Septimus de Nore had gone even paler in his black cassock, though he had stood his ground thus far. As the king swept his gaze over the remaining suspects, the three of them sank raggedly to their knees, white faces averted, cringing both from fear of the king's wrath and the even more dangerous scrutiny of the woman whose blood they now remembered.
«Ask him again, Sire», Alyce said softly, indicating the guilty man with a jut of her chin.
«No, you ask him this time», the king replied, his voice hard and cold. «Be very specific, and use whatever persuasion you deem necessary».
She looked at him sharply, for she did not think it wise to be blatant about her powers in front of hostile witnesses. But even as she balked at the prospect, a way around it occurred to her.
«Very well, Sire», she murmured, returning her gaze to the guilty man.
He cringed anew, beginning to whimper, but she only continued to look at him until he glanced up again — and found himself snared in her eyes.
«What is your name?» she asked quietly.
«A-Alvin de Marco», he managed to whisper.
«Thank you». She inclined her head to him, aware that all eyes were now upon her. «Alvin de Marco, you have nothing to fear from me, for it is merely my gift to know when a man tells the truth — and when he lies. It is the wrath of the king you should fear, in answer for your crime — and God's judgement, at that final reckoning, if you do not repent of your sins and purge yourself of your guilt».
«Do not you presume to lecture him about anything to do with God!» Septimus blurted, livid with anger. «What has a Deryni to do with God? What worth is a Deryni's word? How dare you?»
She glanced at him mildly, staying the king's intervention with a slightly raised palm. «I am no longer your student, that you may lecture me, Father. It is not I who am on trial here».
«This is no trial!» Septimus retorted. «You have no proof that any of us had a hand in whatever happened here!»
«You know full well what happened here», the king cut in, «and I will decide what is sufficient proof. Proceed, my lady».
Inclining her head, Alyce returned her attention to the cowering Alvin de Marco.
«Alvin, did you assault the boy?»
Sniveling now, trembling, the man gave a nod of his head.
«Say it, Alvin: yes or no».
«Y-yes», the wretched man managed to croak.
«And another man also did the same?»
Again, «Yes».
«Please point him out to us, Alvin».
Trembling, the accused turned on his knees to find his accomplice, but the guilty man had already betrayed himself by the pool of urine spreading outward from his cringing form.
«You miserable worm!» the king said softly, ice in each condemning word. «You have the bollocks to bugger a little boy, but not to admit your guilt like a man. Well, we'll at least see if we can't find a punishment to fit the crime. Captain?»
The officer of the archers stepped forward smartly and bowed.
«Sire?»
«Take those two to the guardhouse and fetch them a priest — not that one, because he's disgraced his office, but I'll not deny any man the chance to make peace with God before he dies. It's more than they gave the boy. But when that's done, I want them taken to the stable yard where the crime was committed and strung up — and geld them first. As for this miserable excuse for a man», he concluded, glaring at Septimus, «I have an altogether more fitting disposition in mind for him».
* * *
Seisyll Arilan had been one of the courtiers attending the king that gray day in January, and was able to report the fate of Septimus de Nore when he met with the Camberian Council a few days later.
«I must give Donal Haldane credit», he said, when he had outlined the basic events of the past week for those unable to be present at a previous emergency meeting. «It was Old Testament justice — there were some rumblings about some aspects of the proceedings — but I think most would agree that the end result did fit the circumstances».
The execution of Lord Deldour's two men had, indeed, been met with general approval, as the word got out. Assaults against children were never condoned or even tolerated, whether the child was human or Deryni. Many years before, disgruntlement about a child predator had lit the first sparks that led to the Haldane Restoration of 917.
The fate of Father Septimus de Nore had sparked rather different reactions, not because he was innocent of murder — because he was not — but because he was a priest, and the brother of a bishop. Grandly claiming benefit of clergy, and making much of his family connection, he had demanded to be bound over to ecclesiastical justice, preferably his brother's, by which he might have anticipated being locked away to a life of penitence and self-mortification — or even gone free with a mild reprimand, since his victim had been Deryni.
But the king had exercised his own notion of justice in the matter of the killing of Krispin MacAthan, and had dealt Septimus de Nore a sentence commensurate with what he had done to his innocent victim. He might be innocent of rapine, but his had been the hands that had tipped Krispin down the well to drown.
First stripping him of his clerical attire — and of undergarments and boots as well — they had flogged him thirty lashes, in token of his betrayal of a child's trust of his office. He then had been shoved head-first down that self-same well into which he had dropped young Krispin — with a rope bound round his ankles and extending back up the well-shaft, to facilitate eventual retrieval of his body.
Because he was larger and stronger than Krispin had been, he had managed to delay the inevitable for close to half an hour, slipping incrementally closer to oblivion; but he had not been able to stop it or reverse it. When, the following morning, his body was pulled from the well, as had been done with Krispin's, the flesh of hands, elbows, and knees was lacerated nearly to the bone — but none had pitied him.
«And good riddance!» Vivienne had said fiercely, when Seisyll finished his account. She and Dominy both had wept when they heard of Krispin's brutal slaying, and the fate of his killers bothered them not at all.
«Aye, but it is having repercussions beyond what I think Donal probably expected», Seisyll replied. «Septimus was the brother of Bishop Oliver de Nore, who is pressing the Archbishop of Rhemuth to excommunicate the king».
«He won't do that — will he?» Dominy said.
«Unknown», Michon answered. «Ultimately, Archbishop William must take his direction from Valoret — and Michael of Kheldour tends toward moderation. But neither archbishop has made more than token gestures to curb de Nore's excesses in Carthane. The death of one more Deryni boy, weighed against the dozens who have burned in the Nyford area, counts for very little in the grand scheme of things».
«On the other hand», Khoren observed, «these other Deryni were not possible kin to the king — though Krispin's death does render that question academic now».
«Do you still believe he was the king's son?» Oisín asked Seisyll.
«Most probably», Seisyll replied. «Not that there was any overt sign of it at the boy's funeral. I watched Donal closely, for any indication that his affection for the boy might have gone beyond that of any other page in his service, but he was cool as ice».
«How is Jessamy holding up?» Dominy asked.
Seisyll shook his head, sighing. «She was devastated, as one might expect — and definitely showing her age. She has buried children before, of course — and a husband — and Krispin was laid to rest near them, down in the crypts beneath the cathedral. Very sadly, I think she shall bear no more children, even should she marry again, so Krispin was her last hope of a son. I pity her grief».
«This is all distressing news, to be sure», Barrett said after a moment. «However, I am somewhat heartened by your report of Alyce de Corwyn through all of this sad unfolding. Her handling of the interrogation of the suspects was masterful — avoiding as much as she could of any outward show of her abilities».
>
Seisyll inclined his head. «True enough. She seemed to sense the importance of caution in the presence of Lord Deldour — for she will have known that, whatever passed in that room, and whatever became of Father Septimus, word would find its way back to Bishop Oliver».
«She has good sense», Khoren agreed. «Fortunately, Truth-Reading is perhaps the least threatening of all our talents, since it does not involve any direct interference with the person being read».
Seisyll gave a nod of agreement. «Aye, it was exceedingly well done. I would love to know what training has given her such wisdom. But since she already knew of de Nore's part in the affair, mere Truth-Reading was sufficient in the case of the guilty pair — and by inducing the one to inform on the other, our Alyce cleverly avoided having to compel answers from any of them.
«And once the first man was discovered in his lie», Michon agreed, «it was he who exposed his fellow — mostly out of fear for what more she might do, if answers were not forthcoming. That is both our strength and our vulnerability among humans — that they don't know what we can actually do».
A few of them chuckled at that, for it was perfectly true.
«What has been the reaction?» Barrett asked. «Nothing has yet reached Nur Sayyid».
Seisyll shrugged. «Bishop Oliver is said to be livid over the outcome, as one might expect, but that is largely a question of the authority of the Church, aside from his personal pique at having lost a brother; Septimus was a murderer, after all, and had betrayed his office.
«Few question the fate of the two sodomites. Among the common folk — those who know of it — I have talked to no one who argues with the king's disposition of the case. Though some might have stopped short of the gelding, all seem to agree that the punishment did fit the crime-especially since the two did acquiesce to the victim's death».
«Then, it appears we must wait to see what further develops on that front», Oisín said. «I am very glad I do not live down in Carthane». He slapped his palm against the ivory table, shaking his head. «'Why did they do it?»
«Not for the obvious reasons», Barrett said evenly. «It will not have been a matter of lust. Resentment might be a better guess — even hatred. Young Krispin had been invested as a page that day. Most at court no longer remark that his mother is Deryni, but it is known; and some would resent that he was being brought up with the royal children. He was an intimate of the king’s sons — and their corruptor, by the reckoning of some, simply by association, by the sheer fact of being what he was».
«Was that sufficient motive to kill him?» Dominy asked.
«It all would have played a part», Michon agreed. «And opportunity also would have been a factor, especially with drink having been taken».
«Then, what about Alyce de Corwyn?» Khoren asked. «She is far more prominent than Jessamy, especially since the death of her brother».
«But she is marrying a human», Vivienne pointed out. «By giving her to Kenneth Morgan, the king has chosen to dilute the blood of the only Deryni ducal line in the land. That would reassure some; it disturbs me. Especially with Corwyn being the principal barrier between Gwynedd and Torenth».
'This is a cause for concern», Michon agreed. «But short of killing off Kenneth Morgan and having one of our kind abduct Alyce and marry her by force, the way her father did with Stevana de Corwyn, there is no way to change what has now been set in motion. Pray, rather, that Alyce de Corwyn quickly bears male heirs — for Kenneth Morgan is a good and honorable man, and will instill the same qualities in his sons. And while you are praying, think how much worse it could be if Alyce bears no heirs at all».
«Feh! A half-breed on the ducal throne in Corwyn!» Vivienne muttered.
«Patience, Vivienne!» Barrett said with a gentle laugh. «Alyce de Corwyn is not yet even wed!»
Chapter 28
«We shall direct his counsel and knowledge, and in his secrets shall he meditate».[29]
Donal Haldane had not heard the last regarding his disposition of Krispin MacAthan's murderers. The execution of Lord Deldour’s two guardsmen was largely accepted as just, under the circumstances, and soon forgotten; however, the killing of Septimus de Nore quickly became a cause célèbre, especially among Gwynedd's clergy. Septimus had been a priest and the brother of a bishop, and denying him due benefit of clergy was an affront that Gwynedd's hierarchy was not willing to overlook, even for a king.
«They've been waiting for several hours now, Sire», Sir Tiarnán MacRae told the king, in the selfsame withdrawing room where the infamous interrogation had taken place two weeks earlier. Sir Kenneth Morgan and Seisyll Arilan had been closeted with the king all morning, discussing the latest letter of protest.
«I suppose I must see them», the king said with a sigh.
«Aye, Sire, I fear you must», Seisyll replied. «Bishop de Nore is threatening an excommunication, if you do not humble yourself before the Church and repent of your action. For him, it is a personal affront, for you killed his brother; but for the Church, it is a matter of having overstepped your authority, trying a matter that, by canon law, belonged before an ecclesiastical court».
The king had been listening with growing impatience as Seisyll told him what he did not wish to hear — which was only Seisyll's appointed function, after all — and rose explosively to begin pacing.
«Seisyll, the man murdered one of my pages! A child! And why? Apparently, to cover up the crimes of two more men. And why did they do what they did? Who knows? A passion of the moment? A drunken indulgence? Or was it a lashing out at someone they knew to be Deryni, and therefore to be hated? — and moreover, one too young to defend himself!»
«Whatever their motive, Sire, you uncovered their guilt by employing the assistance of another hated Deryni», Seisyll said calmly. «I think that will have stuck in de Nore's craw almost as much as the fact that you executed his brother».
«No one complains when I use Morian's services, in the field», the king muttered.
«No, but Morian is far away in Meara, and that is war», Seisyll replied. «Here in Rhemuth, two weeks ago, you also flouted the authority of the Church. That is what will get you excommunicated, if you tread not carefully».
«Do you expect me to apologize? Well, I won't. Nothing can excuse what that foul priest did. Nothing! And I think that even King Solomon would have been hard-pressed to render a more fitting judgment».
«Nonetheless, the Church will uphold its right to deal with its own», Seisyll replied. «Don't say that I did not warn you, Sire».
«Yes, yes, I've been warned», the king grumbled as he moved to a chair of state facing the doorway. «Come and stand behind me — you and Kenneth, both. We might as well see what this latest delegation has to say».
At his nod, Sir Tiarnán opened the door and gestured into the corridor beyond, whence three clerics shortly appeared. Tiarnán himself stepped outside and closed the door.
Though all three men wore the plain black cassocks of working priests, two of the three sported the purple skullcaps of bishops, with pectoral crosses on their breasts and amethysts on their fingers. The senior of them was well known to the king and his advisors: Desmond MacCartney, auxiliary bishop to William Archbishop of Rhemuth — and William's brother. The other bishop was more recently come to the purple, though Donal had heard that young Patrick Corrigan was slated for rapid rise in the hierarchy. The third man seemed to be but a priest, though Donal had never seen him before.
The king half-rose as the three men approached, but made shrift to sit again before Bishop Desmond could extend his ring to be kissed. The two bishops exchanged glances, looking far from pleased.
«Thank you for seeing us, Sire», Bishop Desmond said, lifting his head purposefully. «I believe you are acquainted with Bishop Patrick Corrigan — and this is Father Rodder Gillespie, from the Diocese of Nyford».
Corrigan and Gillespie gave the king sparse bows, which Donal acknowledged with a nod.
«I understand that y
ou have some business with me, Fathers?» he said neutrally.
«Yes», Bishop Desmond said simply. «By now, I trust that your Majesty will have read the missive that was delivered earlier today».
«I have».
«And — have you anything to say about it?» Bishop Desmond seemed somewhat taken aback by the brevity of the king's reply.
«Yes», said the king, not backing down before the bishop's gaze. «I do not repent me of my actions concerning the murderous priest Septimus de Nore. His guilt was clear, and his sentence fully justified».
«That is your final statement on the matter?» Desmond said, more a declaration than a question.
«It is».
'Then, I am commanded to deliver this decree of excommunication to your Majesty», Desmond went on, holding out his hand for the document that Father Rodder placed in it, «promulgated in due form by Bishop Oliver de Nore, and to be executed by him with due ceremony — unless, of course, your Majesty would care to reconsider», he added, pausing in the process of offering the decree to the king.
The king’s smile was dangerous, the gray eyes cold. «Bishop de Nore’s writ does not run in Rhemuth, my lord, and I do not recognize his authority to impose excommunication on me».
«Do you not?» Desmond replied softly. Tapping the document gently against his chin, he glanced at the two men standing behind the king, then handed it back to Gillespie.
«Fine. Then perhaps you will recognize the authority of your own archbishop. Sire, I shall report your defiance to my Lord William. And if his excommunication fails to move you to repentance, perhaps the threat of interdict will make it clear what his Grace expects of a loyal son of the Church. Good day to you, Sire».
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