The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 16

  It was hard to let her go, but somehow he managed to say goodbye and wished her success in her meeting. She rode slowly through the streets wondering what to expect from the strange cast of characters she was about to meet. She had always preferred the honesty and simplicity of performing in villages and small towns; she did not like the intrigue and backstabbing found in royal courts and other seats of power. She could have easily found a position as a royal bard or minstrel but preferred a pastoral setting and roaming from village to village. These musings filled her mind until she reached the palace gates and told the guards her business. Her mare was whisked away to the stable and she was escorted to Conrad's quarters. It had been many years since she had met the man, but she remembered him as a cheerful and talkative sort of person. Her memory had not disappointed her. He bowed to her and said, "welcome to Vespera Arora. It has been far too long."

  She returned his courtesies replied, "I come not only for a social call but also on urgent business." She then detailed what they knew of the Brotherhood and the sinister man they had been following.

  He said, "so Tristan is back is he. It was probably wise of him to keep his presence hidden for the moment. Things are very unsettled in Vespera at present." He then described how a mysterious Count from West of mountains, from the lands between the mountains and the sea, had appeared in Vespera some months before. He said he was sent as an emissary by the Queen of Westria to the Queen of Vespera, though no other countries Conrad had queried had received such an envoy. He wondered why their small country had been thus singled out. Arora then told Conrad of Tristan's adventures in Westria and even more doubt was cast upon the shadowy Count Cisco.

  To make matters worse, the man was engaged to the Queen! They were to be married as soon as he finished some business or other in the North. The man had just returned from a months’ long absence and the wedding was to take place the day after tomorrow. It was obvious to both that the Queen was about to marry one of the members of the Brotherhood of the Serpent, and he was very likely the fugitive servant from Westria. Arora asked how the Queen had chosen him as a prospective husband. Conrad replied, "no one can explain it. One day he shows up on the doorstep unannounced and the next he is one of her top advisors and not very long after that she has announced that he will be her future husband and King of Vespera. I know she had a thing for Tristan a year ago, but that seemed to pass. I did not think she was this desperate! She did say that Tristan had told her to ask me about why he could not be her husband. I told her he had duties elsewhere and had taken Oaths preventing such an attachment. This seemed to satisfy her and she was in a very thoughtful mood for some days but then seemed herself again. She has been much more reserved and withdrawn since this Cisco character appeared. It sounds a similar case to what the Queen of Westria suffered under her advisor."

  "Have you been able to break through this cloud of confusion, as Tristan's presence seemed to do in Westria?" asked Arora.

  Conrad answered, "I have not been allowed near Her Majesty since she fell under the influence of this viper. I am only allowed to attend her at court and then I must sit in the very back. A private conversation is strictly prohibited. The only one of her advisors who seems to like the man is Lyre, but then he likes anyone who might advance his position in life. The few times I have been near the man the evil is nearly palpable."

  "Do you think I can get near her?" asked Arora, "say for a private performance?"

  Conrad smiled, "I can do even better than that! They need a skilled musician for the wedding ceremony and if your skill is half what it is reputed to be then you are a sure pick. They are holding auditions this afternoon."

  "Perfect," said Arora, "then I had better go and get ready." She bid him farewell and left for the inn.

  Tristan was very happy to see her again so soon though grieved by her news of the Queen’s impending nuptials. He agreed that they must stop the wedding, and her plan seemed most likely to at least get them an invitation. What they were to do once they had crashed the wedding was another matter. Whatever the cost, the Queen must not be allowed to take any vows with the vile Count. Arora slipped into a suitable dress, tuned her instrument, and then headed directly for the auditions. The auditions were a simple affair. The music for the wedding was given to each participant and they were to play and or sing the pieces as best they could and the person who gave the most pleasing performance would be hired to perform at the wedding. There were several traveling musicians, a few local favorites, two bards, and a minstrel along with Arora. As she was the last to sign up, she was also the last to perform. When her turn came, the judges had pretty much decided that either the minstrel or one of the bards were sure to get the nod. But after a few minutes of hearing this no-name musician play there was no argument. She was given a copy of the music to take home and practice and told to report to the site of the ceremony first thing in the morning for the rehearsal. The other performers eyed her enviously but none could deny that she was by far the superior musician. Tristan spent the day trying to come up with some sort of plan and also arranging a disguise for himself. Arora returned to the inn, and nearly pulled her sword on the strange stooping man she found lurking in her room. It was Tristan. He had hunched up his back under a loose-fitting tunic and had somewhere acquired a realistic looking grey beard and ill-fitting cap (though a less sympathetic person might accidentally mistake it for a sack). He introduced himself as her new assistant; a deaf and crippled beggar upon whom she had taken pity. His sword fitted nicely in his makeshift cane. She laughed aloud at his disguise and decided that if his own wife could not recognize him, neither would their enemies.

  The morning of the rehearsal dawned clear and blue with just a hint of warmth in the otherwise bitter wind, a promise Spring but not quite yet. She arrived with her faithful servant whose only job appeared to be handing her things with his one free hand (the one that was not busy holding a cane). He got a few strange looks, but most of those present were used to the eccentricities of accomplished artists and no more attention was given to the matter. They only cared about how well she performed, and if her performance the day before was any indication, nothing else mattered. The wedding seemed a straightforward affair. She would play some pretty though pointless music as the officials and guests were paraded in and seated. Then the presiding official (Lyre!) walked in to some very pompous music. After he took his place at the head of the chamber, the music would change to a somber yet beautiful melody as the groom walked in and took his place. An excited (and triumphant) march would then play as the bride entered, followed by her ladies and a guard of honor. The queen seemed rather bland for a bride-to-be on the eve of her wedding, but no one dared to comment. The mysterious Count went through the rehearsal as if he were enduring some tedious, though necessary task. They went through it several times and once everything seemed to be going perfectly the Queen begged to retire to her quarters due to an overwhelming weariness. Cisco watched her go with a predatory smile before he also left. There were a few more obscure details to be gone over but soon enough everyone was dismissed and asked to be present again the following afternoon. Tristan could not have asked for a better chance to perfect his plan.

  The afternoon of the wedding arrived overcast and gloomy; bitter drops of rain fell on the gathered crowd as if nature itself mourned the event about to take place. The songstress took her place and performed to perfection. Her bent assistant stood in the back, unobserved and unnoticed. When he was sure no one was looking, he donned the uniform and armor of one of the guards of honor and took his place as the sixth man in the party (the unfortunate man whose place he was filling had mysteriously disappeared a few moments ago, thanks to some assistance from Conrad). With the faceplate of the helmet down nobody knew he was an imposter. Their turn came and they marched out, stationing themselves three on each side of the aisle. Once they had t
aken their stations and the music reached its end, Lyre readied himself to begin. Every eye focused on the front as the ceremony was about to begin. Then everyone froze in stunned silence as a loud voice said, “Count Cisco you are hereby under arrest; your sinister plot has failed. You will not continue with the ceremony.”

  “How dare you!” snarled Cisco as Tristan lifted his faceplate and came towards him with sword drawn.

  “No, how dare you,” replied Tristan, “you will not entangle the Queen so easily in your plots.”

  “If I cannot have her no one shall,” said Cisco as he grabbed the apparently dazed Queen and shoved her to the ground. Her ladies rushed to her side and found her so deeply asleep at first they thought her dead.

  “What are you doing here?” gasped Lyre once he realized who the interloper was, “I thought you dead or exiled or…” He drew his sword and was about to rush Tristan when he felt Conrad’s blade at his throat and was forced to stay where he was. The other guards glanced from the prone figure of their Queen and to the reason for her current state, who Tristan held at sword point. They decided not to intervene on behalf of the man who might have slain their Queen. The audience watched in astonishment and no one moved.

  “This man murdered two of my colleagues in Westria and forced me to flee,” said Cisco to all within earshot.

  “This man is part of a vile organization that plotted the overthrow of the Westrian throne and led me into an ambush. His colleagues were conspirators and traitors and he was forced to flee because their plot became known and the Queen of Westria called for his head. He plans to do a similar evil in Vespera,” said Tristan.

  “By whose authority do you attempt to arrest me?” asked Cisco.

  “Does it matter whose authority?” asked Tristan, “you are a traitor and have violated the laws of Westria, Vespera, the Brethren, and the Order and I am sure you have done many other evils in the course of your service to the Brotherhood of the Serpent. Pick whichever authority you prefer. Now drop your weapon; I do not wish to use force but will.” With that the man came at Tristan with a full-fledged attack. The battle was fierce, though short. He was very good with the sword but Tristan was better. As he lay dying Tristan asked, “where does the Brotherhood keep their headquarters?”

  The dying man laughed, “fool, they have no headquarters. We are a secret and scattered people. If we had a headquarters we could be destroyed, but with no centralization we are impossible to eradicate! You will never destroy us…” he trailed off and said no more. Those gathered around gasped as he dissolved into an oily slick on the floor.

  “How is the Queen?” Tristan asked.

  “She still breathes though barely,” sobbed one of her attendants. Tristan knelt beside her. She was very pale and cold to the touch; her breath came very slowly. Tristan felt an evil pall hanging about her.

  “She is under some evil spell,” he said, “she lives, but barely.”

  With the conflict seemingly over, Conrad dropped his guard on Lyre who then rushed forward and was nearly nose-to-nose with Tristan. He fumed, “what have you done? You have nearly killed the Queen and have murdered her fiancé. I am declaring martial law under the direction of the Order until we can get this mess straightened out. Guards, seize this traitor and take him away.” The guards looked confusedly between Tristan, their Queen, and Lyre. “Now!” shrieked Lyre. “I would have your head immediately,” grumped Lyre to Tristan, “if not for the recent changes in the Order’s mandate which demands that everyone accused of a capital offense be given an objective trial. If I ever find out who is responsible for such a change I will have his head too!”

  “You cannot declare martial law!” said Tristan.

  “Of course I can,” said Lyre, “I am a senior advisor to the Queen and an objective party.”

  “You are certainly not an objective party,” said Tristan, “if I must stand trial for these supposed crimes I ask that Conrad preside over the proceedings.”

  Lyre glanced in irritation at Conrad, “he is no more an objective party than I. I hate to admit it but you are correct. I will send to Panmycea immediately for an objective overseer.” He smiled wickedly, “I will also send Conrad back to Astoria to fetch an objective witness. It will be amusing to see what these Brethren think of you after your botched assignment there. In the meantime, we may amuse ourselves with an unofficial trial which shall greatly speed things along once our objective officials arrive.” He turned to the assembled audience, “I invite you all back here tomorrow morning for what should be an enlightening and amusing affair.” Conrad gave Tristan a stricken look but he shook his head in resignation. If Lyre was determined to go through with this, at least it would keep him out of trouble while they waited for the Queen to awaken or for someone with more authority to arrive. He tried to smile reassuringly at Arora; she gave him a glorious smile that told him he was loved and she was not afraid. The guards finally mustered their nerve and escorted him away. Conrad left immediately for Astoria. Lyre sent his secretary immediately to Panmycea. The Queen was placed comfortably in her chambers and was assiduously attended to by her ladies.

  The audience dispersed and rumors spread quickly around the city and surrounding countryside. The next morning, the chamber was filled with curious townsfolk; nothing this exciting had happened in recent memory. The Queen did not appear to either improve or worsen. Arora spent a lonely night at the inn. She tried to calm Taragon, but he was restless and sensed Tristan’s unease. Tristan spent an uncomfortable and restless night in the Palace dungeon and was the only prisoner currently being held. At the appointed time, Tristan was led out by two guards; his legs and hands were securely chained. He was made to sit in a rickety chair facing the assembled gawkers. Lyre, dressed in his best uniform, strolled importantly back and forth in front of the accused.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “let it be witnessed and affirmed by each of you that these proceedings are unofficial in that they are not carried out by an objective party. But also let it be noted that the evidence presented and gathered herein may be used when such an official trial takes place thereby speeding along the official trial and the execution of justice.” He gave special emphasis to the word execution. He continued, “the man known to this body as Tristan is hereby accused of traitorous acts against the Kingdom of Vespera, the Queen of Vespera, and the Order of the Unicorn. He also stands accused of the murder of one Count Cisco and potentially of two as yet unnamed others in the country of Westria. All witnesses are advised to tell the truth under penalty of fine or imprisonment. These accusations each hold the penalty of death.” He finished with an eager smile. He was finding far too much pleasure in this, but he blamed Tristan for the sudden loss of his advantageous relationship with Cisco and held him in contempt because of the Queen’s apparent favor of Tristan over himself when last they met. He was more than happy to martyr Tristan, if only to please himself and correct the injustice he felt done to himself by the man. It was more circus and stage show than trial, but the audience loved the drama so Lyre felt justified in indulging himself. He allowed himself to be the first witness.

  Lyre began, “about a year ago this man was sent to me by the Order with explicit instructions that he was to be trained in the arts of diplomacy and when ready he was to be sent on to Astoria. His tenure in Vespera was short, as was his later term in Astoria. Whilst in Vespera, he was continually putting himself forward before the Queen and impinging upon my rights as his senior officer and as the head advisor from the Order to the Queen. He even stooped so far as to try seducing the Queen in her own chambers. He rode out of Vespera only moments ahead of the guards sent to capture him. He eluded their pursuit and escaped to Astoria. There his conduct must have been abominable, as it lasted only a short while and he was summarily kicked out of the Order and exiled from Astoria. He then fled to the lands west of the Impassable Mountains where the dying Cou
nt revealed that he has also committed murder and treason. He has returned from exile only to wreak havoc upon this peaceful country and its beautiful Queen, who now lies near death in her chambers. What vile spell this man has cast upon her I do not know, but this evil is of his doing and he must pay for it. He has murdered an innocent man, and he has destroyed any chance of the Queen’s happiness should she recover. He has also set the peace and prosperity of this country back for what may turn out to be decades.”

  It was all conjecture and theories, but from what little the audience knew, it could be the truth. Even if it was not, they found the whole thing fascinating. After Lyre finished his monologue, participants and observers of yesterday’s events were called forward to tell of what they saw. By their varied accounts, it seemed that Tristan had infiltrated the honor guard, interrupted the ceremony, demanded that Count Cisco surrender, and then the Queen was thrown unconscious to the floor and Cisco was killed in the ensuing sword fight. The audience especially loved the part about Cisco dissolving into a puddle of black goo. The displaced guard was brought forward and said that someone had stolen his clothes before the ceremony and locked him in a room; his cries for help went unheeded because everyone was at the wedding. As the ‘trial’ progressed, it became clear that Tristan had plotted to interrupt the ceremony and kill Cisco. Whether Cisco or Tristan had placed the spell upon the Queen was questioned, but Lyre chose not to spend too much time on that little matter.

  The trial continued for several days, each day worse than the last. Arora watched in stunned horror as each witness described in detail things that had never happened. Tristan seemed to cope with it with a bored sort of patience, though the creativity of the witnesses seemed to amuse him. He would not be allowed to defend himself until the official trial. Each day Lyre observed the singer in the audience and was moved by her beauty and obvious distress. After the day’s proceedings, he summoned her to his quarters. She curiously appeared as directed and made her courtesies. He said, “my dear, I see that you are greatly distressed by these proceedings. You must not be afraid because justice will be swiftly done and this vile matter put behind us. You need not fear the evil man who is now safely in custody.”

  “I see,” she said, “I thank you for your concern.”

  “It is ever my concern,” said Lyre, “when any innocent lady is troubled by anything that I may correct. Once this fiasco is behind us, perhaps you will allow me the honor of dining with you at a time convenient to yourself?”

  “Thank you for your invitation,” said she, “it will receive all the consideration it deserves.” He smiled and bid her goodnight; he was very pleased with himself about the way things seemed to be progressing with the trial and the lady. She left feeling as if she needed to bathe.