David Weber - How firm a foundation

The prisoners were richly dressed, jewels sparkling about their persons, immaculately groomed. Yet despite that, and even though they held their heads high, there was something beaten about them. And well there should be, Sharleyan reflected grimly. They’d been arrested over six months ago. Their trials had been concluded before a combined panel of prelates, peers, and commoners two five-days before she ever arrived in Manchyr, and they could be in little doubt about the verdicts.

They halted in front of her, and to their credit (she supposed) five of them looked her squarely in the eye. The sixth, Sir Zher Sumyrs, the Baron of Barcor, refused to raise his own eyes and she saw the gleam of perspiration on his forehead.

Ahrnahld pushed back his chair and stood, taking the top folder from the stack in front of him and opening it before he looked at Sharleyan.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “we bring before you, accused of treason, Wahlys Hillkeeper, Earl of Craggy Hill; Bryahn Selkyr, Earl of Deep Hollow; Sahlahmn Traigair, Earl of Storm Keep; Sir Adulfo Lynkyn, Duke of Black Water; Rahzhyr Mairwyn, Baron of Larchros; and Sir Zher Sumyrs, Baron of Barcor.”

“Have these men been given benefit of trial? Have all of their rights under the law been observed?” Her voice was chill, and Zhandor stood beside Ahrnahld.

“They have, Your Majesty,” he replied, his deep voice grave. “As the law requires, their cases were heard before a court of Church, Lords, and Commons which determined their guilt or innocence by secret ballot so that none might unduly influence the others. Each had benefit of counsel; each was allowed to examine all the evidence against him; and each was permitted to summon witnesses of his choice to testify on his behalf.”

There was no hesitation or question in that voice, and Sharleyan heard one of the accused-Barcor, she thought-inhale sharply. Father Neythan Zhandor wasn’t just any law master. He’d been picked by Maikel Staynair for this mission because of his reputation. A Langhornite, like most law masters, he was (or had been, before the schism, at least) widely acknowledged as one of Safehold’s two or three most knowledgeable masters of admiralty and international law. If Father Neythan said all of their rights had been observed, that was that.

“Upon what grounds were they accused of treason?”

“Upon the following specifications, Your Majesty,” Zhandor said, opening a folder of his own. “All stand accused of violating their sworn oaths of fealty to Prince Daivyn. All stand accused of violating their sworn oaths to the Crown of Charis, freely given after Corisande’s surrender to the Empire. All stand accused of raising personal armies in violation of their oaths to the Crown of Charis and also in violation of the law of Corisande limiting the number of armed retainers permitted to any peer of the realm. All stand accused of trafficking and conspiring with the condemned Tohmys Symmyns of Zebediah. All stand accused of plotting insurrection and armed violence against Prince Daivyn’s Regency Council and against the Crown of Charis. In addition, Earl Craggy Hill stands accused of violating his personal oath and abusing and betraying his authority and position as a member of the Regency Council in the furtherance of their conspiracy and his own quest for power.”

Stillness crackled in the ballroom, and Barcor licked his lips. Craggy Hill glared at Sharleyan, but it was an empty glare, little more than surface deep, for something darker and far less defiant lived behind it.

“And has the court which heard their cases reached a verdict?”

“It has, Your Majesty,” Ahrnahld said. He turned the top page in the folder before him.

“Wahlys Hillkeeper, Earl of Craggy Hill, has been adjudged guilty of all charges brought against him,” he read in a flat, carrying voice. Then he turned a second page as he had the first.

“Bryahn Selkyr, Earl of Deep Hollow, has been adjudged guilty of all charges brought against him.”

Another page.

“Sahlahmn Traigair, Earl of Storm Keep, has been adjudged guilty of all charges brought against him.”

Another whisper of turning paper.

“Sir Adulfo Lynkyn, Duke of Black Water, has been adjudged guilty of all charges brought against him.”

“Rahzhyr Mairwyn, Baron of Larchros, has been adjudged guilty of all charges brought against him.”

“Sir Zher Sumyrs, Baron of Barcor, has been adjudged guilty of four of the five charges brought against him, but acquitted of the charge of personally trafficking and conspiring with Tohmys Symmyns.”

The last page turned and he closed the folder. Then he turned and looked up at Sharleyan.

“The verdicts have been signed, sealed, and mutually witnessed by every member of the court, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” Sharleyan said and sat back in her throne, laying her forearms along the armrests as she gazed at the men before her. The ballroom’s tension crackled higher now that the formalities were out of the way, and she felt the witnesses’ focused attention like the rays of the sun captured and concentrated by a magnifying glass. But not quite like the sun, for this focus was cold and sharp as a Cherayth icicle, not fiery.

It ought to be fiery, she thought. I ought to feel passionate satisfaction and justification at seeing these men brought to the end they deserve. But it isn’t, and I don’t.

She didn’t know precisely what she did feel, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was what she had to do.

“You’ve heard the charges against you,” she said in a voice of ice. “All of you have heard the verdicts. All of you have had ample opportunity to see the massive weight of evidence which was brought to bear against each of you. No honest-minded man or woman on the face of this world will ever be able to dispute the proofs of your crimes, and the records of your trials are open to all. Every step of the process which brings you here this day has been in accordance with the law of your own princedom, as well as the law of Charis. We will entertain no pleas or protests against the justice of the court which tried you or of the scrupulous observation of the law, your rights, or the verdicts. If any of you have anything you wish to say before sentence is passed upon you, however, now is the time.”

Craggy Hill and Storm Keep only glared, helpless fury burning in their eyes. Deep Hollow’s facial muscles quivered, although Sharleyan couldn’t have said what emotion woke those spasms. He pressed his lips together without speaking, however, and her eyes moved to Black Water. The duke’s face was dark with anger and curdled with hate, yet she actually felt a flicker of sympathy in his case. His father’s death at Darcos Sound was what had brought him into the conspiracy. At least he had the excuse of honest anger, honest outrage, not solely the cynical ambition which had served Craggy Hill and Deep Hollow.

“I wish to speak,” Baron Larchros said after a moment, and Sharleyan nodded to him.

“Then do so.”

“I can’t speak for all of my fellows,” he replied, raising his chin and looking her in the eye, “but I did what I did because I will never acknowledge the authority of the craven lickspittles of this ‘Regency Council’ of traitors you and your husband have foisted upon this Princedom. It was their willingness to sell themselves to you Charisians for personal power and advantage, not ambition on my part, which brought me to resist them! You may call it ‘treason’ if you please, but I say the treason was theirs, not mine, and that no man of conscience can be held to any oath sworn to traitors, regicides, heretics, and excommunicates!”

A stir went through the witnesses, and Sharleyan gazed back down at him for several seconds without speaking. Then she nodded slowly.