The old Margrave smiled. ‘No doubt the presence of the bulk of my nephew’s forces stationed outside your parents’ keep will ward off any more such . . . bandits.’ He reached out and gently patted the girl’s cheek. ‘You’re a smart one. You know how to read the lie of the land. I imagine that with a little patience you’ll find contentment with your circumstances.’ He turned to face the rest of us. ‘You see? A little discretion, a little wisdom, and all is well.’
Evidalle’s pleasure was evident in the tone of his voice and the confident manner in which he spread his arms wide as if he were acknowledging a cheering crowd. ‘As you can see, Uncle, I’ve brought peace to once warring families.’
‘And doubled your holdings in the process,’ Rhetan noted.
‘Now, let us deal with these Trattari and begin the next step in my great plan to—’
Rhetan cut him off. ‘No, let’s not create trouble where none is needed.’
‘What? Are you mad? The Trattari came here to arrest me!’
‘Oh, I’m sure it was nothing of the sort.’ The old man glanced over to me. ‘You merely came to bless the happy occasion, isn’t that correct?’ Before I could answer, he turned to Captain Squirrel. ‘Too bad the temporary miscommunication caused a bit of a fuss, but these things happen during such turbulent times. Best to leave any little transgressions forgotten, I suggest.’
Captain Squirrel bowed. ‘I . . . Yes, Margrave, it is as you say.’
Rhetan walked over to me, deliberately stepping over a dead guard in the process. ‘Of course, I might have the situation confused. Perhaps you were here to arrest my nephew for . . . what would the charges be, I wonder? The unlawful confinement of Lady Mareina? Or the accusation could be something more severe – treason, perhaps?’
There was something very dangerous at play here. Rhetan wasn’t simply speculating; he was laying out options for me, pushing me to see which one I would choose. What exactly is your game here, old man?
‘The situation is complex, your Lordship,’ I said. ‘We’re still . . . investigating.’
‘Really? The question is a simple one, surely? Have the Greatcoats come to arrest the Margrave of Barsat, and if so, on what charge?’
Chalmers started to speak, but I held up a hand to keep her silent. Rhetan was prodding us for a reaction, but I hadn’t yet figured out why. He pointed with his dinner knife at the bodies on the ground. ‘Frankly, if this is what comes of your “investigations”, one has to wonder what outcome might result from an actual trial.’
It was the way he said the word ‘outcome’ that gave me the first clue as to what was really going on. ‘Outcomes vary, my Lord, depending on the circumstances and, of course, the presiding magistrate.’
‘No doubt, no doubt. I suppose any number of—’
‘Enough!’ Evidalle shouted, and strode towards us. His four remaining guards stomped behind him, crossbows in hand. ‘I suggest you move out of the way, Uncle.’
Rhetan’s men looked poised to attack, but the old Margrave waved them off. He let out a long sigh and stepped aside. ‘Your impatience is making you sloppy, Evidalle. I suggest you take a moment to fully appreciate the situation.’
‘Patience is the shackle that binds the timid, Uncle.’ Evidalle grabbed a crossbow from one of his men. ‘Only the daring know glory.’
‘I suppose you have a point,’ Rhetan said without enthusiasm.
Brasti chuckled. ‘Hah – that’s a good one.’ No one else laughed. ‘You know, because of the point on the crossbow bolt – wasn’t that meant to be funny?’
With Evidalle’s weapon trained on me, it was difficult to sound flippant, but I made the effort anyway. ‘There’s something you should know before you fire, Margrave Evidalle.’
The Margrave of Barsat was nothing if not gracious. ‘Speak then, Trattari. Beg. Threaten. Make your accusations. No one will listen.’
I forced myself to focus on what I was about to say, rather than the steel tip of the bolt aimed squarely at my face. ‘Well, to begin with, I am the First Cantor of the Greatcoats: I don’t make accusations. I issue verdicts.’
‘Do so, then, if it gives you any solace. Let the Gods hear your blasphemy before I end you.’ He wrapped his finger around the trigger of the crossbow and began to squeeze, very slowly.
I had to speak quickly now. ‘My verdict is this, Margrave Evidalle: I judge you guilty of commissioning the murder of the young man Udrin, rightful husband of Lady Cestina. I further find you guilty of assault upon her parents and of the unlawful confinement of her sister, Lady Mareina, all in furtherance of your attempt to stage a coup against the throne of Baern and to incite insurrection against the Crown.
‘The punishment for those crimes is death, and every man present is bound by law to assist in your capture.’
‘Goodbye, Trattari, your death will launch a revolution.’
‘Sounds grand. One piece of advice then, my Lord?’
This took him aback. ‘What?’
Saint Birgid, I know you’re dead, but if you’d be inclined to lend any assistance from beyond the veil, I’d very much appreciate it right now.
I looked at Margrave Rhetan, who was now standing next to his nephew. ‘Never trust a man who brings a hundred soldiers to a wedding.’
It’s odd how quickly the mighty become less remarkable to behold once they realise that all their power has been taken away. Margrave Evidalle’s luxuriant hair had gleamed like a golden crown upon his head, but now sweat dripped from his brow and it began to look limp, in fact, positively foppish. His eyes, so full of fire and certainty before, became those of a boy who has just lost his favourite toy. When he opened his mouth – which only moments ago had been full of confident smiles and easy laughter – all that emerged now was a soft gurgle and the tip of Rhetan’s dinner knife as it completed its journey through the back of the Margrave’s throat.
CHAPTER SIX
The Virtue of Patience
For all of Margrave Rhetan’s sermonising on the virtue of patience, events moved remarkably quickly after that. The wedding guests, gasping, huddled behind the Knights who once again readied themselves to protect their patrons, while Rhetan’s men busied themselves ensuring that none of Evidalle’s remaining guardsmen attempted anything untoward.
The erstwhile Margrave of Barsat hadn’t even finished falling to the ground before his uncle had moved on to other business. ‘The Greatcoats will make no efforts to bar my annexation of Barsat into the March of Val Iramont,’ he said to me, as though we were halfway through an afternoon of negotiations. I suppose in some sense we were.
It was my turn. ‘The troops occupying Lady Mareina’s parents’ keep will leave immediately.’
‘Already done.’
‘And they will be compensated for their suffering, as will Udrin’s family.’
Margrave Rhetan waved a hand. ‘Of course, of course. Besides, the cost will be more than made up for by the temporary reduction in taxes you will be persuading the Realm’s Protector to grant me.’