It was a taunt, one spoken with malice intended. Lia stiffened her hold on the bow stave.
“As this was your intent all along, why ruin it? Say what you must and be done with it.”
Lia could see the Queen Dowager’s teeth. She rose higher in the saddle, her back stiff and straight. With a black glove, she pointed directly at the Aldermaston. “I accuse you of high treason by the name of Gideon Penman, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey. For you did willfully and unlawfully bring about the death of my lord husband, the late king of Comoros. I charge that you did aid and abet fugitives of the king’s justice, even the earls of Forshee and Norris-York. That you sent your own sworn man, Jon Hunter, to bring them safely through this Hundred to plot my husband’s death at Winterrowd. That your sworn man, Jon Hunter, did fell the king with this bloodied arrow!” Her voice had built to a fevered pitch and she thrust the arrow into the air within the sight of everyone assembled.
“Therefore I arrest you, Gideon Penman, for the murder of my lord husband. You will stand trial for your crimes and be punished in the manner befitting a traitor. I charge the Earl of Forshee with high treason. I grant amnesty to the newly made Earl of Norris-York, for he was not a party to the plot. Now in the name of the young king, I command you to open the gates!”
The surge of the Medium was so strong it rocked Lia back on her heels. The Aldermaston bowed his head, as if bracing himself against an unseen storm beating cruelly upon him. The strain of it showed, but he lifted his head again. She saw his legs begin to the tremble and stepped forward to hold him up, but he glanced at her in warning, his eyes blazing.
Turning, he faced the Queen Dowager. “You have no authority to condemn me,” he stated simply. “Surely you know that.”
“In Dahomey, traitors are dealt with regardless of their rank,” she spat.
“But we are not in Dahomey, nor do we converse in Dahomeyjan.”
“Some of yours can speak it well enough,” the Queen Dowager sneered.
“As do many in this country. But you overlook that as an Aldermaston, I can only be brought to trial by the High Seer of Avinion. You have no legal custody over me or this Abbey. I have the charter grants engraved and sealed within the cloister library. The king has no jurisdiction here and neither do you. You come here and flaunt your supposed authority in the hope of cowing me into submission. I refuse to accommodate you. I will answer to the High Seer only.”
Her face was beautiful but twisted with fury. “A formality I have not overlooked, Aldermaston. Even as we speak, I have riders brooking to Avinion.”
“The term is breaking, your highness. Your Dahomeyjan tongue gets tangled at times. I do not fear the evidence you will undoubtedly conjure to support your accusation. My man Jon Hunter was murdered in the Bearden Muir by the sheriff of Mendenhall, and I can summon his bones to prove it. You helped dig his grave, did you not, my lord Earl of Forshee?”
Colvin was as stern as a boulder. “With my own hands, Aldermaston. He was my guide through the Bearden Muir. He was killed by the sheriff, as the Aldermaston says. He was dead prior to the battle.”
“You were seen!” Pareigis shrieked. “Following the battle, you were seen with the hunter! I have twelve witnesses who will vouchsafe it.”
“Then produce your witnesses,” Colvin snapped. “There were many looters after the battle who came to strip the corpses. For the right coin, they would say anything you wished. I demand to face my accusers. I am not a traitor but a member of the king’s Privy Council. Your accusation is absurd.”
“You are not an Aldermaston,” Pareigis said, seething. “You are an Earl of the realm. You must face a trial of your peers, as you say. So I arrest you…”
“He is within the protection of Muirwood Abbey,” the Aldermaston said, interrupting her. “These grounds safeguard him, as they do any with the rank of maston. You cannot arrest him here. It is contrary to the laws of the realm. I will not grant you audience any longer. Be gone.” He turned and started to hobble away, his face grave and wincing with pain.
“Do not turn your back on me!” she commanded. “This is your final warning. Open the gates at once! I cannot hold my men back forever.”
The Aldermaston paused and looked back at her, as if she were nothing but a buzzing fly. “I am not concerned for my safety or the safety of this Abbey, Pareigis. You mock what you do not even comprehend.”
“No Aldermaston,” she replied in a low voice. “It is you who does not understand. These bars will not protect you from me. And those who mistakenly trust that you will shield them will cower and wail in fear when they discover it is but an empty promise. Even walls of stone can burn.”
* * *
“Like fragile ice, anger passes away in time. Therefore, the greatest remedy for anger is delay.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE:
Pareigis’ Terms