"Objection!" Professor was calm but firm. He eyed the judges, daring them to challenge him. "I have grave doubts on the reliability of the prosecution. Your Honor, I would like you to rethink the relevance of the facts."
"The defense's objection is overruled."
The young judge, Cardinal Carione, shook his head. This cardinal was well known as a devout follower of Francesco. That he was residing as judge was not in Caterina's favor. "There is sufficient proof of the reliability of the prosecution's evidence. Would the defense please present counter-evidence."
"Then I would like to question the officer of the Department of the Inquisition. Exhibit A: a signature on a list of participants of New Vatican. There is no evidence that this list is genuine."
Professor didn't look to the judge or the prosecution. He looked at the jury. The jury was made up of twelve cardinals, all dressed in scarlet clerical garments. He held out his arms to ask for their sympathy. "I have seen the findings of the DNA and handwriting analysis, and the radio-immunological assessment.
However, there are problems with the conclusions! This cannot be considered proof that the accused has a connection with New Vatican. This is only proof of doubt. There is no other physical evidence that the accused collaborated with New Vatican. I would like the jury to bear that in mind."
But despite the eloquent scientific explanation, this was clearly not enough to garner the jury's sympathies.
"Your Honor," the calm woman of the prosecution was next to interrupt the proceedings. "The prosecution would like to add four further pieces of evidence to exhibit A. May I?"
"You may. Are they here now, Sister Paula?"
"Yes." Sister Paula took out several files from a folder and handed them out to the judge and jury. Finally, she walked toward the defense's bench. "Master Wordsworth." With insipid politeness, she offered the file.
Silently, Professor took it and glanced over it.
Paula returned to the prosecution bench and started talking: "This was sent to the Department of the Inquisition by an anonymous member of the Ministry of Holy Affairs. It is a confidential internal document, but it is from the pen of the accused, Cardinal Sforza. It has been labeled as Top Secret. They are orders sent from Cardinal Sforza to the heretic, Father Vaclav Havel, during the Brno uprising."
Ripples of shock were audible from the jury. Sealed in the files were several letters addressed to the traitor Havel. The contents were fragmentary, but the main subject pertained to orders for Havel to seize new weapons of the church for New Vatican. Most of the jury would know the handwriting by sight.
"Duchess of Milan, is this not your hand?" With perfect timing, Paula turned the jury's attention to the beautiful woman sat in the dock. "You used your subordinate, Havel, to aid the uprising of New Vatican. Do you deny supporting the abduction of His Holiness?"
"Of course this is not true."
It was not Caterina who defended herself. The beauty in the dock maintained her silence. Professor stood up from the lawyer's desk to defend his leader. "Sister Paula, what do you mean to achieve by bringing such a thing into the court? This is sabotaging the trial by bringing such ridiculous evidence and theatrics. I would like to raise a strong objection."
"Unfortunately for you, it is not you who gets to decide what evidence is admissible, Master Wordsworth."
Professor's objection was valid, but the "Lady of Death" didn't budge an inch. Her gaze was as cold as death itself.
The poker face of the Albion aristocracy in challenging situations was well-established—so, Professor's expression betrayed nothing. However, this silence and lack of emotion did not mean he, or his mistress, were not feeling defeated.
"I'm sorry, Your Eminence." Professor looked serious as he turned to the accused. His beloved pipe still in his mouth, he whispered to his mistress: "We seem to be trapped."
"We are not the only ones who are trapped." Caterina coughed. She looked ill, but her eyes hadn't lost their spark. Her gaze was sharp, and she was ready to face her opponents. "We are all trapped, the whole of the Vatican, including the Department of the Inquisition. Still, these backhanded tactics are a mistake. Their sly ways are not sufficient."
"Order! Order!"
The sound of the judge's gavel demanded silence. The courtroom had descended into chaos and flurry at the submission of this new piece of evidence.
"Does anyone have any counter-evidence to this new exhibit?"
"No." Professor may have been the brains of Rome, but he wasn't a miracle worker. There was nothing he could do. The timing of the evidence was perfect, the contents excellent... It was splendid. Sister Paula was an able adversary who had read the feeling of the room and even used the Department of the Inquisition to her own end.
"We were ready for a tough battle, but this is worse than I expected. I wonder when we can expect the others back from Tallinn?" Professor whispered.
Caterina didn't answer; she just continued to stare out the window.
The snowfall had gotten worse. It was always cold during Christmastime, but this year's winter had been unusually fierce. Caterina wondered if they were keeping themselves warm.
"That concludes the statement for the prosecution."
Once again, the judge's gavel hit the bench. Cardinal Carione's voice echoed in the court room: "The accused, Caterina Sforza, will be sentenced at this time next week. Court is adjourned for today!"
"This is unusual, you coming here." The convict smirked from behind the bullet-proof glass as he picked at his ear. He twisted his mouth into a strange smile. "How many years have you been working?"
"I don't know," a cold voice was the only thing to meet the convict's question. The speaker's cassock was done up tight around his neck. He seemed to possess enough latent energy that he could break a finger by just touching it. "This time, the request is not from Duchess of Milan. Professor sends this message. He does not have the power to reduce your sentence, but if you don't take this job or if you take it and fail, then you will never leave this place."
"Harsh. I don't really have a choice." The convict sighed heavily. He pulled his finger out of his ear and was now inspecting the orange wax stuck to the end of it. He smiled. "I have to get out of here. I have a woman waiting for me on the outside. A real good girl."
"I see."
For a second, a shadow passed over the visitor's face. It was only for a second though; immediately, his face returned to its typically stoic expression. The young man nodded, his blonde hair moving as his head did. He picked up his metal rod and stood up." Well, when you're ready."
"Sure... but more importantly..." The convict, Leon Garcia de Asturias, raised his eyebrows. While he rubbed the marks on his arms where the shackles had been, he looked up into his visitor's face. "How about your injuries? I heard that you had not gotten out of bed for half a year?"
"Ah, yes, about that..." The visitor started to move the metal rod gently. Immediately, the bullet-proof glass that had separated them lay in shambles on the floor.
"As you can see, there are no lingering problems." Dispatch Officer Father Hugue de Watteau smiled.