The Stealers' War (38 page)

‘These are all lies!’ shouted Willow, when she could stand this procession of falsehoods no more.

‘Lady Landor,’ instructed the judge seated in the middle of the trio. ‘You will instruct your step-daughter into silence until she is questioned. If Lady Wallingbeck continues to disrupt the trial, she will be removed and verdict will be announced on her in absentia.’

Willow cursed them, but silently.
I have to stay quiet. They’re trying to goad me. That’s the point of this. If I’m not present here I can’t do what needs to be done.

At last, the pawns had finished perjuring themselves and it was the turn of the bigger pieces, including the viscount, to slide on to the board. Willow glared with loathing when the bastard she’d been sold to like a piece of cattle, was questioned.
You think you’ve won, William Wallingbeck? Are you happy to have me back in your hands? I’ll show you what a poor victory you have purchased.

Willow could barely stand to listen to the southern nobleman while he repeated the same lies his lackeys had told. But she forced herself to, in case she missed something vital she might need to use later.

The prosecutor reached the end of whatever fictions the two had agreed on before the trial began. He held his black robes’ lapels, speaking slowly and with gravity. ‘Viscount Wallingbeck, it is one of your household’s poor servants who was viciously murdered. Under the High Law you have the right to speak for redress in this matter. What do you ask?’

‘I ask that my misguided wife receive a reprieve of any sentence pronounced here until delivery of my house’s heir,’ said Wallingbeck. ‘A child should never suffer for the sins of its mother. After the child is born then any verdict of this court must be served.’

‘Noble sentiments. Let your statement be noted by the court,’ said Callum Perry.

Next, in this carnival of villains, it was Leyla Holten’s turn, called as Willow’s defence. Willow barely managed to bite down a tirade of abuse, only keeping a vestige of self-control by the middle judge’s stony demeanour as she caught the man’s gaze. There was something final and implacable about that stare. But there was something else, too. Unless Willow misread the situation, it seemed to her that the senior judge, however imported he may be, was less than happy about the irregular manner of his summoning from Arcadia to this far-called prefecture.

As Willow expected, Leyla Holten made no real attempt to dispute the charge of murder, admitting that she had herself administered to the dying servant after he fled the room where Willow had assaulted him. ‘But,’ Leyla said, opening her arms to the court, ‘I beg that you forgive my daughter her sins. Lady Wallingbeck was a fine young woman before she fell under the spell of the ruffian son of the notorious outlaw Jake Silver, more commonly known as the felon Jacob Carnehan.’

‘For the purpose of clarity, you mean the warlord from the Burn who was nicknamed Quicksilver?’ probed the prosecutor. ‘Brother of the privateer and pirate Black Barnaby?’

‘I wish I had never heard that terrible family’s dark name,’ said Leyla, ‘so many problems have they created for my family.’

‘To the land, madam, to the nation,’ said Callum Perry. ‘And this man’s son would be Carter Carnehan, a known insurrectionist loyal to the cause of the pretender assaulting our beloved nation’s throne?’

‘The apple does not fall far from the tree.’ Tears rolled down Holten’s cheeks.

I’m surprised those false tears don’t burn her like fire.

‘I tried my best for my step-daughter,’ moaned Holten. ‘I removed her from the influence of that demon Carter Carnehan, sending her to the season in Arcadia. She met Viscount Wallingbeck there and marriage quickly followed. I had such high hopes for her. But the curse of the Carnehans and their thieving wickedness proved too strong. When the Carnehans followed Willow down to the capital they quickly joined in the pretender’s coup against our lawful king. They corrupted my impressionable Willow anew! It is the Carnehans who are ultimately responsible for the slaying of that poor servant. Without the steady drip of their poison, my daughter would still be happily married, my husband would be about to welcome his first grandchild into the world.’

‘You show a true mother’s concern,’ said the prosecutor, ‘as befits your rank and house.’

There were calls of
pity
and
mercy
from the gallery, onlookers moved by the sorrowful tale of a daughter’s fall over her forbidden love.

‘But that a daughter of your house has been corrupted by such sinful association can be no excuse under law for the cold-blooded murder of an innocent member of staff. If you, Lady Landor, stabbed to death one of your housekeepers in a fit of pique, would you expect to escape the verdict of our court through virtue of your title?’

‘I am equal under law to anyone here,’ said Holten. ‘The justice of King Marcus is as much mine as it is of any man or woman sitting in the public benches today.’

‘Then I say to the court that we cannot extend leniency to your step-daughter, however much that decision and duty pains us.’ Callum Perry turned towards Willow. ‘If the defender rests her case then the prosecutor shall call for a due verdict to be made. Lady Wallingbeck, do you have anything to say in this case and do you recognize this court.’

And there’s the trap.
‘I have little to say that would please anyone here, so I shall retain my silence, beyond saying that of course I recognize the court’s authority.’

‘You recognize it? Are you certain?’

His shock this time needed no acting skills.
Yes, you thought to goad me into cursing you all for a pack of paid-for lapdogs trotting behind Bad Marcus
. Willow grimaced at the cunning lawyer. ‘The High Laws of Weyland’s upper chamber are the foundation stones of our legal system.’
Hard, cold stones that should have remained long covered over by the Common Law.

‘Then I call the court to its verdict.’

The three judges filed away, returning to their seats in short order.
Too soon. But then, how could I expect anything else?
A clerk of court arrived. He was passed down three scrolls by the judges. Should the clerk approach Leyla Holten first with the verdict, then Willow was judged innocent. Naturally, the clerk crossed to the prosecutor for the verdict to be read, drawing moans from the crowd.
Everyone loves an underdog
.

‘Lady Wallingbeck,’ pronounced the lawyer. ‘You are found guilty of the foul murder of Lloyd Horting. Your sentence is to be execution on the public gallows . . . hanging from the neck until you shall be made dead. This sentence will be commuted until three days after you have given birth, and carried out no later than seven days after the birth of your first child.’

There were weeps of consternation from members of the public. They had come for their spectacle, their torrid little drama, and they had certainly been given it.

Let’s see if I can toss them a little extra spectacle.
‘Who brings this case against me?’ asked Willow, fighting to keep her voice under control.

‘What?’ said the prosecutor, uncertain. ‘What do you say?’

Willow’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘What I say is that my house has just exercised its right of defence of defamation of its good name through my “mother”. But who dares to bring this case of murder against the House of Landor? There will be a name on the rolls, I trust, of the vile liar who accuses me?’

‘It is your husband, the honourable Viscount Wallingbeck.’

There was a murmur of disapproval from the gallery at that, even one well-packed with the usurper’s sympathizers and his shills in the press. For a husband to seek the trial of a pregnant wife was viewed ungallant in the extreme by southern gentlemen.

‘The verdict has now been pronounced,’ said the prosecutor. ‘These are unnecessary details to dwell on.’

Willow jabbed a finger at Leyla Holten. ‘While that failed actress was bedding her way to
my
fortune, I was busy studying in Hawkland Park. Mastering commerce, learning how to keep my family estate in hale health. Learning how to preserve our holdings and increase them. There are thousands of books in so big a library, many of them full of detail, both necessary and unnecessary. Even a very dusty and faded full set of the High Law of the House of Prefects.’

‘Verdict has been pronounced,’ repeated Callum Perry, sounding increasingly shrill.

‘I heard you the first time,’ growled Willow. ‘I have a very fine set of ears. Not quite as aesthetically pleasing as
that
woman’s, but they serve me well enough. What you’re too stupid to realize is that I needed you to pronounce immediately. You certainly didn’t fail to disappoint me. Under the High Law of Weyland I reject this verdict and request lawful Trial by Ordeal under Conciliar Jurisdiction of the Prefecture.’

‘Trial by—’ the prosecutor spluttered, ‘—you mean trial by
combat
?’

‘I do.’

‘You are female, you are with child!’

‘So I am. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than running a sabre through William Wallingbeck’s repellent heart,’ said Willow. ‘And believe me when I say, if I wasn’t presently as slow as a pit-pony with half a quarry in both baskets I would jump at that opportunity.’

‘Then you have no choice but to accept our verdict.’

‘No, the High Law clearly states that I have the right to appoint a male champion to fight William Wallingbeck on my behalf, as long as that champion is from my house and fit to defend my honour. My father’s a little old for it, don’t you think? So I select my brother Duncan Landor to act as my champion.’

‘Your brother will have no part in this!’

‘Then I must refer you to the Privy Prefect Councillors’ second edict made at the Assize of Riverlarn which states that refusing to act as a champion be the act of a craven and punishable by force of axe to the neck,’ said Willow. ‘And after Duncan’s executed, I’ll select my father as champion. And if he refuses . . . well, you see my point. You’ll find the assize in the twelfth volume of the High Law if you have the thirty-six volume set.’

‘You will not prosper by this!’

‘I believe I just did. You can follow the ancient High Law,’ said Willow, ‘or Bad Marcus can restore the Assembly and our Common law and I will accept retrial by a jury of my peers and a defenderunder-law of my employment. Now, Mr Perry, I’m ravenous. Kindly scare me up some supper. After that you had better slip away to the guild’s radio hold and send a message to your king explaining how you failed. Then, cooking for me will, I suspect, look like a very satisfying choice among the few left to you.’

The prosecutor turned towards the judges beseechingly. ‘I ask that this case be struck off and removed for immediate retrial.’

The elderly judge in the middle of the three smiled ever so slightly. ‘After a verdict made and accepted by both sides? Please, sir, please. Never in a thousand years. The High Law is the High Law, sir. It is the granite of our throne. Lady Wallingbeck, the right of Trial by Ordeal under Conciliar Jurisdiction of the Prefecture is yours. As originally granted by Queen Hazilire, I believe.’

‘Quite so, your honour,’ said Willow, with just the right tone of humility.

There was uproar in court at the unexpected turn of events. Willow stood up from her hard stool and blew Leyla Horton a kiss. The palefaced woman looked like she’d been struck by a bucket of night-soil tossed out of a window. ‘This one’s for you,
Mother
.’

Willow had rather hoped that she wouldn’t have to see Leyla Holten again until the day of her trial-by-combat, but as always, just hoping for it had made the woman’s appearance more likely. Leyla Holten strode her way into Willow’s cell after the door swung open, kicking damp straw aside with disgust. Willow had smelled the strong sweet perfume before the door opened. However expensive the scent, it couldn’t compensate for the reek of the provost office’s cells under Northhaven’s army barracks.
Not exactly made for comfort
. Willow didn’t bother sitting up from the rickety bed frame that was her sole possession here. She suspected that if she hadn’t been with child, and that child the future property of Viscount Wallingbeck, she wouldn’t even have that much.

‘You think you’ve won, don’t you?’ barked Leyla, by way of greeting.

‘I think you would have been better off leaving me in exile in Rodal, old woman.’

Maybe it was the
old
that got under Leyla’s skin, but she trembled with rage. ‘You haven’t beaten me! I will transform this farce you have arranged into a blade to cut your throat.’

‘What’s the matter, did all the society invites dry up after your “daughter” escaped and joined the rebellion?’

‘I have higher friends than you can imagine. What do you hope to achieve by this duel you’ve tricked the court into ordering? Do you think the viscount will slay his own brother-in-law, or that Duncan will fight to the death for a sister who has betrayed him twice?’

‘Well, they could both fight like milksops to the first blood,’ said Willow. ‘But you know how serious our gentlemen of the south are about their honour. That’ll surely sully the name of both houses. Maybe my mischief will be enough for me.’

‘You’re trying to buy time,’ said Leyla. ‘But for what?’

‘For Prince Owen to win.’

Leyla laughed coldly. ‘You don’t need weeks for that, you need centuries. The pretender is finished. Parliament’s rebel army has broken and fled the field.’

‘Not so long as Jacob Carnehan is alive.’

‘Your revolutionist pastor? He’s an outlaw working beyond his talents. He lost the war in the north and now he’s been left cowering in our neighbour’s crags across the border. King Marcus rules over all of Weyland.’

There was something about the way Holten said the king’s name that told Willow everything she needed to know about the woman’s ‘friends’ in high places. Willow almost pitied her father, the choices he had made.
There’s no fool like an old fool
. Taking the king’s mistress to bed might yet prove a chancy business. ‘Quicksilver already has a grave marked just for Bad Marcus.’

‘Let the fool keep it for himself. Did you know that one of the mercenary carriers hired by King Marcus is commanded by Carnehan’s own brother, Black Barnaby? There’s something fitting about engaging the services of a pirate to kill a brigand, don’t you think? Even the pastor’s own family has turned against him and seeks to ingratiate itself with the winning side.’