Katharine Kerr - Darkspell

“My liege, Nevyn and I saw it,” Ysgerryn said. “He was trying to force the lady.”

“Oh, ye gods,” Saddar said. “What terrible curse will the Goddess visit upon us now?”

With a violent shudder the guards drew back from the man who would have profaned a priestess.

“Danno,” the king said. “It can’t be true.”

“It is.” At last he forced out words. “Just kill me, will you?”

Dannyn tipped his head back to expose his throat. With an oath Glyn threw the sword across the chamber.

“I’ll judge this matter in the morning. Guards, take him to his chamber and keep him there. Take that dagger away from him, too.” He glanced at the white-faced witnesses. “I wish to consult with her holiness. Alone.”

While the guards were marching Dannyn away, Glyn stared fixedly at the wall. One at a time, the others hurried out, Saddar trailing at the last. The king slammed the door behind him, then flung himself into a chair and stared at the leaping fire in the hearth.

“In this, Your Holiness,” he said, “you’re the monarch and I the subject. I’ll submit Lord Dannyn to any punishment that the Goddess demands, but as a man, I’ll beg you for my brother’s life.” He paused, swallowing heavily. “The law says I should flog a man for meddling with a priestess. Publicly flog him, then hang him.”

Gweniver sat down and pressed her shaking hands together. She was going to enjoy every stripe the executioner gave him; she would enjoy watching him hang, too. Suddenly she felt the Goddess gathering behind her, a cold, dark presence like a winter wind through a window. She realized that if she used the holy laws for personal vengeance, she would be committing an impiety just as much as if she ignored them for the king’s sake. She lifted up her hands and prayed silently to the Goddess while Glyn stared into the fire and went on waiting.

Every man in the great hall knew that something foul had happened when a frightened page raced onto the dais and grabbed the king’s arm. After Glyn left, riders and noble-born alike speculated in a whispering flood of gossip. What could possibly be so wrong for the lad to have forgotten his courtesies that way? Ricyn considered the matter no affair of his and went on drinking. Soon enough, he figured, everyone would know all about it. Things were just settling down when Lord Oldac made his way through the tables and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Come with me, Captain. Councillor Saddar wants to speak to you.”

At the foot of the staircase stood Saddar, rubbing his hands together repeatedly.

“A terrible thing’s happened, Captain,” the councillor said. “Lord Dannyn has tried to rape the Lady Gweniver.”

Ricyn felt like a dead leaf, trapped in ice when a stream freezes.

“I thought you should know,” the old man went on. “I’m frankly terrified that our liege will pardon him contrary to all justice. If he should, please beg your lady to spare the city from the curse of the Goddess.”

“Listen, old man,” Ricyn snarled. “If our liege tries to weasel out of this, I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

Oldac and Saddar exchanged the briefest of smiles. Ricyn ran up the staircase, raced down the corridor, and came face-to-face with two guards outside Gweniver’s door.

“You can’t pass by. The king is in there.”

Ricyn grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

“I don’t care if the Lord of Hell is in there. I’ve got to see my lady.”

Just as the other guard made a grab at him, the door was flung open: Gweniver, pale, shaken, but unharmed.

“I thought I heard your voice,” she said. “Come in.”

When Ricyn stepped inside, he saw the king, rising from a chair. Never before had he been so close to the man he worshiped second only to her. He dropped to his knees.

“What’s this?” Glyn said. “How did you hear about it?”

“Councillor Saddar told me about it, my liege. You can flog me if you want to for intruding, but I had to see my lady safe with my own eyes.”

“No doubt.” He glanced at Gweniver. “Councillor Saddar, was it?”

“And Lord Oldac,” Ricyn added.

Gweniver was looking at the floor, thinking hard. He knew that the Goddess was upon her by the ramrod-straight way she stood and the cold power in her eyes.

“Tell me somewhat, Captain,” the king said. “How are the men going to take this news?”

“Well, my liege, I can’t speak for Lord Dannyn’s men, but my men and me would fight the Lord of Hell himself to defend our lady’s honor. We can’t just take this calm, like.”

“Especially not with the councillor stirring everyone up, my liege,” Gweniver said. “You know, somewhat’s coming clear to me about Councillor Saddar—not that we’d ever be able to prove a thing.”

“Indeed?” Glyn glanced Ricyn’s way. “Leave us.”

Ricyn rose, bowed, and backed out of the chamber. He spent a long, anxious night lying on his bunk and wondering what his lady and his king were deciding between them.

In the morning Gweniver came to the barracks to fetch him. By her special request Ricyn was allowed to witness the judgment in the audience chamber. Up on the dais Glyn sat in his ceremonial clothes with a golden sword in his hand. Four councillors, including Saddar, stood behind him, and two priests of Bel stood to his right. The witnesses stood at the foot of the dais, Gweniver among them. At the sound of a silver horn, four guards marched Dannyn in. From the dark circles under his eyes, Ricyn judged that he hadn’t slept all night. Good, he thought. Let the bastard taste every bitter drop of this.

“We have before us a charge of sacrilege,” Glyn announced. “Lord Dannyn is accused of attempting to profane the person of Gweniver, lady and priestess. Let the evidence proceed.”

“My liege,” Dannyn called out, “let me spare you that. I confess. Just take me out and kill me. If ever I’ve done you any service, do it now and swiftly.”

Glyn considered him with eyes so cold that he might have been looking at a stranger. Saddar smiled to himself.

“Lady Gweniver,” the king said, “step forward.”

Gweniver came to the foot of the throne.

“We offer you a choice of retribution, to take as the Goddess advises and desires. Death or banishment. The banishment will be from our court and our lands. We will strip Lord Dannyn of all rights, rank, and privilege, yet will we retain his child, to be raised as our son, out of pity for one too young to share his father’s shame. This sentence would spare his life only because the crime was uncompleted. If the Goddess desires otherwise, we will have him given fifty lashes, then hanged until dead in the market square of our city of Cerrmor. In your Goddess’s name, speak and sentence this man.”

Although Ricyn knew what she was going to say, he had to admire the way Gweniver looked as she pretended to debate the question, all solemn and profound. Saddar looked as if he had a mouthful of vinegar as he began to guess what was coming. Finally Gweniver curtsied to the king.

“Banishment, my liege. Although the affair was grave and sacrilegious at root, the Goddess can be merciful when a crime is freely confessed, and when the criminal has been driven to mad actions by things beyond his control.”

She paused and let her eyes meet Saddar’s. The old man turned very pale indeed.

“Done, then.” Glyn raised the golden sword high. “We hereby pronounce the aforesaid sentence of banishment against Dannyn, no longer lord. Guards! Take him away to prepare for his journey out of my city. Let him have no more than the clothes he wears, two blankets, a dagger, and the two pieces of silver due a banished man.”

As the guards dragged the prisoner away, the audience in the crowded chamber began whispering in a sound like rushing water. Since he had an errand to run, Ricyn slipped out a side door and hurried to Dannyn’s chambers. In the middle of the floor, Dannyn was kneeling and rolling up a cloak into his bedroll. He glanced Ricyn’s way, then went on working.