The Dog of the North (29 page)

‘My lady, I too wish to extend my sympathies at your fate, not one that any observer would wish upon a fair maid.’ He paused. ‘You are a maid, are you not?’

Isola flushed. ‘Of course, sir; although it is no business of yours, or the court’s.’

Mongrissore raised a placatory hand. ‘You lived under Beauceron’s roof in all propriety, then?’

She set her jaw. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘His motives in offering you his protection were not, then, lewd in nature?’

‘It appears not.’

‘You have earlier advanced the theory that he felt guilt for having kidnapped you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Perhaps you can clarify this for me: if he felt so repentant at having taken you from your home and your future, why did he not simply release you?’

Isola’s face brightened. ‘That was no longer his option, sir. He had given me over to Davanzato’s custody on behalf of King Fanrolio.’

Mongrissore raised his eyebrows. ‘You were – and indeed are – not in the power of Beauceron, but of the King and Davanzato?’

Isola’s face fell again. ‘If you wish to think of it in those terms.’

‘We have established that you lived for a while at Beauceron’s expense. I understand that arrangement ceased with his arrest. Who pays your lodgings?’

‘The crown, sir.’

Mongrissore shook his head and gave an avuncular smile. ‘That is not strictly accurate, is it, my lady? Davanzato, as your ransom agent, bears the costs of your bed and board.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she mumbled.

‘I did not hear your answer, my lady. You must speak more distinctly.’

‘You know full well that Davanzato pays my expenses!’ she thundered.

Mongrissore put his hands over his ears.
‘Thank you,
my lady,’ he said. ‘I have established, I think, that Davanzato, who in somewhat irregular fashion is prosecuting
the case, exerts a potentially undue influence over you. Now, will you tell me of your feelings towards Beauceron?’

‘I have already told Davanzato.’

‘Frankly, I did not believe your account. You would have us believe that your anger with Beauceron was spent, and that you felt gratitude and even friendship at his generosity.’

Isola dabbed her nose with a handkerchief. ‘You emphasize the matter strangely. Beauceron was more generous than he needed to be, but he remains my abductor.’

‘I have several witnesses – we shall hear from them later – that you had promised to see Beauceron hanged in the market square at Croad.’

‘I may have said something to that effect.’

Mongrissore raised his hands. ‘Perfectly understandable, my lady. I doubt that I would view kidnap favourably. It does create a problem with your evidence, however. You can see
that?’

‘I am not clear as to your meaning, sir.’

‘You have exhibited a justifiable desire to be revenged on the man who kidnapped you. You would have every motivation to testify as to his treasonous activities whether that testimony were
true or not.’

Tears again rolled down her cheeks. ‘I have spoken the truth, sir.’

‘Has Davanzato promised you any reward for your testimony, my lady?’ Mongrissore continued with iron in his voice. ‘Or was the simple matter of revenge enough to persuade you
to betray a man who was attempting to make amends to you?’

‘There – there was no – inducement but truth.’

‘My lady, you are a liar and a dupe. Your only consolation is that you lie badly, the sign of a Harmonic soul, they say. I know Davanzato’s methods well. He has threatened that your
captivity will be less pleasant if you do not cooperate with his schemes. No doubt he has also promised you a share of the attainder on Beauceron’s conviction: enough, perhaps, to pay your
own ransom. That will never happen: can you imagine Davanzato parting with coin in that way? You must now tell the truth. It will not free your person, but it will free your soul.’

Isola sank to the ground.

‘Clear the court!’ called Davanzato. ‘Can you not see the lady is faint?’

‘No,’ said Isola weakly. ‘I must speak.’

There was silence. Beauceron was willing to guess nobody knew what she was going to say.

She rose unsteadily and turned to face King Fanrolio. ‘My apologies, Your Puissance. I have perjured myself today. Davanzato said to me that he did not have enough evidence to be certain
of convicting Beauceron, who was surely guilty. I knew that he would do anything to raise an army against Croad, so I was not lying; I was telling a truth which I had not heard.’

Beauceron prepared to interject but Mongrissore silenced him with a gesture.

‘I know that this was wrong,’ she said. ‘I wished to see Beauceron punished for his acts, and I also wish to see my home again. Davanzato assured me that my testimony would
secure both ends.’

She sat down. Beauceron said nothing but looked across at her. This time she looked up and met his eyes. He nodded at her and for a brief instant his expression could have been interpreted as a
smile.

‘Excellent!’ said Mongrissore, springing once more to his feet. ‘There is clearly no more to be said, unless we want to consider laying charges against Davanzato
today.’

‘A moment,’ said Davanzato languidly. ‘Lady Isola is much distraught, and who can blame her? She has said to me throughout the proceedings that she was aware of his guilt.
Imagine my shock at learning now that her “knowledge” was mere hearsay! I admit I should have probed her more deeply before bringing her before the court, but any man would have
hesitated before tyrannizing such a lovely and unfortunate lady.

‘The fact remains that the court has heard testimony not only from Sir Goccio but also from fourteen of his associates. The case against Beauceron remains strong.’

He turned to the Lords of Equity. ‘What do you say, my lords?’

Lord Ulrado shook his head in disgust. ‘You are no efficient prosecutor, Davanzato, but there remains a case to answer.’

Lord Gionardo nodded. ‘Only a fool fails to prepare a witness, but the King must have the chance to decide on Beauceron’s guilt. We shall reconvene tomorrow, His Puissance willing,
and set the farrago of today behind us.’

Fanrolio raised a liver-spotted hand. ‘So shall it be. The trial continues tomorrow.’

Beauceron sat waiting for the guards to take him back to his cell; he looked across to Isola and tried to attract her attention, but she rushed sobbing from the chamber, alone with her
shame.

1

Arren awoke the next morning with a sore head and a foul taste in his mouth. None of the pleasures of Glount, it seemed, were without cost.

Duke Panarre and Lord Thaume were closeted away with whatever business occupied them. Since Master Coppercake was also involved, Arren surmised it concerned either Panarre’s share of the
Mettingloom ransoms or, more alarmingly, betrothals and dowries.

Oricien and Guigot decided to spend the morning in the tilt-ring, where they could impress Lady Helisette and Lady Genevieva with their martial prowess. Arren could sense that their incipient
rivalry would be certain to be piqued as they vied to impress the ladies, and was not sorry when Lady Cerisa arrived to ask him to escort her and Siedra into the city for their visit to the
Molo.

The Molo was a tall lighthouse on the end of the spit which marked one boundary of the Bay of Glount. It was from here that Eleanora had cast herself into the waves at the end of
The Masque
of Louison and Eleanora,
on learning that her father had treacherously slain her lover.

‘Imagine!’ cried Lady Cerisa as they climbed aboard the cariolo which was to take them to the esplanade. ‘We shall see the very spot where the tragedy occurred! We shall all
sense the emanations, the very presence of doom – even you, Arren, although by and large you are insensitive to such matters.’

‘I was under the impression, my lady, that
The Masque
was a work of fiction.’

‘Arren, you are so literal-minded,’ said Cerisa with that air of disappointed melancholy she had made her own. ‘The bard Noevart has invested the tale with his own imaginings,
adding his own exquisite sensibility to events, but who can doubt the eternal verities of his tale?’

Arren was little the wiser. Was the story true or not? Lady Cerisa had been teaching them history and literature for the past three years, but at times her grasp of the distinction between the
two seemed imperfect.

‘What Lady Cerisa means,’ said Siedra, ‘is that in seeing the Molo we will gain a greater appreciation of the story Noevart has given us.’

Arren felt that they were likely to see little more than a lighthouse, but decided it was best to keep his own counsel.

The Molo lay outside the city walls and the cariolo deposited them some way from their destination, still inside the town.

‘We are not yet at the Molo,’ said Lady Cerisa.

‘This is as close as a cariolo will take you, my lady,’ said the coachman. ‘You would not thank me for juddering your arses over the track between here and the Molo.’

Siedra sniggered as Cerisa drew back from the affront. ‘Come, Cerisa, it will be an adventure. Surely Eleanora herself walked to the Molo.’

Cerisa assented with poor grace and the trio alighted from the cariolo. The esplanade was crowded by the wall-gate. Evidently some kind of market was in progress. Arren was mindful of
Coppercake’s strictures and resolved to keep the ladies away from the depredations of grasping merchants.

The inhabitants of Glount, with their olive skins and grey eyes, would have been pleasing to look on were it not for a certain superciliousness in their bearing. They carried themselves with a
fastidious sense of their own worth, in garments which tended towards the luxurious. From a fried food stall came the smell of sausages, reminding Arren that he had skimped breakfast. Lady Cerisa
would clearly regard sausages as beneath her dignity, and since he was in any event disinclined to haggle with the merchants, Arren resolved to go hungry.

Once they left the city through the gate the crowds thinned. The wind whipped in off the sea, leaving perky white wavelets in its train, and finding a route under Arren’s cloak and shirt
to the skin beneath. Siedra shivered and leaned into him a little.

The road down the spit towards the Molo became increasingly rutted. Neither Siedra nor Cerisa had appropriate footwear, and Siedra began to grow fretful.

‘How much longer?’ she complained.
‘The Masque
did not mention this infernal wind, and neither did Eleanora appear to risk turning her ankle with every
stride.’

Lady Cerisa beamed. ‘Does this not add to your conception of her tragic destiny? Can you not imagine her rushing to the Molo, desperate to warn Louison he has been betrayed, only to be
slowed by the couch grass, grasping with its envious strands?’

‘Louison could look to his own rescue were it down to me,’ grumbled Siedra. ‘She would have been better advised not to have trusted her father in the first place. It should
have been obvious to a child that he would kill Louison.’

‘You have no poetry,’ said Lady Cerisa. ‘Come, step out now! Ouch! Oh! Arren, my ankle is broken!’

Arren slowed his pace and looked to where Lady Cerisa had fallen to the ground amidst the tussocks. He doubted that her injury was serious.

‘Oh!’ she wailed. ‘Oh, what misfortune! The pain!’

Arren had no desire to examine her thick ankles at close quarters but saw no other way of assessing her injury. ‘Lie back,’ he said. ‘I will need to scrutinize for
myself.’

‘Siedra! Hold my hand, dear Siedra!’

Siedra removed her look of bored disdain and limply gave her hand to Cerisa as Arren palpated the ankle to cries of dismay. He rapidly concluded there was no serious damage, although convincing
Lady Cerisa might not be straightforward.

He stood up. ‘You must wait here a while, my lady. I will take Siedra with me to fetch help.’

‘No! Siedra must remain with me! What if ruffians approach? Those fishermen look coarse fellows.’

‘My lady, if ruffians are intent upon mischief, Siedra will not be the most effectual protector. She is Lord Thaume’s daughter, and I must protect her at all costs, even at a
theoretical risk to your own dignity.’

‘Siedra! Do not leave me amidst the dunes!’

‘Come now,’ said Arren. ‘Stout heart is called for. We shall only be an hour, or at most two. Say three to be absolutely safe. In such a romantic locale the time will surely
pass quickly.’

‘I find the pain is beginning to pass,’ said Cerisa with a doleful wince. ‘Help me up, and I think I may be able to hobble.’

‘You surprise me,’ muttered Siedra.

‘If you are truly sure, my lady,’ said Arren, and with some difficulty levered her to her feet.

From the quay wandered one of the ‘coarse fellows’ Lady Cerisa had so abominated.

‘Sir, Mesdames, may I be of assistance? I am Delippe.’

‘Thank you,’ said Lady Cerisa, bridling. ‘I stumbled but am now recovered.’

‘Ah!’ said Delippe with a smile. ‘The accents of Croad! You are perhaps visiting the Molo?’

Lady Cerisa looked carefully at the man. Tall and slender, with a twinkle in his eye, Delippe wore his shabby pantaloons and patched shirt with an insouciant swagger.

‘Yes, indeed we are,’ she said. ‘How much further?’

Delippe shrugged. ‘A few hundred yards only, but the ground is uneven . . .’

Lady Cerisa looked downcast; Arren felt rather more hopeful.

‘What if I were to take you on the
Glauticus,
my boat?’ asked Delippe. ‘Even with my crewmen aboard, there would be room for us all to sail out into the bay. You would
see the Molo from a most unusual angle, and have a day to remember.’

‘You are too kind!’ exclaimed Lady Cerisa. ‘Siedra, we are in luck!’

Siedra smiled weakly.

A moment, sir,’ said Arren. ‘What would your tariff be?’ He was mindful of Coppercake’s warnings.

Delippe raised his hands. ‘The amount would be nominal. I lose a certain amount of fishing time; shall we say a silver florin?’

Do not part with coin under any circumstances.
Arren remembered Coppercake’s injunction. Delippe seemed to sense his hesitation.