The legal representative was now turned and facing him with a hopeful expression on her face. Her cheeks were splotched red, and she stole a glance at the woman she represented. “As you can see, Regent Bairstow, my client has been wrongly accused. As the sole owner of her estate, she has been accosted for years by those who represented President Healy. Her options were few: pay the amount demanded of her, or face gaol or worse. A single woman alone against the evil of the former government left her one course of action, to pay the demands and continue to exist.” The woman glanced at her client once more and then locked eyes with Brent.
Brent admired her determination. She almost sounded sincere to his ears. The blotches of red on her cheeks spread further back and burned a deep red. Brent had seen her many times over the last couple of months. When she knew she was bending the truth, or hiding it, she would always burn bright red. God watches her, and she knows it. Her shame exposes itself.
Brent looked at her client. She was dressed in the highest fashion of Munsten. Her barrister had stripped her of her jewellery to hide her wealth, but Brent could see the untanned lines on her skin where the gems had recently lain. The woman couldn’t possibly hide her wealth or stature. She sat with her back rigid, her hands crossed over her lap, and she wore a look of bored disinterest in the proceedings. Brent knew her type. For her, her wealth had always bought her passage through life and assured her continued survival.
“Trumpet, correct?” he asked her, and he watched as she jumped a little in her seat. Her barrister opened her mouth to respond, but Brent held up a finger and she closed it. He continued to stare at the woman until she nodded once. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
A frown crossed the woman’s face, and she looked at her barrister. The barrister leant over and whispered something. Brent heard the client whisper, “I won’t!” and her barrister hushed her and spoke quickly. In a moment the barrister leaned away. Her client looked annoyed, but she finally looked at Brent. “Yes, Regent. My married name is Trumpet.”
“I knew your son, Donal Trumpet. He paid for his commission. He started as a captain in the Army and then quickly moved over to the Guard.”
The woman’s lips thinned, but she said nothing.
“He made quite a name for himself. When I was the General of the Lord Protector’s Guard I had to punish him several times for conduct unbecoming of an officer. Do you remember those times?”
Her barrister interrupted. “Regent, I must object. This is about Lady Trumpet, and not her deceased son! She still grieves him!”
“Noted. But this is about both of them. Don’t interrupt. Where was I? Ah yes, your son. He was a disgrace. And one of the first to hunt down those Guard members who were loyal to the Realm. I have heard here how your estate was used by Healy’s select as a base of operations. You opened your doors to them, Lady Trumpet. Fed them. Wined them. Supported them.”
Lady Trumpet glared at Brent but said nothing.
Her barrister stepped forward. “Regent, Lady Trumpet feared for her life! No one could withstand the ire of Healy! She had no choice!”
“Silence! We all have choices! She made hers. She, like her idiot son, sided with a tyrant and slaughtered innocent men and women. Guards who swore allegiance to this Realm. I see you Lady Trumpet, glaring defiantly up at me. You disgust me. I have heard testimony that you even held the knife at times. There is blood on your hands and God sees that blood. You are hereby stripped of your land and belongings. You will be escorted to the gaol where you will serve a life sentence for your crimes against the Realm.”
Lady Trumpet looked shocked and bewildered and looked about in confusion. Guards on either side of the plaintiff’s table moved to her side. “Wh-what?” she stammered finally. She looked at her barrister. “Do something! Stop this!” When her barrister only looked away, Lady Trumpet screeched, the cry echoing loudly in the Council chamber. She looked up at Brent, despair now etched deeply into her face. “Please! I had no choice! My son, yes, he did those things, and he paid for it with his life! My only son! But I had no choice! What was I supposed to do?”
“The right thing,” growled Brent, and he nodded at the guards. They stepped in and grabbed Lady Trumpet by the arms. She struggled and lost her footing. The guards dragged her toward the side door. She would be processed and thrown in a gaol cell in a matter of minutes.
She sobbed and cried out for help and the audience erupted in cheers, drowning her out. Brent closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him. The weight of leadership never seemed heavier than at these times. The sound of the door closing behind Lady Trumpet could barely be heard, and the audience chanted Brent’s name. Brent snapped his eyes open. “Silence!” he roared. “Silence!”
The noise from the audience faltered and then stopped. People looked at each other and Brent could see their confusion. The people of Belkin were spiralling into a place Brent hated. They needed the guidance of the church. They needed to hear the teachings of God and learn to avoid this lust. He glanced to his right and saw Vicar Martin Jordan and the draoi Lana Turner standing nearby looking out over the crowd. Martin looked pained.
“People of Munsten,” said Brent to the audience. “I take no pleasure in the sentencing of that woman. She has been given a sentence that will see her in gaol for the rest of her life. Every day she will live with her sins. I have such pity for her. So should you. Have some respect, please.”
The audience broke into a murmur, talking quietly to themselves. Brent looked at Martin once more, but Martin was gone from his spot. He looked about and saw him moving to the side door taking a female vicar with him. Brent watched Martin speak to the woman and then push her through the door.
Brent stood. The crier to his left snapped to attention and yelled out: “All stand!” Brent cursed inwardly as the entire chamber rose to their feet.
Brent smiled out at the people. “That will be all the court hearings for the day.” He paused as the crowd started talking to one another. Those waiting in line cried out in anger. Brent raised a hand, and the noise quieted once again. “I have called for a special hearing. As many of you know, the remnants of the Cian-Oirthear army remain in our city. They cause great unrest and threaten the security of the Realm. For those in line, you will be each given a marker with a number. You will return in the morrow and resume your place in line. My apologies. Guards, clear the room of the unnecessary. We will resume in half-an-hour.”
Brent stepped down from the dais and walked behind it and headed toward the back door. He heard the chamber erupt in cries behind him and the shouting of guards grew louder. Brent looked to his left and saw Martin walk over to stride beside him. They said nothing with the turmoil behind them and then passed through the doorway. It shut behind them and the noise all but disappeared behind the thick wood. Two guards flanking the doors came to attention and snapped a salute.
“At ease, folks,” he said and then paused to look at the female guard on the right. Her eyes swivelled toward Brent for a moment and then snapped forward. “Lesley?” asked Brent.
Brent caught the quick look of sorrow that passed over Lesley’s face before she nodded. “Sir, yes sir!”
“At ease I said,” and Brent waited until they adopted the parade at rest position. Lesley looked at Brent. “I heard you survived, Lesley. It’s good to see you.”
“Yes, sir. It’s been a while,” Lesley swallowed before continuing. “I want you to know sir, we tried to protect Knight General Bairstow. It’s a shame we bear. I’m sorry, sir.”
Brent could see the guilt on her face, and he tutted. “Frederick was quite capable of taking care of himself. There was nothing you or anyone could have done to stop it. It’s not your fault. Frederick thought in his stupidity he could rescue me. He died trying. I suspect he snuck away from those who were guarding him, correct?”
Lesley nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but something caught her voice and she swallowed again. Brent looked at the other guard and saw the
same guilt.
“You are guards, sworn to your duty. You did not falter, and you are not to blame for my brother’s death. That lies at the feet of that bastard Healy. Do you hear me?”
The guards looked at one another.
“Do you hear me?” he demanded a little louder.
The guards nodded.
“Good, now Lesley, and Brett, isn’t it?” The other guard nodded and looked surprised at hearing his name. “I want those guards who stayed by my brother’s side to come to my quarters tonight. I’ll order you all freed from your duties. Tell them to bring their thirst. Tonight we honour your duty and my brother. We will put this shame and guilt where it belongs. Tonight after the dinner watch.”
Brent watched the eyes of the guards open a little wider. They looked at one another and then nodded vigorously. “Aye, sir. We’ll let them know.”
Martin chuckled and clapped Brent on the shoulder.
“Good.” Brent resumed walking down the corridor and turned into a small room with refreshments laid out. He picked up a plate and handed it back to Martin. “Fill up, you will need the energy. This afternoon will be long.”
Martin took the offered plate and started selecting cheeses and rolls. He filled a goblet with a summer white wine and sat at the small table. He started chewing on a thick chunk of cheddar cheese and looked thoughtful.
Brent chuckled. “That’s refreshing. Normally people wait for me to eat first.”
Martin looked horrified and stopped mid-chew.
“Relax, my friend. Relax. When have you and I ever put things like that between us? In the eyes of God we are all equal, are we not?” Brent took a seat across from Martin.
Martin relaxed and nodded and resumed chewing and swallowed. “True. Can I ask you something?”
Brent nodded and took a bite of a crusty roll.
“That last woman. Lady Trumpet. Are you sure of her guilt? I had heard that friends of her son had done horrible things to her. Did you not hear that?”
Brent nodded and took a sip of wine. “Aye, I did. We heard testimony she had been seen knifing one of the wives of the guards herself.”
Martin looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t heard that. Everything I heard was exactly as her barrister laid it out. I think perhaps you made a mistake with her, Brent.”
Brent glowered. “Is that why you sent a vicar after her? To tell her you would have a word with me?”
Martin nodded.
“Wasting your time. It’s decided. I can’t be seen changing my mind on things.”
“Even if she’s innocent?”
Brent slapped the table startling Martin. “She’s NOT innocent. Even if all she did was harbour those bastards she’s guilty! She could have stood up to them. Helped families escape. Spread the word. Anything! Instead she did nothing! Nothing! She is guilty in the eyes of God, and my own. It is enough for me. You give her false hope. I will not change my sentencing. Have you anything else for me?”
Brent saw the look of hurt that crossed Martin’s face and steeled himself. He was tired of disappointing so many. I can only do what I think is right and if Martin is going to be another who judges me, so be it.
Martin searched his face, but Brent remained steadfast. Martin rose and moved to the door before stopping and without looking back spoke. “In the eyes of God, who is creating the greater sin?” Martin slipped out and walked away.
Brent remained seated for a time. After a moment, he resumed eating. God watches over me. Royal Law is clear on this matter. She is guilty as sure as the sun rises in the morning.
* * *
Brent looked out over the two rows that made up the remnants of the Cian-Oirthear army. They were stripped of everything except pants and loose shirts. They were manacled together by their hands and feet. Each footstep they took as they traversed the chamber was loud and jarring and it set Brent’s teeth on edge. They numbered twenty-three in total and stood in two rows. They stared defiantly back at Brent. Standing next to the army was a cowering man who was their translator. The man looked haggard and abused.
Brent looked out over the assembly. The eyes of the people were bright with anticipation. There was no love lost for these men. They were vile and repulsive. They were the enemy, allowed to wander amongst them, seemingly without fear of retribution. Their crimes were numerous. Brent had had enough. He would deal with them once and for all. He rose to his feet and addressed the room.
“Gathered here are the remaining members of the Cian-Oirthear army. Brought to this land by the traitor John Healy. He opened this Realm up to the very enemy we protected ourselves against for decades. They come from a land with little respect for the values we hold dear in our country. They fear women. They fear our open ways. And their response is to kill that which they fear. They have been in our country for months and have made no effort to assimilate to our culture. They grab our women in the streets. They strike men who offer no offence other than to look the wrong way at them at the wrong time.
“I have read so many reports of the crimes these men commit in our city that it sickens me. I now find myself in the position of having to do something about that. Something permanent.”
The assembly erupted in cheering that soon turned into a chant of ‘Execute them!’ Brent blinked at how quickly his words had turned into a desire for more bloodshed. He looked out at the lust-filled faces of his people. Men, women, and even children were chanting in unison, fists raised and pumping. He looked over at his court officials and they were smiling. The translator translated the words, and the shackled men glared at the people and some even bared their teeth. Then Brent caught sight of Martin at the back of the chamber. His face was lowered and when he raised it he looked right at Brent. From the distance Brent could still see the tears that tracked down his face.
Brent turned to the court crier and nodded. The crier stepped forward and banged the butt of the ceremonial mace on the stone floor. “Silence in the Chamber! Silence in the Chamber! If there isn’t order, the Chamber will be forcibly cleared! Silence!”
The crier banged the mace harder and after a time silence once more settled over the Chamber. The audience was too afraid to be escorted out and miss the excitement. A dull murmur still rippled across the room and Brent waited until it finally stopped. He motioned to the crier to retreat, and he did.
“This realm has suffered such pain and anguish since the Revolution. Our streets are awash in our own spilt blood. We struck at a monarchy that had turned sour and evil. We forced people from the Church and slaughtered the draoi people who wanted nothing more than to help us all. We allowed one man to rise to such power that he very nearly drove us to a civil war that would have seen brother and sister pitted against brother and sister. At one point, Healy, desperate for control, invited Mushir Adham and his army into our Realm.”
Brent paused when the army cheered at hearing the name Mushir Adham. The translator stopped speaking and looked apologetically up at Brent.
“Yes, Mushir Adham. Their finest warrior. Slain by a one-handed woman. This is the army that boasted they could best our Realm.”
The audience cheered and cat-called to the Cian-Oirthear army. When the translator finished his words, the army rattled their chains. One at the end tried to move forward, but a guard drove the butt of his halberd hard into the man’s midriff. The man bent over double and collapsed. The guard who had struck him grinned out at the audience and they cheered harder and Brent waited them out. In time, the man was lifted to his feet, but he remained bent over. The cries for execution was louder now. Brent noticed the face of one child screaming for the death of these men. The child was no more than ten and yet he leaned forward chanting with evident joy to execute these men.
These were men who did nothing more than follow the orders of their leaders. Men trained to do exactly what they had done. Brent could find no fault with them. He would expect nothing less of his own army. Those within the Belkin army who broke the law were always dealt with swiftly.
The ones standing before him were far from home and lost in a culture they would never embrace or understand. They broke their laws and Brent would deal with them swiftly.
Brent motioned for silence and in time it was restored.
“I am foremost a military man. These men followed the orders of their leaders and fulfilled their duty according to whatever oaths they swore. I cannot fault them for that. I would expect nothing less of our own men and women in uniform. I have decided: these men are to be placed on Navy ships and escorted home. I charge Knight General Kingsmill to fulfil this task with the ships sailing in no more than forty-eight hours.”
Brent pointed at the translator. “Except this one. If he so chooses, he may stay and work for the Realm. I have decided. So say we all.”
Brent marched straight out of the hall and past Martin who smiled and nodded once to him. As Brent left the Chamber, it erupted behind him in cries. The newly renamed Regent’s Guard moved to surround the Cian-Oirthear army. The guards at the door fell in step behind him and when the doors closed the cries shut off.
“Well done, sir,” murmured Lesley, as he strode past her.
* * *
Two days later, Brent met the vicars of the church in their offices at the back of the Munsten Castle church. As he walked through the office area, he couldn’t help but remember the horror that had occurred within the walls. It had taken quite a bit of effort to scrub the place clean and air out the death that had filled the rooms. Unbelievably, Healy had rounded up all the bishops and deans in Belkin, locked them in here, and then starved them to death. He had addicted them to tears of the poppy and then took it from them and locked them in. The horrors inside the church were beyond belief and Brent had ordered the information sealed. But of course, it leaked. Eylene used the information to garner more support for the Church. It reached sympathetic ears, and the Church was gaining favour once again.
Cill Darae Page 2
