Death Plays a Part

‘So even if a prisoner miraculously made it out of the dungeon, he’d not be out of the castle yet. He would most likely be spotted. At night the gate was closed, and a gatekeeper kept watch over it. Also keep in mind that the island’s cut off from the mainland during high tide. So a prisoner would have to know exactly when he could use the causeway or have a boat ready for his escape.’

‘It could only have been done with an accomplice,’ Guinevere said. The silence made her lower her voice. ‘If someone came from the outside, to lure the guard away, made sure a boat was ready and waiting along the beach … Maybe even delivered the key of the shackles to the prisoner.’

‘In a homemade pasty?’ Oliver grinned. ‘We should have forgotten about re-enacting this boring trial and gone for a daring escape instead. It would have been so much more fun.’

He made a movement as if he brandished a club over his head. ‘Knock the guard down, sneak through the dark passageways …’

Guinevere had to laugh. ‘I think the historical society would not have approved. That’s not how Branok’s story played out.’

‘Well, sometimes to sell something you need a little fiction to make it juicier. Ah, the lighter. Can you open the lanterns’ doors for me? They’re slightly crooked and never stay open when I want them to.’

They had to stand closely together to make it work. Guinevere looked at Oliver’s features as the lighter’s flame threw shadows across it. She couldn’t make any sense of him. What he was about. If he really disliked his father and the castle, or only pretended he did.

And if so, why.

‘Hello?’ Oliver tapped her shoulder. ‘Are you there? We’re all done. Father can come down to lock Haydock in. My part as judge will be a disaster of course. I haven’t had time to rehearse, and Haydock will be livid when my stumbling ruins the flow.’

He leaned over to her, whispering, ‘Who knows, I might condemn that scoundrel to death anyway.’

***

The flickering light of a few candles illuminated the group gathered in the tall room.

Oliver sat on a carved chair, holding a broomstick by way of wand of office. His father had said he would only produce the real wand, which was part of the castle’s collection, for the actual trial. That one special night when everybody would be present.

Kensa, grave in her plain garment, had given her testimony to condemn Branok for killing two innocent children when he had ordered the house to be set on fire.

‘But he never knew the children were in there,’ Leah had just said. She was a witness to defend Branok and plead his innocence. ‘You yourself had left them, being a bad mother who neglected her brood. You were at the inn meeting men and inviting them to the attic above the horse shed.’

‘I am not proud to say I made money that way in the old days,’ Kensa replied, ‘but not any more after I wed Merek.’

Leah laughed. ‘We all know Merek is a weak man who drinks too much. He may earn money but he spends it on stout and ale, not on your children. If you wanted them to have anything, anything at all, you had to return to your old trade.’

Oliver lifted a hand. ‘Do we know,’ he asked in an exaggerated baritone voice, ‘where the accusing party was when her house burned to the ground? Was she really at the inn with men?’

‘I have witnesses to confirm it,’ Leah said eagerly, gesturing to where Tegen and Bolingbrooke were waiting for their turn.

‘All liars, for gain!’ Kensa cried. She beat her fist on the wooden table before her.

‘You are accusing the other party of bringing bought witnesses into this court?’ Oliver asked.

‘Before this tribunal,’ Bolingbrooke corrected audibly from the side.

Guinevere suppressed a laugh, as this was so like rehearsal in their London theatre.

Oliver frowned at the interruption, but the women, completely into their parts, were already moving on.

Kensa cried, ‘Yes, my lord, he has done it before. He is a wicked man who buys people’s words for gain. He is a murderer too, of innocent children.’

‘She is just accusing Branok out of spite.’ Leah’s cheeks were red as she leaned forward. She had let down her hair, and it hung to her shoulders in waves, framing her delicate features. The dark colour of the plain garment underlined her solemnity. ‘Branok never wanted her and told her husband of her lecherous activities at the inn. Merek beat her for it, and she blamed Branok. But it was her own doing that got her beaten and also got her children killed. The thatch on the roof caught fire when she was not there. It was not arson.’

Oliver opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to have forgotten his lines. He scrambled to pull a piece of paper from his pocket.

Bolingbrooke called out, ‘Hurry up with that cheat sheet; you’re spoiling the momentum.’

Oliver nodded. ‘Calm yourself. I’m just a stand-in. What does he say here? Oh, yes. Do you have proof of that?’

‘The house is burned to the ground,’ the mother wailed. ‘How can I produce proof of anything?’

‘We can confirm that Branok was elsewhere at the time,’ Leah said. ‘He didn’t do this evil deed. Nobody did. It was an accident.’

Guinevere thought that, if Leah was like this in real court cases, she had to win a lot. But then she wasn’t even sure what Leah’s part in her father’s law firm was and what kind of cases they handled. Maybe it was just settling disputes and mediating between people? Nothing as big and dramatic as this old trial. It seemed like tension grew with every line, filling the room up to the shadows in the rafters overhead.

‘It is high time I hear the accused speak his own mind.’ Oliver rose slowly from his seat. ‘I will go to him in his place of …’

He consulted his cheat sheet again. ‘Confinement. Looking at this poor woman who suffered such loss, he will not be able to lie. I will see in his face if he speaks the truth.’

He looked around. ‘Is that the way they did it those days? Just take the villain’s word for it that he hadn’t done it?’

Bolingbrooke exhaled as if the delay was getting on his nerves. ‘Apparently. As Branok was influential, his word was worth a lot. And what else do you suggest to get at the truth? Torture?’

Oliver waved the broomstick. ‘All right, I get the point. Let’s go down into the dungeon then. Did the whole group come?’

‘Yes, of course. How else can we have another altercation between the accusing and defending parties?’

‘But during the re-enactment you actually propose to take the audience down there? There’s not much room.’

‘I guess that we might have to bring Branok up then and do it here anyway. However, I like the dramatic setting of the dungeon and the sort of … sense of impending doom it has. The presence of death.’

Tegen, who didn’t have to speak in this section, gave a little shriek.

Oliver shook his head at his father. ‘You lay it on too thick.’

Guinevere said, ‘We could build a stage version of the cage in the dungeon right here in the room. That way you could have Branok in his cell present in the proceedings.’

‘Rattling his chains at us and shouting abuse.’ Oliver grimaced.

‘Very funny,’ Leah said with a pinched expression.

Oliver exhaled as if he wanted to apologize for what he had said, then his expression tightened and he just snapped, ‘Follow me.’ To Guinevere he said, ‘Dolly had better stay here. We’ll be back up in ten minutes.’

‘Stay, girl.’ Guinevere gave the doggy a quick pat on the head. She sat down and watched them with her inquisitive little eyes, her tail wagging across the floorboards.

Carrying the wand of office like it was a sword he could use to hack at invisible enemies, Oliver led the way into the dungeon. Guinevere was in the back of the group making its way down there and entering into the flickering light of the tea lights in the lanterns.

Her eyes strained to see the figure of Haydock sitting at the table. She remembered that he had specifically requested a table and chair be brought in to make it easier for him.

Kensa called out, ‘Arthur! What’s wrong? Arthur!’ She pushed forward.