R. Salvatore - The Dame

Bransen put a hand near his sword without even thinking. As he considered his reflexive movement, he realized that if the monks moved against Milkeila here he would indeed draw on them and defend her.

“Continue without fear of retribution,” Dame Gwydre bade the woman. “You are charged with no crime and”-she paused to glower at De Guilbe-“you will not be.”

“Among the prisoners was a very powerful shaman of my people,” Milkeila explained, “one who would not even willingly accept their gemstone magic, even at the price of his own life.”

“And you, too, are a priest of that barbarian religion,” De Guilbe accused.

“No longer,” said Milkeila. “Like Cormack, I have come to see that neither side is right.”

That brought more than a few whispers around the room, particularly from the grumbling monks, but Gwydre again was quick to calm them.

“Father De Guilbe is wrong when he said that we were nearing the end of our assault,” Milkeila insisted.

“We were slaughtering you at our wall!” accused De Guilbe.

“We would have kept coming, to the last,” said Milkeila, talking directly to Gwydre and ignoring De Guilbe altogether. “Those prisoners were our brethren. We would not abandon them, whatever the cost. It is not our way. Which is why, when Bransen came to us with word of Ancient Badden even though I was out of favor with the leaders of Yan Ossum, all the tribes came together to defeat the wicked man.” She finally did turn to look at De Guilbe. “Unlike the brothers of Abelle, who ran away.”

The room seemed as if it would erupt.

And yet, again, the power of Dame Gwydre calmed it. She turned to De Guilbe. “Have you anything else, Father?”

“The disposition of the Alpinadoran converts is not your concern,” De Guilbe said firmly. “Nor are my orders regarding our stance against the tribes of Mithranidoon-we were at war with them for years before this incident. I saw the men we rescued as perhaps a mediation of that continuing conflict. But again, I need not explain myself to you in this matter. I was sent to Alpinador, a place outside Dame Gwydre’s province, by the Order of Blessed Abelle, acting upon lawful commands issued by Father Artolivan whose sovereignty in these matters Dame Gwydre and all the lairds acknowledge.”

De Guilbe leveled his gaze on Gwydre. “This man betrayed my orders, the lawful orders of the Order of Blessed Abelle, and by doing so endangered us all. It is as simple as that,” he insisted.

Bransen shifted uncomfortably as he studied Gwydre then, for he saw that the woman had little argument against the simple logic, however she might feel about the larger situation.

“Have you anything to say?” she asked Cormack. It seemed to Bransen as if she was begging the man to give her something, anything, to back down Father De Guilbe.

“Father De Guilbe was wrong and immoral in his actions,” Cormack replied without hesitation. “We had no right to hold the Alpinadorans.”

De Guilbe started to shout in protest, but Gwydre hushed him immediately.

“Father De Guilbe’s decision to hold the men in our dungeon brought actual war to us,” Cormack explained. “It is true that we had battled the barbarians on the lake for many months, but not lethally. Our fights were more gamesmanship than serious conflict, until that point. After the prisoners were taken, we were killing them at our wall and they were killing us-not as often, but we had fewer to spare. It wouldn’t have ended until one side or the other had been completely destroyed. I could not allow that insanity to continue. If the cost of that is my life, then so be it. I already accepted such a judgment from Father De Guilbe, delivered to me by a brother who was as a mentor to me. I could not allow the killing, senseless and without gain to either side, to continue. I freed the prisoners, as Father de Guilbe charges. In the same situation I would do it again.”

Murmurs erupted about the room, some complimentary, some calling for Cormack’s death. Truly, Dame Gwydre seemed at a loss.

She was trapped here, Bransen realized. To go against the powerful Order of Abelle so openly as to intervene in their private matters would surely bring disaster to her holding.

“Would anyone else speak?” she asked, a plea if Bransen had ever heard one. He was about to answer that call when blind Brother Jond tapped his cane on the hard floor.

“I will,” he said. “I, who know you well, Dame Gwydre, and who went to Alpinador on your behalf to end the carnage of Ancient Badden.”

Gwydre’s smile showed her appreciation. “Please do.”

“I was not at the island, of course,” said Jond. “But I watched…” he chuckled at his choice of words, and many in the room joined him awkwardly. “With my ears I witnessed the efforts of Cormack against Ancient Badden: He was nothing short of courageous and valiant, fighting for Vanguard and for the good of us all. In the weeks that followed, I had many opportunities to speak with the man-brother to brother-and I find him to be of exemplary character and human decency.”

Reading De Guilbe’s furrowed brow, Bransen figured that if the father could have gotten away with it, he would have leaped upon Jond at that moment and choked the life from him.

“And with all respect to your office and judgment, Father De Guilbe,” Brother Jond added, “my heart grows heavy indeed to think that our beloved order has cast out a man of such fortitude and character.”

De Guilbe exploded, shouting at Brother Jond to remember his place, sit down, and shut up. Several monks joined in that chorus, filling the room with the buzz of excited titterings and whispers.

“I will speak for Cormack!” Bransen heard himself yelling above the din. The room quieted instantly, all eyes falling on the Highwayman, on the man who had killed Ancient Badden and delivered them from a horrendous war, on the man who had dropped Badden’s severed head in the road, a gift to their beloved Dame Gwydre. “I will echo Brother Jond’s words to a one, except to add that it does not surprise me to see the Order of Abelle so confused and wrongheaded regarding the disposition of an honest and decent man. Such a monk is a rare thing, I fear, and one who does not fit their tenets.”

Of course, that brought only more shouting and tumult, until finally Dame Gwydre managed to calm it down.

“You have no standing in this, Dame Gwydre,” Father De Guilbe pronounced once more. “This matter happened beyond Vanguard and within the domain of the Order of Blessed Abelle. Cormack is ours to discipline.”

“Cormack helped Vanguard win a war,” Gwydre reminded.

“Nonetheless, you know that I am correct.”

The dame rubbed her face, and Bransen held his breath. This was her place to take a stand, a brave one, or to fail, the Highwayman knew, and he sorely hoped that Gwydre would prove herself better than the typical self-serving coward he had come to expect from a laird.

“I will speak for Cormack!” exclaimed another voice, an unexpected source indeed. All eyes in the room, most notably those of Father De Guilbe and Cormack himself, fell to the speaker, Brother Giavno, Father De Guilbe’s second.

“This is madness wrought of foolish pride,” Giavno said to De Guilbe. “As our stand against the Alpinadorans was madness, and murderously so!”

“Brother!” De Guilbe shouted.

Giavno whirled to address Father Premujon. “Our time in Alpinador was trying,” he explained. “We lost men and good brothers to the weather and the beasts and, yes, to Alpinadorans. Worse still, we knew by the time we had arrived on the lake called Mithranidoon that our mission was futile. We were not going to convert any souls in that barbarian land.” He looked to De Guilbe and repeated, “We weren’t.