“This is a trial. Doesn’t he have the right to explain himself?”
“He has whatever rights I say he has.” Spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
Kendryk concentrated on breathing evenly and leaned back. Whatever she did, he had to stay cool. Most people didn’t fare well when Teodora lost her temper and there was too much at stake here for him to crumble in the face of it.
“This has gone far enough.” She set her cup on the table with a clatter. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do. But if you believe you can take advantage of the newness of my rule, or of some perceived weakness in my position, you are wrong.”
“I believe no such thing.”
“Then what are you playing at?” She appeared a little calmer though still breathing hard. It seemed she was accustomed to flying off the handle whenever she felt like it, but knew she shouldn’t do so in front of Kendryk.
“I am sympathetic to your situation.” He kept his voice even, hoping she might notice its contrast to her agitation. “I understand what it’s like to be in the early phases of consolidating one’s rule since I did it just a few years ago. I remember what it was like to have others try to exploit your position. You are my sovereign, and I wish to be a good subject.” He saw she had calmed down a little and was regarding him warily.
“I did not request this trial to cause you problems,” he continued. “In fact, your interest surprised me, and I was even more surprised that you came. My goal is not to cause you embarrassment or inconvenience of any kind. I simply wish to avert a rebellion.”
“Is that a threat?” She didn’t seem angry anymore even though her question was.
“It’s not a threat. I understand your other kingdoms have kept you busy, but things are going much the same way all over Kronland. Terragand is less volatile than some of the others, but there’s trouble enough. Father Landrus stands for every grievance, real or imagined, that many citizens have against the empire. If he’s not given a fair hearing, there will be trouble before this trial is a day old.”
“Then we’re back to the question of why you don’t put a stop to any trouble?” Teodora asked.
“Perhaps. But perhaps you also noticed I came with a large contingent of armed men. They aren’t here to threaten you; they are here to show everyone I intend to enforce the law, which also is your law.”
“I can’t make you out.” She shook her head. “You’ve already caused me a great deal of trouble, and I fear a lengthy trial will cause more. If Landrus may speak, the people may well go wild.”
“They may,” he agreed. “But they are almost certain to if they find he may not speak. The common folk know nothing of protocol and procedure. They care about what they perceive to be just. It’s in both our interests if you appear to be so. Don’t you agree?”
Teodora looked at him long. The secretary refilled their cups. “I can see why you don’t need a lawyer; you might as well be one yourself. I will need time to consider this.”
Janna
Janna reached the end of the row and straightened up. Her back still ached, but at least her hands holding the hoe had a heavy layer of calluses and no longer felt like they were on fire. She wiped sweat from her forehead and put the straw hat back on straight. Without it, she would burn bright red.
She looked back down the row, satisfied with herself. The cabbage plants finally looked like something someone might eat someday. Even the plants she thought she’d destroyed several weeks ago when she was first learning to hoe seemed to have recovered. Next, she’d do the beans.
She wondered if Betha had planted enough to even feed one person through the winter. It didn’t seem likely. Janna hadn’t realized how much work it took to grow so little food. She had been fortunate, buying just about anything she wanted from the market. She wondered if she’d ever be able to do that again. Even if she found a market, she would probably never have money again, the way she had with Dimir.
She shook her head and got back to work. She was halfway down the next row when she heard Anton calling for her. He ran toward her, two goats at his heels.
“Anton, keep those animals out of the field.” She hated the goats, but Anton loved them and the feeling was mutual.
“People are coming, Mama.”
She dropped the hoe. “What kind of people? Raiders?” Her first and greatest fear was that Tomescu would find Betha’s farm and attack it.
“I don’t think so. They have a wagon.”
“All right, I’ll come.” She couldn’t imagine who it might be. The neighbors kept to themselves and the farm wasn’t visible from the road. It might be a peddler. “Put the goats in their pen and wash your hands.” The goats wouldn’t stay in the pen long, but with any luck the visitor would get into the house before being attacked.
Whoever was coming had already arrived. Janna first went behind the house and washed her hands and face at the bucket that stood next to the well. From the kitchen she heard voices from the front of the house. She took a deep breath and walked out. She had seen no one new these past several weeks and had liked it a great deal. It couldn’t last, of course.
Betha stood in front of the house with a man, a woman and a girl of perhaps fourteen. Their wagon was small; not much larger than the cart Janna had taken out of Kaleva, but was mostly empty and the horse pulling it was skinny and sad-looking.
“And who are you?” the man asked. He was a short, bandy-legged fellow with small close-set eyes and a mouth set in a thin line.
“This is Janna,” Betha said. “She and her son have been helping me on the farm.” Anton had come up from behind and stood next to her.
“Don’t look like they’d be much use.” The woman sniffed. She was a full head taller than the man and her face was so red Janna reckoned she must have gotten a sunburn, or was angry, or both.
“They’ve been a great help,” Betha said. “Janna, this is my son Havil, his wife Gerda and their daughter.”
Janna managed a polite nod. “You’ve come to visit.” She said. “How nice.”
“Not to visit.” Havil snorted. “We’ve come to stay. They were fighting in Marjatya, but now it’s here too. Our town is full of soldiers. They was going to quarter them on us, but I wouldn’t allow it, not with a sweet thing like our Petra around.”
“Such a fool,” Gerda said. “He goes whimpering like a little girl and they turfed us out. Don’t know what he thought would happen.”
“Oh dear,” Janna said. “I can see why you might be worried.” Although she really didn’t, as poor Petra bore an unfortunate resemblance to Havil, but with a weaker chin. Janna was already thinking she and Anton would have to sleep in the barn. The house was barely big enough for the three of them.
“Come in then,” Betha said. “You must be tired. We’ll feed you and get you settled.”
Janna went straight to the kitchen to look for food. Betha was right behind her.
“Listen Betha,” she began, “Anton and I will sleep in the barn, or the shed. I know the house isn’t big enough.”
“Oh dear. I can’t let you do that. It’s too dreadful. I wish Havil hadn’t objected to the soldiers. I’m sure Petra is in no danger, scrawny little thing that she is.”
“Some soldiers don’t care about that.” Janna shuddered, remembering. “I don’t blame him.”
“It’s just,” Betha whispered. “I can’t abide that Gerda. Always ordering everyone around. She’ll just take over.”
“Don’t let her. It’s your house.” Although Janna couldn’t imagine standing up to that woman, either.
Anton had disappeared when Janna and Betha laid the table. It would be a scanty meal to begin with and stretching it to three more people would hardly do. From the way they fell on the cabbage soup and the bread, it had been a while since they’d eaten. Janna didn’t eat. Maybe she could find something later.
Kendryk
Kendryk and Gwynneth spent two days hunting in the beautiful forests of Princess Kasbirk’s est
ate and being feted by one prince after another. Kendryk felt rather popular. It was clear however, that most of Kronland’s other rulers were only interested in the political implications of this trial. Most didn’t seem to care in the least what happened to Landrus.
Kendryk was sure Teodora hoped to unnerve him by making him wait so long, but he received a summons on the third day.
“I’ve considered your proposal,” Teodora said, as they settled down in the same chairs, to similar cups of tea. “And I will agree to all but one condition.”
Kendryk could guess what that was, but he said nothing.
“I don’t see a problem with calling witnesses, as long as Flavia approves of the individuals, and I assume she will. I’ll let you speak even though I don’t like the idea. But I like even less these Kronlanders complaining about it, so there you are. I can’t however, allow Father Landrus to speak. I agree with you that the situation is inflamed, but disagree that allowing him to speak will make it less so. His presence at the trial alone will be a problem. So, what do you think?” She leaned back in her chair, looking obliging.
Kendryk let her wait for a long moment. “All right,” he said, when she looked like she was about to spring out of her chair with impatience. “I’ll agree, but with one more condition. I don’t want to close the possibility of Landrus speaking.”
“Whatever do you mean by that? Either you agree, or you don’t.” She was getting angry.
“I agree with most of it and even agree that for now, it’s all right if Landrus doesn’t speak. But I might change my mind. After all the witnesses have spoken for both sides, let’s talk again.”
“And if I don’t agree to that right now?”
“Then we aren’t done negotiating, it seems.”
“You really are an insidious little troublemaker.” She got up and paced along the windows.
Kendryk stood up too, just to be polite, and fixed his eyes on her. He didn’t want her to think the conversation was over.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You are too used to getting your way, aren’t you?”
“I’m used to having civil conversations with other rulers.” He walked to the windows and stood next to her.
“And now you lecture me.” She moved just a little too close, her hands on her hips. She was a little taller than he was, which unnerved him.
“I’m not lecturing you.” He was unhappily conscious of the flush rising up from his neck. “I just don’t appreciate your implication that I’m trying to manipulate you. It’s insulting.”
He wasn’t the only one getting flushed. Teodora’s cheeks were bright pink. “You dare to speak to me like that.” She stamped her foot. “Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Not for an instant. But it seems you’ve forgotten who I am.” He wondered if he’d pushed her too far. As far as the empire was concerned, he wasn’t remotely her equal. But here in Kronland, he was the senior ruler, and she was a privileged guest, no more.
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up.” Her tone was accusing.
“I didn’t want to. But I won’t be treated like a Moraltan count or Olvisyan vassal. We have a bond, but not a close one, and it benefits from careful cultivation.”
They stood staring at each other angrily for a moment. From the corner, Count Solteszy cleared his throat. Kendryk had forgotten that anyone else was in the room.
“Shall we start again?” He managed a tight smile and gestured back toward the chairs.
She stared at him a moment longer, then nodded and walked back. They both sat down again. Kendryk smoothed his palms over his breeches, surprised that they’d become sweaty. He took a deep breath. “Your counter-offer was a reasonable one, and I accept it, for the most part. Is that all right?”
She nodded though her dark eyes were still stormy.
“All I ask is that we discuss Landrus speaking one more time after all the witnesses have testified. I have a reason for this,” he added quickly, seeing she was about to protest again. “If you are right and Landrus speaking will further inflame the situation, then I will agree that he should not. If the populace becomes more unruly and starts muttering about justice and so on, it might be wise to reconsider. Does that seem reasonable?”
She stared at him for a time, one corner of her bottom lip caught in her teeth. “It seems reasonable.” She’d probably been wondering what sort of trap he was setting. “But I’m not committing to anything.” She shook her head and a hint of a smile crossed her face. “It seems you would have made quite a lawyer, Prince Kendryk. I rather wish you’d become one so I could deal with someone else right now.”
“I was meant to become a priest, or maybe even a maximus someday, but I never considered law.” Kendryk smiled, relieved that the interview was nearly over.
“Oh, well, religion is very similar, you know.”
Gwynneth
Gwynneth and Kendryk took an open carriage to the temple for the first day of the trial. Their route took them past the city hall with the jail that held Father Landrus, and the wagon bearing him pulled out right in front of them. That seemed fitting, somehow.
Gwynneth tensed up at the first angry shouts from the crowd. But she soon realized that the people weren’t angry with the priest; they were angry with his imprisonment. The shouts turned to cheers, and those became even louder when Kendryk and Gwynneth passed. She nudged Kendryk to smile and wave. Even though the townspeople would not decide the outcome of the trial, there was always a possibility that Flavia Maxima might be swayed by her congregation.
The crowds grew denser and friendlier as they approached the temple. Gwynneth couldn’t help but wonder what sort of reception Teodora was receiving, coming to the temple by another route.
The Kronfels Temple was one of the largest in the empire, but there still wasn’t enough rooms inside for all the interested parties to attend. All rulers and their courtiers found seats, but commoners had to make do with standing in aisles, and even spilled out into the square. Gwynneth was sure whispered dispatches would be relayed outside from those lucky enough to see everything firsthand.
Princess Kasbirk, as the hostess, sat in front of the high altar. Kendryk, Gwynneth and the rest of the Terragand party sat on her left, with Teodora and her court on the right. It allowed Gwynneth an excellent view of Teodora since the benches all faced the center at a slight angle.
Based on the empress’s expression, her reception en route had been less than wonderful. A large contingent of Sanovan cavalry accompanied her, and her two favorite troopers now stood glowering over her shoulder. Two red spots had appeared on Teodora’s cheeks, and Gwynneth wondered if they were about to be treated to one of her famous tantrums. According to Kendryk, she’d barely kept a check on her temper during their negotiations. It would be very helpful to them if Teodora lost it here, in front of everyone.
Gwynneth had to admit the color looked well on her. Teodora used cosmetics to keep her skin an unblemished white sheet, but it didn’t show off the planes of her face and her superb coloring to advantage. Not that Gwynneth would ever tell her.
The excited buzzing inside the temple heightened as four guards led Father Landrus into a docket, chains on his wrists and ankles. Gwynneth could feel Kendryk stiffen in outrage, and she squeezed his hand. To his credit, Landrus looked unconcerned by his altered state.
The buzzing died down as soon as Flavia Maxima took her place at a seat in front of the high altar, followed by a string of underlings. Flavia was a large, grim-faced woman who did not appear to look forward to her task. She shot angry looks at the empress and Kendryk though Kendryk didn’t seem to notice.
The Maxima called the trial to order and then led a religious service that lasted two hours. That should have calmed even the most frazzled nerves.
Next, Flavia asked Father Landrus if he understood the charges against him.
“I do, Your Holiness, but please make note that I disagree with them and question your authority to try my case in t
he sight of the gods.” His sonorous voice rang through the temple, so everyone heard. There was a collective gasp at his audacity. Flavia raised her eyebrows and Teodora’s red spots returned. Perhaps she would explode after all.
“Are you quite finished?” Flavia asked.
“For now,” Landrus said. A murmur ran through the temple again. Gwynneth was pleased. Father Landrus hadn’t lost his nerve.
“In that case, I call the first witness for the Temple.”
This was Julia Maxima, and Gwynneth worried Kendryk would take this hard, even though they had known she would appear. He still seemed to see her unwillingness to support Landrus as a personal betrayal.
Julia gave Kendryk a long look while Gwynneth squeezed his hand again. Kendryk’s excellent composure didn’t fail him though the hand that returned the pressure was cold and clammy. Julia spoke for a long time. She told of how she’d recognized the young priest’s scholarly gifts, first promoting him, then after some years, trusting him with the study of the Scrolls.
“Not only did he break the trust I placed in him, he broke a sacred vow that all who study the Scrolls must take. This vow exists for a good reason. We have long understood that the Scrolls hold many mysteries. The Faith is ill-served if any one person—no matter how learned—takes it upon himself to trust in his own understanding. We realize that the gods grant each of us a small part of all that is known. The Imperata alone is granted greater insight.”
She carried on like this at length. Landrus had violated the sacred traditions and laws of the Temple and had broken his sacred oath. Gwynneth wondered how he had justified that to Kendryk, who took these matters seriously.
After Julia’s testimony, there was a break and Kendryk and Gwynneth dined at a nearby nobleman’s home. Teodora went elsewhere. It seemed the local aristocracy was doing its best to keep the two parties separated.
Upon their return, Flavia Maxima called witnesses against Landrus. These included several noted theologians and each of them read from written versions of Landrus’s sermons and dissected them. Line by line, they read each sermon aloud, and refuted every objectionable item, sometimes at great length. It was all terribly boring, but Gwynneth could sense Kendryk’s fascination.
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 16
