The Severed Realm

by Michael G. Manning

  The mob had already used up their choicest missiles, so they didn’t have much left to throw, which was a small mercy. Head held high, Lady Rose strode forward with such a commanding presence that the people at first spread apart to make way for her.

  But the mob mentality was only given pause for a moment. One particularly brave woman leapt forward from the crowd and spat in her face. That was all it took, and the fragile order dissolved into a howling chaos.

  I tried to reach her, but my noble escorts refused to release my arms. They jerked me back, and I began to throw myself from side to side, begging them to let me go. I might have lost my mind entirely if it hadn’t been for Conall’s arrival.

  He had just emerged with Harold and the Queen, and when he saw what was transpiring, he left his royal charge and leapt into the crowd. A moment later, I saw a spherical shield appear, pushing the people back as he helped Rose back to her feet. He waited, took her with him back to the Queen, and then the four of them crossed the street together.

  Show over, my captors led me into the Halls of Justice. Not content to remain silent, Gareth leaned close to my ear. “Now do you see the price she’s paid for you? Once this sham of a trial is done, what do you think will happen to her?”

  Burning with shame and fear for Rose, I answered him honestly, “Please protect her.”

  Gareth looked solemn, and he gave me a slight nod, but Tyrion’s answer roused me to new heights of rage. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ll take care of her,” said my ancestor, a faint leer on his face.

  I hadn’t wanted to kill anyone that badly since the day he had shamed me in front of Penny. Or perhaps since the day I had caught Leomund whipping Millie. Or the day that Celior…well, to be honest, I’d had a lot of moments like that, but just then Tyrion was at the top of my list of people who needed to die.

  “Calm yourself, Mordecai,” ordered Rose from behind me. “If you walk into the court raving like a rabid dog, it won’t help our case.”

  I glanced back at her, taking note of the faint streak of dirt on her cheek. Despite what had just happened, she looked serene, almost regal. Her eyes held a warning, but beyond that was an icy blue steel that reminded me of a granite promontory in a storm. Adamant was the word that popped into my head. She would weather the slings and arrows that might lie ahead.

  I’d be damned if I didn’t do as much myself. Straightening my back, I marched into the courtroom as though the two men on either side of me were my escorts, rather than my jailors.

  Normally there would have been a delay after I (the accused) was brought in, but with the Queen already in the building, Lord Watson was under some pressure to begin promptly. No sooner than we were seated, we were forced to rise and acknowledge ‘His Honor’ before resuming our places. Ariadne then entered, and we did it all over again, with more reverence. Everyone stood and bowed as she was escorted to her place.

  In Lothion, the ruling monarch reserved the right of justice, which meant that technically she could overrule the judge or anyone else if she so chose. In a case as important as mine, though, she wouldn’t dare exert her power. Doing so would risk rebellion and civil war. I had encountered that drawback years before, when I had been tried for ushering Andrew Tremont into the afterlife and turning his estate into a haunted wasteland.

  The royal box was at the far end of the courtroom, behind and slightly above the judge’s bench, highlighting her rank as the final arbiter. It wasn’t until she was seated that the rest of us were allowed to sit down once again. There were a few more formalities, but it wasn’t long before Judge Watson called the court to order and summoned the royal prosecutor to come forward.

  “Lord Oswald, please present the charges,” ordered Lord Watson.

  Brandon Oswald was a minor noble from a small house, and he was a second son at that. A successful career as a barrister was all he could reasonably look forward to unless his older brother died suddenly. Striding toward the middle of the floor, he puffed up his chest with as much self-importance as he could muster, unrolled an unnecessarily ornate scroll, and began to read, “In the matter of the sovereign nation of Lothion against one Mordecai Illeniel, the Count di’ Cameron, the charges are as follows: Lord Cameron did by force enter the residence of Leomund, husband of our Queen and Prince-Consort of the realm. In so doing he trespassed against the Prince, willfully destroyed his property, and then proceeded to assault the Prince’s person. As if this were not enough, he then slew the Prince while he was unconscious and stole his property, in the person of a young serf named Millie.”

  Lord Watson looked down, turning his eyes in my direction. “How does the accused plead?”

  Lady Rose stood, responding in a loud clear voice, “The defendant admits guilt to all charges but for assaulting the Prince. To the charge of murder, we plead not guilty.”

  A faint smile played across the judge’s lips. “Lady Rose, perhaps you are not aware, but even if all the other charges are proven false, laying hand upon a royal person is itself a capital crime.”

  She bowed her head deferentially. “I am aware, Your Honor, but there are mitigating circumstances. The defendant encountered the Prince in the commission of a crime. He struck the Prince in order to protect the life of the serf, Millie.”

  “Have you any proof of this supposed crime?” asked the judge.

  “Yes, Your Honor, the witnesses gathered today can confirm the details of the Prince’s abuse and torture,” said Rose.

  “Very well, let us proceed,” began Lord Watson, but a clerk stepped up to his side and whispered something in his ear. He glanced back at the Queen’s box and then made a surprise announcement. “The Queen has, in her mercy, decided to dismiss the charge of assault given the circumstances and her personal knowledge of her late-husband’s proclivities. What remains to be proved is the charge of murder. Lord Oswald, you may proceed.”

  Oswald didn’t seem too happy with that announcement, but he swallowed his disappointment and called his first witness, Lord Airedale.

  David Airedale took the stand with arrogant aplomb, and the prosecutor’s questions were simple and to the point. He recounted his experience at the hunting lodge and made sure to describe the look of fury on my face when I burst onto the scene in great detail. He was done in less than five minutes. Then it was Rose’s turn to question him.

  “Count Airedale,” she began, “I will not belabor the facts of your testimony, for they are not in question. But I do have questions regarding your presence at Prince Leomund’s hunting lodge that day. Would you mind telling the court why you were there?”

  Airedale shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It is no secret that the Prince and I were friends. My reason for being there was no more complicated than that.”

  Rose smiled coldly. “Perhaps I should be more specific, Your Excellency. While I am sure it is true that you were friends with the Prince, close friends in fact, did not your purpose there also include the intention to arrange for the sale of one of your serfs?”

  Airedale’s face paled slightly, but he recovered quickly. “I don’t recall. The events that followed were so traumatic that I have forgotten.”

  “Are you telling me that you have forgotten the fact that you offered to sell Prince Leomund a serf named Lucy Brimmon, a girl living under your protection who is currently age ten?” asked Rose pointedly.

  The look on David Airedale’s face was priceless. He gaped at Rose for several seconds, then answered, “Listen, I don’t know where you got that information, but it is no crime to sell property to another lord of the realm.” His eyes darted toward Oswald, hoping for support.

  The prosecutor spoke then, “Objection, milord. This has no bearing on the case at hand.”

  Before Judge Watson could rule, Rose raised her voice. “It has everything to do with the credibility of the witness, who, as I can show, was complicit in Prince Leomund’s crimes.”
>
  Lord Watson was firm. “Sustained. Lady Hightower, please return to the matter at hand.”

  Someone in the gallery hissed, and despite being forced to move on, Rose smiled faintly. Without pause, she asked her next question, “Lord Airedale, do you know any of the other witnesses personally?”

  David Airedale shrugged. “I have visited Prince Leomund on several occasions. I would probably recognize his servants, but I do not know them on a personal basis.”

  “Even though two of them were also purchased from you by the Prince?” asked Rose, “Specifically, Millie and the Prince’s head servant, Vander Brimmon.”

  “Objection!” shouted Lord Oswald. “The provenance of Prince Leomund’s servants has no bearing on the question of murder.”

  “Sustained,” said Lord Watson, his response so quick that it was obvious he didn’t really care.

  Unfazed, Rose launched into her next line of questioning. “Your Excellency, you said earlier that when Lord Cameron appeared, you were downstairs warming yourself before the fire, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But Prince Leomund was upstairs. Do you know what he was doing?” she probed.

  David Airedale shook his head. “How should I know?”

  She didn’t relent, however. “When you first arrived at Prince Leomund’s lodge, did the Prince come down to greet you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “According to my client, he asked you up to the bedroom where the murder later occurred, where he then reintroduced you to Millie. Is that true?” asked Rose.

  Angry, Airedale fairly shook as he answered, “You mean while he spied on us. Yes, the Prince called me up to show me the condition of the girl he had bought.”

  “He didn’t offer to have her show you her new talents as a sex slave?” asked Rose.

  “No!” shouted Airedale.

  “Then why did you go back downstairs, leaving the Prince alone with her?”

  “They weren’t alone,” Airedale said instantly.

  Rose raised her brows in interest. “Would you explain to the court then, who was in the room?”

  Eyes darting from one side to the other, David Airedale looked for support from Lord Oswald and even the judge, but he found none. Despondent, he answered, “He was going to discipline the girl, for what purpose I don’t know. He called the rest of his servants to watch. I have no stomach for such things, so I left.”

  “Then by your own admission, you were aware he was about to whip the girl,” accused Rose.

  “I had no way of knowing he planned to whip her!” blurted out Airedale.

  Lord Oswald was on his feet again. “Objection. Prince Leomund’s method of punishment is immaterial.”

  “Sustained,” said Lord Watson. “Lady Hightower, may I remind you, Lord Airedale is not on trial here today.”

  “Perhaps he should be, Your Honor,” said Rose in an even voice.

  “Objection!” shouted Oswald again.

  The judge held up his hand. “Lady Hightower, please get to the point.”

  Rose bowed her head deferentially once more. “Certainly, Your Honor. Lord Airedale, is it possible, given your knowledge of Prince Leomund’s activities, that you felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at being complicit in his crime, a guilt so powerful that it compelled you to murder the Prince when you found him unconscious and alone?”

  “Absolutely not!” cried Airedale. “I don’t give two figs what he did with his property!”

  Lady Rose smiled, raising her voice. “That, my lord, is very apparent. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  David Airedale was led away fuming, while those in the gallery muttered. Whatever else occurred, his reputation had suffered greatly.

  Rose sat down beside me, keeping her face forward. Leaning over, I whispered in her ear admiringly, “You nearly ruined him up there.”

  Her lips quirked upward in a faint smirk. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  “Do you really think he did it?” I asked.

  She glanced at me briefly. “He doesn’t have the spine, but he may know who actually did do it.”

  Even more curious now, I asked, “Do you know who did it?” But Rose remained silent, her eyes intent on Oswald’s next witness.

  Chapter 34

  The next witness was one of the servants who had been present in Leomund’s lodge. Lord Oswald’s questions were perfunctory, again merely serving to confirm the story already told as well as to paint me as a raging madman when I entered the house. Rose’s cross-examination was fairly simple as well. She confirmed the timeline and had them verify where they were before and after I entered the house, but she also asked several strange questions, mainly concerning the servant’s relationships to one another.

  She also asked each of them about the Prince’s behavior, but after the first one eagerly began to tell of Prince Leomund’s cruelty, Oswald objected and as usual, the judge supported him. By the time they got to the last servant, I was beginning to get nervous, for the only people left to take the stand after him were myself and Millie, and I knew neither of us could say anything that would clear my name.

  Rose was practically chomping at the bit to examine the last servant however; a man named Vander Brimmon. When her turn came, she shot forward onto the floor with alacrity. “Vander Brimmon,” she started, “may I call you Vander?”

  He bobbed his head. “Yes, milady.”

  “Vander, as I established earlier, you were once a serf of Lord Airedale’s, were you not?”

  Vander seemed anxious, and his head turned from side to side, as though looking for someone to answer for him.

  “Please answer the question,” said Rose. “You originally belonged to Lord Airedale, yes?”

  “Yes, milady.”

  She nodded. “What was your position in the Prince’s household?”

  “I was his chief servant, milady,” answered Vander.

  “A position of responsibility,” observed Rose. “Very much like a butler, wouldn’t you say?”

  Vander blushed. “No, milady. I am not a freeman. I wouldn’t presume to claim such a title.”

  “But you were in charge of the other servants?” she pressed.

  “Yes, milady.”

  “Then you must have been very aware of his treatment of them,” suggested Rose. “Is that true?”

  Lord Oswald was ready for her. “Objection, we’ve been over this. It isn’t relevant.”

  “Sustained,” pronounced Judge Watson, for perhaps the hundredth time. “Lady Hightower, I have warned you before, we are here to examine evidence of Lord Cameron’s guilt or innocence, not to dredge up possible past crimes of Prince Leomund.”

  Rose bowed her head in acceptance. “Very well, Your Honor. I bow to your wisdom. I believe you will see the merit of that question shortly, however.”

  “Stick to the case at hand, Lady Hightower,” growled Lord Watson.

  She turned back to the witness. “Vander, you have a family, do you not? A wife and children?”

  Vander lowered his head. “I was not allowed to marry, milady.”

  “Nevertheless, you were in love, and you had three children before being sold to Prince Leomund, correct?”

  The prosecutor threw his hands up in exasperation, but didn’t bother objecting.

  “Yes, milady,” said Vander.

  “And they still live on Lord Airedale’s estate?” she prodded.

  Rose’s face shone with imminent victory, making me wonder where she was going, but I could only watch, like everyone else in the room. When she asked her next question, the pieces began to fall into place in my mind.

  “Lucy Brimmon is your daughter, isn’t she?” asked Rose, carefully enunciating every syllable.

  Vander’s eyes went wide in obvious fear
, then his jaw clenched.

  Rose was relentless, however. “Answer the question, Vander. Lucy Brimmon is your daughter, isn’t she?”

  A muttering rose from the gallery, as some people began to talk, some of them confused, while others had begun to grasp where Rose’s questions were leading. Lord Watson was forced to use his gavel to quiet the room. Then he turned to the witness. “Answer the question, Mister Brimmon.”

  Vander’s face was red, but at last he answered, “Yes. Lucy is my youngest.”

  Rose’s face was a vision of triumph. She made a show of pacing across the floor in front of the bench, then asked, “Were you aware that Prince Leomund had just agreed to purchase Lucy from Lord Airedale?”

  Lord Oswald’s face was apoplectic as he screamed, “Objection!” The gallery began to shout as Lord Watson held up his hand for order, but several voices yelled out, “Let him answer!”

  After banging his gavel loudly for almost a full minute, Lord Watson eventually regained control of the room. Then, after careful thought, he said, “Overruled. I believe Lady Hightower’s question may have serious relevance. Mister Brimmon, please answer the question.”

  Vander sat still, paralyzed, so Rose asked him again, “Vander, you knew the Prince was about to buy your daughter, didn’t you?”

  Stammering, he finally answered, “H—he never told me that.”

  Rose wasn’t about to surrender. “Your hesitation tells me you knew something, Mister Brimmon. I’ll ask you again, did you know the Prince had arranged to bring your daughter to his private estate?”

  Vander’s resolve broke, and tears began to roll down his cheeks. “I overheard them talking about it.”

  Lady Rose’s face became sympathetic. “I know this must be difficult for you, Vander. You were well aware of the Prince’s tastes. What did you suspect would happen to your daughter Lucy once she entered the Prince’s service?”

  Vander’s answer came out in a whisper, “What he always does.”