The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending

by Steven J. Carroll

  ���We’ve what?!��� Mattie called out in astonishment.

  ���And also, I’m not a little girl,��� Delany added.

  The slovenly gatekeeper sighed heavily, with his hands folded across his stomach, and his chair still tilted back against the gate wall. ���Alright, little miss, alright. What is it then?��� he said, trying a play as if he were already completely wearied by their conversation, and had many other better things to do. ���You forget to do your chores this morning?��� he asked, and rudely laughed at his perceived wit.

  Del’s faced winced, for she didn’t prefer being treated like a child. ���No,��� she said crossly, and a bit loudly. ���We’ve murdered the King.���

  There was an audible gasp from those around. At once, all activity at the city gate ceased, and every eye turned to face hers. All were dramatically still, all except for the head gatekeeper that is, who was frantic, clumsily reaching around for the hilt of his sword, even quite before he could stand.

  Mattie’s face fell wide with disbelief.

  ���You’re joking…��� she muttered, as the guard closest to her grabbed at her arm. No matter what trouble they could have got into at Mayfield, this was now far worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Trial

  According to law, Corwan was brought before the high council within the month of his accusing, to stand trial for the murder of his brother, King Reuel. The Court of Decrees, to where Corwan was brought that morning, was an ornately decorated meeting hall near the main square of the city. And that day, the main hall (which bears, coincidentally, a slight resemblance to the Court of Lords in London) flooded to overflowing.

  Every living member of the high council was in attendance. And besides this, there stood crammed tightly together a sea of commoners around the edges of the room, and the very brutest of Faron’s hired men were spread throughout, ���…in order to keep the peace,��� as he said. Though from the look of it, they seemed rather like they were there more for the purposes of intimidation, than for reasons of peace.

  Corwan stood in the center of it all. Yet presently, every eye and ear inclined itself to the words of a spidery-looking man who sat in a red plush chair before the council: giving his testimony, as it were. (This was that same lanky man Del had seen at the head of the line into the city, the man who’d looked strangely happy.) His fingers were pale and boney. And his dress was like that of a man who desires to impress people, yet doesn’t truly have the right clothes for it.

  ���Yes, that’s right,��� he spoke eloquently, with the S’s of his words dragging on. ���I heard him [the prince] say, on multiple occasions, how he was jealous of his brother’s title and throne, and he wanted to take them for himself.��� The man’s thin voice made you itch in your skin when you heard it.

  ���And he did tell you then, that he had plans to kill his brother, the King?��� asked the court officiant in a loud assuming voice, being sure to articulately form each syllable so to be clearly heard by all.

  ���Sure…��� The spidery-looking man’s nose twitched and his eyes gleamed. ���Even showed me the knife he planned to do it with,��� the witness said, grinning strangely.

  At these words, the crowd erupted with boos and accusations, and the hall quickly swelled with the sounds of argument, as intermingled pockets of council members stood and began to hurl insults at one another. Corwan yelled, his face flushed red with anger. ���Liar!��� he cried, shaking his chains and pointing at the man.

  ���Silence!��� Faron slammed his fist down repeatedly on the arm of the throne. ���Silence!��� he commanded.

  When at last the room was quieted (and this took a good deal of time), the officiant spoke out again.

  ���May I remind the prisoner,��� he said, ���that he should try to keep his anger under control.��� When the officiant said these words, his eyes gave a crooked glint, and his mouth a subtle smirk, though most were too far off to see it, but Corwan could see it.

  The witness, a weaver by occupation, was then asked to plainly describe the knife that Corwan was alleged to have shown him. And his response was effortlessly masterful in its deception, full of false starts and stammers. So that it might seem as if he were actually remembering, instead of only pretending to remember. (And you might have even been fooled into believing him yourself, except for the eeriness in his tone, and the vicious grin upon his face.)

  And so, in this fashion, the trial continued, bearing to the stand, before the council and those in attendance, one degenerate witness after another, all brought forward to testify; and with each new lie Faron’s grip around his scepter tightened. And as well, he seemed more enlivened with each new deceit. Even once, he blatantly laughed aloud during a portion of testimony wherein no reasonable person would have.

  Yet, to give it the air of legitimacy, this show of a trial took several more hours. During which time, the girls were being shuttled back and forth through the over-brimmed city streets. They were brought before seemingly every mid-ranking officer who was not presently in attendance at the trial, none wanting to give a direct order, and each passing that responsibility onto someone new who’d had, ���…more jurisdiction over the matter…��� or, ���…would know better how to handle this sort of thing.��� Till at last, the head gatekeeper, who had begun their wanderings already tired and was by now sweating profusely in the noonday sun, decided to give his own ruling on what should be done, and turned about to bring the girls to the Court of Decrees, and to the trial: which had been going on for some time by then.

  Yet meanwhile in the hall, the court officiant was in full voice, readying the council and the king for his closing address. His final speech to the council was pompous, self-serving, and not at all fun to listen to by most standards. And as so, for those reasons, I’ve decided not to put it down into writing. Except to say this: that he spent rather a great deal more time in pleasantries, thanking those high ranking officials who’d either, ���taken time from their most honorable and worthy duties��� or who had, ���traveled at great length��� to be there that morning, and he spent considerably less time discussing the seriousness of Corwan’s case.

  Until, at long last, he concluded his statements with these final words, ���You have seen, gentlemen, today, by the honorable testimony of these present witnesses…��� [Here some braver men who were left on the council, and some of those in the audience scoffed aloud or interrupted the speaker with their own interpretations of the day’s events: and the validity, or lack thereof, of those present witnesses in question. But here again, the officiant chose to pay them little attention, only barely halting his speech in the slightest.]

  ���The evidence is weighed before us,��� he continued, his hands grasping the heavy gold chain that hung around his neck. ���…and all those truly loyal to the crown can make only one summation.���

  He then, very soon after, called for a tallying of the members’ votes. Which is, by tradition in Gleomu, a very involved and very tiresome process, wherein each member is called by name to stand and give his vote. And today’s counting was no exception. It was as slow and as painful a process as it had ever been. With each new vote, Corwan stood amazed and in horror to see many in whom he’d trusted, or had thought to have trusted, rise and cast their votes against him: even counted among them some of his father’s oldest and dearest friends.

  It is a most disheartening thing (and true in all worlds as much as in our own), that the well adorned lies of those, the cleverest of soothsayers, can hold within their enchantments the ability to convince even the most goodly intended persons. And similarly, such was the case in court that morning: Those who had wished to be deceived from the start, for reasons of their own gains or purposed safety, were led into it with a renewed sense of blindness. And likewise, even sa
dly quite a few moral men (those of whom who’d never adequately developed within themselves clear means by which to measure truthfulness), were swept in alongside the rest; who knew truth, but for whatever reasons had chosen not to apply it.

  And then, just as it is apt to do when things are at their darkest, and situations at their direst and most impassible states, something happened.

  ���Aren’t you forgetting something?��� an old, defiant voice blurted out from the midst of the crowd. It caught Faron and the officiant completely off guard. But Corwan had been expecting this voice and so he knew it from its first hearing.

  The officiant tried to collect himself, as he turned quickly to scan across the crowded hall for the voice’s origin, but could see no one. So then he, not meaning to be distracted by such a minor inconvenience, realigned the embroidered sash that hung around his shoulders, and turned again to oversee the tallying of votes. Only first dismissively commenting to the unknown voice as he did, ���No… I assure you, sir. We have not.��� He said this like a false laugh, which inspired others in the council to laugh as well.

  But this was broken abruptly when the man’s voice spoke out a second time. It came from an older man, dressed in a green hooded robe, like a shepherd. He held a weathered staff in his right hand.

  ���I disagree,��� he said. ���Isn’t it in our traditions to offer members of the council a chance to speak, before the votes are counted?���

  ���Yes, yes…��� the officiant answered, nervously fidgeting, pressing at the folds in his robe.

  However, he spoke as one explaining an overly simplified matter to a child. And loudly, so that all the room could hear, he continued, ���…but today’s proceedings are a special occurrence, needing to be handled with sensitivity. For you see, it would not befit the dignity of this court [motioning behind him and towards Faron], nor that of our dear prince, to allow such… interruptions.��� At the end he gritted his teeth for the word ‘interruptions’, and gave a hard look at the man, clearly implying that he had not the patience for any further disturbances. And he turned back again to watch over the voting, which still continued.

  But the hooded man would not be stopped. ���Well then, if that’s the case…��� he spoke out again.

  Corwan could see a clear shiver go across the officiant’s back.

  ���Sir, like I said-��� his voice grew stern.

  ���Do not attempt to lecture me, Malliff!��� the man in the shepherd���s robe roared, throwing back his hood, revealing his long silvered hair. ���You do not know the first thing of dignity, and yet you intend to be my teacher.���

  The crowd was utterly shocked by this sudden outburst, and all turned instantly to see the man’s face. Even the court officers, and all those of the council were in breathless awe, for they all knew him at once.

  Faron, however, was much slower to respond. Being that he, in his mind, had already begun celebrating the victories of the day, and for a while now had not shown concern for much else. But in the instant he saw the man’s face his greedy stupor lifted.

  ���Seize that traitor!��� he exclaimed.

  For as you may already have guessed, the common man in the crowd who was now standing in direct opposition to Malliff (the court officiant), and to King Faron himself, was none other than General Gamel, who’d snuck himself into the assembly that morning at Corwan’s request.

  Then at the king’s direction, the guards pushed their way through the thronging crowds, encircling Gamel with drawn swords.

  ���I am not the traitor, Faron,��� he said with authority, while still scanning the eyes of the guards who circled around to see if any meant to strike at him. ���How easily you seem to forget the laws, when they do not fall in your favor. It is unlawful to arrest a member of council before his trying.���

  ���Then I will make my own laws!��� cried Faron.

  ���Then you are no king,��� Gamel announced, and spit towards the throne as a sign of contempt.

  For this, Gamel may have likely been run through with the sword, except that just then the doors of the chamber flung apart with a thunderous reverberation.

  ���Stop. Stop everything…��� the portly gatekeeper muttered, still deeply out of breath from their long walk that morning. He panted noticeably as he spoke, ���We got new evidence.���

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Guilty

  And so it was that Del and Mattie, Gamel and the Prince, were all made to stand before King Faron and the council on the afternoon of Corwan’s trial. Indeed, the spectacle of it was a bit overwhelming. And Del thought again, that perhaps her plan was not as good as she first imagined it to be.

  ���I’m sorry,��� she whispered to Mattie, as they stood before the glaring king, waiting for the court officiant to at last settle the chaotic excitement of the people, and that of the council.

  ���Yes, well… the decent thing to do would be to at least tell me what you were up to,��� Mattie snapped back.

  ���I knew you wouldn’t come along if I did… and I’d wanted you here with me,��� Del replied, speaking the last part of her words more softly.

  Mattie’s face was cross, and her eyes scowled. Del knew that she had wounded her deeply, in only the way that a true friend can do it.

  ���But you didn’t even give me a chance,��� Mattie said.

  The officiant���s voice began to raise above the clamoring of the crowd. His voice whined as he ordered there to be quiet. Though this did little to actually restore any bit of ordered silence. What did seem to work, however, was a threat from Faron that the next man who spoke would be hanged.

  And that, of course, brought peace almost instantly. For there were none so foolish as to distrust the king’s rage.

  ���You’ve come back to spy us out, have you?��� Faron said when the room was still.

  Del’s voice was dry, and she was nervous to speak in front of so many people.

  ���No, Your Majesty. We haven’t,��� she replied.

  Then the gatekeeper, who was still standing at an arm’s length behind them all, broke in. ���They’ve turned themselves in, Sire,��� he said, still huffing from their long walk.

  ���Well I can see that…��� Faron moaned, annoyed by the man’s unrequested interruption.

  ���No, Sire, I mean for the murder. They say they’ve killed King Reuel,��� he spoke again.

  ���What!���

  Faron slammed his hands down on the throne. And his face turned instantly from a grinning arrogance to boiling fury. ���That’s impossible,��� he issued. Then, turning to Del, he said, ���Child, how dare you make a mockery of my court with these lies.���

  Del spoke, but only out of habit, replying that she was not a child. Then one of the council members rose to question why they should not hear her confession.

  And there Del stood, with all eyes fastened upon her, about to plead guilty to a crime that she had not committed, to save a prince she’d hardly known.

  She spoke, and her words felt grainy in her mouth. ���I did it. I killed him,��� she said, meaning to take full responsibility, and stepping forward to separate herself from Mattie.

  The council stared at her, disbelievingly.

  ���It’s true… We killed him, both of us,��� said Mattie, stepping forward, as well. ���And we feel positively dreadful about it,��� she added.

  But Mattie, however, was not a very competent liar (which, by the way, is an admirable trait). And so by all accounts, she rather hurt Del’s cause than helped it. Yet she felt compelled to help as best she could. For she now understood the seriousness of Del’s plans here, and would not have her to go through it alone. No matter what that meant, or to where that decision might carry them.

  Chapter Twe
nty-Six

  After the Trial

  That evening, around sunset, the girls and General Gamel were led, hands bound before them to the center of the city. Seemingly every resident of Ismere, and all those visiting for the trial, were pressed together so tightly that it left little room, even for standing.

  Both girls had been given a fair trial, in spite of all Faron’s bickering about its outcome, and even with many in the council trying desperately to dissuade them from their confessions. Yet, in the end, there was little that could be done. And as much as it pained them to do it, the council gave a guilty verdict. But Gamel, on the other hand, was given a maliciously unfair trial. Brought about, I’d suspect, at least in part by all those in council who’d wished him harm, secretly in their hearts for these many long years, and had now finally been given the chance to see it out.

  Back in the main square, there were jeers from some in the crowd as the three scuffled their feet across the stone pavings. Most in the crowd, though, had somber expressions, and the old women cried pitifully once they saw how young Del and Mattie were.

  ���Doesn’t seem right,��� Mattie heard one of them say.

  And they climbed the cold hard steps of a low podium in the center of the square. And the executioner’s face was shrouded by a long black hood. A man from the midst of the mob yelled something indecipherable, and many in the crowd began to laugh at their expense. Looking out over the people Del felt guilty, not for the murder of King Reuel, of course not for that, but now for the murder of her friend.

  Up on a high platform, to the left of the podium near an ornately designed statuetted fountain, Faron perched in all his regal splendor with Corwan to his left, surrounded on all sides by armed guards bearing the crest of the golden eagle, the symbol of the royal family.