Again, telling him the truth felt wrong, but it might just convince him to help her. “Because the emperor was wearing it.”
“I don’t believe ye.”
Mya laughed. “I didn’t quite believe it myself, but if you’ve lived in Tsing that long, it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Think about how the empire’s been run during his reign. Think of what’s happened to the Thieves Guild. Think of how it happened.” She’d learned that the Thieves Guild had been expunged from Tsing long ago, run out by the Assassins Guild and the constabulary combined. “And think how…” she wiggled her ring finger, “this guild has been terrorizing commoners but leaving gentry and nobility alone. It was the perfect set up, and I ended it.”
“Aye…” He rubbed his prodigious nose and sniffed. “Mayhap yer tellin’ me the truth, and mayhap yer full of shite. Either way, I got no reason to help ye.”
“You’ve got two excellent reasons to help me.”
“Oh? And what might those be?”
“First, I’ll pay you.” Mya hoped he didn’t ask for any money up front; she still had to figure out how to get some. “Second,” she lowered her voice and glanced at the proprietor, but the man seemed to be fully involved in cleaning his blackbrew pots, “if the plot I’ve uncovered to assassinate Prince Arbuckle is successful, everything north of the river will burn to the ground. If that doesn’t put a damper on your earnings, I don’t know what will.”
“Aye, ya got that right enough.” The gnome made another face, equally unreadable. “And how do ye plan ta stop his murder if I give ye what ye want?”
“I plan to tell the prince who’s out to kill him.”
“Why not just kill them plannin’ it?”
“Because it’s not that easy. If I miss just one, or if bodies start showing up, they’ll know I’m onto them and make it even harder.” Not to mention the fact that I can’t even find Hoseph!
“Aye, good point.” He chewed his lip and rubbed his nose. "But if yer who ye say ye are, then why not send yer people after all these folks at once?”
“My people are these folks.” She wiggled her ring finger again. “I didn’t get this the usual way, and we don’t quite see eye to eye yet.”
The Gnome chuckled and squinted up at her. “And why should I trust ye?”
“You shouldn’t.” Mya ate another bite of pastry and licked the sugar off her fingers. “You’d be a fool to trust an assassin you just met. Look into it. I’m sure you have your sources. But I can’t tell you everything I know until I’m sure we’ve got a deal.”
“What about yer name? Can ye tell me that?”
Mya hesitated for only an instant. If the Gnome wanted to betray her, he’d do it with or without her name. There was only one assassin from Twailin wearing the Grandmaster’s ring. “I’m Mya.”
“I’ll look inta this and get back to ye.”
“Don’t take too long. They may act soon.”
“Aye. Watch fer me note.” The Gnome slipped out of the seat, dropped below the table…and vanished.
Mya had been listening, but it was like she’d gone momentarily deaf. One moment she could hear the gnome’s heart beating in his chest, and the next, it and he were both gone.
“Sonofabitch…” The only other person she’d ever met who could move with such stealth was Lad.
Finishing her blackbrew and pastry, she considered the little man. Such a combination of stealth and caution were admirable, and she smiled to think of the Gnome prying a jewel from the imperial crown while the emperor slept. After meeting him, she had no doubt the story was true.
Maybe he can teach me to move like that.
Chapter XIV
Arbuckle entered the Great Hall to the herald’s ringing announcement, feeling for all the world as if he was the one on trial. Sweeping his gaze across the dozens of attending nobles, he wondered who among them might be plotting his death even now. Days had passed since the assassination attempt, but his stomach still quivered with the memory. Despite being surrounded by imperial guards and knights, he felt naked without his blademasters.
Don’t let them see your fear, the prince reminded himself as he strode onto the dais and took his seat.
The hall had been arranged to accommodate the trials. To Arbuckle’s right, a waist-high wooden rail surrounded three men sporting an undeniable family resemblance. Manacled at wrist and ankle and surrounded by constables, they stood with shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. To his left stood another railing, but the prisoner behind it couldn’t have been more different. Baron Ledwig was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, the muscle of his youth still evident in his broad shoulders. He stood with his head held high, staring at Arbuckle defiantly. Though guarded, his hands and feet remained unfettered as a privilege of his rank. A row of witnesses sat between the two boxes.
As far as Arbuckle could tell, all the senior nobles and magistrates had obeyed his order to attend. Disapproval painted their faces. Only one noble in the past thirty years had been charged by the crown, and that for treason against the empire. To charge Baron Ledwig with the murder of a commoner probably seemed blasphemous to them, considering how many were either directly or indirectly guilty of similar crimes. If their gazes had been daggers, even a cordon of blademasters could not have saved the prince. Fortunately, all save the guards had been disarmed before entering the Great Hall, one of the few of his father’s edicts of which Arbuckle approved.
“Lords and ladies of Tsing, honored magistrates, thank you for attending. I have called you to witness these trials—two crimes irrevocably linked—to demonstrate how justice will be rendered during my reign. No longer will imperial laws be twisted to serve only the ruling classes. Anyone charged with a crime will be called to answer for his or her actions.”
Mutters swept through the nobles, low and dangerous. The imperial guards shifted, but remained in place. Arbuckle didn’t think there would be any trouble from the crowd, but Captain Ithross had insisted on additional security. Even more guards were stationed in the corridor in case violence broke out.
With a deep breath, Arbuckle commenced the proceedings. “Tennison, read the first charges.”
“Yes, milord.” Tennison unrolled a parchment and read in a voice loud enough to reach the far corners of the chamber. “Raul Walls, the charge of arson. Vance Walls, the charge of arson. Torance Walls, the charges of arson, assault upon a constable, and resistance to arrest.”
Arbuckle turned to the accused. “Raul, Vance, and Torance Walls, how plead you to the charges levied against you here?”
The three men looked at one another in surprise, then back to the prince. “What do you mean, milord?” asked one.
“Milord Prince,” interrupted Graving, heaving his bulk out of his chair. “The accused were caught red-handed by a squad of constables. What’s the use in asking them how they plead?”
“Because the law states that they have the right to do so, Chief Magistrate.” Arbuckle tied to maintain his composure. “The protocols require that the accused enter a plea, so they will. Now, please sit down.”
The Chief Magistrate obeyed, glaring first at the prince, then at the nobles as someone tittered in amusement. He had thrown the law in Arbuckle’s face, and having it thrown right back at him undoubtedly galled Graving no end.
Turning back to the Walls brothers, the prince explained, “You may plead innocent or guilty to the charges. If you plead innocent, know that you must present evidence to support your claim.”
The three looked at one another again, then the man who appeared to be the eldest stepped forward, his broad workman’s hands gripping the rail of the box. His knuckles were scabbed with dried blood, and his face was bruised. “I’m Torance Walls, milord, and I speak for me and my brothers. We plead guilty.” He looked at Baron Ledwig with unabashed malice. “We burnt that pig’s fancy house for what he did to our sister, Macie, and we’d do it again.”
“Hang them!” came an anonymous shout from amidst the nobles
.
“Silence!” Arbuckle glared the hall to an uneasy quiet. “The assembled will remain quiet, or I will charge the offenders with contempt of the crown!” He turned back to the brothers. “Now, Torance Walls, what do you believe Baron Ledwig did to your sister?”
“He killed her, milord.” The words caught in his throat.
“And why did you not report your sister’s death to the authorities?”
“Because, milord, as far as the authorities was concerned, beatin’ a chambermaid to death ain’t a crime.” The man squared his shoulders and met Arbuckle’s eyes, sure of his fate and resigned to it. “You say there’s gonna be justice for commoners, but there ain’t. Everyone knows that. The only justice we ever see is what we take for ourselves.”
Arbuckle sat silent for a moment, allowing Torance Walls’ words to reverberate around the cavernous chamber and watching the assembled nobles for their reactions. He saw only disgust, fear, and malice in their eyes. It was time to show them what they truly feared.
“This is why, lords and ladies, there must be justice for everyone. A brother will avenge his sister regardless of the law, so the law must be the means of his vengeance. Without equal justice, without the same laws governing nobles and commoners alike, we live by tyranny, risking rebellion and anarchy.”
“Only because you’re too weak to enforce the law!” A young man stood, his face livid. He pointed his finger at the Walls brothers. “Hang that rabble for the rest to see! Show them what comes of breaking the law, and you’ll have order! Your father knew that, and ruled for forty years in peace!”
“The baron’s son, milord,” whispered Tennison.
Arbuckle saw the family resemblance in the young man’s hard eyes and cruel twist to the mouth.
“Rest assured, Lord Ledwig, these men will be sentenced for their crimes, as will all who break the laws of this empire! Now, sit down.”
The young man seethed, but sat.
“Tennison, since these three men have pled guilty, please continue with the other charges.”
Once again, the secretary’s voice boomed out. “Baron Uldric Ledwig, the charge of murder.”
Another murmur swept the assembled crowd.
“Baron Ledwig.” Arbuckle turned to the accused noble. “You are charged with murdering your chambermaid. How do you plead?”
“Point of Law, Milord Prince!” Chief Magistrate Graving once again rose.
Arbuckle sighed. “State the precedent, Chief Magistrate.”
“In year four of his reign, Emperor Tynean Tsing II instituted the Law of Justifiable Punishment. That law states that a noble may punish, by any means they see fit, any servant or commoner for dereliction of duty, insult, assault, or impugnment.”
“I’m familiar with that law, Chief Magistrate. Are you familiar with the Articles of the Foundation, laid down by Arianus Tsing I when he founded this empire?”
Graving’s gloating expression fell. “I am, milord.”
“And you no doubt know that all imperials law must comply with these basic tenets?”
“I do, milord.”
“State for me the third Article.”
Reluctantly, the chief magistrate recited, “No person of any station or class may take the life of another, barring only conflict during war, insurrection, in the defense of one’s self or property, or in the lawful pursuit of justice.”
“Thank you, Chief Magistrate.” Arbuckle turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. “Lords and ladies, the Law of Justifiable Punishment does not—cannot—supersede the Articles of the Foundation. Murder is wrong, no matter the rank of the perpetrator or victim. When a murder victim has no advocate, it’s the duty of the Imperial Court to seek justice. It was the court’s duty to charge Baron Ludwig with murder. In the court’s dereliction, as ranking noble, I have done so.”
Graving apparently interpreted Arbuckle’s statement as an accusation. “It’s been this way for forty years, milord! Nobles are not to be prosecuted for their actions against commoners. That is the order that came directly down from your father the emperor. That is how every magistrate is trained to execute the law!”
Trying to cover your fat ass. Arbuckle swallowed his disgust; this was neither the time nor place to deal with Graving.
“My father may have tolerated violations of the Articles of the Foundation, but I will not. Murder is a prosecutable offence for all. Any violation of the Articles of the Foundation will be prosecuted. If the court neglects to do its duty, be assured that I’ll personally take up the slack.”
Murmurs broke out again, louder this time, “Preposterous!” and “Anarchist!” among the exclamations. Arbuckle raised a hand, and the herald banged his staff hard upon the floor.
“Lords and ladies, we must all live under the governance of the Articles of the Foundation, nobles and commoners alike. If we do not, that is when we risk anarchy. Now, let’s continue. Baron Ledwig, how do you plea to the charge of murder?”
“I have no plea, milord, because no crime was committed. It was justifiable punishment.”
Frustration threatened to choke Arbuckle. “Did you not hear what I just said? Murder is a violation of the Articles of the Foundation. These apply to everyone!”
“If I had done this a month ago, it wouldn’t have been a crime.”
“It would have been a crime, whether you were charged or not! Now, answer me: Did you flog Macie Walls to death?”
“I did, milord, as an example to the rest of them.” The baron sneered at the Walls brothers. “When a bitch bites the hand that feeds her, she must be put down, or she’ll bite again.”
“You filthy piece of—” The Walls brothers surged forward despite their chains.
“Silence!” Arbuckle surprised himself with the volume of his command. “The accused will remain silent until they are asked to speak, and you, Baron Ledwig, will be civil.”
“I was unaware that I was required to be civil to commoners, milord.” Ledwig’s lip curled back from his teeth. “Is that a law?”
Arbuckle seethed. Ledwig was just as arrogant as Lord MalEnthal had said. “You were a knight before you were given a barony, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“And before that, a squire?”
“Yes.”
“And before that?”
“I was a soldier in your father’s army.”
“A common, solder. You held no title, and were commoner before you became a squire. Tell me, do you feel it was your right as a soldier to be treated with respect?”
“Yes. I was a soldier! A representative of the Crown!”
“And before you joined the army, as the son of a tailor, did you deserve respect?” He’d looked into the baron’s past with care.
The muscles of Ledwig’s smooth jaw writhed. “I earned my nobility in service to this empire! They didn’t.” He pointed accusatively at the Walls brothers.
“Then try to act like a noble! Now, what did Macie Walls do that resulted in her…punishment.”
“Destruction of my personal property, assault of my person, and impugnment of my honor, milord.” The baron nodded to a group of servants seated before them. “There were witnesses.”
“Very well.” Arbuckle surveyed the witnesses, apparently the entire staff of the baron’s house. “Who among you saw Macie Walls assault Baron Ledwig?”
Three of the assembled tentatively raised their hands, one man, and two women.
“You there.” The elder woman stiffened at being singled out. “Please stand, tell us who you are, and give us your account of this assault.”
“Milord Prince.” The woman stood and curtsied. She had a scar on the right side of her face, from the corner of her eye to her jaw. She fixed her eyes firmly on the floor. “I’m Libby, senior maid in the Ledwig household. Macie was serving tea for the baron and his friends. When the baron…touched her, she slapped his hand. That was when she dropped the tea service.”
“He touched her?” Arbuckle’s stomach
writhed in disgust. “How did he touch her?”
“I…didn’t see exactly, milord.” The woman stood trembling.
“Did either of you others see what happened?” Arbuckle needed to know the truth of this, despite his disgust.
The younger man and woman looked at one another, then the woman stood, her jaw set defiantly. “Milord. I’m Hanse, the baron’s house maid. I seen it.”
“Tell us exactly what you saw.”
“Yes, milord. Macie came into the baron’s parlor with the tea service, and me with a tray of tidbits. He, the baron, that is, grabbed Macie by the arm, and put his other hand…on her…bottom.”
“That’s a filthy lie!” Baroness Ledwig shot to her feet. “I refuse to have this slander spoken in public!”
“This is not slander, Baroness Ledwig, it is testimony. Sit down!”
The baroness sat at Arbuckle’s command, her face flushed with rage.
“Now, Hanse, tell us the rest of what happened.”
“The baron did that a lot to the younger maids. It’s kind of a game he played when he had his friends over for cards. He did…more sometimes, but this time, Macie slapped his hand away, lost her grip on the tray, and it fell. She said that he was a beast and had no right to touch her, that we had rights, and was gonna have a new justice soon. We talk about that all the time. But the baron, he knocked her down, called her a…a…bitch, and kicked her hard.”
“Kicked her?” Arbuckle bit back his rage. “I thought she died from flogging.”
“Oh, aye, milord. She died from the flogging right enough, but that came later.” The maid glanced at the baron, tears running down her cheeks. “He dragged her into the courtyard and cinched her up on a post. Then he stripped her and beat her with a coach whip ’til it broke. Then he used a piece of knotted rope. He made us all watch. Said we better learn a lesson not to talk back.”
Arbuckle felt sick, but forced himself to continue. “What about the baron’s friends?”
“Sir Hambley, Lord Vosk, and a merchant fellow, Master Templeton. They laughed at first when Macie talked back, but they left when the baron dragged her to the courtyard.”
Weapon of Fear (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy II Book 1) Page 23
