The Devil's in the Detail. Matthew S Wilson

      ‘Potentially “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain”?’

      She didn’t look amused, so he decided to back-track.

      ‘Perhaps not. I can’t remember really. Maybe once at school?’

      She didn’t speak a word, but gave him yet another disappointed look and made a note.

      ‘Thankfully, He forgives us Mr Shepherd. You say that you committed blasphemy once - can you remember when? We can reference the confession that you made after it so that the Dominion will clear you of the charge.’

      ‘Making a confession makes a difference?’

      She looked at him in disbelief.

      ‘Of course confession makes a difference. Did you think that people attend confession to hear the sound of their own voice?’

      He bit his tongue. That was precisely what he thought.

      ‘When was your last confession?’

      He looked at his feet.

      ‘I can’t remember exactly.’

      She reopened her folder and ran a finger down the page.

      ‘I couldn’t find any regular attendance of church whatsoever within your Liberiudicium. I assume you usually pray at home?’

      ‘Only during the World Cup,’ he joked.

      Olivia’s face confirmed that it had sounded funnier in his head. She looked as if she was after something a little more serious.

      ‘Well, the thing is, I was raised Catholic, but in later years I probably practiced less than I should have.’

      ‘Many souls feel that way. But you still prayed to God?’

      He took a deep breath as he tried to recall.

      ‘I can’t remember.’

      She made another note.

      ‘I suggest you don’t volunteer that in your trial.’

      One count of blasphemy – who was he kidding? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered the amount of times he’d used the Lord’s name in vain. His beloved Arsenal were a hard team to watch at the best of times.

      ‘So if I haven’t asked for forgiveness for any of my sins, then I’ll be going to Hell?’

      ‘Confession and prayer would certainly demonstrate remorse and help your case, Mr Shepherd.’

      ‘Using the Lord’s name in vain will send a person to Hell - are you kidding?’

      ‘I’m afraid this isn’t a laughing matter.’

      He pointed to the stone tablets at the rear of the courthouse.

      ‘I mean…. Killing. Or adultery. I can understand those type of sins leading to Hell. But blasphemy … really?’

      She shrugged.

      ‘When God issued the Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, he didn’t include a weighting system. They are all as important as the other.’

      It suddenly hit him. She wasn’t joking. And this wasn’t something he could blag his way out of. It appeared that any breach of these Commandments, no matter how trivial it may have appeared at the time, lead directly to an eternity in Hell.

      Olivia placed a reassuring hand on his elbow.

      ‘Try not to despair Mr Shepherd. I only had two hours studying your Liberiudicium and you seem a thoroughly decent soul.’

      David still looked troubled.

      ‘And just remember, the prosecution has changed their counsel,’ she said encouragingly.

      He looked up at her.

      ‘And?’

      ‘And … it’s unlikely that their replacement counsel had a chance at all to study it in any great detail, if at all.’

      A small smile spread across his lips. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps they didn’t know a thing about him. Perhaps he’d have no charges to answer to at all. This incredible thought was immediately interrupted by the sight of the Pearl Gate silently opening and a creature emerging that David couldn’t quite comprehend.

      It looked like a human being, in as much as it had legs, arms and a head. It moved like a human being, striding confidently from the left of the courtroom across to the right. But that was where its similarities to a human being ended. Its skin was bronze in colour and seemed to glow, emitting a shimmering, golden aura around it. It wore a pale blue tunic that reached its knees and a coat of silver armour that covered its body. Upon its wrists were armoured bracelets and a short silver sword swung from its hip as it walked. The arms and legs were as muscular as any man he’d seen, but its long golden hair and facial features had a beauty that was almost feminine. An enormous set of folded wings emerged from its back.

      As David leaned across to Olivia, his eyes were transfixed on this amazing looking creature.

      ‘Is that an Angel?’ he asked.

      ‘No,’ she replied with a frown. ‘That is Ezekiel. He is an Archangel.’

      Her gaze poured scorn on the beautiful creature.

      ‘I told you they were theatrical.’

      Ezekiel reached the end of the room and halted smartly by slamming one foot down next to the other. Standing rigidly at attention, he smoothly pivoted to face the courtroom, his eyes staring blankly ahead with a hint of a grin on his voluptuous lips.

      Olivia cleared her throat.

      ‘I suppose you neglected to read Regulation 109 then, Ezekiel?’

      Ezekiel sneered.

      ‘I am an Archangel and the bailiff of this court, Olivia. I’m supposed to be intimidating.’

      Their glaring was interrupted by the Pearl Gate silently opening once more. Ezekiel’s voice rang through the courtroom. It was higher pitched than David would have imagined from somebody possessing biceps that large.

      ‘The Holy Court of Saint Peter will now hear the case for and against David James Shepherd for his passage in the afterlife. The Honourable Dominion Galloway shall preside over this matter.’

      Another imposing figure strode out. Dominion Galloway had a more recognisable shape than the Archangel, but he was no less intimidating. Although the Dominion must have been in his eighties, his distinguished white hair and dark foreboding eyebrows endowed him with a regal look. His tall wiry frame was draped in a thick purple tunic, with a golden brooch on the front, bearing the same insignia as the crest behind the bench.

      He walked up the three steps and without looking up at David and Olivia, sat down in a high-backed leather chair behind the bench. He pulled on a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses and opened a set of drawers that were located by his knees.

      ‘Be seated.’

      Though an elderly man, his voice reverberated against every stone in the room. He lifted an enormous, dusty looking book from the draw and placed it on the bench.

      Olivia leaned across to David and whispered in his ear.

      ‘That is your Liberiudicium. Every action you have ever taken, whether it be good, bad or indifferent, resides in that book.’

      David’s eyes were transfixed on it. Everything that has happened in his life was in that book? Although it was about twenty times thicker than the last book he’d read (“Head on – the Ian Botham Autobiography”), he still couldn’t understand how every act he’d ever committed could possibly fit within it. Surely, his behaviour at his stag-weekend alone would have filled that book?

      Dominion Galloway had opened the cover and proceeded to leaf through the book. He moistened his finger, before flicking to the next page, in the