, grinning.

"No, sir," Hilton replied in apologetic voice.

The guard whistled and before long a wagon pulled by two oxen appeared. The back of the wagon was fitted with a cage. The guard threw Hilton into the cage and latched the door.

"Take this one to the magistrate," he shouted at the driver. "He was caught climbing this garden wall." He pointed at the wall.

The driver gave his nod and cracked a whip to the oxen.

###

Mara took one look at the knife display and knew she had come to the right place. She only had one problem: how to relieve the merchant of one of his prized properties without his knowing it. One thing that was in her favor was the crowd. Citizens of the realm milled around aimlessly and caused plenty of diversion. All she had to do was act cool.

This was not going to be easy. The hoards of people confused her. She was used to the solitude of the forest where she had seldom laid eyes on another human. The cacophony of this place disturbed her and made her disoriented.

At least she blended in with most people. She had clothed herself in the fashion of a typical middle class male and had cropped her hair. But, she had to bind her breasts up so that they were not so obvious.

Breasts are such an inconvenience. They're not like muscle at all. Soft and pliable, they get in the way at the most inappropriate times. Men are fortunate. They don't have to put up with the hindrance of breasts.

Mara loitered around the knife merchant's booth, trying not to attract attention. That wasn't so hard with the crowd pressing up to booth. All she needed to do was wait for an opportunity, a diversion that would allow her to make a move.

There was one particular knife that caught her eye, a wide single-edged blade with a fancy brass handle. It looked sharp and it probably was. She didn't really need it, but she just had to have it. She loves knives. They make wonderful weapons at close quarters and they can be thrown. She found it difficult to tear her eyes from it.
A juggler captured the eyes of spectators as well as those of the merchant. Mara grabbed the knife of her desires and faded into the crowd, but she had made a serious mistake. The merchant's son had watched her commit the crime. He alerted his father and a commotion ensued.

She ran as fast as she could, but the large crowd hampered her progress. Someone tripped her and a pursuing guard collared her before she could recover her wits. He punched her in the jaw, stunning her. Two more guards arrived to help.

"He stole a knife," the first guard told the newcomers.

The first guard grabbed her around the chest. His eyes widened. "What's this?" He pressed his fingers into her chest. "This is not a he."

The other guards gave him a funny look.

"He has breasts! See for yourselves."
The other two guards made their own investigation. They not only felt her chest, they grabbed her crotch. Mara wiggled to resist their violation of her person, but she restrained from doing anything violent.

"Only witches dress as men," the first guard yelled at her. He gestured to the other two. "Take this one to the magistrate. She is a witch."

The two guards hustled her off to a side street and threw her into a caged wagon.

###

Hilton found himself in a small chamber near the East Parapet tower. The room was not all that large. It contained a stone table near one wall where the magistrate held court and wooden benches where apprehended prisoners waited their fate. Guards came in and went out constantly. Sometimes, they escorted prisoners; sometimes they simply checked in for new assignments. The level of activity was higher than normal because of the festival.

The magistrate was a puffy faced imp with bulging eyes. He looked like a pregnant toad to Hilton. The toad looked over his latest prisoner before he began the process of arraigning him.
"What's this one charged with?" the magistrate asked the guard that had a good grip on Hilton.

"He was caught climbing the Park of Dreams wall, sire. He claims he wanted to get a look at the Lady Estard."

After he guffawed, the magistrate shook his finger at Hilton. "A serious mistake. Now you will face the judge advocate."

"I didn't do anything," Hilton protested.

"Violation of royal property is a serious offense," the magistrate said. "You are in serious trouble."

Hilton stared at him with incredulous eyes, but the magistrate didn't look up. He busied himself writing something on a document.

"Remove your clothing," the magistrate ordered him after handing the document to the guard.

Hilton's face exploded with confusion. "Why must I do this?"

The magistrate raised his right eyebrow. "Where the hell have you been, boy? Surely, you must know that it is the custom of the court."

"A strange custom, this," Hilton said with a frown.

"Don't give me any trouble. Just take your clothes off or I will have the guards do it for you."

"No need for that," Hilton said as he began to unlatch his tunic.
After he removed the tunic, he looked at the magistrate with pleading eyes. "How much of my clothing do you wish me to remove, sire?"

"All of it."

"Everything?"

"Yes. Get on with it. I don't have all day."

He had no idea why the magistrate would make such a ridiculous request, but he saw that there was no way that he was going to avoid it.

###

When she was dragged in to face the magistrate, Mara began to think that she had made a serious mistake in allowing herself to be taken into custody. The situation could easily get out of hand and she could find herself locked in a prison or worse. Her fears escalated when she watched three naked men in shackles being led off. She did not relish facing a similar fate.

"What is he charged with?" the magistrate asked the guard holding her.

The guard smiled, an unusual reaction. "This is not a he, sire."

The magistrate's eyes grew larger than they already were. "What are you trying to tell me? Is this a woman?"

"Yes, sire."

The magistrate's face exploded with anger. "She is a witch! Only witches dress in men's clothing."

"I'm not a witch," Mara yelled back at him.

"Then why are you dressed as a man?"

She flashed a brief smile. "Penis envy?"

The guard holding her gave her a smack in the head. "You won't think it's funny when you face the judge advocate, witch."

"I find nothing amusing about this place," she said, lowering her eyes.

"Should we strip her?" the other guard asked the magistrate. "If she wants to dress like a man let her face justice as a man."

The magistrate frowned. "There is insufficient time. The judge advocate's session is near at hand. This one must face examination. Take her to the prosecutor as is. Let him make the decision."

The guard tightened his grip on her arm. "Yes, sire."

The guards locked Mara's wrists and ankles in shackles before they escorted her out of the chamber. As she shuffled out into a corridor, she saw two naked men sitting on a bench, their wrists and ankles restrained as hers were. After seeing them, she considered herself fortunate to still have her clothing.