Chapter 28: Blazing Egos

The decision was made. Judge Embert Wimple would retire. He had a little court business outstanding, but would take on no more. Even his iron constitution was being taxed by a combination of age and, increasingly, weather. He was tired of rising early, especially in winter, to do battle with his contemporaries’ aberrant behaviour. There were more important things in life. Specifically, the judge was concerned that he might be leaving it too late to grapple with cosmic matters. It was the technical aspect that troubled him – and for a particular reason.

He had recently read an article concerning the lives of artists and scientists, in which it had been pointed out that the former frequently seemed to be virtually ageless, going from strength to strength, while the latter often burned out early. Admittedly, the article said, there were exceptions, Archimedes being cited as an example. However, it was contended that the boffins usually do their best work before reaching middle age. Einstein had erupted incandescently from about 1905 to 1916, but what he done afterwards? The article did not say, but Judge Wimple had drawn his conclusions. He had also thought of an eminent man in his own line of work, the American Judge Oliver Wendell Holmes, who once said: “Life is painting a picture, not doing a sum.” Well, Esmeralda Wimple was going well on that basis, a fact not lost upon his honour.

It was late March and the weather was striking a wild note, with a high wind and driving rain, a combination the judge found a match for his mood. However, it was time to get going. What was on the menu today? Goodall versus Short. Embert Wimple was not clear about what awaited him, but wasn’t greatly concerned, that situation being familiar. What of the advocates? Appearing for the prosecution was young Cedric Thistle, who was rapidly gaining a reputation as a two-fisted courtroom scrapper. Defending counsel was Daniel Pettigrew, now surely close to retirement and probably no more interested than strictly necessary. The plaintiff, Colin Goodall, was a slim fellow of about six foot two. The defendant, Victor Short, was a little over average height and heavily-built. Both men were in their thirties. Goodall was casually but tidily dressed, while Short wore a smart pinstriped blue suit. Judge Wimple nodded at Cedric Thistle. “Let us proceed, Mr Gristle.”

A fair effort, that. Prosecuting counsel inflated his chest and drew himself up to his full five foot seven. “Thank you, Your Honour. The incident that brought us here occurred on the twenty-eighth of November last year, at about two-forty in the afternoon. Before describing it, I must comment on my client’s unusual predicament.”

Fearing wordiness, the judge peered at Thistle. “Please be brief,” he said.

“I will try. Mr Goodall is unemployed. He does not own either a car or a bicycle and he cannot afford to travel by public transport.”

“Yes, yes,” said the judge. “That is unfortunate, but not unusual. Please make your point.”

“My apologies, Your Honour. My client assuages what he perceives as his social disadvantages by taking long walks at high speed. He is so accomplished in this way that he finds it difficult to accept that anyone else might exceed his fleetness of foot. He –”

The judge broke in: “You may be surprised to learn that the syndrome is not uncommon. You mean that your client cannot grasp that there may be those who can outpace him. I was once a member of a road harriers’ club, so I know the feeling. One senses oneself to be in competition, even when one is not. You may continue.”

“Thank you. At the time in question, Mr Goodall had been walking in the woods north of here. He emerged from a stand of trees and was heading towards a stile, when he noted the defendant and his family approaching the same spot from the opposite direction. Seeing that he and the Shorts were equidistant from the stile, my client obeyed his instinct and quickened his pace. Unaccountably to him, Mr Short did the same, surging ahead of his companions. In fact, Mr Goodall was convinced that the defendant actually ran a few paces.”

“Cheated, did he?” said the judge.

“One might say that. The two men converged upon the spot, the defendant being a stride ahead. Mr Short sat on the stile, beckoning his party to hurry along. Obviously insisting upon what he saw as his rights, he made no concession to Mr Goodall, but retained possession of the stile until the rest of his party – wife, three children, pushchair and two Labrador dogs – reached the place. My client took issue with this small-minded attitude and words were exchanged. The outcome was that the defendant struck my client on the head with a stick, causing lacerations which required medical attention. Mr Goodall was told that, should he retaliate, the dogs would be set upon him.”

The judge held up a hand to interrupt Thistle’s flow. “It seems to have been an unequal contest. A hefty man armed with a stick and supported by his family and two dogs, against a man with no companions and apparently no weapons. What did your client do?”

“While the defendant’s party nonchalantly passed by, he staunched the bleeding from his wound. Then he followed the Shorts at a discreet distance, noting that the family entered a car some distance away from the stile. By coincidence, my client recognised the car as one he had often seen in the drive of a house in the estate where he lives. From the electoral register, he established the details which enabled him to bring this action. He is entitled to recompense for Mr Short’s brutal assault.”

“Thank you,” said the judge. “Now, you mentioned your client’s psychological condition. I appreciate that may have no bearing upon the incident, but as a matter of interest, has he sought professional attention?”

“Yes, Your Honour. He has undergone aromatherapy and homeopathic treatment.”

“What about the more conventional methods? Not that I am in any way denigrating the ones you mention. In fact I favour them myself.”

“Mr Goodall has no faith in what might be called mainstream practices.”

“I understand. Now, I think it is time for us to hear from the defence. What contribution have you to offer, Mr Peterman?”

Pettigrew was not too pleased that the judge was thinking of a safe-breaker when addressing him, but sailed over the point. “Thank you, Your Honour. There is no question that my client struck the plaintiff as described by the prosecution. He happened to be carrying a stick he had picked up earlier, but used it only to defend himself when the plaintiff threatened him with raised fists. However, that is not the only point we have to make. My client, Mr –”