Later that evening, Maia rubbed her finger along the rim of her goblet, feeling a sense of peace and wonder. Another disaster had been averted. Another danger faced and met. As she watched her friends and supporters mingle in the hall, she thought of the armada that was even now on its way to Comoros. Knowing about Ludgate’s defenses had helped her preserve the city. But she knew she could not count on them against the Dochte Mandar. Even with all her strength, she knew she could not overcome the combined will of so many men empowered with kystrels. While those around her were celebrating her triumph over her foes, she could only brood about the worse danger that was still coming.
Suzenne touched her arm. She had not seen her friend approach. “Look, Maia,” she whispered.
Maia turned and gazed at the men who approached her seat. Richard Syon was escorting the Earl of Caspur, whose head was hung low with apparent shame. His hands were worrying each other and were not in chains, which surprised her. Each of the others had been brought forward in shackles before being escorted to the dungeons of Pent Tower. She noticed the difference and gave Richard a curious look. Rather than reply, Richard gestured for Caspur to speak.
Never had she seen him appear so pitiful. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he could have to say. Dodd coughed into his fist and leaned forward for a better look.
Caspur struggled to find his voice. She could see the wretchedness on his face, the misery. The humiliation. She waited patiently.
“Your . . . Your Majesty,” Caspur said chokingly. He struggled to master himself. Menacing and hateful looks narrowed in on him from around the room. He was a proud man, and his arrogance had alienated many. His courage quailed, but he persisted. “I . . . I know you will not . . . likely believe me. And if you send me to Pent Tower . . . I will accept it. But I wanted you . . . nay . . . I needed you to know that although I disobeyed you”—he paused again, struggling to contain his surging emotions—“I am not a traitor . . . as you may suppose me to be.” His hands formed into fists, the knuckles white, the tendons straining.
“Tell me why not,” Maia said calmly, giving him an encouraging look and a gesture to continue.
He glanced at her, seeming to be stung by her open look, and lowered his gaze again. His hands were all knotted up. “I disobeyed you. I thought . . . I thought your decision foolish and . . . too risky. I wanted to prove myself to you. I wanted . . . desperately . . . for you to value me and my counsel. I . . . my lady . . . I went to face Kord Schuyler to defeat him, not to join him.” His voice gathered strength. “When our armies were nigh each other . . . his captains seduced mine. He offered them rewards I could not match, and the men defected against my orders. I fled to warn you, but I was captured. When you routed them this . . . this very morning . . . I was able to escape and make my way back to the city. I met with your lady . . . Lady Suzenne . . . at the gate. She heard me plead my case and sent for the chancellor.”
With trembling knees, the Earl of Caspur knelt before her chair. “I beg your forgiveness for my pride.” Tears trickled down his wrinkled cheeks. “I deserve your punishment. I submit to it with no conditions. My actions can clearly be construed as treason. I swear to you . . . on the soul of my father . . . that I never intended to betray you. I disobeyed you, for which I am truly and deeply sorrowful. Had I heeded you, there would not have been such a panic . . . in your household . . . and I regret that most ardently. I await your judgment and beg your compassion.” He bowed his head before her.
Maia’s heart was moved at his speech. Could he be dissembling? Possibly. But he looked so beaten down, so humiliated, so sincere. She surmised that Richard trusted his repentance was genuine, else the earl would have been brought before her in chains. Suzenne had not forewarned her of this, for whatever reason. She glanced at her friend, and from the look of sympathy on her face, Maia could tell that she too believed Caspur’s tale.
The Earl of Caspur was one of the wealthiest men of the realm. She could almost sense the courtiers staring at her, eager to feast on the carcass of his possessions, which would be stripped away from him. He could lose everything, including his life, for what he had done.
Maia rose from the chair and approached the kneeling man. She knelt herself and took his hands with hers. The knots of sinews and tendons were still blanched and straining. She rubbed her palm across his knuckles to soothe him.
“My lord earl,” she said, drawing him to his feet. “I believe you, and I forgive you for your trespasses.” She clenched his hands and gazed into his eyes. “Come, dine with us.”
Maia signaled for a server to bring him some of the meal. She glanced at Richard, and the look of approval and respect she saw in his eyes put a lump in her throat. She escorted Caspur to an empty seat.
A murmuring sound filled the hall as the witnesses of Caspur’s reprieve began to talk and gossip and speculate about what they had just witnessed. Maia patted the earl’s shoulder and took note of the beads of sweat on his brow.
“I did not . . . I did not expect this,” he said to her, his voice low and unguarded.
Maia smiled at him. “I know what it means to be forgiven,” she answered.