"I can, but only because I have heard the whole of the tale." Geoffrey turned to Quicksilver with a grateful sigh. "Now, maiden!"
An incredulous murmur swept the court.
"I am a maiden!" Quicksilver cried in anger. "He who would give me the lie, let him come with his sword to try me!"
"Lies are not tested with swords, but with proof." Diarmid's voice cracked like a whip, and his glare seemed to pierce through her. "It is truth I demand of you, maiden, not blows! Speak clearly now, and to the point—and do not waste my time with challenges or threats!"
She stared at him, quite taken aback, then began to rally, but Geoffrey stepped close and murmured, "He is like my brother—the only thing that really angers him is poor logic. Tell him your history, I beseech you, gracious one—tell it as clearly as you told it to me."
She gave him a narrow glance, but decided he was making sense, and turned back to Diarmid. "Well, then, milord Duke, the tale truly begins when I was newly come to womanhood." She paused, expecting him to stop her, to tell her she was filling his ears with useless chatter, that she should begin the tale with the Count's murder—but Diarmid only nodded and said, "Go on."
Quicksilver glanced at the face of his mother, above and beyond him, and what she saw there gave her heart to continue. "The boys of the village would not leave me alone..."
It was hard at first, in front of so many people—hard to admit, to speak openly, of the stolen caresses, the touches from behind, and she began to realize just how sympathetic and sensitive a listener Geoffrey had been. But when she had managed to speak of them once, she found she could speak of them again, and her voice gained force and clarity as she went on to tell of Sir Hempen's harassment, of her father's death, of the old Count's summons—and of her defense that had left him dead. But once begun, she found she could not stop—nor was there need, for Duke Diarmid waved aside every attempt to interrupt or to stop her. She rolled on, explaining how her only chance of survival had been to establish her own rule over the bandits of the forest, how she had stolen back the household goods that Sir Hempen had robbed from her mother, how she had taken his cattle and horses in punishment. Then she went on to relate how she had stolen from his tax collectors and from rich merchants, yes, but had given much of the money to the poor folk who had been ground down to yield every penny they could. Then she explained how it was defeat the shire-reeve and defeat the Count, or die.
Finally, she ran out of breath, ran out of anger; finally, she could let the story lie. She lowered her eyes, amazed to discover how much lighter she felt, as though she had put down some great burden. Had she been carrying such a weight all this time?
The Court stood in silence, spellbound.
Then young Count Laeg erupted. "She lies! My lord, she lies and wrongs my good father's memory!" Quicksilver's head snapped up, a denial hot on her lips, but Geoffrey was already speaking, quietly but firmly. "She speaks only truth."
"Oh, and how shall you prove that?" Count Laeg demanded. "Where is your elfin witness now? The Wee Folk cannot come within our castle, for it is hung about with Cold Iron!"
"Wherefore?" Geoffrey said simply.
Count Laeg stared, taken aback. "Why ... because ... because..."
"Because you want no witnesses to what you do?" The Count could only stare, tongue-tied.
Diarmid nodded. "It is well asked. For myself, I have always found that they who seek to bar the Wee Folk are not to be trusted, and have wickedness in their hearts."
Count Laeg swung to him in outrage, but Diarmid snapped, "We shall proceed. Sir Geoffrey, what proof can you offer?"
"The testimony of Quicksilver's mother and sister," Geoffrey answered. "You have heard how they figure in the tale. Let us confirm this much of it, at least. I have asked the Wee Folk to summon them."
Quicksilver spun to stare at him, amazed. He gave her a little nod, then turned to look at the woman and girl who were stepping forward from the midst of the crowd. He gazed at them for a moment, then turned to Quicksilver with an impish smile. "Have I met all of your family I now?"
"Aye," she said. "You have even met my horse."
"Perhaps I should summon her to bear witness." Geoffrey turned back to Maud and her daughter. "Good woman, have you heard the story this young lady had to tell?"
"I have indeed, Sir Knight," Maud said with dignity, while beside her, Nan's eyes danced with excitement. "And is there truth in as much of her tale as you have witnessed?"
"Aye, and I do not doubt the rest! I assure you, Sir Knight, that if I had known of the effronteries of those village swains, they would all have borne fat ears!"
A ripple of amusement passed through the hall, and Nan turned beet-red. "Mother!" she hissed, in an agony of embarrassment.
"You have taught your daughter well," Geoffrey told her, "and I thank you for your testimony."
Maud took that as as dismissal, gave him a little bow, and stepped back, hauling Nan with her, who lingered to give Geoffrey a mischievous glance before she hurried after her mother.
"That much, then, is so." Diarmid nodded. "As to the elves, they may have been excluded from the castle, but I mind me that they were probably throughout the village and the greenwood." He raised his voice. "Wee Folk, if you would be so kind, we would be glad of the benefit of your witness!"
The crowd murmured uneasily; traffic with the Wee Folk was quite unpredictable. They might help, but they might also bring disaster.
An elf-wife hopped up on Diarmid's chair arm. "Twice in one day! Canst thou not ask all thy questions at one time, Lord Duke, so that we need not be troubled twice?"
"I thank you for your troubles and courtesy." Diarmid bowed his head gravely. "Tell me, goodwife—have you heard this woman's tale?"
"Aye, twice now—first when she told it to the knight who doth accompany her."
Now it was speculation in the murmur that went through the hall. Diarmid hurried on. "Is there truth in all that she has said?"
"Every word," the elf-wife said firmly, "and she has told all that she knows—up to her meeting with this bawcock of a Gallowglass."
Rod Gallowglass looked up, interested.
"But she has spoken little of her life after he defeated her in their duel, and began to ride the road here," Diarmid inferred.
"Exactly." The elf-wife fixed Quicksilver with a stern glance. "She has not."
"She is not on trial for any deeds done while we travelled here," Geoffrey said quickly.
"Oh, is she not?" the elf-wife said airily. "Well, mayhap not in this court." She turned back to Diarmid. "Is there aught else thou wouldst know, Lord Duke?"
"Much, but nothing else regarding this case." He bowed his head again. "I thank you, goodwife."
"Thou art welcome, my lord." She hopped down and disappeared.
Diarmid lifted his head. "The facts are spoken, then. I hold the woman innocent of the death of Count Laeg, by virtue of self-defense."
The great hall went up in a roar of furious comment. Quicksilver glanced sidelong at Geoffrey, her heart thrilling. He had not abandoned her after all!
The hall quieted, and Diarmid said severely, "However, I must still hold her guilty of theft, of stealing many times, both by herself and by commanding others—and of resisting a royal officer when he sought to arrest her. I will excuse her the deaths and injuries that she and her folk wrought when they fought off the Count's knights and footmen, for not to do so would surely have led to her death—it may be against the law, but it can be understood, even forgiven. The injury to a royal officer, however, cannot be countenanced."
The hall was very quiet, and Quicksilver's heart was bleeding. She glanced at Geoffrey, hoping, hoping ... "My lord," he said, "I beg your leniency."