Milady’s Wiles             by: Brandy Dewinter, with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright

 

Chapter 11 - Pulling Strings

The mood was decidedly more sober the next morning. Queen Selay and I were in our accustomed places when Lyonidas entered the throne room. He walked directly to the King’s throne and paused, looked at Queen Selay with a grimly determined expression, then turned and sat.

Queen Selay stood immediately, but before she could speak, Lyonidas said, "Sit, Madame, or leave. But today I judge the life of a man. That is a solemn responsibility and you should consider it a sign of respect for this furniture that I choose to take on myself, at least for this trial, the full position of king. Tell my father if you will, but today I will sit."

This time, Lyonidas had the power of personality. For one of the few times in her life, Queen Selay was overmatched. She sat again without a word, though her eyes showed more worry than before.

As well they might. As did my own. My frustrated impulse of the night before had resulted in the death of one man and it was clear that Lyonidas considered the very life of another hung in today’s balance.

Reynal had entered with Lyonidas, almost lost in the power of the confrontation between the Regent and Queen. Now Lyonidas nodded to his own General instead of our Chamberlain. Reynal responded by waving at a High Canyon guard at a side door. In a moment, Drayson entered, surroun-ded by four High Canyon warriors for once moving in a structured forma-tion.

Drayson had not been harmed as far as we could tell. He was unarmed, including stripping off his armor, but no signs of abuse or even fighting showed on his face. He also walked with his accustomed long stride, not apparently favoring any hidden injuries. His guards marched him to stand before the thrones.

Once again, Lyonidas spoke before Queen Selay had a chance.

"Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you stand accused of murder. How do you plead?"

Drayson didn’t reply immediately. He looked at Queen Selay and then at me. She met his eyes with calm dignity but I knew my own eyes were showing horror and guilt. After a long enough pause to accept his state-ment of loyalty to her, not to the Regent, Queen Selay nodded at Drayson.

"Not guilty!" he declared.

"You were seen standing over the body, your sword red with Olrin’s blood. Yvina testifies that you killed him," Reynal charged. Apparently he was going to serve as prosecutor.

"Oh, I killed the coward," Drayson declared, "but it wasn’t murder.

He was attacking my fiancee."

"She doesn’t say that," Reynal denied.

"She’s afraid of what you honorless scum will do to her if she tells the truth," claimed Drayson.

Reynal bristled at the insult but maintained his tone when he spoke, "Describe the situation you encountered that led you to believe Olrin was attacking the woman."

"That ‘woman’ is my fiancee," Drayson growled.

"Describe the situation," Reynal repeated, the very flatness of his tone promising no relief from his questions.

"I went to look for Yvina, who had said she was feeling poorly. A servant told me she was on a balcony getting some fresh air, so I went there. When I got close, I heard that she was not alone. Her voice was muffled, as though she couldn’t speak clearly, so I drew my sword and moved quietly to find the reason."

Drayson’s voice started to climb with rage and outrage and righteous anger as he continued, "He had her forced against the balcony ledge and was attacking her! As soon as I saw what was going on, I yelled at him. He turned, reached for his own sword, and I stuck him like the pig he was."

This caused a flush to climb Reynal’s neck and an angry stirring among Drayson’s anonymously-cowled guards. My horror was growing as I realized how I had used my knight’s arrogance against Olrin, just as surely as it worked against his own safety now.

It had always seemed from their amorphous fighting style that the High Canyonites were undisciplined. Reynal proved the lie of that by waiting until his flush subsided before speaking again. When he did speak there was a sly softness to his voice.

"Tell us, where were Yvina’s hands when you came upon them."

"What?"

"Where were Yvina’s hands when you came upon them?"

"I don’t know what you mean," Drayson replied, a suspicious look on his face.

"Were they on Olrin’s chest, pushing him away? Were they pinned behind her body? Were they pounding on his shoulders? Where were her hands?"

"I don’t know, I guess they were, uh, around his . . . neck," Drayson said. Even as he spoke, I could see realization seep into his body. It sagged from his previous proud carriage to one of helpless, betrayed shame.

Reynal was now brusque efficiency. "Did Olrin draw his sword com-pletely and attack you with it?"

"No." Drayson’s voice was almost too quiet to be heard.

Reynal was through. He turned to Lyonidas and said, "Milord Regent, it is clear that while he may not have thought through things clearly, Drayson did indeed murder Olrin. The woman was not being attacked and did not need to be defended. Olrin had no chance to defend himself. I suggest that there was no treason on the part of this man, only misguided passion."

No treason on Drayson’s part, perhaps, but what of me? To whom did I owe my loyalty? Drayson was a weapon no less than the sword he had carried and I had turned a weapon of Achaiea against a man of High Canyon in defiance of our peace agreement. It had not been Queen Selay, nor any other, the responsibility was mine.

As he intoned the words of doom, the face of Lyonidas was as sad, in a different way, at the demands of duty as we had been when our men were executed. "Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you are found guilty of murder. You will be hung outside the gates tomorrow at dawn."

"NO!" Drayson roared, no longer slumped.

"No!" all the Achaieans cried, horror stricken.

"No," Queen Selay said quietly, her voice somehow cutting through all the others.

Lyonidas looked at her with anger, ready to demand obedience. In-stead of defiance though, he found calm determination.

"A Knight of the realm cannot be executed like a common peasant," she explained. "He has the right to trial by combat. If you refuse this right, you refuse to abide by the peace agreement."

Strangely, Lyonidas looked at me. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe he thought my scholarly studies were relevant. In any event it was clear his question was for me.

"What does a man’s martial ability have to do with his guilt or innocence?"

"Milord Regent," I replied formally, "Drayson is not just a man, he is of noble rank. The responsibilities of our nobility derive from the fundamental tenet that our positions are the result of God’s will. Any judgment that offers conflict with God’s will is blasphemous."

"And what if an ungodly man just happens to be the best fighter around?"

"God would not let it be so, at least, not enough to overcome our formal trial by combat."

"’Formal’ trial by combat. You people have ritual for everything."

Now his exasperation started to show.

"Perhaps, but it has served us well for generations," I replied.

Lyonidas slumped back in the King’s throne and muttered, "Very well, describe your ‘formal’ trial by combat."

Instead of continuing, I nodded to the Chamberlain. Hugh stepped forward and repeated the formula.

"The accused, being of noble rank, has the right to trial by combat. He can choose any personal weapons, but all must be on his person at the start of the combat. The King, uh, that is, I suppose, the Regent will pick a champion to face the accused. If the champion is vanquished, the, um, ruler will choose two champions. If they are vanquished, the ruler will choose four champions. If they are vanquished, the accused has demonstrated that God is on his side, and is exonerated."

Lyonidas had perked up a bit as this ritual was explained. Clearly, we were not letting Drayson off easily. A gleam showed in his eyes and I remembered Reynal’s claim that the people, at least of High Canyon, were the warriors and did not need protection. Our foes were a martial race, not afraid of fair combat, confident in their own abilities. A duel to the death was not uncommon among them, often for less lofty reasons. This was looking like something reasonably similar.

"Who has been the King’s champion in the past?" Lyonidas asked.

"The King has been his own champion, since Andros ascended to the throne. He felt that the one who passes judgment should be prepared to answer to God for that judgment. There have been no capital cases against nobility since his death."

"And before that?" Lyonidas asked further.

Now Hugh was a bit embarrassed. "Well, in ancient times, only one champion faced the accused. Six generations ago, then King Alcon chose a champion, as he was himself aged. The accused dispatched the champion. King Alcon then declared that two would face the accused. They, too, were dispatched. The King declared that four would face the accused, who was then vanquished. In the time since, no accused has ever survived to face more than a pair of champions."

"So the King was not above helping God out a little, huh?" Lyonidas mused.

Hugh was shocked at the Regent’s attitude, "The King is God’s chosen ruler! It is only right that he should work on God’s behalf."

Lyonidas drawled his response out enough to show his disdain for our "civilized" rationalizations, "Riiight."

The tall foreign prince stood up and walked to face Drayson. There was no languid ease in his carriage now, instead, he seemed to flow down the steps like a shadow, "Very well, Drayson, you shall have your combat."

Before Lyonidas could proceed, Reynal called out, "Milord Regent, I demand to be your champion!"

Never taking his eyes from Drayson, Lyonidas dismissed the claim, "You demand nothing, General. You heard their tradition, the one who makes the judgment defends it. That’s just fine with me."

Finally breaking eye contact with Drayson, Lyonidas turned back to me once again, "Is there an official time for this duel?"

I just shook my head.

"Very well, it shall be at noon, today, in the field where your heirs were executed," announced Lyonidas. Then he turned away and drew the rest of the High Canyon contingent with him, including even Drayson’s guards. They left without a backward glance.

Drayson stood there uncertainly. Then he drew himself up and bowed formally to the Queen before departing toward his chambers.

The remaining Achaieans in the throne room started to stir as though to leave, but Queen Selay looked sharply at the Chamberlain, who just as sharply called everyone to order.

"There is yet another trial to be conducted today," Hugh announced.

Now Yvina was brought forward. Her escorts were Achaiean, but they were as clearly guards as those who had accompanied Drayson earlier. She was brought to stand before Queen Selay and though Yvina’s face showed defiance, with chin high and shoulders back, her eyes showed real fear.

Queen Selay began. "So, Yvina, what have you to say for yourself?" Mother was apparently going to function as her own prosecutor, though Yvina’s specific crimes were unclear.

"Nothing needs to be said," Yvina claimed.

"Tell me, Yvina, where were your hands when Drayson found you and Olrin together?"

"My hands?" Yvina said, looking down at them without comprehension. Yet the question worked as well on her as it had on Drayson. Light dawned behind those dark eyes as she realized that significance of her position. One does not embrace an attacker.

Then Mother asked yet another telling question, one that I didn’t think she would even know to ask, "Tell me, Yvina, how many other times had you met Olrin on that balcony?"

Yvina looked at her Queen with real fright in her eyes now. Mother’s question had showed she knew that Yvina’s betrayal of her betrothed had not been a momentary passion, but a repeated decision. She had no re-sponse beyond a sagging of shoulders that made her look like she was shrinking somehow.

"You have caused the death of Olrin, and shortly the death of Dray-son. Perhaps after Drayson kills Lyonidas, which will certainly re-ignite the war. Now, what have you to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," she replied, lowering her head in an unknowing parody of Drayson’s earlier shame.

Instead of further questions of Yvina, Mother now turned to me.

"Princess Cherysse, what punishment do you think is fitting for one who betrays a betrothed, resulting in the death of two men?"

Was she asking about Yvina, or about me? Had I betrayed my knight by sending him into a situation I knew would result in death? I felt the shame of my own part in this and I knew it showed. Yet there was a further message in her question and in her actions. It appeared Mother had been aware of Yvina’s nocturnal excursions long before I was. I felt her hidden hand had been in my back that night, pushing me to actions she had foreseen. Was her question really an offer to judge herself, the Queen who had been a part of this too?

The passions of the night before had burnt themselves out of my heart. I considered my actions of the night before and realized that I would do them again, if the situation presented itself. Do them with cold logic as a means to eliminate a High Canyon invader. I saw that message in Mother’s eyes as well. We had used Drayson as though the sword in his hand had been wrapped in our own smaller grip. And we had broken that sword in the use, consumed it to our ends with ruthless determination.

In that light, Yvina was no more than a tool herself. Since it seemed to be up to me I decided that I had had enough of breaking tools, though Yvina would certainly not be rewarded for her betrayal.

"Your Majesty, there is a small village we passed on an inspection tour. A new blacksmith has moved to the village to replace one killed in the war. That blacksmith has no family. It seems to me that one who betrays a noble should not be given a chance to do so again. Perhaps she can make amends by providing a family to a hard-working craftsman."

"Oh, no!" Yvina moaned softly. All her dreams of wealth and power were to be replaced by years of drudgery. Yet I thought it was just. It was clear that Mother had expected someone, somewhere to give her an opportunity like this, knowing that some girl would find a man of High Canyon exotically attractive, or perhaps just more suited to over-reaching ambition. Still, Yvina had been the one weak enough to provide the inevitable justification and her example must control the impulses of others.

Queen Selay nodded her acceptance of my sentence, then nodded to the Chamberlain as well. Another quiet nod and Yvina was escorted from the throne room in eerie silence as though directed by some telepathic com-munication that did indeed arise from witchcraft rather than simple human understanding.

 

(continued in Part 12)

 

*********************************************
Milady's Wiles © 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.