The Dog of the North

by Tim Stretton

  Thaume ran a finger around the top of his goblet. ‘We are far from Croad, and far from the Consorts. The Wheel is well established here. If the Gollains do not make trouble for me, I do not make trouble for them.’

  ‘They are heretics, my lord. There is no middle ground.’

  ‘The Northern Reach is less than a day away. I expect the men of this city to fight and die to defend it: already this summer many have done so. In return I allow them to die with whatever beliefs they choose. I cannot compel orthodoxy.’

  Raugier looked into Lord Thaume’s face. ‘Perhaps not. But you can make heresy – unappealing. That you choose not to is a powerful statement, and it is not in your favour.’

  ‘I am no theologian. My own leanings are unashamedly orthodox, as Viator Sleech will aver. If others’ are not, I am inclined to lay the blame at the feet of the viators, since they clearly fail to make a compelling case.’

  Raugier gave a thin smile. ‘Do you refer, perhaps, to Viator Dince?’

  ‘In part.’

  ‘Do not think I am ignorant that Viator Dince suffered an outrage, one ordered by you.’

  ‘I am the lord of this city,’ said Thaume. ‘Dince flouted my authority. He was fortunate to escape so lightly.’

  ‘You are lord of the city today. Tomorrow, matters may go differently.’

  ‘I am interested in how you might go about deposing me.’

  Raugier swatted the point away. ‘Let us not discuss such unpleasant contingencies. How did Viator Dince come to be whipped?’

  Lord Thaume pursed his lips. ‘During my absence in the North, he persuaded Lady Jilka to close the Temple of the Wheel, and to mutilate one of their elders, a subject of unimpeachable loyalty. In this he set his own authority above my own.’

  ‘Let me understand,’ said Raugier in a soft voice. ‘Viator Dince chose to extirpate a heretical worship. For this you had him whipped. Am I correct?’

  Lord Thaume took a pull at his drink. ‘Viator Dince imagined himself above my authority. If his intention was to make heresy unpopular, he failed. Had I not been on hand, the mob would have lynched him.’

  ‘I have much to consider,’ said Raugier. ‘Where is Lady Jilka, so pious in her bearing? And indeed, the fine young man I met in the Viatory last night?’

  ‘Lady Jilka is in her quarters. I did not wish to weary her with such an audience today. As to the “fine young man”—’ Lord Thaume looked around quizzically.

  ‘He may refer to Guigot,’ said Oricien.

  ‘Guigot! That was his name,’ said Raugier. ‘A virtuous and well-governed youth. There are many folk in this city who Follow the Way as the viators guide them. It is a pity that a minority – and the culpable laxity of their ruler – allows a reputation for heresy to be fostered.’

  ‘I was not aware,’ said Lord Thaume, ‘that any such reputation existed. Neither Duke Panarre nor King Arren has expressed any adverse opinion.’

  Raugier set his goblet down. ‘The commendation of Duke Panarre is scarcely a matter for pride: I shall be stopping at Glount on my way back to court to assess conditions for myself. As for King Arren, regrettably his grasp on affairs is no longer what it was, and he has fallen prey to grasping favourites. Prince Jehan adopts a more militant line.’

  At such time as Prince Jehan ascends the Emerald Throne, I will be the servant of his every whim.’

  Raugier rose from his seat, beckoning his attendants. ‘I do not find you as humble as I had hoped, my lord. I have outlined serious reservations about your management of spiritual affairs, but you have chosen to meet them with glib evasion and outright defiance. We shall be inspecting affairs in the city. Next time we speak, I hope to find you of more compliant disposition.’ He bowed to a fractional extent.

  ‘You will find, as ever, my lord, that I seek to do what is right for His Puissance King Arren and the people of Croad. That is my own Way of Harmony. If you wish to confer with Viator Sleech as to my Equilibrium, you may of course do so.’

  Raugier was already stalking from the hall and Thaume’s final remarks were addressed to his back.

  11

  Mettingloom

  1

  On the second day of proceedings the small courtroom felt inadequate to the weight of business. The tension of the previous day’s scenes still crowded the space. Today Isola was not on hand; Sir Goccio, however, remained in court, his presence a reminder of his faltering testimony. Once the court was convened, Davanzato rose slowly to his feet.

  ‘Your Puissance; my lords. We all well remember yesterday’s great drama in our courtroom. I acknowledge my own sorry contribution; like us all, I was beguiled by Lady Isola’s melancholy beauty, and I did not examine her story as I should have done. Do not let this negligence, my lords, soften your hearts towards the rogue and traitor Beauceron. His guilt has been attested by many; men of honour, all. Let me set out once again the scope of his guilt.

  ‘Beauceron came into this city many years ago, a man friendless and banished from his homeland. Every man’s hand was turned against him. All he had to commend him was the power of his strong right arm. What did the world hold for such a man? Nothing, except what he could extort from it.

  ‘He fought for our brave field captains who have so long tyrannized the northern plains of the Emmenrule, and earned a reputation for terror and brutality. There was no deed at which he would scruple. In due course his company came to Mettingloom, and by now his deeds had elevated him to its captain, and he had acquired a sinister sobriquet: the Dog of the North.

  ‘In his ambition he realized that he had reached the apex of the raider’s career. There was nothing more for him to achieve. For a man who, as we all know, nurtured a hatred of the city of Croad in his heart, the situation was intolerable. He came to the city in winter, and before him he saw the mighty King Fanrolio. To Fanrolio he pledged good and true service. He became a man of the Snowdrop, and from that day on fought under Fanrolio’s banner, even in the summer campaigns. Fanrolio had the right to expect the utter loyalty of the man who fought under his banner.

  ‘As we have seen, Beauceron’s loyalty is to no one but himself. When he raided and campaigned, he hoisted aloft his own red standard. Fanrolio had rescued him from the life of a rootless raider, but how did Beauceron repay him? He desired the King to provide him with a mighty army to bring Croad to its knees. The King’s respect for the great warrior was so high that he allowed the matter to be debated in his council, despite the much-cherished peace that Mettingloom and the Emmenrule enjoy. The King ruled that no such invasion could take place.

  ‘Did Beauceron accept the word of his sovereign lord with the meek resignation he owed his King? He did not. He continued to campaign, importuning the King’s Under-Chamberlain, myself, for further audiences. I made it clear that no such audience could be expected, and that the subject had been settled last year.’

  Beauceron caught his breath as it hissed out. Mongrissore shot him an admonitory glance.

  ‘All those who knew Beauceron’s proud temperament knew also that he could accept no check or rebuke. It came then, as no surprise, to find that he had approached the noble Sunflower Knight, Sir Goccio, with a proposal to change his allegiance to the Summer Court, in exchange for the chance to lead an army against Croad. Who was this baseborn man, an exile like so many who find their way to Mettingloom, to think to treat and dicker among kings, to barter his allegiance like a fishmonger haggling over his wares? Such thoughts of due place never occurred to Beauceron, a man who carried himself as a prince in defiance of his birth.’

  From the gallery came a few mutterings, outweighed by many nods of approval.

  ‘Instead Beauceron persuaded Sir Goccio, a brave knight but no statesman, that his honour was best served by indulging in a treasonous scheme and one, we can but suspect, the Summer King himself would have opposed once he knew of it. Fortunately, this false treachery came to light at an early stage. The invasion had been planned, but Sir Goccio repented of his treache
ry and drew the facts to the attention of those who would act upon them.

  ‘I have set out, in summary form, the crimes of the treasonous Beauceron. I call for the ultimate penalty: execution as a common criminal, the noose and not the block. Attainder of all his goods must also follow, in the customary allocation: three parts to the King, and one to the person who brings him to justice: namely myself. Your Puissance, my lords, I await only your pleasure.’

  Fanrolio nodded and blinked slowly. ‘Davanzato, we all know how much I regret the continuing indisposition of my Chamberlain, but in your calm eloquence today I see much of Osvergario. Legulier Mongrissore, do you wish to add any final remarks?’

  Mongrissore raised himself slowly, as if his joints pained him, his eyes raised to the painted ceiling. ‘I am grateful, Your Puissance. There is one important question I would wish to resolve first. Davanzato has pressed for Beauceron’s execution as a common criminal; as your sworn man, he is entitled, if convicted, to the block.’

  Davanzato leaped from his seat. ‘At your advanced age, Legulier, I am sure it can be difficult to retain all the details of the case. The court will remember that I specifically petitioned, at the outset, to try the case under the Old Law, rather than the Code of Justice introduced by King Metrio. This permission was graciously granted.’

  He sat back in his seat with a smirk.

  ‘My apologies, sir,’ said Mongrissore with a gentle nod of his head. ‘The case has been somewhat protracted – partly through your oratory – and the occasional detail may, indeed, not be at the forefront of my mind. I now fully understand: the case is being heard under the Old Law. It is fortunate that my client’s innocence will render the question moot.’

  Davanzato simply smiled and looked down at his papers. Beauceron shot Mongrissore a quizzical glance. He was not as old as all that, and his wits had shown no tendency to addle thus far.

  Mongrissore continued. ‘With that procedural question settled, I have nothing further to say other than to assert my client’s innocence. Davanzato’s travesty of a summation of Beauceron’s career deserves rebuttal, however. It is indeed some time since he journeyed north to join us in Mettingloom, a journey that many have made before him. Few, however, have contributed as strongly as Beauceron to the glory of his King. He has struck terror into Emmen as the Dog of the North, and served with exemplary loyalty.

  ‘Such success, and the riches thus accrued, naturally provoke envy in the hearts of lesser men, and here I must include Under-Chamberlain Davanzato, a notoriously avaricious man. Long has the court turned a blind eye to the increasingly elaborate and expensive presents demanded by this over-mighty servant. Avarice grows by what it feeds on: whatever it has, it must have more. So it has been with Davanzato. He has blocked again and again Beauceron’s great scheme – one which would, incidentally, bring glory to the Northern Reach – solely to frustrate Beauceron. His hope, of course, was to drive Beauceron into treasonous discourse with the Summer Court. In this he reckoned without the captain’s loyalty to his sworn word. His attempt to secure one-quarter of Beauceron’s wealth by prosecuting a successful case must surely have fallen, had he not chosen to fabricate Beauceron’s involvement.

  ‘Consequently he suborned Sir Goccio, and here I second Davanzato’s opinion of that knight as a soldier rather than a statesman. His debts are well known, and Davanzato was swiftly able to reach agreement with Sir Goccio. It was Sir Goccio, of course, who approached Beauceron, and not the reverse. Beauceron naturally rejected the overtures, so the foolish Sir Goccio was forced to perjure himself. This was not enough for Davanzato: a non-existent crime can be difficult to prove. So he also used his malign influence over Lady Isola to secure her warped testimony. Poor Lady Isola, naturally resentful against the man who had kidnapped her, and desperate to secure the funds to return to her home, was all too easily manipulated by a man as ruthless as Davanzato. I may only yesterday have turned the heat of my questioning against Lady Isola, but I do not blame her. She made an error – and which of us has not? – and then repented of it. No, I do not blame her: I salute her!

  ‘It gives me no pleasure to expose Under-Chamberlain Davanzato as a scoundrel and a rogue: no doubt a degree of moral flexibility is essential for a man in his position. Nonetheless, Davanzato has committed a great fraud, not only against Beauceron but also, Your Puissance, against you and the Lords of Equity. What action to take against such a man is not for me to decide; my interest in this whole sorry matter ends when, tomorrow, you discharge Beauceron as an innocent man.’

  He sat down almost apologetically. There was silence, broken only by the slow, mocking applause of Davanzato. ‘Bravo, old man! The mummers lost a recruit when you chose the law.’

  Beauceron looked at Mongrissore in admiration. The legulier had entwined the truth of Davanzato’s avarice and ambition with a favourable portrait of the Dog of the North so compelling that Beauceron almost believed himself to be innocent.

  2

  That evening, Beauceron shared a joint of salt ham in his cell with Mongrissore and Monetto.

  ‘I am filled with admiration for your performance this afternoon,’ said Beauceron to Mongrissore. ‘I am only sorry that Monetto could not have been there to hear it.’

  Monetto paused in his assault on the ham. ‘No doubt the scribes will soon release the speech for all to enjoy. Davanzato can only have harmed himself.’

  Mongrissore shook his head. ‘It is all for naught. Beauceron, you must prepare yourself for a guilty verdict tomorrow.’

  ‘What?’ said Monetto. ‘I thought all were agreed that Mongrissore had trounced Davanzato.’

  Mongrissore gave a sad smile. ‘So I did, good Monetto. But I needed not only to destroy his case, but the man himself. Davanzato stuck to his points, and for good reason: he knows the Lords of Equity favour him. The Winter Court wants to punish Beauceron for intriguing against their King; the Summer Court hates and fears him. They will counsel the King to convict.’

  Monetto scowled. ‘And does the King not have a mind of his own?’

  The silence which followed this question indicated that all three realized the fatuity of the remark.

  Beauceron rose and shook hands with Mongrissore and Monetto. ‘I thank you, Mongrissore, for your spirited defence and for your honesty. I will regret going to my death with Croad unavenged, but I can blame no one but myself.’

  ‘Do not speak of your death,’ said Monetto. ‘You have survived conviction for great crimes before.’

  Beauceron gave a crooked smile. ‘It is many years since we have spoken of Lord Thaume,’ he said. ‘I was unjustly condemned on that occasion too.’

  ‘Justice may vary depending on where you stand. Just or not, here you stand today. If there is a lesson from those days so long ago, it is that while there is life there is hope.’

  ‘You will be calling for the viators next,’ said Beauceron. ‘They will tell me that the Way of Harmony is almost at its end. Lord Thaume died without acknowledging the wrong he had done me. I would not have Oricien and Siedra escape so lightly.’

  Mongrissore made a gesture to attract their attention. ‘You are not dead yet, Beauceron. The law has many twists and turns. Have you been exercising as I suggested?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Beauceron. ‘If your expedient is for me to outrun my guards, it can best be characterized as desperate.’

  ‘Tomorrow will bring what it brings.’

  3

  Unlike the trial, the verdict was to be delivered in front of the whole court. The Lords of Equity had rendered their advice to the King the previous night, and all that remained now was for Fanrolio to pronounce Beauceron guilty or innocent, and to impose whatever penalty he deemed appropriate.

  The Great Hall of the Occonero, which Beauceron had last encountered at the Midwinter Ball, was packed to capacity. At the back stood dignitaries who might have expected deference; but today their needs were not paramount. The Hall was already full when Beauceron entered at the back,
his polished boots echoing on the marble floor. At his side hung his rapier, and his decorations were sewn to the chest of his black jacket. Mongrissore walked alongside him with more vigour than he had evinced during the trial, and he had even broken out a new suit of broadcloth for the occasion. Despite the cold outside, in the Hall the dimonettoes and the closely packed bodies combined were more than ample to heat the vast space.

  Although he looked ahead as he marched towards the front of the Hall, his peripheral vision took in many familiar faces as he walked. General Virnesto was there with an impassive face; Prince Brissio at the front surveyed Beauceron with a cool appraisal. On the other side of the hall were the courtiers from the Summer Court. It would not have been appropriate for King Tardolio to be present, but in the front row sat Prince Laertio, who gave a barely perceptible twitch of the head as Beauceron walked past; by the Prince’s side was his sister Princess Agalina. A couple of rows behind Laertio, Beauceron noticed with a glimmer of amusement, was Lady Cosetta. She too had seen the expediency of throwing her lot in with the Summer Court. Prince Brissio’s passion was destined for disappointment.

  At last the long walk was over. Beauceron stood before the King and the Lords of Equity, set on lower seats at his side. Davanzato, a further level lower, sprang from his place.

  ‘What lèse-majesté is this!’ he cried. ‘For any man to bear arms before the King, let alone this felon!’

  King Fanrolio raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes, Mongrissore,’ he said. ‘What do you mean by presenting your man for judgement in this way? No man may carry steel in this hall.’

  Mongrissore bowed. ‘My apologies, Your Puissance. You will recall that only yesterday we established that the trial had been conducted under the Old Law. Under this Law, a man accused of treason is permitted to retain his arms until such time as his guilt is established. He is not a “felon”, as Under-Chamberlain Davanzato styles him, until your judgement is rendered.’