And ...
Between Alain and the man on the throne!
She cursed herself for a fool. The whole kingdom knew that Lady Cordelia was betrothed to Prince Alain. Why had she not remembered it?
Because it was one thing to hear of them so far away, and another to see them right before you, with no luxury, no teams of retainers, no courtiers just a sister and her fiance. Again, Quicksilver cursed herself for a fool.
Trumpets blew, and the whole Court stilled. A herald stepped up to the foot of the dais on which the thrones stood and called out, "Duke Diarmid now holds his court! Let any who have grievances step forth to speak of them!"
"I!" Count Nadyr stepped forward. "I bring charges against this witch Moraga, my liege! Charges of banditry, charges of brigandage!"
The herald glanced up at the people on the thrones; they nodded, and he turned back to Count Nadyr. "State the charge!"
Count Nadyr gave a brief, lurid, and highly biased account of Moraga's few days of activity. He painted her as a villainous upstart who had cropped up from nowhere, tyrannized his peasantry, and pounced upon his law-abiding, peaceful knights with absolutely no cause other than pure greed and lust for power. When he finished, he stepped back, and the King finally stirred. He turned to the Queen and said, "Most singular."
"Aye," said Queen Catharine, "if he is to be believed."
"Majesty!" the Count cried, affronted. "Would a nobleman lie?"
"Not if he knows what is good for him." Her glance was steel; then she turned back to her husband. "Nonetheless, husband, we are guests in this demesne. I am minded to leave this judgement to its rightful lord."
"Then so we shall." King Tuan turned to his younger son. "What say you, Duke Diarmid?"
The slender lad stirred himself, and Quicksilver felt nothing but contempt. Could this man hold the whole Duchy of Loguire in order, this stripling, this boy? Why, he seemed scarcely old enough to shave!
Then his gaze fell upon her, and she stared, shaken. There was wisdom in that gaze, and determination—but even more, a tinge of that alien, remorseless quality that was so strong in Gregory. Yes, she found herself saying, he can hold his demesne—and Heaven help anyone who defies him!
CHAPTER 16
The new Duke lifted his head, looking out over the crowd. "Who speaks for this woman?" he asked, in a tenor that was high and clear, but surprisingly resonant.
"I shall," Gregory answered, and Quicksilver's mouth twisted. Surely the Duke had known that beforehand! She was witnessing a ritual, and wondered if the ending were already known, as well as in any ritual.
A stab of fear chilled her vitals as she realized that the same could be said of herself and her own cause.
The Duke was nodding. "Speak, then. Is there truth in what the Count charges?"
"Truth in the facts he has presented, my lord, but not in the manner of it."
"How dare you!" cried Count Nadyr, his hand leaping to his sword—but Gregory only turned that clear, cold gaze on him, and he froze in place. "I speak of the facts you have presented, my lord, and they are few enough: viz., that the woman Moraga did declare herself master of a village; that she did defeat the knights and footmen you sent against her, with magic; and that she did then lay claim to six more parishes, defeating yourself, and your household knights and men, with more magic. That much is true; your conjectures about her reasons for doing this are wrong."
"Do you say I lie?" Count Nadyr cried, but wild-eyed; his hand was on his sword, but his fear of the wizard was plain for all to see.
"I do not," Gregory said simply. "I said you were wrong."
"Then what is the truth of it?" Duke Diarmid demanded.
"Let us hear the tale afresh, but from the woman's view." Gregory turned aside with a slight bow. "Damsel Moraga, will you tell what did happen to you?"
Moraga did—and once again, she seemed to be dowdy and insignificant when she began, but as she spoke of her lover's abandonment of her, anger built, and she began to gain beauty and attraction; when she told how she had punished him, she became voluptuous; and as she finished her tale, there wasn't a male eye in the Court that was not fixed upon her, spellbound.
Except for Gregory, Diarmid, Alain, their fathers—and, most amazingly, Geoffrey! He darted quick glances at her, yes, but also kept glancing at the Duke, at his sister, at Their Majesties, and at Quicksilver. She marvelled that he had managed to escape the witch's spell, then suddenly understood how—he saw the whole event as a battle, and his love for a good fight was greater than his lust for beauty! She felt her admiration for the warrior kindled anew, even as her bitterness over his betrayal increased. Unless ...
No! How cruel he had been to kindle a spark of hope within her, there on the stairway landing, and how that spark had burned and twisted in her heart, even as she had scolded herself for a credulous fool, to be tempted to believe in him again! She would not think well of him, she would not!
Moraga was done, bowing her head demurely and clasping her hands. Duke Diarmid nodded judiciously. "There is far more to this than Count Nadyr knew of—I trust." He cast a keen, penetrating glance at the Count, then turned away even as the nobleman was pulling himself together to look offended. "She verifies the few facts he did present, though her motives seem diametrically opposed to those he attributed to her. Master Gregory, is there proof as to which of them spoke more truly?"
"Aye, my lord." Gregory lifted his head, calling out, "Wee Folk, will you speak?"
A buzz of shocked conversation broke out, then cut off abruptly as an elf jumped up onto the arm of the Duke's chair. "Why did you not simply ask me at the outset, mortal man?"
Duke Diarmid inclined his head gravely toward the mannikin. "It is our way, Wise One. Each must have his say. Now we ask that you have yours."
"Why," said the elf, "what the woman says is true, for there were those of our people who saw most of it." Moraga blushed furiously.
"She was always a good-hearted soul," the elf went on, "and would not believe us when we told her she was being duped. But when that louse of a knight betrayed her and spurned her, she wept for the whole of a day and into the night, until she slept. We were minded to touch her in the night, to bring her forgetfulness, but our chief bade us withold yet awhile—and in the morning, when she came out of her forest hut, she was a different woman quite: no longer meek, but defiant; no longer forgiving, but bound on revenge; no longer mild, but a Fury incarnate. We cannot truly blame her for what she did, for the knight deserved every bit, and more." He turned to dart a sinister glance at Count Nadyr. "And so did the Count, for he knew of his knight's perfidy, and did naught to stop him. Indeed, he demanded one part in five of the knight's treacherous gain!"
Moraga whirled toward Count Nadyr, enraged, but Gregory's hand on her arm witheld her. "We are in the Duke's court, damsel, where you may demand redress, rather than inflicting it yourself." He turned back to the Duke. "My lord, this woman calls down your justice upon those who have wronged her!"
The whole Court burst into amazed chatter. The accused had suddenly become the accuser!
Duke Diarmid waited it out, chin on fist, unblinking, unmoving. One by one, his courtiers glanced at him, looked again, stared, and fell silent. When the whole room was still, King Tuan stirred and said, "What is your justice, my lord Duke?"
"This is my verdict," Diarmid said, in a voice that carried to every corner. He sat up straight, hands on the arms of his chair. "The woman is wronged, and nothing can ever restore what she has lost, either in body or in heart. Yet she has taken her revenge by herself, and needs to see no more suffering in the treacherous knight." He turned, fixing Sir Gripardin with a severe glare. "I, however, do. I cannot have a knight who is untrue to his vows, here upon my land. Your belt is forfeit, Gripardin, and you are a knight no longer."