Shadows of the Workhouse

Julienne marked the knitting card.
    “Did I say purl four, slip one, purl three, knit two together, pass the slip stitch over?”
    “Yes, you did, dear.”
    “That’s wrong; it should be purl three after slipping the slip stitch over, not before.”
    “Oh yes, of course, that makes sense.”
    The judge leaned forward. “Have you ladies sorted out your knitting?”
    “Yes, My Lord.”
    “Then perhaps we can start the morning’s proceedings.”
    Sister Monica Joan made her way to the witness box. She looked completely composed; in fact she looked beautiful in her full black habit with the halo of white linen around her face. A small smile lightened her features and her eyes sparkled mischievously. Naughty Sister Monica Joan always enjoyed the limelight.
    Counsel for the Prosecution opened. “The police report states that certain jewels were found in your knitting bag. Is this a true statement?”
    Sister Monica Joan looked towards the jury, then to the visitors’ gallery. She turned towards the judge and raised one eyebrow quizzically. Her composure held everyone captive as they waited for her reply.
    Her voice, always clear, had a ringing quality. “Truth. The eternal mystery. ‘What is truth?’ asked Pilate. Mankind has been seeking the answer to that question for thousands of years. What would be your definition of truth, young man?”
    “I am here to ask you the questions, Sister – not the other way round.”
    “But it is a perfectly fair question. Before we can establish the truth, we must have a definition of it.”
    Counsel decided to humour her: “Truth, I would say, is an accurate record of fact. Would you accept that, Sister.”
    “You have studied Aristotle?”
    “A little,” replied Counsel modestly.
    “Truth. Truth is a movement of inexhaustible power, containing within itself divine truth. In the depths of space, matter is forever being formed into the heavenly bodies and transformed into the speed of light and disappears from our ken. Would you say that this is an accurate record of fact when it has disappeared from our ken?”
    “I am not a scientist, Sister, but a lawyer, and I am enquiring about jewels found in your possession.”
    “Ah, yes, the jewels. The stars are the jewels of heaven. But are they fact? Are they truth or are they a chimera? Do we see the stars? We think we see them, but we do not; we see what they were light years ago. Would you say that the stars are an accurate record of fact, young man?”
    “You see, she is confused,” whispered the general practitioner.
    “She’s clever. She is deliberately trying to confuse the issue. That’s what she’s doing,” the psychiatrist replied in hushed tones.
    The judge interrupted. “Silence in court! Sister, this court is here to consider stolen jewellery. It is not here to discuss metaphysics. Please confine your answers to the matter in hand.”
    Sister Monica Joan turned her shapely head towards the judge. “Matter, and what is matter? Einstein says that matter is energy. Are these jewels matter? Are they energy, moving at the speed of light into cosmic forces beyond the limits of our consciousness? Are these jewels living matter, living energy, circling the earth in the full moon of April, or are they mere clods of clay, dull and lifeless, as postulated by the police?”
    Although Sister Monica Joan was speaking to the judge, her clear voice rang through the courtroom. An eloquent hand reached towards the jury, who sat spellbound although they did not understand a word she was talking about.
    Counsel for the Prosecution continued. “But how did the jewels come to be in your possession, Sister?”
    She turned on him angrily. “I do not know, young man. I am not a seer; I am but a humble seeker of eternal truths. These jewels, which seem to excite so much interest, have their own life, their own consciousness and their own energy force. When an atom gets excited it creates magnetic fields independent of human activity. Did they not teach you that at school, young man?”
    Counsel, who was close on fifty, was beginning to look out of his depth. “No, madam, I was not taught that at school.”
    “Were you not taught that all matter is subject to the laws of gravity?”
    Counsel refused to answer. “Sister, I am enquiring into stolen jewellery. Are you trying to say that jewels were magnetised or gravitated from jewellers in Hatton Garden into your knitting bag by their own volition?”
    “I do not know.