by Speer, Flora
Heavily armed guards were everywhere, pressing the spectators back so that they were forced to stand against the walls. The accused were surrounded so closely that Gina couldn’t help wondering if Charles had heard rumors of a plan for an escape, or of another attempt on his life, even at this late hour. Still, security wasn’t perfect; she and Ella had been able to sneak into the palace by a servants’ entrance that Ella knew, and no one had stopped them as they made their way to the hall. Both of them wore cloaks with the hoods pulled up, as did quite a few other people, and none of them was required to lower his hood.
The men who were to be tried all sat on stools in the center of the hall. Pepin was in the front row, and he kept a defiant face lifted toward his father. He and all the others wore rumpled clothing, their hair was uncombed, and they were unshaven. Dominick sat on the stool next to Pepin, and next to him was Bernard. That surprised Gina. She couldn’t imagine why Bernard would choose a seat next to his despised half brother. But then, perhaps seating was assigned, and Bernard hadn’t been given a choice.
From Gina’s point of view, familiar as she was with television and newspaper coverage of drawn-out twentieth-century legal proceedings, it was astonishing that a trial of such vital importance to Francia should be so simple and so quickly arranged.
Charles acted as the presiding judge. As soon as everyone directly involved in the trial was seated, he called the first witness, who was Deacon Fardulf.
Fardulf repeated the same story that he, Dominick, and Gina had told Charles on the night they overheard the conspirators. Fardulf was a compelling witness, describing in vivid detail how roughly he had been treated, and eliciting murmurs of sympathy when he spoke of his shame at having been completely disrobed before the holy altar. His account of hastening to the palace to reveal the details of the conspiracy was corroborated by Charles himself.
“You made so much noise,” Charles said, “that I threw on a few clothes and hurried to the anteroom to see what was wrong. There I found you arguing with the guard who was posted at my door that night. At my request, you told the story you have just recounted here. Thank you, good deacon. I will not forget your efforts on my behalf. You are excused.”
“A moment, my lord, if it please you,” Fardulf cried. “As you know, Count Dominick of Feldbruck was also in the church of St. Peter that night. It was he who convinced me to speak to you when I was too terrified to comprehend what my true duty was, and he who escorted me safely to your presence when I feared the conspirators would accost me as soon as I left the church. Yet today I see Count Dominick seated among the traitors. My lord, I must speak out. Count Dominick is not a traitor. He risked his life so that I could tell you what I had heard.”
“Thank you, Deacon Fardulf,” Charles said. “You may go.” He spoke in the commanding, kingly way he used only occasionally, the voice that left no room for refusal.
Fardulf retreated after casting a frightened look at Dominick, who smiled his thanks for the deacon s efforts on his behalf.
The next witness was the man-at-arms who had been guarding the door to the king’s apartments on the night in question. He confirmed Fardulf’s tale of arriving well after midnight, with Fardulf highly agitated and in a state of disarray and with Count Dominick and another, cloaked, person in attendance.
The man-at-arms was followed by the captain of the palace guards, who described the long search for and capture of the traitors presently on trial, except for the few who were arrested in Regensburg. Then it was Charles’s turn to speak again.
“I have read the documents seized from the accused,” Charles said. “They reveal a plan to murder me and place my eldest son, Pepin, on the throne. Among those documents was a list that included all the men before us today. There can be no doubt of their guilt.
“Has any one of the accused aught to say in his own defense?” Charles asked, raising his voice.
Several men did rise from their stools to make statements. A few proclaimed that Duke Tassilo was still the rightful ruler of Bavaria, not Charles of Francia. Some complained of the way the by-now infamous treasure seized from Duke Tassilo had been handed over to Fastrada. Others denounced Fastrada for refusing to accept the counsel of the nobles appointed to advise her while Charles was away at war.
“My lord, the queen exerts a wicked and baleful influence over you!” one noble cried. “She is an evil woman, whom you must cast aside if you want to prevent future rebellions!”
It was a bold statement, and Gina marveled at the nobleman’s courage, until she realized that all of the accused expected to be sentenced to death, their nearest kin permanently confined to convents or monasteries. With their fates already sealed, they dared to speak what was in their hearts, and doubtless in the hearts of many other Franks.
“You have heard the accusations, and you have heard the accused speak freely,” Charles said to the row of judges. “Take counsel together, and announce your verdict.”
The judges looked at one another, nodded, and exchanged a word or two. Then they stood, one by one, to pronounce their decision. The verdict was unanimous. All of the accused were found guilty, and all were sentenced to death. The hall was silent as people waited to learn whether Charles would be merciful to any of the condemned men.
Gina stood with both hands clapped over her mouth to keep herself from crying out at the injustice of Dominick being included among the condemned. She was only distantly aware of Ella’s arms around her waist, as if the faithful girl feared Gina would faint without that support. As for Dominick, he sat immobile, his gaze fixed on Charles. Knowing that anything she might try to do would only make matters worse for Dominick, Gina resorted to prayer. She prayed as she had never prayed before, and she heard Ella’s whispered prayer as an echo of her own.
Charles looked around the hall, from council to clerics and priests, to the guards and the condemned. His gaze rested on his queen for a long moment, and Gina saw his shoulders rise and fall, as if he was heaving a great sigh. Then he spoke to the conspirators.
“You have heard the sentence. I am disposed to clemency toward only a few of you, for most of you knew exactly what you were doing when you deliberately plotted the death of a ruler to whom you had freely pledged your allegiance. By Frankish custom and law, your lives are now forfeit to me, as are all the lands you hold.”
He began the ritual of naming each man, his sad and heavy voice clearly speaking of his regret at the loss of men upon whom he had depended, many of whom he had counted among his friends. When a name was called, that man rose, and Charles spoke his punishment. Most were to be hanged or beheaded. One by one the guards led them out of the hall, to be confessed, shriven, and then to meet their fates with no delay. A few who were elderly and not likely to live much longer were to be sent into exile. They, too, were taken out at once, for they were commanded to leave Regensburg before the sun had set.
The number of men seated on the stools grew smaller and smaller, and Fastrada’s smile grew wider and wider.
“Hugh of Montraive,” Charles called. One of the younger nobles who was in the front row near Pepin stood to face the king. But suddenly there was an alteration in the deadly routine.
“My lord, I wish to speak!” cried Hugh.
“Your opportunity has passed,” Charles said. “Your sentence has been decided.”
“It’s not for myself I want to be heard, but for Pepin, who will not speak for himself. He and I were at the palace school as boys and have been friends ever since. Pepin loves you and longs for you to love him.” Before he could say anything more, Charles cut him off.
“Be silent, Hugh.” Those three words brought to a quick end the plea of Hugh of Montraive. But instead of pronouncing the young man’s sentence, Charles spoke to Pepin. “I have been told repeatedly that you believe I do not love you and that, in return, you do not bear the affection due to me as your parent. I tell you now, before these witnesses, that I do love you, and always have. I grieve for your affliction, bu
t I cannot cure it, nor am I able to change the way Frankish nobles regard physical incapacity. Because of that ingrained prejudice, which you have repeatedly faced throughout your life, I cannot understand why you believed that a band of lying traitors would permit you to rule over them for more than a few weeks.
“Pepin, you should have followed the advice I gave you years ago and taken holy orders,” Charles continued. “I would have seen you made abbot of whatever religious house you chose, there to achieve wealth and power beyond the dreams of most men.”
“I do not want to become a priest!” Pepin shouted, jumping awkwardly to his feet. “Why can’t you understand that? Why won’t you listen to what I say?”
“Ah, Pepin, my son, my dear son.” Charles shook his head sadly. “Why can’t you understand that I have always had your best interests at heart?”
“Pronounce my sentence,” Pepin said. “Only, I beg you, spare Hugh, who did no more than carry a few messages for me. And release Dominick, who was never involved in the conspiracy. He pleaded with me not to lend myself to it, but I refused to listen. Both of these men love you almost as much as I do.”
“Pepin,” Charles said, motioning his son to silence, “out of my great love for you, I will set aside the death sentence. Instead, you are to be scourged with whips. Forty lashes will be laid upon your back. As soon as you have recovered, you will profess your vows as a priest. Afterward, you are to be returned under guard to Prum, there to live for the rest of your life.”
“No!” Fastrada was on her feet, fists clenched in fury. “Pepin deserves to die! Give him to the headsman’s axe! Order him drawn and quartered, torn apart by wild horses, for what he has done. Let his blood be spilled. Let his body parts be fixed upon spears and displayed in every town in Francia!”
“Sit down, Fastrada.” Charles spoke in a cold way that made Gina shiver to hear him. “It is my right, and not yours, to decide Pepin’s fate.
“Hugh of Montraive.” Charles’s voice cut across Fastrada’s renewed protests. “Based upon the statement just given by my son Pepin, and the plea made on your behalf by your mother, who knows you very well, I believe you were not fully aware of the extent of the plot against me. All the same, you must be punished for not revealing to me the little you did know. In the same hour in which Pepin is scourged, and in the same place, you will receive ten lashes on your back. Thereafter, I grant you two days for recovery in the custody of your mother. On the third day you will be escorted by six of my men-at-arms to the nearest seaport in Francia, where you will be placed aboard a ship bound for Northumbria.
“From the day you sail,” Charles continued, “you are forbidden ever to set foot in Francia again, under pain of instant death. Nor may your body, your bones, or your heart ever be returned to Francia for burial. Your exile is complete and permanent. Do you understand the provisions of your sentence?”
“I do, my lord, and I thank you for your clemency.” The young man bowed his head. He and Pepin were escorted out of the hall.
“Charles, you must listen to me!” Fastrada shouted. “All of them must be executed, including Pepin. Only then can you be safe. Only then can I and my daughters sleep without fear for our lives.”
“I told you to sit down,” Charles said. “Now I demand your silence.” He sent his wife a glance so filled with loathing that Fastrada, seeing it, actually obeyed Charles’s order. Her mouth agape, Fastrada sank back into her chair and spoke no more.
Now only Dominick and Bernard were left to be sentenced. Dominick was on his feet, and Gina held her breath, hoping he would make an appeal that would move Charles to declare him not guilty. When he began to speak, Gina groaned, for Dominick wasn’t pleading for his own life.
“My lord,” Dominick said to Charles, “I ask your mercy for my brother, Bernard, who was never in any way involved with the conspiracy. Bernard’s only crime is that, after years of faithful service to Queen Fastrada, she suddenly and without cause took an irrational dislike to him. There is no shred of proof to link Bernard to the traitors.”
“I don’t want help from you!” Bernard snarled at Dominick.
“Instead of quarreling with your brother, you ought to thank him,” Charles said. “Bernard of Salins, I sentence you to perpetual exile, upon the same terms I imposed on Hugh of Montraive. The lands you inherited from your father are confiscated and will be distributed elsewhere. I grant your mother one week to vacate your former lands. You are to be gone from Regensburg before the sun sets.”
“Yes, my lord.” Bernard stood very straight, but Gina could see he was shaking with outrage. She suspected that knowing he owed his life to Dominick was to Bernard a harder punishment than the loss of his lands or exile.
“Dominick of Feldbruck,” Charles said, “I will deal with you later, after I have considered several possible punishments I have in mind.”
“Am I to remain in confinement?” Dominick asked.
“You are free to return to your house,” Charles answered. “However, you may not leave Regensburg without my express permission, and you may not ride a horse. A man-at-arms will follow you at all times. If you attempt to escape, you will be brought back and executed immediately.”
“My lord, you have my word that I will not disobey the restrictions you have set upon me,” Dominick said.
“In that case, when you enter your house, the man-at-arms will stand guard at the door, thus leaving you your privacy,” Charles said. “I will summon you when I have decided on your punishment.”
“Well, Bastard,” said Bernard in a loud voice, “now you have what you’ve always wanted. Salins will be yours.”
“I do not know what my punishment will be,” Dominick responded quietly to his brother’s challenging tone. “But I do not need, nor do I covet, Salins. Even if it were offered to me, I would not accept it. I have Feldbruck, which I earned with my own two hands and my sword.”
“You always were a noble fool,” said Bernard, a wealth of scorn in his tone.
“Have a care, Bernard,” Charles interrupted, “lest I change my decision and include you among those to be executed.” Rising from his chair, he gazed around the hall with a sad, solemn expression.
“I thank you for rendering a thoughtful decision in this most difficult matter,” he said to the judges. “You are dismissed. The trial is ended.”
Charles turned and walked out of the hall without sparing the slightest glance for Fastrada, who was not troubling to hide her fulminating anger at the way justice had been administered.
With only Dominick and Bernard left of all the prisoners, most of the guards were gone, and the spectators began to move more freely about the hall. Gina started forward to where Dominick was standing. Ella dutifully followed at her heels.
“Where will you go, brother?” Dominick asked Bernard.
“You are not my brother, Bastard.” Bernard’s spine had stiffened noticeably at Dominick’s use of the word. Still, he answered the question. “I will go to Spain, to try my luck fighting for the Moslems. I, too, have a strong sword arm. Before I’m done, I’ll win a larger prize than Feldbruck or Salins.”
“I wish you well.” Dominick would have embraced him, but Bernard pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me, Bastard. I still have some standards left.” Turning on his heel, Bernard marched out of the hall.
“Isn’t he the gracious one?” Gina said, coming up to Dominick.
“Bernard is angry at having lost his inheritance as the result of Fastrada’s whim,” Dominick said mildly.
“You got the better part of your father s legacy, you know,” Gina said. “He gave you something more valuable than worldly goods. He taught you how to make your own way in the world, how to be a decent, honest man. I don’t think Bernard ever learned those lessons.”
“Perhaps he will now,” Dominick replied, “now that he is landless, friendless, and forced to make his own way.”
A swish of silk skirts and the scent of heavy jasmine perfume ale
rted them that Fastrada was approaching. Gina and Dominick turned together to face her.
“Your half brother is more fortunate than you will be,” Fastrada said to Dominick. “Before this week is over, I intend to see to it that you are tortured until you scream for mercy. Then I’ll have you drawn and quartered while I watch. When you are dead, your precious Gina will be next. After that I’ll see to Hiltrude, whom you thought to protect by sending her to a secure convent, and Lady Adalhaid, who betrayed me to Charles at Gina’s behest. All of them will die in excruciating pain.”
“Will that make you happy?” Gina asked.
“I will writhe in exquisite pleasure while you are shrieking in agony,” the queen responded with a brilliant and lovely smile.
“Are you sure you can convince Charles to allow what you want?” Having heard Ella’s gasp of horror at the queen’s words and wanting to reassure the girl, Gina spoke with a flippant humor she did not really feel. Fastrada’s outspoken fascination with bloodshed and death left Gina feeling queasy.
“Charles adores me,” Fastrada declared with perfect confidence. “He will do whatever I want.” She turned her back on them and stalked out of the hall.
“Is she deaf, dumb, and blind?” Gina asked. “Didn’t she notice the way Charles was looking at her, or hear the way he spoke to her?”
“Perhaps she sees and hears only what she wants to see and hear,” Dominick said. “Unfortunately, it is possible that she’s correct about her influence over Charles. He is a lusty man.”
“But not a stupid man. I can’t help wondering if he has been giving Fastrada the rope to hang herself.”
“She would never do that. Suicide is a mortal sin,” Dominick responded.
“It’s just an expression I learned long ago,” Gina said. “It sounds different in Frankish. Dominick, shall we go home now?”
