The Dog of the North

by Tim Stretton

  ‘Your Puissance, I thank you. It gives me no pleasure to outline treasons against your person. The sooner the disagreeable matter is concluded, the best for all. I hope that the accused will favour us in this matter by swiftly declaring their guilt, so that a due and proportionate sentence can be handed down. For reasons which will become apparent, I lay my charges first against Sir Goccio, Knight of the Sunflower.

  ‘Sir Goccio, it is my contention that you have conspired to commit the act of petty treason against your just sovereign King Fanrolio, in concert with the low-born rogue Beauceron, once of the Emmenrule, and a sworn man of our King. Your allegiance, sir, as we all know, is to King Tardolio. Nonetheless, like every subject of this realm, you owe duty, obedience and loyalty to the King of the Season, regardless of any other oath you may have sworn. The penalty for the crime of petty treason is death, subject only to His Puissance’s mercy. What have you to say?’

  Sir Goccio rose from his bench. Unlike Beauceron, he had chosen to appear without a legulier. He bowed to the King, the Lords of Equity and finally to Davanzato.

  ‘Before this court and before the King, I freely and humbly admit my guilt,’ he said. ‘I was approached by Captain Beauceron with a proposal that I should act as an intermediary between himself and King Tardolio, with the purpose of raising an army against the city of Croad. This I did willingly, but foolishly.’

  ‘Were you aware,’ asked Davanzato in a neutral voice, ‘that in assisting Captain Beauceron to evade his oath of service to King Fanrolio, you committed a petty treason?’

  Sir Goccio bowed his head. ‘Sir, I was. My enthusiasm for battle, for glory, for Mettingloom, caused me to overlook my duty. With my comrades and Captain Beauceron, we drew up battle plans from The Ill-Favoured Loon, a tavern known for its allegiance to the Sunflower cause.’

  ‘A melancholy tale,’ said Davanzato, ‘and one of a brave man, seduced from what was right and true by the silver tongue of a foreign rogue who played upon your good instincts. Although I prosecute this case, I recommend mercy to my lords and to Your Puissance. Guilt is incontrovertible; only the penalty remains to be fixed.’

  Mongrissore coughed. ‘Excuse me, good sirs,’ he said, rising. Beauceron looked sideways. Mongrissore had not expressed any previous intention to intervene in this trial. Not for the first time Beauceron felt that Mongrissore’s appearance was not in his favour. His patched suit was the only one Beauceron had ever seen him wear; although at least today he had honoured court and King with a shave.

  Fanrolio blinked rheumily. Ulrado, the Lord of Equity from the Summer Court, fixed Mongrissore with a stern glance. ‘This is not your case, Legulier.’

  ‘Your pardon, my lord. However, Sir Goccio’s testimony is pertinent to the case in which I am retained. It is more seemly to tackle such points as they arise.’

  ‘This is most irregular,’ said Gionardo, the Winter Court’s corpulent Lord of Equity.

  ‘Let us not stand upon legalisms,’ said Fanrolio querulously. ‘Let us have the facts. Legulier Mongrissore, ask such questions as you have.’

  ‘Your Puissance, I thank you. Sir Goccio, you testified that Captain Beauceron approached you to act as an intermediary with the Summer King.’

  Sir Goccio looked around. ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘Did you do so?’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘Come, the question is simple. You must need sharp wits to be a conspirator. Did you in fact speak to His Puissance as Beauceron had requested?’

  ‘Ah – no.’

  ‘You did not speak to His Puissance on the topic?’

  ‘No, sir.’ This with greater firmness. ‘You cannot imagine that King Tardolio had any part in plotting against the Winter King.’

  ‘I imagine nothing, Sir Goccio. We have established an important fact: King Tardolio was not aware of your scheme?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You plotted, with Captain Beauceron and fourteen others, to raise the Summer Army – King Tardolio’s Summer Army – without the King’s knowledge?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ mumbled Sir Goccio.

  ‘A curious act. Would you say you are well connected with the King?’

  ‘I am his sworn knight, sir.’

  Mongrissore nodded. ‘I believe there are over eighty Knights of the Summer Court.’

  ‘I have never counted them, sir,’ said Sir Goccio with a drooping mouth.

  ‘You may take my word for it. Do you imagine the King has eighty intimate counsellors?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘I therefore remain to be convinced of the level of influence you maintain. How many times, in the past year, have you spoken to His Puissance?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Are you counting to a high number, Sir Goccio? Twenty, a hundred? An approximation will suffice.’

  ‘Once, sir.’

  Mongrissore barked with laughter. ‘I am sorry, Sir Goccio, I misheard you. I thought you said “once”.’

  Sir Goccio’s shoulders sagged. ‘So I did, sir.’

  ‘You have spoken to the King once in the past year. At least you will easily be able to recall the occasion for us.’

  Sir Goccio had given up any pretence of spirit. ‘It was to renew my oath, sir.’

  ‘Let me clarify this for my lords’ benefit: Captain Beauceron approached you to use your great influence with the King to put in train plans for a mighty Summer Army. This influence, in fact, consisted merely in renewing your oath. Instead you said nothing at all to the King – who may well not even know who you are – and plotted merrily away without the slightest reference to events at the Summer Court.’

  ‘You put an unfavourable construction on events.’

  ‘I would be interested to know how one could favourably construe an acknowledged case of petty treason.’

  ‘The fact remains that Beauceron engaged in a treasonous act! My motivations are not to the point.’

  ‘No, indeed. Your veracity, however, is very much to the point, and when the time comes to weigh Beauceron’s guilt, your inconsistent, muddled, implausible and frankly mendacious testimony will be in the forefront of our minds. My lords, I thank you for your indulgence.’

  Mongrissore sat down and made a cryptic scribble on his pad. Beauceron looked at him with new respect. He had with great ease made Sir Goccio into a liar and a fool.

  Davanzato rose from his bench. ‘We are all grateful, I am sure, for Legulier Mongrissore’s masterly proof of the guilt of a man who had already admitted his crimes. Had I known this lucrative profession required so little rigour I myself might have followed this path. Be that as it may, Sir Goccio has humbly and fully confessed his act of petty treason. His penitence is obvious, and it remains only to set the penalty. I call not for the death of this repentant knight, but a sizeable fine, perhaps in the region of 3,000 florins. My lords?’

  Lord Gionardo scowled. ‘You speak lightly of treason. I vote for hanging and attainder.’

  Lord Ulrado shook his head. ‘I am shamed that a Knight of the Sunflower should so forget himself. Nonetheless, the true guilt lies elsewhere. Your Puissance, a great king is one who knows where to show mercy.’

  Fanrolio’s head rolled from side to side. ‘Under-Chamberlain Davanzato is a man of seasoned judgement, despite his youth. Sir Goccio, I note your guilt and your repentance. I commute the sentence of death to a fine of 3,500 florins. You are discharged, although I believe you must remain as a witness in our next case.’

  3

  Beauceron returned heartened to his cell. Mongrissore had effectively demolished Sir Goccio’s credibility as a witness. He was sure, though, that Davanzato would not so easily give up.

  Tintazzo had made no difficulty about furnishing Beauceron with meals of a good standard in return for a suitable consideration. Tonight the fare was half a roast fowl basted in its own juices, potatoes herb-roasted and a selection of winter vegetables. A crisp white wine complemented the dish to perfection, and Beauceron, who d
isdained mealtime chatter, decided that his incarceration was not without its benefits.

  After dinner Tintazzo appeared with an unexpected visitor whose face was concealed under a black hood: Prince Laertio.

  ‘My lord,’ said Beauceron. ‘I am honoured, if surprised.’

  Laertio seated himself on the couch with a grin and stretched out. ‘You are a foolish man, Beauceron. I had offered you a much better option than the one you chose.’

  ‘Hindsight would appear to have vindicated you, although I am not without hope in this case.’

  Laertio raised his eyebrows. ‘I see little basis for optimism. Your man Mongrissore proved Sir Goccio a fool and knave today: there will not have been a man in the room who did not know that already.’

  ‘Davanzato intended his testimony to be the central strand of his case.’

  Laertio reached for the wine flask. ‘And so it shall. Do you think either of the Lords of Equity is favourably disposed towards you?’

  ‘I had not considered the question.’

  ‘I am, of course, well acquainted with Lord Ulrado. Given what I told you about my father’s aversion to the invasion – which you chose to disbelieve – you cannot imagine he will wish to see you freed. And Gionardo will be keen to punish the slight against his King.’

  ‘The Lords of Equity do not make the final judgement.’

  Laertio gave a crooked smile. ‘You have seen Fanrolio. Can you envisage him overturning the counsel of his Lords of Equity and his Under-Chamberlain?’

  Beauceron took a gloomy pull at his goblet. ‘Mongrissore is a resourceful man.’

  ‘He is not a thaumaturge, which is what your situation requires.’

  ‘I assume your leisure is not so extensive as to permit you to waste an evening taunting me. Do you have a concrete reason for being here?’

  ‘We discussed certain eventualities at the Midwinter Ball,’ said Laertio. ‘The scenario I outlined remains attractive to me.’

  ‘Were I free,’ said Beauceron, ‘I might take a more favourable view myself.’

  ‘The Darkstone is not impregnable,’ said Laertio. ‘I might be inclined to exert myself if I knew there would be a return.’

  Beauceron gave a sour smile. ‘Such talk is easy. You will forgive me if I do not base my hopes around such an eventuality.’

  Laertio shrugged. ‘As long as I am convinced of your support for my cause, all will be well. In addition, the Lady Cosetta would be loath to see you come to harm.’

  Beauceron raised his eyebrows. ‘Now you do surprise me.’

  ‘She is a lady of unusual vivacity and refinement. The way in which she has dealt with her circumstances impresses me, and in so far as I am able, I indulge her whims. She regards you, perversely, as the architect of her current fortunes.’

  ‘I will not enquire as to the nature of your intimacy.’

  Laertio grinned. ‘Perhaps you should not. For now, I bid you good evening.’

  Beauceron lay on his bed and stared ahead for an hour after Laertio had gone. Nothing he had heard made him view the Prince as anything other than the most capricious and unreliable of associates. Beauceron was not a sentimental man, and persuasive as Cosetta might be, she would never be able to induce him to act against his own interests.

  4

  The next days went as expected for Beauceron. He was charged with grand treason against his sworn king, and Davanzato demanded from the outset execution and attainder of his goods as sanctioned under the Old Law of Treasons and Malfeaties. Before Davanzato dared to bring Sir Goccio forward again, all fourteen associate witnesses were called. Legulier Mongrissore once more exposed the implausibilities and inconsistencies of his account.

  ‘Very well,’ said Mongrissore at the end of his questioning. ‘I cannot make your mendacity any plainer to the court. You are free to leave with whatever honour you think you retain.’

  Sir Goccio returned to his chair with a heavy tread. He had not looked at Beauceron throughout the trial; now, his ordeal over, he flicked a surreptitious glance: part guilt, part regret, part shame. Beauceron returned an unwavering gaze. He felt no sympathy for the Sunflower Knight: according to Monetto’s researches, he had allowed himself to be bought for an agreement from Davanzato to settle his 3,000-florin debts. Even here, Davanzato had proved false, for the fine of 3,500 florins imposed by Fanrolio had more than wiped out his gains. But by then it was too late for Sir Goccio to go back. Once again Davanzato had skipped clear of his obligations.

  King Fanrolio rose. ‘We have had a long morning; we shall now repair to lunch.’ The room emptied, only Mongrissore and Beauceron, who was not free to leave, being left behind.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Beauceron.

  Mongrissore gave an expressive gesture. ‘We have done what we can. The testimony of Sir Goccio and his associates is revealed as lie piled on lie. If Fanrolio retains an open mind, Davanzato has proved nothing, regardless of what the Lords of Equity may advise.’

  Beauceron nodded slowly. ‘Optimism would seem premature.’

  Mongrissore smoothed his unruly hair. ‘Optimism is always called for, particularly in adverse circumstances. Where is the merit of a positive approach when the sun is already shining? In any event, this afternoon we have Lady Isola; her testimony may make a great impression on the King.’

  ‘It is motivated by spite.’

  ‘We shall see. She will be able to manipulate an old man’s sympathy; but her temper is uncertain. Here is an area for me to probe.’

  ‘I ask you to be candid, Mongrissore: is there any hope of an acquittal?’

  Mongrissore tidied the shamble of papers on the desk before him. ‘The evidence is weak, but the political currents are strong. I have a further expedient, which I do not wish to use unless I must. It exposes you to danger I would prefer to avoid. If events are adverse, I will nonetheless deploy it.’

  ‘Your expedient is?’

  Mongrissore stroked his chin. ‘There is no profit to explore it in advance. If we need it, we will use it.’

  And with that, Beauceron had to be satisfied. Mongrissore was not a man to be coerced into revealing his secrets.

  5

  Immediately after lunch, Davanzato with great ceremony called Lady Isola into the chamber. Her white dress set her dark hair and eyes off to great advantage, and Beauceron thought gloomily of how innocent an impression she would make upon King Fanrolio.

  Davanzato rose from his seat. ‘My lady, your graciousness in consenting to appear before us is much appreciated. We well recognize your unfortunate circumstances.’

  Lady Isola looked down at her feet.

  ‘My lady, you were at one time resident in Beauceron’s house?’ asked Davanzato.

  ‘I was, sir,’ said Isola in a clear high voice.

  ‘What were your feelings towards him at this time?’

  ‘I naturally resented the fact that he had kidnapped me. I was grateful, however, for his offer of accommodation.’

  ‘And what of Beauceron’s feelings towards you?’

  Isola flushed. ‘I cannot say, sir. I surmised that he felt guilt at having kidnapped me.’

  Davanzato nodded. ‘And how, indeed, could he not? While you lived under the same roof, did he confide in you?’

  ‘Not in general, sir. However, he nurtured a powerful desire to lead an army against Croad. This frequently formed the basis of his conversation.’

  ‘He even referred to himself as a “monomaniac”?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did he apprise you of the progress of his scheme?’

  ‘Yes, almost daily.’ Beauceron remained impassive as she risked a side-glance.

  ‘His original scheme was to persuade King Fanrolio to award him the command of a large army?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘How did his programme advance?’

  ‘Not well, sir. He felt that His Puissance was not in favour of the scheme, nor his advisers.’

  ‘In this he was correct
,’ said Davanzato with a grim smile. ‘Surely a man as resourceful as Beauceron had an alternative approach?’

  Lady Isola bit her lip. Once again she looked at her feet.

  ‘My lady? The court waits upon your answer.’

  She turned to stare into Beauceron’s face. Beauceron met her eye and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘My apologies, sir. Beauceron said to me that he no longer had patience with King Fanrolio, and that he would instead be pursuing matters with King Tardolio.’

  Davanzato looked around the table at the Lords of Equity before swinging his gaze to Fanrolio. ‘Beauceron explicitly admitted to intending to work with King Tardolio?’

  Isola’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Yes, sir. Beauceron announced his treasonous designs to me. He had approached a Knight of the Summer Court to act as his intermediary. On several occasions he went to meet him in the evenings.’

  Isola was now weeping. Beauceron tried to catch her eye, but she looked away. For a second he felt sympathy: she was only trying to navigate waters into which he had brought her. He shook his head as if to clear a fog and leaned over to Mongrissore. ‘Destroy her,’ he said in flat quiet voice.

  Davanzato had sat down after recapitulating the main points of Isola’s testimony. Mongrissore stretched himself erect.

  ‘My lady, I too wish to extend my sympathies at your fate, not one that any observer would wish upon a fair maid.’ He paused. ‘You are a maid, are you not?’

  Isola flushed. ‘Of course, sir; although it is no business of yours, or the court’s.’

  Mongrissore raised a placatory hand. ‘You lived under Beauceron’s roof in all propriety, then?’

  She set her jaw. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘His motives in offering you his protection were not, then, lewd in nature?’

  ‘It appears not.’

  ‘You have earlier advanced the theory that he felt guilt for having kidnapped you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Perhaps you can clarify this for me: if he felt so repentant at having taken you from your home and your future, why did he not simply release you?’

  Isola’s face brightened. ‘That was no longer his option, sir. He had given me over to Davanzato’s custody on behalf of King Fanrolio.’