8 or 11 Justice
As seen atop the Law Courts of the Old Bailey, a robed and blindfolded Goddess raises a sword in her right hand. A set of scales depend from her right hand.. She is Astrea or Justicia to the Romans, Themis or the (retrospectively) unfortunately named Dike to the Greeks. There are elements here too of the Egyptian Thoth, in whose scales the heart of the newly deceased is weighted against the feather of Truth.
It is her job to interpret and administer Justice. She represents Instant Karma in a reading – you are just about to reap what you nave sown, and you had better have been behaving yourself as her awards are just and correct. On a more mundane level, she associates with the sign Libra and the period of late September and early October. The appearance of this card in a reading may suggest you are about to have an interesting and possibly expensive time dealing with lawyers and the courts, or that a dispute/disagreement of some sort is about to be resolved – not necessarily in your favour. Or one could be just about to begin.
The general breakdown in accepted law and order had begun long before the days of Patricians Winder and Snapcase, but had accelerated quite dramatically under the jurisdiction of those two incumbents.
Preferring to divert the bulk of resources allocated to the City Watch into the activities of the Cable Street Particulars, in order to pursue and root out the perceived greater evil of sedition and revolution, normal law enforcement had atrophied. The City Watch had not yet degenerated into a handful of drunks and otherwise unemployables who nobody in their right minds could take seriously - that would come later – but the process had already become noticeable.
This was not helped by the attitude of the Guild of Lawyers under the inscrutable and ruthless Mr Slant. Taking their traditional viewpoint that elevation to the judiciary meant a substantial loss of earnings – a judge had to be seen as impartial and unbiased, otherwise confidence in the due process of law would collapse more than it already had – being elected to the Bench was something that most normally ambitious and income-aware lawyers sought to avoid. Therefore, the judiciary had dwindled to a handful of largely ineffectual, often senile, old men, "advised" by Clerks of the Court whose first loyalty was to the Guild.
It also meant that with lawyers taking on only the most certain and profitable cases - and certainly not those of the poor and indigent – the Law operated only in favour of the rich and privileged.
It was said, with some certainty, that Ankh-Morpork Law was the best that money could buy.
So when Patrician Snapcase assumed the duties of the judiciary to himself and begun to pass judgement on cases – although he had no formal law training – people began to worry. It didn't help that his insanity was clear for all to see and on top of this, he was being "personally advised" by Mr Slant. The case of Rex v Boggis was the last straw and precipitated far-reaching events.
Mr Boggis, a sneak thief and a member of the hitherto unrecognised Guild of Thieves, Housebreakers, Cutpurses and Allied Trades, was brought to trial at the Patrician's Palace following his detention by members of the "reformed" Cable Street Particulars.
Clearly showing the signs of physical abuse, he was arraigned on three sample charges of theft, and a major charge of belonging to an illegal and seditious organisation, to wit, the Guild of Thieves, Housebreakers, Cutpurses and Allied Trades.
He was further accused of holding high office in that Guild (he did) and of plotting to bring down the Patrician (he had been approached, but was seeking official recognition for the Guild as the price to be paid for its support).
Lord Snapcase, who was clearly not fully compos mentis, presided from behind a thick armour screen (as defence against Assassins) painted with occult symbols (as a defence against wizards) and adorned with the curse "Free Love!" (as a defence against Seamstresses).
Addressing the court as "M'Learned vegetables!" he launched into a confused and paranoid speech about having enemies everywhere, declared that any attempt to unseat him as self-evidently the City's wisest Patrician ever was akin to cutting your own nose off to spite your face, noted that in the very old days guilty Thieves often did have their noses and ears cut off, and concluding that he had no option other than to command that the defendant's nose shall be cut off, since his defence for the acts of theft was one of poverty and inability to buy food – well, then, waste not want not, let him eat it!(1)
When the news of this judgement got out, the City exploded.
Some say it was common feeling of revulsion against an unjust and barbaric sentence.
Others say it was the more powerful Guilds working together to exploit rage at inflation and shortages, anger at Snapcase's incessant and mindless wars that had bankrupted the City and killed far too many of its young men, and to advance their own Guild interests to a point where official recognition was made.
Whatever the reason, the City erupted. Among other acts of insurrection, the Cable Street Particulars were burnt out – again. The Law Courts, long moribund, were attacked in force by the Thieves' Guild, who threw out the judges and the clerks and declared this was now their Guild headquarters. The young Mr Boggis was freed, nose still intact, and assumed high position, though not leadership, within his Guild. Seamstresses formed the Thin Red Line across Broad Way, daring Snapcase's soldiers to shoot and cut down innocent women. (Well, innocent to a given value of "innocent"). The soldiers blinked and fell back, refusing to shoot what in many cases were sisters, neighbours, female friends and relatives. Older soldiers realised this meant their recreational prospects would fall to "no chance". Wise soldiers spotted the Agony Aunts taking their place in the line and doubted their ability to come out on the winning side in that battle. But the Army mutinied and stood down.
Snapcase fell from office in circumstances still undisclosed to this day. Rising to power in equally secretive mode, the young Lord Vetinari resolved the civil unrest by offering official recognition to the Thieves and Seamstresses. He sweetened the offer by handing over the deeds and freehold of the Law Courts to the thieves, with no strings attached.
It was only later the Thieves realised they'd been saddled with a building that was leaky, draughty, expensive to maintain, and requiring ruinously expensive investment. But they were in no position to complain about this as by then, Vetinari had offered them the New Deal, a system of open-ness and social respectability which Guild leader Stren Withel had snatched at with both hands, only to discover that Vetinari now knew where they all lived, what their spouse and children's names were, where they went to school, et c. As the City's main revenue-raising agency – ie, the proportion of income from Theft paid over to the exchequer represents a fair and effective form of income tax – the Thieves also have the opprobrium that in other societies is due to the taxman. Vetinari merely collects and remains shielded from censure.
And a new era began.
The Law Courts of old remain the headquarters of the Guild of Thieves, Housebreakers, Cutpurses and Allied Trades. It also houses part of the Thieves' Guild School. Stren Withel did not last long after the drawbacks of the New Deal became apparent, and Mr Boggis, his nose mercifully reprieved (Vetinari generously threw a clause into the agreement assuring the Thieves their noses were safe from harm) took over as Guild Leader.
The Thieves view their occupation of the Law Courts as a huge and satisfying joke. They cheerfully point out to outsiders that the homes of really outrageous theft and larceny – the Royal Bank and the Guild of Lawyers – remain untouched by them and are in the hands of really stylish crooks. Especially since honorary lifetime Guild member Moist von Lipwig took over at the Bank.
And the plan to allow the City Watch to atrophy and dwindle to nothing remains one of Vetinari's great failures, although he has been heard to say it was at the time a sensible policy he inherited from the previous administration, and he saw no reason to change it. But times change, and Justice requires a stern sword in her right hand as well as the scales in her left. As long as Vimes is the sword and Slant the scales, and the left hand truly does not know what the right hand is doing, the happier he is.
As for the Name of Justice, in a literally-minded City such as this, better we call her Themis or Astrea. Otherwise amusing misunderstandings may happen of the sort that irritate Miss Band of the Assassins' Guild, and she is not a woman to irritate lightly. (2)
(1) This expands the brief mention of the fall of Snapcase as related in The Last Continent.
(2) There are well-founded whispered rumours about Alice Band's, er, gender preferences. Reference to a goddess called Dike could only fan the flames.