03 - Merlin and the Judge

And so I was born, on a rainy and stormy night, in the forbidden hour, about ten days before the autumnal equinox, when lightning struck Moridunum and many houses of the city caught fire and several people died. I was a misshapen, ugly monstrosity, a bloodstained, pathetic creature, hairy all over, and the brides of Christ wanted to kill me, abandon me in the wilderness and leave my life to the judgment of the Lord, but Placidus found me,ü, baptized me with the second name of my grandfather, Merlinus, and brought me back to my mother, and freed from dried blood and hair, I now seemed to be a normal human child, and baptized, none of the solitary ones dared to lay hands on me. I grew up in the house of St. Peter and since the brides of Christ used to take in many young girls and also cared for fatherless children, no one paid special attention to me in my first days until I took my first steps earlier and spoke sooner than children usually do and my words and looks did not seem to be those of a young child but rather those of an old man, rich in years. So we began to talk and although Placidus forbade it, at some point the word about the unfortunate sinister brat from the house of St. Peter traveled out into the neighborhood, into the neighborhood and eventually I was soon in almost everyone's gossip in the entire city. Placidus, my mother and also my uncle Colonnus defended me with their best strength, but the pious people of Moridunum looked at me with fear and soon with open hatred, and it was not long before they urged the praetor of the city to take care of me. The praetor, who was also the court judge of the king of Venedotia, one of his relatives and twelve advising druids, was at that time a man named Mattius, a serious and conscientious man who did not care to indulge the superstitions of the common people and who only reluctantly set out to get hold of me and convene a court. When the court met, however, the fury of the mob was overwhelming, and in spite of the suffering defense which Diakonos Placidus gave me, Mattius was soon inclined to accede to the urging of the people for the sake of municipal peace. I looked into his heart and now took the floor myself to the royal judge and described in dark words that many a fatherless child could very well be of noble and high descent and that cleverness and eloquence were nothing idolatrous but only distinguished those of high birth from the common people, how much Christ our Lord had praised the children and purity of their souls, and that in the case of many a high lord in office and honor his parentage could be quite uncertain in spite of his good name, and that not every child of a known father with a good name was actually certainly the child of that very father. If Mattius had not been personally averse to me so far, now his face darkened and in his heart he decided to condemn me and to give in to the will of the people. He offered himself a break until the verdict and soon withdrew, ostensibly to consult about the legality of the death sentence on a child. Soon, however, he was called out, for an old man of his retinue named Antrius, a Christian priest, had been found dead, apparently drowned in the dark waters of the Tamesa, that great river which divided Moridunum. Mattius, to whom Antrius had always been a good friend and mentor, was shaken and troubled, and now it happened that Mattius' old mother Salvina asked to speak to her son. She approached Mattius and confessed to him with tears that the priest Antrius had not been a good man and had once used her in her youth and had done violence to her, but that now as an adult man he should learn the truth that Antrius had been his true father and that after his death the lie she had always told her son must be exposed. Mattius soon appeared before the crowd and with sharp words condemned the superstition of the people, invoked the Christian faith and proclaimed that the king Venedotias could never be a Herod but a pious follower of Christ our Lord. I was only an exceptionally clever child, in whom there was nothing unusual or even diabolical, except for a presumably noble descent, for which neither I nor my young mother were to be condemned, but rather we were to be treated with forgiveness and charity, as befitted good Christian men and faithful citizens of the king
and placed me under the personal protection of his family. That day I was allowed to go free and the people left me in peace, even if they avoided me and no longer spoke open about me.I had found in Mattius a powerful ally and protector, but knew that my unspoken deal was that the knowledge of his true parentage must never be known, about which both our looks had agreed clearly and wordless.I, however, was also clearly aware of whose power it had been that had driven Antrius to suicide and Salvia's decision to break her silence.