replied.
The man nodded and then turned to face Courtenay. 'My Lord,' he said, in deep sober tones, 'you do have the right to representation under the law. Do you wish to nominate someone to speak for you?'
Courtenay had bowed his head up until this point but as he heard the words he lifted his eyes to look up at the Speaker. He smiled at the man, staring into his eyes for what seemed like a long moment.
'His Majesty the King,' he said, 'will speak for himself.'
The Speaker turned towards Ysabel and nodded. 'Then,' he said, 'the proceedings shall begin.'
At that, he faded back to the side of the chamber, no doubt as eager as the rest to watch the events unfold.
Ysabel raised herself from the throne and stepped down to the main floor of the chamber, making her way across to the bar, steeling herself as she prepared to open her presentation of the charges. She took a deep breath.
'My Lords, Ladies,' she said, and then looked across to Winterburne and the others, before adding, 'friends. Today is a turning point for our country, and the weight of history stands upon our shoulders at this very moment. Courtenay stands here before you accused of treason, but, that is not the worst of his crimes.'
'Lies!' Courtenay shouted across the Hall towards Ysabel, and all in the room looked around at him. 'All lies!'
The Speaker stepped forward, towards Courtenay, and spoke. 'My Lord,' he said, 'whilst you have the right to speak in your own defence, and in due course, to reply to the Queen's challenges, you do not have the right to interrupt.'
'Even when she smears my character with such obvious falsehoods!'
'That,' the Speaker replied, 'remains to be seen, and is the sole judgement of the Council. If you interrupt again, I do have the power to have you removed and therefore forfeit the right of reply.'
Courtenay sighed. 'Very well,' he said.
'Please, Your Majesty,' the Speaker said, 'you may continue.'
Ysabel nodded her thanks, then said, 'The crimes with which His Lordship is accused are heinous in the extreme, and stretch across not only the Commonwealth but also reach to the Empire.
'Those crimes include, but are not limited to: murder, of the Emperor Leon de Monteacute; treason, and the plotting of the murder of Emperor Frederick de Monteacute; false usurping of the throne, namely the deposition of myself under coercion of the Council of Electors; and kidnap, of the children of Duchess Rennick, Duke Bekker and Duke Whitney.'
It took some time for Ysabel to detail Courtenay's deeds, and to examine the crimes that he had committed, one by one, but the Queen stacked them up surely and clearly, drawing a picture of a man willing to go to any lengths necessary to get what he believed to be right.
Deftly, she painted an image of a man deranged, a killer, treasonous to the extreme with no respect for the lives of those he used. Her audience captivated, she seemed to enjoy every moment, every nuanced description, and then eventually her work done, she fell silent, looking around the faces of her betters that sat opposite her and stared back at her in silence. Then, when she had finished, she turned and stepped across to her throne, sitting, a look of satisfaction on her face.
'Your Graces,' the Speaker said, 'you have heard the charges presented in relation to the offence of treason against not only the Commonwealth, but also the Empire. You have heard the charges of murder and attempted murder, and finally you have heard the charges of kidnap.' He glanced across to Winterburne and the others in acknowledgement.
He continued, 'Lord Courtenay has requested to speak on his own behalf, and under the law he has that right.'
Walking over to the centre of the chamber he waved to the edge of the room. Courtenay wrenched his arms free from the guards that had held him tight up until that point, frowning at the men and casting a evil look at them. Once released, he made his way across to the centre of the hall.
'My Lords, Ladies, my betters,' he said, looking along the faces of the Council, 'I am not a man given to great words and deeds, so I ask you to be patient at my efforts.' He paused, turning around the room and gazing in turn into the eyes of all who watched. 'But despite what has been painted here today, I am an honourable man, and I care deeply for my country, and for the legacy that this generation leaves to its children and grandchildren.
'For too long the Commonwealth has been the victim of a grave injustice.' He looked around him. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's right, an injustice. Stolen lands. Lands taken by force, and until this very day still held against the will of the rightful owners.
'And, the greatest insult of all against the people of this great nation is that you have invited some of the very perpetrators into this Hall today.'
He swung his arm around behind him and pointed towards Winterburne.
'You have allowed the thieves and criminals into your very own home. Yes,' he said, 'you have allowed those very wolves to bed down with the lambs. These are the enemy! These! Not I!
'For too long has the Emperor and his men offered forth their liars as peacemakers and tried to give them an air of truth and respectability. Do not trust them. Do not believe them.
'And, I say, do not fall for the words of courtship offered by the rogue. The false witnesses standing before you would have you keep the lie in place rather than do what is right, and what is just.
'Would you believe the words of the very people that would keep power for themselves? In the same way, would you overturn the democratic right of the people to choose their own leaders through a due process? To choose their own path?
'I implore you, do not be blinded, friends. This trial is not about me, or any attempt I may have made to do what is right, and proper, and just. It is not about what I am alleged to have done, which I vehemently deny I would add. It is about a matter of principle, and it is more important than you or I. It is about whether you would allow these people—Ysabel, Frederick and his petty rabble-rousers—to divert your attention away from the truth, to bend the will of the majority of you.
'This, Your Graces, is your chance to ensure that the principle of democracy is upheld, and for the rule of law to continue to reign supreme.
'I now throw myself at your mercy.'
Courtenay fell silent as he uttered the final words, and that silence spread over the others present, its weight almost palpable.
Winterburne looked at his two companions and his eyes widened. The others stared back at him and from their own look he could tell that they shared the same feelings as he. It had, without doubt, been an eloquent speech and there was something about the man's hypnotic voice that had captivated even him, convinced even him that perhaps somehow the events that he had witnessed, had been part of, both here in the Commonwealth and at home in the Empire, had not happened in quite the way that he had remembered. If he felt that way, having been there, having lived through those times, then perhaps there was a chance that the Electors, all except three of them at least, might feel the same and be soothed by those very same words.
He looked across the room towards Ysabel, but her eyes were firmly fixed on the face of Duchess Rennick who stared back at her. Was that a look of doubt on her face also? It seemed so. Doubt, and concern.
Then, the silence was broken by the Speaker as he tapped his rod onto the wooden floor three times to signify the end of the treaties. The doors to the side of the chamber opened as the pages made their way into the chamber, bringing forward the voting cubes and bowl to the centre. When they had reached their allotted stations he turned towards the Electors.
'And now,' he said, 'for the matter at hand.'
The silence grew in the Hall again, building for a long moment, and then the man spoke.
'If,' he said, 'you believe Lord Courtenay to be guilty of the crimes outlined here today, then you will vote white in support of the charges. If you believe him innocent, then you will vote against the charges by posting black. The vote,' he said, 'is now open.'
The Electors looked along their lines and then slowly they rose from their seats, one
by one climbing down the steps and moving towards the blue-glass voting vessel. Each member of the council in turn reached into the bowl, dropping in a cube to represent their view. At each vote, the cube rang against the glass as it fell to the bottom of the bowl.
One by one, they resumed their seats. Duchess Rennick was the last, and as soon as she was comfortable she nodded her readiness to the Speaker. He picked up the bowl and poured the contents onto the tray. The cubes clattered across the surface to land in their final positions. Without exception they were white.
'The Electors have judged that Courtenay is guilty of the charge of treason,' he said, picking up the bowl and handing it back to the page that had brought it.
'The charge,' he continued, 'as Your Graces will all know, is a capital offence. There is, therefore, no opportunity for clemency based on mitigating circumstances. In view of this fact Lord Courtenay is awarded the only judgement available under the law. Death.'
Courtenay's head remained bowed.
'My Lord,' the Speaker said, 'you have the right to speak. Is there anything that you wish to say in response to your sentencing.'
Courtenay raised his head slowly and looked around the room, first to Ysabel, and then around the faces of the Electors.
'Go to hell,' he said, spitting on the floor, 'all of you.'
'You may take him,' the Speaker said to the guards.
Courtenay was dragged from the room, the chains