A Time of Justice

Since it would be several days before Lord Beryn would arrive at court to answer the formal charges, Rhodry resigned himself to keeping a close watch over the tieryn and hoping for the best. As the tedious time crawled by, he grew annoyed with Jill for leaving the whole job to him. It seemed that the only time he ever saw her was at meals; she was always off talking to the servants, gossiping with the women in the dun, or wandering around town where, for all he knew, she might well be in danger. By the end of the third day he was ready to shake her. They finally got a few minutes alone after dinner.

‘Just where were you this afternoon?’ Rhodry snapped.

‘Talking with the head of the merchant guild. It took me all day to bribe my way in to see him.’

‘What did you want to do that for?’

‘And then I went to the temple of Nudd to talk to the priests. Every merchant who comes through town stops to pray there.’

‘So what? What do merchants have to do with anything?’

‘Lots, my sweet love. I think me you’re going to be surprised.’

‘I don’t want to be surprised, blast you. I want to know right now what you’re up to.’

‘All right. Here come his grace and Lord Cadlew now. Let’s see if they’ll ask the gwerbret a favour for me. I want to speak to our prisoner again.’

Since his own curiosity was running high, Dwaen was willing to do just that, and Coryc himself was more than willing to grant Jill’s boon for the same reason. With four of the gwerbret’s men along for a guard, they all trooped out to the gaol, a long, squarish stone shed, half of which served as a general dungeon for beggars, drunkards, and suspected thieves, and half as private cells for more unusual men. Inside one of these tiny rooms was their prisoner, sitting on a heap of fetid straw. When a guard opened the door he rose, setting defiant hands on his hips.

‘If you persist in refusing information,’ Gwerbret Coryc said, ‘I’ll have you hanged.’

Stubbled and dirty, the prisoner ducked his head in a submissive nod. Several days of bad food and living with the results of the same had erased his contemptuous confidence.

‘This shouldn’t take long, Your Grace.’ Jill stepped forward. ‘Would you have the guard see if he’s been flogged recently?’

Although the prisoner fought and squirmed, a pair of guards pinned him and pulled his shirt up with little trouble. In the torchlight they could all see the fresh pink scars, about ten of them, criss-crossing his back.

‘Very well,’ Jill said. ‘Now, lad, I’ve got just one question for you. Who’s Lady Mallona’s lover?’

Although for a brief moment Rhodry thought she’d gone daft, the prisoner yelped like a kicked dog, and all the colour left his face.

‘So.’ Jill favoured him with a smile. ‘I thought she had one, truly. Was it you? You’re good-looking when you’re clean.’

‘It wasn’t, by every god of my people. I wouldn’t have a thing to do with her when –’ He broke off with a foul oath.

‘So, she was sniffing round you, was she? It’s no wonder you refuse to talk. One word, and you start giving everything away. Very well, then, hold your tongue a while longer. I’ll nose him out sooner or later.’

With a nod to the guard to lock the prisoner up again, Coryc led the rest of them out into the ward.

‘All right, silver dagger, you’ve got some game afoot, and you can blasted well let the rest of us know what it is.’

‘Your Grace,’ Jill said, ‘I’ll beg you a boon. If I’m right, this crime is truly scandalous. So I don’t want to make any charge or raise anybody’s suspicions until we’re assembled in a proper court of law. Of course I’ll tell you if you order me to, but I truly do think we should wait until your malover. Your wife will tell you that I’m trustworthy.’

‘She already has, actually. Very well. Your request’s both fair and honourable.’ The gwerbret looked round with an apologetic smile, since he doubtless knew perfectly well that everyone there was burning with curiosity. ‘After all, Lord Beryn should arrive on the morrow.’

Lord Beryn did indeed arrive during the noon meal. As Dwaen’s bodyguard, Rhodry was sitting next to the tieryn at the gwerbret’s table when from out in the ward came the clatter and bustle of armed men dismounting. The enormous hall fell silent as everyone, noble-born and commoner alike, turned to stare at the door. With ten of his men behind him, Lord Beryn strode in, a tall man, rawboned and grizzled, with sweeping grey moustaches and narrow dark eyes that darted this way and that. Rhodry figured that he was about fifty winters old. He gestured to his men to wait, then strode across the great hall and knelt, with a profound grunt, at the gwerbret’s side.

‘Now what’s all this, Your Grace? I’ve been wading through rivers of evil gossip, saying that I’m trying to kill Tieryn Dwaen of Dun Ebonlyn. It’s cursed well not true.’

‘True or not, the matter’s serious enough to warrant an inquiry.’ Coryc rose to tower over him. ‘If both parties agree, we’ll convene the malover immediately. The priests are here and waiting.’

‘Indeed?’ Beryn swung his head and glared at Dwaen. ‘Listen, you little coward, I’ve got every reason in the world to kill you, but if I was going to, I’d call you out to a duel like a man – if you had the guts to face me.’

Rhodry grabbed Dwaen’s arm and forced him to sit back down.

‘Lord Beryn, I call for silence!’ Coryc snapped. ‘Tieryn Dwaen, there’ll be no duelling in my hall.’

With a dog-like growl, Beryn settled back on his heels.

‘My lord,’ Coryc went on, ‘the tieryn has reliable witnesses. We are going to hear these witnesses in proper order, in my chamber of justice, with the priests of Bel there as well. Am I understood?’

‘You are, Your Grace.’ Beryn’s voice began to shake. ‘Didn’t I accept Your Grace’s judgment on my son? Didn’t I stand in your ward and watch without lifting a finger when –’

‘Don’t vex yourself, Beryn.’ Coryc turned and made an ambiguous gesture with one hand. ‘All the witnesses present? Good. Then come along, come along. I want this grievous affair settled and done.’

The gwerbret’s chamber of justice was a big half-round of a room, hung with banners in his colours. In the curve of the wall stood two tables, one for his grace and his scribes, one for the priests and theirs. The witnesses stood on the gwerbret’s right, the accused and his supporters on his left. The rest of the hall was packed with spectators – officials, riders, servants, even a few townfolk, a quiet but jostling crowd that spilled out through the double doors into the corridor beyond. As Dwaen and Cadlew laid their deposition concerning the archer and the dead dog, the rat in the bed, Vyna’s tale and the capture of the prisoner, the crowd stopped moving and seemed to crouch on the floor, straining to hear every word. Beryn’s colour turned from sun-bitten tan to red and back again. Finally, Rhodry was called forward to tell of the attack on Lady Ylaena. He’d barely finished when Beryn broke, charging forward to stand before the gwerbret.

‘Your Grace, never would I order such a cowardly thing! How could you believe it of me, attacking a woman!’

‘His lordship forgets himself again. As of yet I believe naught, one way or another.’

Beryn started to speak, but just then two guards appeared, shoving their way through the crowd and dragging the prisoner along with them.

‘You!’ Beryn snarled. ‘You little bastard! What by every god are you doing here?’

‘My lord!’ Coryc snapped. ‘Do you know this man?’

‘I do. His name’s Petyn, and I had him flogged and kicked out of my warband not long ago. He was stealing from me.’

Although everyone in the crowd gasped, Coryc turned to look at Jill, who was smiling to herself as she stood out of the way near the wall.

‘All right, silver dagger,’ the gwerbret said. ‘It’s time for you to spill everything you know.’

‘So it is, Your Grace.’ Jill came forward and made a reasonable curtsey, seeing as she was wearing a pair of brigga. ‘Petyn, let’s start with you. There you were, publicly shamed, turned out of the warband without a copper to your name. I’ll wager you rode south. Where did you meet the man who hired you?’

Petyn shook his head in a stubborn no.

‘I know what he looks like,’ Jill went on. ‘A stout fellow, with a high voice, and he’s a merchant pretending to be a scribe. He deals in perfumes and incenses, actually. He was a friend of Lady Mallona’s brother, and he was kind enough to bring her news every now and then, until Graelyn died last year. That’s the brother’s name, Your Grace – Graelyn. But this incense seller was a rich man, and I’ll wager he offered Petyn plenty, especially since he had him round up four other lads for the hire.’

‘Here!’ Lord Beryn’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘Are you talking about Bavydd? He used to stay in my dun with us, just every now and then.’

‘So that was his name, was it? He gave a different one to the priests of Nudd here in town, but I figured it was a false one. Come on, Petyn. Are you really going to hang for a man who wouldn’t lift a finger to help you?’

‘I’ll hang no matter what I do, you little bitch! Why should I say anything? You seem to know the lot already.’

‘What is this?’ Coryc slammed one hand down on the table. ‘Jill, are you saying that this merchant is behind these murder attempts?’

‘Not exactly, Your Grace. I don’t think for a minute that he wanted to kill the tieryn. He wanted to push Beryn and Dwaen into open war and let them kill each other. Or maybe he was hoping you’d believe it was all Beryn’s fault, and you’d hang him for breaking your ban on the blood feud. Then he, Bavydd I mean, could marry the lady Mallona and take her away.’