Chapter 4
Hafnard tortured me for half the night before finally getting bored and retiring back to his room, but he made sure to keep me chained up in the darkness before he left. When he returned early the next morning, I was passed out on the floor, my voice raw from screaming, but I had enough life in me yet to let him know what pit of hell I'd be dropping him into after this was over. He smiled at me with disdain, but all I could see were his teeth. I was already full of rage and hatred, but seeing those ridiculously crooked, stained teeth made me even more furious for being a captive of such a man. He talked that morning about how I was to stand trial before Lord Brecon and his court, and how he'd be disappointed to see me executed before he'd had a chance to use me for more experiments. He wanted to test poisons on me, and some new types of torture he'd dreamed up while sleeping last night. But the whole time he rattled on, all I could think of were the different ways I would kill this man if I had the chance.
He left shortly after arriving, leaving me chained up and alone for a good two hours before Rufus showed up, whereupon I silently devised painfully slow deaths for him as well. Aravon accompanied him, along with four other men from the household guard, each with dour looks on their faces that suggested that they hoped I would struggle. They'd come to escort me up to Brecon's hall to stand trial, although I doubt trial was the appropriate word since that implied some sense of impartiality or fairness. I was confident that Hafnard would allow none of that. Aravon walked up and stared at me quietly, his stoic elven face showing only the barest hint of disappointment. No one else would have caught that, but it spoke volumes to me. He signaled his men to unlock the chains from the latches that held them to the floor, and then led me out of the wizard's dungeon. As we climbed the stairs that led up to the morning sunlight I suddenly wondered if I'd see Saras before I died, and I felt a rare tinge of despair at the thought that my only friend in the world might already be dead.
I was taken across the back courtyard in chains, and all of the other soldiers out training stopped to watch me. I had trouble adjusting to the sunlight, so I kept my eyes down not out of shame, but because they hurt. But those men no doubt assumed the former, and I hated them for it. I hated them all for this system where I was to be put to death for words. I'd killed no one so I was no murderer. I'd stolen nothing, so I was no thief. But because of my words, I was to be put to death for a crime that for some was greater than murder or thievery, and it all had to do with the concept of honor. I hated everything about it.
In truth it was my fault, but I couldn't see that at the time. I'd come to a new land, thinking I had a new beginning, but instead I'd been careless and let my guard down. It's not easy to constantly watch your back, to always think three steps ahead in your dealings with people, to be ready for any kind of double-cross or treachery. It's exhausting. I'd let myself believe that by coming out here I'd earned some kind of break from the constant state of awareness I needed to be in back home. But you never get a break. Never. It didn't register with me until sometime after all of this, but I'd learned another valuable lesson. When you play with the fire that is a man's pride, you have to spend the rest of your life trying not to get burned.
Inside the great hall, dozens of finely dressed noblemen stood assembled, including Lord Brecon, Hafnard, Rufus, Strom and his priests, and a number of clerks and guards. Brecon's daughters and their attendants were there as well, standing regally to the side of the room. Melinna watched me with cold disinterest, Mirelle was so excited by the spectacle that she could hardly stand still, and Meranna could barely even look at me. But I didn't care about any of them. My attention was focused on the back of the room, where Saras stood with four of Brecon's guardsmen, his hands and feet manacled, his hair disheveled, his clothes ripped and bruises on his face and arms. I was glad to see him alive, but all I could worry about now was how to spare him from this. He didn't deserve to be punished for my mistakes, any more than I deserved to be punished for something I hadn't even actually done yet. I gave him a small nod as Aravon and his men paraded me across the hall to stand before Lord Brecon and his court, all while mentally tallying everyone in this room who would later die by my hand.
Hafnard stepped forward, holding a parchment in his hand. “Basileus Ondraedon,” he began, reading from the parchment, “you stand accused of treachery against the Lord of Aberweyn, of conspiring with his enemies, and of breaking your solemn oath to serve the Lord of Aberweyn. These charges have been verified by myself, and by my assistant Rufus, and we have both sworn to their truthfulness before the Lord of Aberweyn.”
“You both lie,” I said weakly.
“You will hold your tongue until you're permitted to speak by the Lord of Aberweyn!” he said with venom in his voice. He turned to Lord Brecon, who stood behind him. “I questioned him myself, my Lord, last night, in the presence of several of your own men. He admitted his treachery to me and to Rufus. He is plainly guilty, and he deserves a punishment that will make everyone in these lands know just how foolish it would be to commit such heinous crimes against you, my Lord.”
Lord Brecon said nothing. He only sat in his chair at the head of the hall and quietly considered me, a man who'd given him his oath, and who now stood accused of breaking that oath. Brecon was an honorable man, and he expected as much from those who served him, so I knew what my fate would be. I would die, probably very painfully, and Saras would no doubt follow me into the afterlife. I don't know if it was guilt, or shame, but I couldn't bear to return Brecon's gaze, so instead I watched the others arrayed around him, and all I could see from them were various degrees of contempt and disgust. They all either hated me, or despised me. Except for Meranna. For the first time since I'd been led into this hall, she looked at me, and I saw the same thing on her face that her father no doubt was trying to come to terms with – disappointment. And that's when it happened. That's when I decided to stop being mad at the world and start using my talents to extricate myself from this mess.
Hafnard continued in the silence. “You will also notice, my Lord, that there is no one here except for his own sworn man who would even bother to stand in his defense.”
Hafnard had me almost completely in his snare, so I needed something drastic to get through this alive. That meant it was time to gamble. “You're wrong. Why would I conspire to destroy Lord Brecon, a man I gave my oath to, when I'm in love with his daughter?” Gasps shot across the room, and apparently even Hafnard was confused by my new strategy because he had no retort. “And she loves me as well,” I said, slightly louder and more defiant, letting my exuberance speak for me. I looked at Meranna as I said that, and I waited nervously, for my life could very well depend on what she said next. Heads turned throughout the hall, and nearly everyone watched her in anticipation. But she just stared back at me, and I couldn't tell if she really did love me, or if she was coolly calculating how much of a bastard I was. My stomach wrenched as the entire hall waited for her response.
To my relief, she finally stood up and smiled at Lord Brecon. “I do love him, father!” I smiled back at her. She was a good little cow. If I'd been a better man I would have rewarded her for that. But all I cared about right now was that her words had the desired effect, putting the court into a quiet chaos, as men all around the room wondered out loud what this would mean for my fate. Hafnard walked over to Brecon and the two were now whispering at each other animatedly, while Meranna beamed at me. I fought through my urge to ignore her gaze, fully aware that she was my lifeline. But I also watched Hafnard carefully. I knew he wouldn't let this go. I'll never know what he said to Brecon, but my guess was that the Lord of Aberweyn suddenly became far less sure of these proceedings, and Hafnard was desperate to take me down any way he could. Hafnard was a powerful enough influence on Brecon to end up getting what he wanted, too, so I decided it was time to take advantage of the confusion and gamble again.
“I want a trial by combat,” I said loudly, and save for a couple of jeers behind me the ro
om hushed again.
Hafnard nearly spat at me with contempt. “You do not get to decide that!”
I ignored him, and looked only at Brecon, then kneeled down in the middle of the room before him. “The Lord of Aberweyn is an honorable man, and I know that he has honorable men who serve him. If I am guilty, then let the dragon lords of Dralasia guide their swords and strike me down for my crimes. But if I am innocent, then let my sword spare me in front everyone here in this room.”
People began to nod in support, including the priests, and Hafnard saw that. He knew this carefully planned proceeding was slipping out of his control, but he was a smart man, and he had one last trump card to play. So he turned to Lord Brecon, whispered in his ear, and he played it. Brecon nodded, then stood up and addressed the room. “I want to believe you, Basileus, for the sake of my lands, and my daughter, and especially your honor. But the charges against you must be addressed, and they shall be addressed in a trial by combat. You will fight for your honor here, before my court, against my champion.” He motioned to the elf standing quietly to his left. “Aravon.”
The hall erupted at that proclamation, and Hafnard smiled at me like a snake would smile at the rat it's about to devour. So there it was. My life now depended on me defeating the greatest swordsman in Aberwyen, a man who'd never lost a fight in single combat. And even knowing all of that, I felt strangely confident. I've often wondered as I've gotten older, if what I felt at that moment was a product of my youth, my ignorance, or my ability, and to this day I still don't know the answer. I suspect a bit of all three, because that's what it took to escape that moment alive.