Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

  Both started to speak, no doubt to tell me some reassurance or other, but the mutual beginning to their speeches brought an immediate mutual end. So they sat in awkward silence, glancing at each other or me, the rest of the time staring at the walls, the floor, their knees, or anywhere else they could.

  “The both of you shall drive me mad if you do this to each other. I cannot bear it.” I looked to Kurit and asked, “Kurit, are you at all angry or do you harbour any resentment towards your cousin for what happened to me? Speak honestly.”

  “No, of course not!” he emphatically replied. “He went boldly forth to search for you, when I stayed behind like a woeful weakling—”

  “Ah, stop!” I said, holding up a hand and cutting him off before he could finish his litany of guilt. I turned to Jarik next. “Jarik, are you at all angry or do you have any ill feelings towards Kurit because of my abduction and all that followed?”

  He shook his head, staring sadly at the pattern of the upholstery on the couch. “No, not in the least. It was I who was charged to protect—”

  “No, no, that’s quite enough,” I said, ending his inevitable rush of apologies as I had Kurit’s. “Now then, you both can hear how truly neither of you blames the other. So right here and now, this awkward wall of silence between you must be gone. I’ve told you both, there’s no guilt to be placed on either of you for what happened. I was the silly girl who went outside alone based on an anonymous note. I was the fool who stepped into darkened shadows when I should have had the sense to know Kurit would never summon me out on a cold winter’s night. I was naïve, and I have paid a terrible penalty for that, but both of you did what you could to remedy my predicament. I am proud of you both, and you should be delightedly proud of yourselves and of each other.”

  Kurit looked to Jarik and said, “Can you believe this scene? My wife is recovering from a horrible crime, and yet her greatest concern is that we do not feel badly for her.”

  Jarik’s eyes were fixed on my own as he replied, “That is because she is a noble woman. Nobler than you or I.”

  “That’s enough of that!” I laughed. “Silly boys, always turning everything into a way to sing my praises. One of these days you’ll both go too far and I shall become so arrogant that you’ll both despise me!”

  “Never!” they both said quickly, in the absurd unison they had so often managed before.

  I laughed at them, these two silly, adorable men whom I held so dear. They did not laugh, both still intent on feeling remorseful, but at least they smiled a bit at one another, which pleased me greatly. “Good. That’s fixed then,” I said. “Now I’m going to feed my son. Go on, both of you. Go be as you were before. I shall enjoy hearing your insults for each other echo down the hall.”

  They seemed puzzled, so I said, “You know what I mean!” I pointed to them in turn and said, “You’re a beastly brat, and you’re a noble fool. Now go off and continue that until you both recall what it is to be happy and laugh. I want our old life back from before all of these things happened. I need you both to be the happy, silly boys that I adore. But my son is starting to fuss for his meal, so leave me and go play your boyish games.”

  They managed to chuckle at each other, though when their eyes returned to me it was still with a dreadful sorrow and concern. I elected to not fret over that, having won at least the first part of the battle. They rose and left together. I could hear them speaking in the hall as they left, though I could not hear what they said.

  * * *

  Much as I wanted to hold my son in my arms for all to see at Sashken’s trial the following day, Kurit convinced me that I needed no additional prompt for sympathy and that Raelik’s inevitable noises and cries would be disruptive. I left him thus with his nurse Lyenta and allowed Kurit to lead me to the Great Hall, still wearing dressings on my feet but able to walk short distances.

  Only crimes of great importance or particular horror are tried by the King in the Great Hall in the palace. Most crimes are settled in the offices of local lawmakers or in the Temples. Of course, Sashken’s attempt to have murdered the wife and unborn son of the heir to the throne qualified for the ultimate formality.

  King Tarken and Kasha sat on their thrones, the former schooling his face as always, the latter noticing our arrival and watching me with a nasty glare. Kurit saw the look and stood with his back to her in front of me until the call to be seated came. Kurit bade me sit between himself and Jarik, whose bulk prevent Kasha from being able to look at me directly as our seats extended in a row leading away from the throne stage.

  The room fell silent as Sashken was brought in by the guards, shackles and chains on her ankles and wrists. She looked a pathetic sight—haggard, sleepless, distraught, and very guilty. Her eyes found Kurit’s, who glared furiously in return. She turned her face away and closed her eyes in shame.

  They opened again in startled reaction to the King’s sudden booming voice as he recited the charge against her. “Lady Sashken of Kydren, daughter of Lord Sibek and Lady Kayel, you are accused of the crimes of conspiracy to commit murder, payment to assassins, withholding of information sought by the King’s Guard, and high treason against this kingdom. How do you respond to these accusations against you?”

  Sashken found some remnant of strength, schooled her expression, and loudly proclaimed, “I am not guilty of these crimes.” A low murmur swept through the gathered audience of dignitaries and courtiers.

  “Very well,” the King said. “I call forth those I have approved to speak either side of these charges. Lord Cael of Alesha shall present the evidence against you, and Her Royal Majesty Queen Kasha shall present evidence in rebuttal. Do you accept these persons to present the case?”

  Sashken looked to the Queen and said, “I do.”

  I looked at Kurit. His eyes were turned in his mother’s direction, and they held a cold fury. I assumed this was the first he knew of Kasha’s volunteering to defend Sashken, as it certainly was the first I’d heard of it. I had not known that Lord Cael had even made the journey, let alone that he would present my end of things. I caught his eye as he rose from the audience. He bowed his head subtly towards me, his face grim.

  “Why is Cael doing this?” I whispered to Kurit.

  “He cares for you a great deal. I learned of his bid to act on your behalf only this morning. He’s clearly partial to you, but he is well respected as an honest and intelligent man. Mother’s backing of Sashken, on the other hand, is a knife in my own back,” he grumbled under his breath.

  “A surprising development, since she is also the ‘witness’ that Sashken was otherwise occupied that evening,” Jarik muttered to Kurit and me.

  “I suppose Father allowed it rather than fight her on it,” came Kurit’s quiet reply. His anger seemed to fade to exhausted acceptance.

  “Begin your presentation of evidence, Lord Cael,” the King commanded.

  Cael called forth first the scribe who had recorded my story and bade him to read it to the court. As he did so, the parts that were particularly awful caused those gathered to cover their mouths in shock, whisper fervently, and even gasp a few times. Many a head turned in my direction, almost always with great sympathy. Sashken remained resolute throughout the tale, though her face was a sickly colour.

  At the story’s conclusion, a murmuring broke out in the crowd, and I could see several ladies weeping from the ghastliness of it. I had avoided looking at Jarik while it was read, certain he would be upset and I would weep as a result, but now that it was over I glanced to him. His eyes were closed, a combination of anger and sorrow clear upon his face, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. I put my hand over one of them, and he looked at me.

  “I am so sorry, Aenna,” he whispered. Then he turned his gaze upon Sashken, and a frightening look of hatred took over his features. I have no doubt that, had I asked him to, he would have broken her in half in that moment.

  Cael then called a guard to testify, who confirmed that he
had witnessed Sashken exiting the front doors to the palace and then returning over an hour later. He also testified that he recalled my exit from the palace because I had asked him if he knew if Prince Kurit was in the courtyard, which he had not.

  “I answered that I had not seen him leave but that my duty shift had begun only about an hour before. It was just before the Lady Sashken went outside. Her Highness was very concerned that His Highness must have thus been out in the cold for some time, and she rushed outside. Some time later, I saw the maidservant Leiset run screaming down the stairs and through the Great Hall, and I realized I had not seen Princess Aenna re-enter the palace, and I felt a great dread.” The guard looked at me and humbly said, “Forgive me, Your Highness, I should have realized you would not stay out in the cold so long.”

  I gave him a polite smile and nod. Cael told him to be seated.

  One of the gate guards was then called to read records that showed the Lady Sashken had not left the palace grounds by the front gate, indicating that her time outside was spent either in the courtyard or the stables. The records did show, however, a delivery of six kegs of wine just after dark and that the empty cart did not leave for well over two hours. The times as recalled by the guard who saw Sashken and the written records from the gate put Sashken’s apparent time in the courtyard or stables as within the time that the cart was also there.

  Cael summoned a trembling stable boy to the floor and asked him if he recalled the Lady Sashken entering the stables on the night in question. He did not and said further that no lady had been seen as he worked that night.

  Then Cael asked Leiset to come forward. She looked quite uncomfortable, and I felt badly that she would have to stand and speak when I did not. He had her explain the prelude to my being left alone whereby she was summoned to assist Eyill.

  “And what did Eyill need from you when you found her in the library?” Cael asked.

  “I did not find her in the library. I searched between all of the shelves and called to her, but she was not there. Only as I was about to leave did I notice the door to the tower was slightly ajar. I opened it, and there was Eyill. I believe she had been watching me look for her and most certainly would have heard me calling her name. I asked her why she had summoned me, and she would say nothing other than she no longer required my assistance and thank you. I was rather perturbed at the waste of my time, so I left her there and went to return to the Princess.”

  “Did you see anything on your way back to the south wing that made you suspicious something was afoot?”

  Leiset nodded. “As I approached the south stairs, I saw above me that Sashken was hurrying out of the south wing. That made me wonder if she had been at Her Highness’s room, possibly to disturb her.” She looked a bit guilty at having said that, and added, “It is my understanding that they do not always get along well.” Cael nodded, so she continued, “I ran up the stairs and saw there were no hall guards present, when there had been one at each station when I had left. I returned quickly to Princess Aenna’s rooms and saw that she was missing.”

  “What did you do then?” asked Cael.

  “I called to her, and there was no answer. The bedchamber door was still open, as it had been when I left. I looked inside, and she was not there. I went back out to the receiving room to go and knock on Prince Kurit’s door, suspecting that he had returned from the Council meeting and perhaps Aenna was there with him. But as I passed through the room I saw a note on the table by the door. I picked it up and looked at it, since it was not addressed to anyone in particular.”

  Cael asked Leiset to hold her tale there as he produced the note she had found. He read it aloud to the court. “‘I am sorry, but I can no longer bear to remain in this palace any longer. I must go very far away and begin a new life for myself even though it makes me cry. I am but a lowly peasant, and the child I carry is not worthy of the throne. I shall raise him or her in good health and to know that their father would have loved them. I am sorry to do this, but it is the way I think things must be.’ The note is signed simply, Aenna. What did you do when you read the note, Leiset?”

  “I could not believe it. I knew immediately the Princess had not written that note. Though the handwriting was clearly meant to look like hers, I could tell it was not. Furthermore, it is awkwardly phrased, very unlike Her Highness’s elegant prose. And she would never leave her beloved husband in such a manner! Even if she would, she would not have chosen to go on the coldest night there had been in weeks. I realized something terrible was happening, and I was filled with fear. I screamed and ran to tell the Prince what I had found. I ran right into the Council room without any thought of decorum and screamed to him that the Princess was gone, that someone had done something to her.”

  Cael thanked Leiset and bade her to return to her seat. He then called the hall guard whom had been stationed near my door that night. The guard confirmed the part of my story where I said I was going to find the Prince. Not long after, he said a loud noise in the guardroom behind him caused him to leave his post and investigate, as did the hall guard from the other end of the corridor. They found that a box of tools had been tipped off the table, though no one was there. They searched around the corridors but saw no one.

  Cael then summarized his belief that Sashken had Leiset distracted away for a suitable length of time, planted a letter for Melly to find and rush to deliver, and waited with the assassins in the dark for the Princess. Then, once she had paid them to take Princess Aenna away, she went back in the palace, hurried upstairs, entered the north door of the guardroom, tipped over the tool box to cause a distraction, then quickly crept into the south wing, delivered the false note, and ran away, not knowing she had been seen by Leiset downstairs.

  “Is that all you have as evidence?” the Queen asked, rising from her throne to stand between Cael and Sashken. “Do you seriously accuse this Lady of the Court, a fine, well-bred, and good-mannered girl who has never before harmed anyone, of conspiring to murder? And based only on the word of a peasant and some circumstantial evidence that may or may not place her near an event that could well be a concoction of lies? Plus, I must remind this court, that I, Queen of Keshaerlan, have stated on several occasions that the good Lady Sashken was with me for most of the evening. To believe this ridiculous story is to either fly in the face of logic or to disbelieve my testimony.” Her countenance became very dark as she added, “Which would, of course, be foolish.”

  Kurit bristled in anger beside me. “Don’t make a scene,” I whispered very softly. “She does have a duty to try to refute Cael.”

  Kurit turned to me and muttered under his breath, “You are far too forgiving of her.”

  The Queen went on to point out that, despite current appearances and the arguments of those who supported me, the fact remained that I was a peasant. “What do we know of her background?” she asked. “She’s an orphan, and we all well know that orphans tragically are not often raised with the best of morals. She is ambitious, we know that by her marriage so far above her station. However, she is not a stupid girl, and it is my belief that one evening she came to the correct conclusion that she was unworthy of the Prince and sought to leave. Perhaps the timing was ill-chosen out of a moment of the madness that comes from being with child. I assert that she did write the note—and the idea that she writes with more ‘elegant prose’ than heard in the note is preposterous, given that she has been literate for less than a year. She left of her own accord, only to find herself unable to survive without the luxury to which she had so quickly become accustomed. She then returned, but knowing that the Prince would be angry with her for having left, she concocted this wild story, fraught with unbelievable heroic tales, and sought to incriminate the poor innocent Lady Sashken.”

  Cael looked at her as though she were insane. “Pray tell, Your Majesty, aside from your good word that the accused spent at least part of a long evening with you, what evidence do you have to support your theory?”

  �
�The girl left him before and did so at that time by a note of sorrow and regret. She has a history of the very same.”

  “Your Majesty,” Cael refuted, “that was before she was wed to His Highness. Surely you cannot expect this court to believe that she would leave her husband and run into the night whilst great with child?”

  “And you cannot expect the court to believe that the Lady Sashken plotted to have her murdered, based on the testimony of servants and peasants! Where is this cart with the secret compartment? Where are the men involved? You have produced none of the direct evidence that would corroborate the girl’s fantastic story. For all we know she wandered down back to Mikilrun or some such place, had her baby there, then regretted her choice and returned,” said Kasha.

  Cael pondered for a moment and then asked, “If she left of her own accord so late at night, why is there no record of her passing through one of the gates? She certainly could not have scaled the walls in her condition at the time, and the only other people that left did so on horseback, with no way to have hidden her with them. The records show this. Furthermore, it is quite clear to anyone who looks upon the Princess that she did not spend her time away comfortably giving birth in some town. She returned emaciated and weakened.”

  “She could easily have put herself in that condition on purpose to lend credence to her lies,” spat Kasha. “She is threatened by the Lady Sashken because she knows Kurit would have wed this fine lady in her place. This field mouse is falsely accusing a noblewoman to prevent Kurit from admitting to himself that he chose the wrong bride.”

  “Are you mad?” cried Kurit, surging to his feet. “Never in my worst nightmares did I even consider the thought of loving her!” he shouted, pointing to Sashken.

  “Sit down!” the King ordered, but he was drowned out by Sashken, who lost all control and began to screech wildly.