A Time of Justice

‘I see.’ Dwaen’s voice was more a sigh. ‘Beryn, I owe you both an apology and some restitution for this.’

‘No doubt,’ the gwerbret said. ‘But that will be a separate matter. Jill, I take it you’re laying a formal charge of attempted murder, as well as adultery, against this Bavydd, a merchant of Cerrmor.’

‘I’m not, my lord. He was just a tool.’

Everyone was staring at Jill now, from the priests of Bel to the lowliest servant in the crowd. Rhodry had never heard such a crush of people keep such a silence.

‘Well, you see, Your Grace,’ Jill went on. ‘They could have run off together any time and been safe in Cerrmor, under another gwerbret’s jurisdiction, before her husband could track her down. Bavydd’s wealthy. He could pay Lord Beryn three times his wife’s marriage-price when the matter came to court, and I’ll bet his lordship would have taken the money, too, and not pressed the matter, because everyone tells me he didn’t much fancy her any more. So why this elaborate plot? Your Grace, it had to be someone who hates Tieryn Dwaen, and there’s only one person under Great Bel’s light that it could be.’

Involuntarily, the gwerbret glanced at Beryn, but Jill shook her head in a mournful no.

‘Your Grace, you’ve all been looking for a man, haven’t you? Women hate just as bitterly and as well. Your Grace, everyone tells me that Lady Mallona doted on her son, and he wasn’t just her only son, he was her only child. She must have hated Dwaen for having him hanged and brooded on it till she went mad. And then there’s the serving lass. Who else could have got Vyna a place in Dwaen’s dun, all under the cover of kindness? And who else would have known that Vyna had a child they could hold hostage? Who else would have hated the Lady Ylaena, too? The women in your dun told me that Mallona was awfully taken with Lord Cadlew, and it’s also common knowledge that he spurned her cold. Ylaena was her rival. Mallona would have enjoyed her revenge, all right, if that pack of brigands had got Ylaena alone somewhere. But how could Mallona hire the men and give them orders? Send a messenger along the roads to announce she had a hire for murderers? Invite them into her husband’s hall? That’s where Bavydd came in.’

All at once Rhodry remembered Lord Beryn and looked his way to find the lord kneeling on the floor. It seemed that Beryn had shrunk into himself, turned old and grey and somehow smaller. With a drunken gesture Beryn raised his head and keened like a man over his dead.

‘Your lordship has my sympathy,’ Jill said. ‘Truly he does. But I don’t see why he should suffer for someone else’s crimes.’

‘No more do I,’ Coryc said. ‘I want the lady brought here for questioning. Indeed, with his lordship’s permission, I’ll summon an honour guard and ride to fetch her myself.’

Like a warrior stabbed on the battlefield but determined to stand until he dies, Beryn staggered to his feet. By law he had the right to ride home and defend his lady with his life from these charges, and Rhodry stepped forward, half without thinking, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Beryn saw the gesture and began to laugh, a ghastly sobbing mirth.

‘Stay your hand, silver dagger. Your milksop lord’s safe from me. I only ask one boon, Your Grace. Don’t make me watch her hang. I loved her once.’

‘Done.’

Coryc began to speak further, but the crowd broke, first into whispers, then into an excited gabble that grew louder and louder as the people swirled about. Coryc hesitated, then yelled at the guards to clear the hall and be done with it. In the confusion Beryn gathered his sworn men round him like a dressing for a wound and was swept away; when Dwaen tried to follow to apologize further, Rhodry and Cadlew held him back. The gwerbret was so thickly surrounded by clamouring priests that he never did bother to formally adjourn the malover.

Once the chamber was reasonably clear, Rhodry looked around for Jill, but he found her gone. Blast her! he thought. What’s she up to now? Since Dwaen was quite obviously safe, he left his hire and went after her. As he was walking down the stairs, he smelled something, a familiar scent – a hint of cinnamon and musk, exactly that which had hung round the man who’d tried to hire him for murder. Rhodry threw up his head like a hunting dog and raced down the spiral at a dangerous pace. For a moment, at the foot of the stairs, he caught the scent again, but the great hall was packed with gossiping people. By the time he made his way to the door out, he could find neither scent nor sight of the man who, he could assume, had to have been Bavydd of Cerrmor.

After a short search Jill discovered Lord Beryn and his men out by the stables. Silent and miserable, they were unsaddling their horses, and when she approached they all stared at her in angry bewilderment, as if they couldn’t decide whether she was the cause of their lord’s trouble or his saviour from it. Beryn himself, however, raised one hand and flapped it in dispirited greeting.

‘My lord, I know I’ve brought you great grief, but I’ve come now to bring you a little solace. May I speak?’

‘Why not, silver dagger? I can’t think of one wretched thing you could do to hurt me any worse.’

‘You’ve lost your only son, and I know it’s a grievous thing to think your clan will die when you do. But I’ve come to tell you that your son sired a son before he died. It’s the child we spoke about in the malover, Vyna’s babe. The child’s a bastard, of course, but he could be legitimized.’

Beryn wrenched himself half round, then began to shake, like a spear stuck in the ground with a smack that then quivers itself still. At last he turned to her again.

‘I remember when the lass was sent away. Didn’t take any notice at the time. Some woman’s matter, I thought. Why didn’t my lady tell me about the child?’

‘Would she have told you anything that would have pleased you?’

‘Ye gods.’ For a long moment he was silent. ‘The little bitch.’

‘Here, my lord, how could the poor lass have turned your son away?’

‘Not the lass, you wretched imbecile of a silver dagger! My wife.’ He began to pace round and round in a tight circle. ‘Is the babe healthy?’

‘He is, my lord. His name’s Bellgyn.’

Round and round, and always he stared at the dirt beneath his feet. Jill made him an unnoticed bow and slipped away.

On the morrow, as soon as the dun came awake, the gwerbret summoned the two lords and their retinues to the table of honour in the great hall. Coryc rose, carefully impassive, and gave Beryn a nod of greeting.

‘I have a formal announcement to make, my lord,’ Coryc said quietly. ‘I intend to ride to your dun to question your lady on this matter of justice. If his lordship wishes to ride to her defence, then he has my guarantee of safe conduct out of my city and on my roads.’

Beryn snorted profoundly.

‘When you ride, Your Grace, I want to join your hunt for this piss-poor bastard merchant.’ Beryn jerked his thumb in Rhodry’s direction. ‘This silver dagger tells me that he’s sure Bavydd was in town last night. I’ll bet he’s fleeing south right now. A boon, Your Grace. If we catch him, let me have him.’

Coryc hesitated, looking Dwaen’s way as if the tieryn were his own conscience, there to testify about Bel’s laws.

‘It’s not for me to say what his grace may or may not do,’ Dwaen said. ‘My father’s death was more than I could bear in silence, but this time I’ll no longer push my rights before the law. Whatever you want done with the merchant, Your Grace, do.’

‘Then your boon is granted, Lord Beryn,’ Coryc said. ‘And we’d best get ready to ride.’

All that day the warbands pushed their horses hard and arrived at Dun Ebonlyn in early afternoon, where they stopped to eat and to tell Lady Ylaena the news. As the men were filing in, Jill saw Lord Beryn turn his men out of line and stop beside the gates. When she pointed him out to Dwaen, the tieryn rode over and made Beryn a small bow from the saddle.

‘His lordship is welcome in my dun,’ Dwaen said. ‘If he can bring himself to enter it.’

Slouched in his saddle, Beryn considered the offer. In the strong afternoon light, he looked exhausted, his eyes blood-shot, his cheeks slashed with deep wrinkles from a life out in the sun and wind. Finally Beryn sighed.

‘His grace is most generous,’ Beryn said. ‘My men and me can eat out in your ward. I’ve no desire to distress your lady mother and sister with my presence at your table.’

‘As his lordship desires, but I’ll have food from my stores brought out to you.’

‘My thanks. That much I’ll accept from you.’

The two men looked at each for a moment, neither smiling nor scowling.

‘I have a small matter to lay before you,’ Beryn went on. ‘Your silver dagger here tells me that kin of mine is sheltering in your dun.’

‘Vyna’s baby, Your Grace,’ Jill put in. ‘Madryc sired the lad.’

Dwaen caught his breath in a little whistle of surprise.

‘I’ll want to claim the lad,’ Beryn said. ‘Formally and legally, once we settle this other matter. He’s the only blasted kin I’ve got left.’

‘Never would I stand in your way, my lord, provided the lass agrees.’

Beryn scowled, started to speak, then merely shrugged and rode on inside.

Beryn’s men found a place to sit in the curve of the inner wall. Servants hurried out, bringing bread and cold meat for the men and the best oats for their horses. Beryn sat down on the cobbles in the midst of his warband and bellowed for ale. Jill hurried to the kitchen hut, where she found Vyna piling bread into a basket. On her back the baby slept in a cloth sling.

‘Cook?’ Jill called out. ‘Lord Beryn’s men need ale.’

‘Men always need ale,’ the cook said. ‘Pages! Where are you, lads? Run and get a small barrel.’