by Sean Kikkert
Telemachus was forced to spend the whole morning simply retelling the same things over and over again: that he knew absolutely nothing about the attack on the king . . . or the lord mayor’s poisoning, for that matter.
“What can you tell me about the attack on the king’s soldiers?” The prosecutor’s change of tack was quite sudden.
“Well, I wasn’t there,” Telemachus sounded weary. “But I do know it was in self-defense.”
The prosecutor looked questioningly at Telemachus. His face wrinkled in a tight frown as he then asked the inevitable question. “How do you know it was self-defense if you weren’t there?”
Exhaustion was setting in for Telemachus as his mind grew numb from the fruitless repetition. “I fully believe what my youths told me.”
The prosecutor made a big show of making a note on his formidable stack of papers with his quill. “Now, I understand you’ve been preparing your young men and women to come out in battle against our people—isn’t that correct?”
Telemachus looked confused. “No, that’s not correct,” he said slowly, deliberately.
“May I remind you that you are under oath?” the prosecutor said. “It was one of your very own people who informed us of such.”
Telemachus’ mouth dropped open, and a look of puzzlement spread across his tired face. The crowd began a disquieted murmur at this revelation. Cassandra threw Ajax a worried look. Who from their own pack could have possibly betrayed them to their enemies? And why?
As Cassandra studied Ajax, she saw a strange smile on his lips. It was a devious smile. A triumphant smile. Almost as if Telemachus was falling completely into a trap he’d laid.
“It’s true I’ve been teaching the village youths how to defend themselves,” Telemachus conceded. “But they were not preparing to attack anyone—they were only learning how to defend themselves.”
“I’m done with my cross-examination of this witness,” the prosecutor declared, quite abruptly. “If the court pleases, I would now like to call the three soldiers who were assaulted and imprisoned by this man.”
A chill ran down Cassandra’s spine as the three soldiers who’d attacked her—and almost killed Castor—marched into the courtroom. The crowd, too, watched them intently, no doubt eager to see what would happen next.
“Private Beval, were you on duty on the fourth of May this year?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes, sir, I was,” the soldier replied.
“Did you sustain any injuries on that day?”
“Yes, sir, I did. And so did two of my fellow soldiers.”
“And just how did you sustain these injuries?”
“Three werewolf teenagers attacked us on that day—I have no idea why. It was completely without any kind of provocation. I think they were just bloodthirsty; they were like rabid dogs—they bit us all over! Then they tied us up in Telemachus’ home. They were monsters, and we did nothing to deserve that! We had done nothing to them!”
The prosecutor turned to the judge. “No further questions, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said as he sat down.
Once the prosecutor was done with his leading questions, Jonathon got to his feet to cross-examine the soldier. “Private Beval, can you tell us why you were in the accused’s village on the fourth of this month?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier, eyes front, replied. “I and two of my section were ordered to go down to the accused’s village.”
“Were you told the purpose of going down to the village?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what was that purpose?”
“We were told to go to the village and show the wolves who was boss.”
“Who told you that?”
“Sheriff Lyndon.”
“Was Telemachus expecting you?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“The sheriff told us our visit was to be a surprise.”
“So, Telemachus couldn’t have known you were going to be there, could he?”
“I guess not.”
“So, if Telemachus didn’t know you were coming, then what happened between you and these teenagers couldn’t have been organized by Telemachus, could it?”
Private Beval paused to think for a moment. “I guess that’s true,” he admitted with some reluctance.
“Now, you were armed when you came to the village, weren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were your fellow soldiers also armed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you tell the court precisely what weapons you were carrying that day?”
“I had an axe. My comrades had pikes and shields.”
“Your axe was a double-handed battle-axe, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, that is correct.”
“Were you and your fellow soldiers wearing armor?”
“Yes, sir, we were wearing chainmail armor.”
“The three teenagers attacked you without any provocation?”
“Yes, sir. We were just minding our own business when they attacked us.”
“How old were they?”
“They were teenagers, about sixteen or seventeen.”
“And how old are you, Private Beval?”
“Twenty-five, sir.”
“These teenagers—were they in wolf or human form?”
The city folk crammed into the courtroom fell silent. This was what they’d been waiting to hear—a public confirmation in court that the strangers were actually werewolves.
“They were in human form when they began attacking us,” the soldier said. “But then one of them turned into a wolf.”
The crowd murmured until the judge glared at them. They fell silent.
“They weren’t armed when they began attacking you, were they?”
Private Beval paused again. “No, sir. They didn’t have any weapons.”
Jonathon paused for effect. “Do you really expect the court to believe that these three teenagers—all much younger than you—decided to attack three heavily armed, armored men without bothering to arm themselves?” The lawyer snorted and gave the soldier a wry smile. “Or believe they didn’t even think to turn into wolves?”
Private Beval was well and truly caught out, and the guilty look on his face showed it.
The prosecutor jumped to his feet. “Your Honor!” he exclaimed. “This doesn’t prove a thing.”
“I think it does, Mr. Prosecutor.” The judge stroked his chin in contemplation. “This is indeed a strange case. I never thought the rumors would turn out to be true and that I would be presiding over a case involving werewolves. Not that it changes anything, of course; Telemachus is not in the dock for being a werewolf, but for very specific crimes. And the evidence to support those charges is most certainly lacking.”
“I have to say, I find your witness’ account quite unbelievable,” the judge continued. “It just doesn’t make any sense, and I find Private Beval to be an untruthful witness, to say the very least.”
At the conclusion of the hearing, the judge summed up the entire farce. He said, “Based upon the evidence presented here today, I feel I have no choice but to acquit the accused on all charges. The prosecution has failed to provide any compelling evidence at all that Telemachus is guilty of treason—or any other crime, for that matter. The prosecution has offered nothing to connect the accused to either the attempted assassination of the king or the assassination of Lord Mayor Morton.”
He eyed the prosecutor with a steely, unforgiving gaze. “In regard to what happened to the soldiers, the accused wasn’t there when they were attacked and can in no way be said to have organized or encouraged it. Whether the Crown wishes to pursue criminal charges against the teenagers who captured the s
oldiers is a matter for the Crown. However, the evidence presented by the soldiers does not ring true; I don’t believe they were attacked without provocation. In fact, I accept that the soldiers attacked first, and the young people had no option but to defend themselves. In any case, the three teenagers have not been charged—only Telemachus. And in regard to Telemachus, I find that he is not guilty.”
A huge grin broke over Cassandra’s face as the courtroom erupted into a cacophony of disgruntled murmuring. Cassandra looked at Ajax in delight, but to her surprise, he didn’t look at all pleased.
In fact, he looked quite disappointed.
Chapter 20
Aren’t you angry, Your Majesty?” Conrad asked in amazement. King Magnus sat on his gold, velvet-trimmed throne with a thoughtful expression on his ruggedly handsome face. Conrad had been sure the news of Justice Dryden’s decision would have enraged the king, but King Magnus didn’t look angry at all. In fact, he seemed quite calm about the whole affair.
The king dismissed Conrad’s concerns with a small wave of his hand. “Come now,” he said, “I appoint judges to make such decisions. If Justice Dryden didn’t think there was enough evidence to convict Telemachus, then so be it. Justice Dryden is a fair man.”
“But, Your Majesty, we don’t need a judge who is fair. This was the perfect opportunity to execute Telemachus and drive his people from our land.” He glanced across at the sheriff, who observed the conversation in silence. “And we’ve just let the opportunity slip by.” Conrad wished, not for the first time, that he’d been the one born king, instead of this imbecile with no political aptitude whatsoever.
Conrad tried to explain the situation in the voice he normally reserved for an uncomprehending child. “Don’t you see, Your Majesty, you would have risen in popularity had the wolves been destroyed under your command. Now, Red Riding Hood will overthrow the wolves instead of you. The people are afraid, Your Majesty, and instead of turning to you, they’re flocking to her.”
“Don’t lecture me, Conrad,” the king said. “The people will do what they will do. I’m not going to sanction the persecution of those poor people.”
“Don’t you care that they tried to murder you?”
King Magnus sighed. “Justice Dryden found there was no evidence that Telemachus—or any of the werewolves—had anything to do with the assassination attempt. I don’t believe they mean me any harm.”
Conrad cursed under his breath. He had meticulously planned the attempted assassination in the hope it would motivate the king to finally take action against Telemachus and his people. It had not been cheap to hire Emory—the expert bowman skilled enough to deliberately miss the king by a few inches. Emory had requested 300 gold coins as danger money; had the king’s guards caught up with him, the remainder of his life—as short as it would have been—would have been very unpleasant indeed.
Hiring an assassin to shoot an arrow at the king had been extremely risky for Conrad. Had his treachery been discovered, he would have lost everything—including his own life. The king would have shown him little mercy, and it would have done him no good at all to explain the plan had been merely to manipulate the king and not murder him. And yet, after all that effort and expense, the king was going to do nothing! Conrad knew at that moment the king was destined to fade into insignificance when he could have soared in popularity.
“You know what I think of Morton’s murder?” the king continued. “The wolf-people couldn’t possibly have been responsible for that particularly heinous crime against our dear friend. Only someone very close to Morton could have had the opportunity to poison him in his own home.”
“Why don’t we ask Sheriff Lyndon what he thinks?” Conrad said, eager to change the subject. Surely the sheriff would side with him.
Sheriff Lyndon, who had successfully avoided getting involved in the discussion, stepped forward with reluctance. “If I were Your Majesty, I would drive these beasts from our land,” he said. “They are an unnatural people and don’t belong here.”
Conrad gave a premature smile at the sheriff’s words, but the sheriff was not finished. “However, I’ve always been Your Majesty’s humble servant, and I will tolerate whatever you decide. If Your Majesty wishes to leave them alone, then so be it. I would advise Your Majesty against coming to the werewolves’ aid in any way. That would surely turn the people against Your Majesty, and may even result in an uprising against you.”
The king’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Yes, that’s just what I’ll do,” he declared. “I won’t help the werewolves. Equally, I will not raise a hand against them.” The king stood up; he suddenly looked very weary. “That will be all.” He gave a curt nod in the general direction of his two guests.
Conrad and Sheriff Lyndon bowed as King Magnus strolled from the court.
Ajax’s expression in the courtroom bothered Cassandra. There was something about his demeanor throughout the whole nonsensical trial that left her feeling uneasy. Maybe she was being unnecessarily suspicious, but she knew she wouldn’t feel any peace until she’d spoken to her friend. She decided to go to Ajax’s home and confront him.
Cassandra rushed to Ajax’s door and hammered upon it. The house was brightly lit, yet there was no answer. Cassandra waited for a moment before knocking a little louder.
Frustrated, Cassandra made her way to the back of Ajax’s home to see if she could detect signs of life. She saw a lone, shadowy figure standing in the middle of the clearing behind Ajax’s house.
Cassandra waited a second or two for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. What she saw made her blood run cold.
It was Ajax. He held something shiny in his hand, and Cassandra caught the distinct gleam of metal in the moonlight. As her eyes focused, she saw her friend had a razor-sharp dagger high above his head. Her eyes widened with horror as she realized it wasn’t an ordinary dagger—it was made of silver.
Chapter 21
As Cassandra edged her way toward the oblivious Ajax, she inadvertently stepped on a dry twig. In an instant, Ajax spun around with wide eyes and the dagger poised for attack. He relaxed when he saw Cassandra. A lopsided, sheepish grin spread across his face. He looked at Cassandra, standing there with her arms folded and a solemn expression on her face, and he blushed.
“Cassandra, you startled me.” Ajax’s voice was weak. “What are you doing here?”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow and ignored the question. “What’s that you have in your hand?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just a practice dagger.” Ajax attempted to hide the weapon behind his back.
“That’s no ordinary dagger, Ajax,” Cassandra pressed. “It’s made of silver!” The discovery alarmed her, for even a simple scratch from a silver weapon was fatal to werewolves—it was one of the first things they were taught as puppies. “What’s going on here? Why do you have a silver weapon? You know very well that silver is forbidden.”
“Sorry, Cassandra, I know I shouldn’t have it in my possession,” the shamefaced Ajax admitted. “But you know how I love to collect weapons.”
“You’re not telling me the truth,” she said. “A silver dagger is of no use to you or your collection. It would only be of use if you . . . were planning to use it against another member of the pack.” Cassandra was so shocked that her words caught in her throat. “You’re planning to use this against Telemachus, aren’t you?” she asked in a trembling voice.
Ajax lowered his eyes and nodded.
“How could you do such a thing? How could you betray Telemachus? After everything he’s done for us!”
“Cassandra.” Ajax’s tone carried an angry, hard edge she’d never heard before. “You’re so naive. We’re going to be driven away again, and I’m sick of always being on the run; let’s not forget my parents were killed the last time we were chased away.” Ajax sighed as his eyes filled with sadness.
“This is just going to happen over and over again unless we do something. I’ve met with the sheriff and Red Riding Hood, and they’ve promised me, if I kill Telemachus, they’ll allow us to live here in peace and make me Lord of the Werewolves. All they want us to do is conform to their way of life, which means pretending we’re normal people—and no more turning into wolves.”
“You’re crazy. You can’t just turn against Telemachus like this. We’re wolves, Ajax, and to pretend we’re not would only make us miserable. I’d rather die than deny who I really am.”
“And that’s probably what will happen.” Ajax’s voice turned cold and uncaring. “People die—my parents died; your father died. But it’s not all about us. Don’t you want to make sure your mother and sister are safe? If we keep on doing things the way we have, every one of us will die. Can’t you see I’m just trying to save our people? I can fix things so we’ll never be persecuted again.”
“This just isn’t right,” Cassandra said. “This isn’t the way to do it at all.” She paused for a moment. “Wait a minute. Have you shared this knowledge? Does anyone in Brakchester know that silver is fatal to us?”
“I haven’t told anyone about the silver,” Ajax said. “Do you think I’m stupid? They would use the knowledge to kill all of us. Don’t worry, I’ll take this secret to the grave.” He gave Cassandra his deadly serious look. “Not even Red Riding Hood knows about it. She’s extremely dangerous and has trained very hard to become a wolf-killer. If she knew our weakness, she wouldn’t need me to eliminate Telemachus; the people of Brakchester would just wipe us out.” Ajax looked into Cassandra’s tearful eyes. “Join me, Cassandra, and let’s both overthrow Telemachus. Join with me, be my lady—we can rule our people together.”