Aged Chief Justice Marshall rose and read from a paper. “In the case of Worcester v. Georgia, the court finds in favor of Worcester by a vote of five yeas, one concurrence, and one nay.”
A murmur ran through the audience; the President would not be pleased with such a ruling. But the loudest complaint came from the front row, where a robed man rose and cried “”John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it!” He then cast off his robe to reveal President Jackson, resplendent in his old military uniform.
Marshall, 77 years old and ill with bladder stones, rose from the bench. He removed his bifocals, his rheumy eyes narrowing. “Very well,” he said.
At his signal seven of the other eight justices rose in unison; Henry Baldwin remained seated, dissenting now as he had before. “Enforce the decision!” Marshall cried.
Justice McLean, who had concurred with the opinion but for reasons of his own, struck first. He pirouetted over the bench, long robes flowing gracefully, and lunged at the President with a drawn gavel. Jackson ducked backwards, fluidly avoiding the blow; he brought a hand up an instant later and struck the gavel from McLean’s hand. Off-balance, the justice found himself locked in a hold by the President, who then flung him roughly into the galleries where he shattered a bench on landing.
Jackson had used only a single arm to defend himself, the other resting on the hilt of his sword. He extended his arm abd beckoned the other justices tauntingly on.
Infuriated, Marshall banged his gavel; justices Johnson, Duvall, Story, and Thompson attacked as one. The first three vaulted over the bench much like McLean had, while Thompson instead made a 10-yard vertical jump toward the chandelier. With a single hand as before, Jackson swatted Johnson aside, striking him on the throat, sweeping his legs out from under him, and then seizing his judicial robes and flinging him at the others. Duvall dodged the flying, flailing Johnson and swept behind the President, seizing both his arms as Story attempted to pummel him into submission.
President Jackson kicked himself off the floor, planting both boots on Story’s chest and then giving him a mighty kick, which had the dual effect of launching Story through one of the chamber windows and somersaulting the President over Duvall’s back. With that momentum, Jackson was able to blast Duvall through the domed ceiling; there was a distant splash as the Justice landed in the Potomac.
At that moment, Thompson descended from the chandelier. As he picked up speed, he cast open his robes to reveal eight razor-sharp silver gavels clutched between his fingers. Jackson bobbed and weaved as the weapons buried themselves in the chamber floor, but was struck a glancing blow by Thompson when he landed. Jackson quickly regained his balance and somersaulted up to the vistor gallery, where he perched by his bootheels on one of the railings.
Enraged, Thompson produced more gavels and flung them in a whirling metal storm of death. Jackson, finally deigning to use his other hand, unsheathed his sword and swatted each of the hundreds of projectiles aside easily, diverting them back toward their source. The flat of one blade struck Thomspon on the bridge of his nose and he collapsed, unconscious.
President Jackson held out his saber, pointing it at Marshall in a defiant gesture. “Let him enforce it!”
The Chief Justice shot up, not leaping so much as flying, and landed on Jackson’s very blade, balancing easily on the razor edge. From somewhere deep in his robes he unsheathed the golden two-handed Ur-Gavel, richly engraved with eagles, crackling with raw judicial energy. According to legend, it could not be resheathed without establishing constitutional precedent.
The two men regarded each other for a moment, and then the real battle began.
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