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From: nostrumo@nienor.s.bawue.de (Nostrumo)
Subject: TG: "Milady's Wiles" by Brandy Dewinter (11/22)
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Hi.
This is the latest story of Brandy DeWinter. A story about war and
the casualties of war.
As always: I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim to it. If
you have some useful hints or some good comments, your mail is welcome.
Flames, you know, will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymous or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands
for story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Milady's Wiles
by Brandy Dewinter
Chapter 11 - Pulling Strings
The mood was decidedly more sober the next morning. Queen Selay and
I were in our accustomed places when Lyonidas entered the throne room. He
walked directly to the King's throne and paused, looked at Queen Selay
with a grimly determined expression, then turned and sat.
Queen Selay stood immediately, but before she could speak, Lyonidas
said, "Sit, Madame, or leave. But today I judge the life of a man. That
is a solemn responsibility and you should consider it a sign of respect
for this furniture that I choose to take on myself, at least for this
trial, the full position of king. Tell my father if you will, but today I
will sit."
This time, Lyonidas had the power of personality. For one of the few
times in her life, Queen Selay was overmatched. She sat again without a
word, though her eyes showed more worry than before.
As well they might. As did my own. My frustrated impulse of the
night before had resulted in the death of one man and it was clear that
Lyonidas considered the very life of another hung in today's balance.
Reynal had entered with Lyonidas, almost lost in the power of the
confrontation between the Regent and Queen. Now Lyonidas nodded to his
own General instead of our Chamberlain. Reynal responded by waving at a
High Canyon guard at a side door. In a moment, Drayson entered, surroun-
ded by four High Canyon warriors for once moving in a structured forma-
tion.
Drayson had not been harmed as far as we could tell. He was unarmed,
including stripping off his armor, but no signs of abuse or even fighting
showed on his face. He also walked with his accustomed long stride, not
apparently favoring any hidden injuries. His guards marched him to stand
before the thrones.
Once again, Lyonidas spoke before Queen Selay had a chance.
"Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you stand accused of murder. How do you
plead?"
Drayson didn't reply immediately. He looked at Queen Selay and then
at me. She met his eyes with calm dignity but I knew my own eyes were
showing horror and guilt. After a long enough pause to accept his state-
ment of loyalty to her, not to the Regent, Queen Selay nodded at Drayson.
"Not guilty!" he declared.
"You were seen standing over the body, your sword red with Olrin's
blood. Yvina testifies that you killed him," Reynal charged. Apparently
he was going to serve as prosecutor.
"Oh, I killed the coward," Drayson declared, "but it wasn't murder.
He was attacking my fiancee."
"She doesn't say that," Reynal denied.
"She's afraid of what you honorless scum will do to her if she tells
the truth," claimed Drayson.
Reynal bristled at the insult but maintained his tone when he spoke,
"Describe the situation you encountered that led you to believe Olrin was
attacking the woman."
"That 'woman' is my fiancee," Drayson growled.
"Describe the situation," Reynal repeated, the very flatness of his
tone promising no relief from his questions.
"I went to look for Yvina, who had said she was feeling poorly. A
servant told me she was on a balcony getting some fresh air, so I went
there. When I got close, I heard that she was not alone. Her voice
was muffled, as though she couldn't speak clearly, so I drew my sword and
moved quietly to find the reason."
Drayson's voice started to climb with rage and outrage and righteous
anger as he continued, "He had her forced against the balcony ledge and
was attacking her! As soon as I saw what was going on, I yelled at him.
He turned, reached for his own sword, and I stuck him like the pig he
was."
This caused a flush to climb Reynal's neck and an angry stirring
among Drayson's anonymously-cowled guards. My horror was growing as I
realized how I had used my knight's arrogance against Olrin, just as
surely as it worked against his own safety now.
It had always seemed from their amorphous fighting style that the
High Canyonites were undisciplined. Reynal proved the lie of that by
waiting until his flush subsided before speaking again. When he did
speak there was a sly softness to his voice.
"Tell us, where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them."
"What?"
"Where were Yvina's hands when you came upon them?"
"I don't know what you mean," Drayson replied, a suspicious look
on his face.
"Were they on Olrin's chest, pushing him away? Were they pinned
behind her body? Were they pounding on his shoulders? Where were her
hands?"
"I don't know, I guess they were, uh, around his . . . neck," Drayson
said. Even as he spoke, I could see realization seep into his body. It
sagged from his previous proud carriage to one of helpless, betrayed
shame.
Reynal was now brusque efficiency. "Did Olrin draw his sword com-
pletely and attack you with it?"
"No." Drayson's voice was almost too quiet to be heard.
Reynal was through. He turned to Lyonidas and said, "Milord Regent,
it is clear that while he may not have thought through things clearly,
Drayson did indeed murder Olrin. The woman was not being attacked and did
not need to be defended. Olrin had no chance to defend himself. I
suggest that there was no treason on the part of this man, only misguided
passion."
No treason on Drayson's part, perhaps, but what of me? To whom
did I owe my loyalty? Drayson was a weapon no less than the sword he had
carried and I had turned a weapon of Achaiea against a man of High Canyon
in defiance of our peace agreement. It had not been Queen Selay, nor any
other, the responsibility was mine.
As he intoned the words of doom, the face of Lyonidas was as sad, in
a different way, at the demands of duty as we had been when our men were
executed. "Drayson, Knight of Achaiea, you are found guilty of murder.
You will be hung outside the gates tomorrow at dawn."
"NO!" Drayson roared, no longer slumped.
"No!" all the Achaieans cried, horror stricken.
"No," Queen Selay said quietly, her voice somehow cutting through all
the others.
Lyonidas looked at her with anger, ready to demand obedience. In-
stead of defiance though, he found calm determination.
"A Knight of the realm cannot be executed like a common peasant," she
explained. "He has the right to trial by combat. If you refuse this
right, you refuse to abide by the peace agreement."
Strangely, Lyonidas looked at me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe he
thought my scholarly studies were relevant. In any event it was clear
his question was for me.
"What does a man's martial ability have to do with his guilt or
innocence?"
"Milord Regent," I replied formally, "Drayson is not just a man,
he is of noble rank. The responsibilities of our nobility derive from
the fundamental tenet that our positions are the result of God's will.
Any judgment that offers conflict with God's will is blasphemous."
"And what if an ungodly man just happens to be the best fighter
around?"
"God would not let it be so, at least, not enough to overcome our
formal trial by combat."
"'Formal' trial by combat. You people have ritual for everything."
Now his exasperation started to show.
"Perhaps, but it has served us well for generations," I replied.
Lyonidas slumped back in the King's throne and muttered, "Very well,
describe your 'formal' trial by combat."
Instead of continuing, I nodded to the Chamberlain. Hugh stepped
forward and repeated the formula.
"The accused, being of noble rank, has the right to trial by combat.
He can choose any personal weapons, but all must be on his person at the
start of the combat. The King, uh, that is, I suppose, the Regent will
pick a champion to face the accused. If the champion is vanquished, the,
um, ruler will choose two champions. If they are vanquished, the ruler
will choose four champions. If they are vanquished, the accused has
demonstrated that God is on his side, and is exonerated."
Lyonidas had perked up a bit as this ritual was explained. Clearly,
we were not letting Drayson off easily. A gleam showed in his eyes and I
remembered Reynal's claim that the people, at least of High Canyon, were
the warriors and did not need protection. Our foes were a martial race,
not afraid of fair combat, confident in their own abilities. A duel to
the death was not uncommon among them, often for less lofty reasons. This
was looking like something reasonably similar.
"Who has been the King's champion in the past?" Lyonidas asked.
"The King has been his own champion, since Andros ascended to the
throne. He felt that the one who passes judgment should be prepared to
answer to God for that judgment. There have been no capital cases against
nobility since his death."
"And before that?" Lyonidas asked further.
Now Hugh was a bit embarrassed. "Well, in ancient times, only one
champion faced the accused. Six generations ago, then King Alcon chose a
champion, as he was himself aged. The accused dispatched the champion.
King Alcon then declared that two would face the accused. They, too, were
dispatched. The King declared that four would face the accused, who was
then vanquished. In the time since, no accused has ever survived to face
more than a pair of champions."
"So the King was not above helping God out a little, huh?" Lyonidas
mused.
Hugh was shocked at the Regent's attitude, "The King is God's chosen
ruler! It is only right that he should work on God's behalf."
Lyonidas drawled his response out enough to show his disdain for our
"civilized" rationalizations, "Riiight."
The tall foreign prince stood up and walked to face Drayson. There
was no languid ease in his carriage now, instead, he seemed to flow down
the steps like a shadow, "Very well, Drayson, you shall have your combat."
Before Lyonidas could proceed, Reynal called out, "Milord Regent, I
demand to be your champion!"
Never taking his eyes from Drayson, Lyonidas dismissed the claim,
"You demand nothing, General. You heard their tradition, the one who
makes the judgment defends it. That's just fine with me."
Finally breaking eye contact with Drayson, Lyonidas turned back to me
once again, "Is there an official time for this duel?"
I just shook my head.
"Very well, it shall be at noon, today, in the field where your heirs
were executed," announced Lyonidas. Then he turned away and drew the rest
of the High Canyon contingent with him, including even Drayson's guards.
They left without a backward glance.
Drayson stood there uncertainly. Then he drew himself up and bowed
formally to the Queen before departing toward his chambers.
The remaining Achaieans in the throne room started to stir as though
to leave, but Queen Selay looked sharply at the Chamberlain, who just as
sharply called everyone to order.
"There is yet another trial to be conducted today," Hugh announced.
Now Yvina was brought forward. Her escorts were Achaiean, but they
were as clearly guards as those who had accompanied Drayson earlier. She
was brought to stand before Queen Selay and though Yvina's face showed
defiance, with chin high and shoulders back, her eyes showed real fear.
Queen Selay began. "So, Yvina, what have you to say for yourself?"
Mother was apparently going to function as her own prosecutor, though
Yvina's specific crimes were unclear.
"Nothing needs to be said," Yvina claimed.
"Tell me, Yvina, where were your hands when Drayson found you and
Olrin together?"
"My hands?" Yvina said, looking down at them without comprehension.
Yet the question worked as well on her as it had on Drayson. Light dawned
behind those dark eyes as she realized that significance of her position.
One does not embrace an attacker.
Then Mother asked yet another telling question, one that I didn't
think she would even know to ask, "Tell me, Yvina, how many other times
had you met Olrin on that balcony?"
Yvina looked at her Queen with real fright in her eyes now. Mother's
question had showed she knew that Yvina's betrayal of her betrothed had
not been a momentary passion, but a repeated decision. She had no re-
sponse beyond a sagging of shoulders that made her look like she was
shrinking somehow.
"You have caused the death of Olrin, and shortly the death of Dray-
son. Perhaps after Drayson kills Lyonidas, which will certainly reignite
the war. Now, what have you to say for yourself?"
"Nothing," she replied, lowering her head in an unknowing parody of
Drayson's earlier shame.
Instead of further questions of Yvina, Mother now turned to me.
"Princess Cherysse, what punishment do you think is fitting for one
who betrays a betrothed, resulting in the death of two men?"
Was she asking about Yvina, or about me? Had I betrayed my knight by
sending him into a situation I knew would result in death? I felt the
shame of my own part in this and I knew it showed. Yet there was a
further message in her question and in her actions. It appeared Mother
had been aware of Yvina's nocturnal excursions long before I was. I felt
her hidden hand had been in my back that night, pushing me to actions she
had foreseen. Was her question really an offer to judge herself, the
Queen who had been a part of this too?
The passions of the night before had burnt themselves out of my
heart. I considered my actions of the night before and realized that I
would do them again, if the situation presented itself. Do them with
cold logic as a means to eliminate a High Canyon invader. I saw that
message in Mother's eyes as well. We had used Drayson as though the
sword in his hand had been wrapped in our own smaller grip. And we had
broken that sword in the use, consumed it to our ends with ruthless
determination.
In that light, Yvina was no more than a tool herself. Since it
seemed to be up to me I decided that I had had enough of breaking tools,
though Yvina would certainly not be rewarded for her betrayal.
"Your Majesty, there is a small village we passed on an inspection
tour. A new blacksmith has moved to the village to replace one killed
in the war. That blacksmith has no family. It seems to me that one who
betrays a noble should not be given a chance to do so again. Perhaps she
can make amends by providing a family to a hard-working craftsman."
"Oh, no!" Yvina moaned softly. All her dreams of wealth and power
were to be replaced by years of drudgery. Yet I thought it was just. It
was clear that Mother had expected someone, somewhere to give her an
opportunity like this, knowing that some girl would find a man of High
Canyon exotically attractive, or perhaps just more suited to over-reaching
ambition. Still, Yvina had been the one weak enough to provide the
inevitable justification and her example must control the impulses of
others.
Queen Selay nodded her acceptance of my sentence, then nodded to the
Chamberlain as well. Another quiet nod and Yvina was escorted from the
throne room in eerie silence as though directed by some telepathic com-
munication that did indeed arise from witchcraft rather than simple human
understanding.
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