by Mark Robson
When Shalidar entered, he glanced casually across at Reynik and his companions. At first, Reynik thought the assassin was looking specifically at him, but then it became apparent that he was looking at someone else. Glancing around, Reynik noted the recognition in Kalheen’s expression with interest, as the servant locked eyes briefly with the assassin. Shalidar did not let the glance linger. The assassin chose to climb high up the tiered seating on the right-hand side of the Courtroom. True to his nature, he was maintaining a valid escape route.
Reynik had felt from the beginning that the window escape route was their plan’s greatest weakness. Femke had insisted the main door would be Shalidar’s preferred exit point. The corridor system outside was a maze, which would help generate confusion amongst searchers. Femke had felt he would prefer this to the open rooftops. Reynik had deferred, as this was her area of expertise and her plan. Once again, though, the assassin had proved he was not easy to second guess. Reynik’s fear had been realised.
Nothing could be done now. As far as the Courtroom could see, Reynik was being guarded. He would not move until the critical moment.
As Femke would most likely be chained, it would be down to Reynik to see that Shalidar did not leave the Courtroom once the action started. Not an easy task from here, he decided grimly.
The Royal Court soon filled to bursting point and the temperature in the room soared. Everyone had pulled strings to get a seat at today’s trial. Excited voices around the tiered seating crackled with anticipation. Today’s events would be written into the annals of history. There were no records of the rulers of Thrandor and Shandar holding Court together. The fact they did so today to hear the case against the Ambassador of Shandar made the occasion all the more tantalising to the spectators.
Shandar was the larger and more powerful nation. In theory, this made Surabar, ruler of the Shandese Empire, eligible to assume the position of Judge. However, by all accounts Emperor Surabar had waived this option. General consensus held this as a sound political move. This was Mantor, capital of Thrandor. It was two Thrandorian Noblemen who had been murdered. Therefore, in the minds of the Thrandorian people present it was right that today was to be a Thrandorian trial. Everyone agreed that despite Emperor Surabar’s magnanimous gesture, it would be fascinating to see how King Malo handled the delicate politics of the situation.
The conversations going on around Reynik were easily overheard. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Shalidar, but his ears filtered through nearby chat with great interest.
‘Malo’ll bow and scrape to Surabar. I’d bet my last copper sennuts on it,’ said one voice from behind him.
‘He can hardly give the death sentence to the Ambassador with the Shandese Emperor sitting a couple of feet away, can he?’ asked another.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,’ countered a third. ‘Malo is quiet, but he can be pretty determined when he puts his mind to it. If he orders the death sentence, there’ll be little Surabar can do about it, short of declaring war.’
‘Who’s to say he won’t?’ said the first voice.
‘There’s not much danger of any more wars for a while after the way we destroyed their Legions down at Kortag.’
‘We, Merris? I didn’t know you were there!’
‘Well, I wasn’t there, but . . .’
The conversation rattled on. Everyone claimed to have some sort of inside knowledge about what would happen today, but few had any real information. Speculation ran rife. The one thing everyone was able to agree on was that, aside from the battle against the nomads, the trial was the most interesting thing to happen in Mantor for years.
Reynik felt beads of sweat begin to trickle down his brow. The temperature in the Courtroom was rising, but his perspiration was generated as much by his intense concentration as by the heat. All the seats in the Courtroom were full now. Shalidar had not made any last-minute seat changes and Reynik was racking his brain for ideas on how to get within striking distance quickly.
Suddenly a double line of trumpeters filed into the Courtroom right in front of Reynik. With precision worthy of any elite military unit they formed a line, raised their trumpets and blasted out a fanfare that momentarily increased the buzz of expectation before washing it away to silence. All got to their feet and fell silent for the entrance of the King and the Emperor.
King Malo and Emperor Surabar stepped in side by side. Again the trumpeters moved with admirable precision to form an honour guard formation. The two rulers moved between them at a stately pace. As they passed between each pair of trumpeters, the men turned smartly through ninety degrees and marched out of the door.
Emperor Surabar climbed up onto the dais and sat down on his throne, arranging his heavy Mantle as he did so. Reynik could not help wondering how Surabar could stand wearing it in such oppressive heat, but he knew that the former General would never sidestep a duty.
King Malo reached his throne a moment later and turned to face the Royal Court. He took his seat and, with a rumbling that lasted several seconds, everyone else around the Courtroom sat down in turn. Once the last person was seated a breathless silence settled over the hall. The King took a few seconds to look around at the sea of faces waiting expectantly for him to speak before drawing a deep breath.
‘Lords and Ladies of the Royal Court, it is my privilege today to welcome his Imperial Majesty, Surabar, Emperor of Shandar, to my Courtroom. I consider it an honour to have him sit next to me here in Mantor. I expect members of my Court to offer both Emperor Surabar, and his men, every respect due them during their stay here in Mantor. The Emperor was not in power during the recent violation of Thrandorian borders by the Legions and none of the men with him here in Mantor were involved with the events surrounding that unfortunate episode. Let us therefore use the opportunity afforded to us by this visit to welcome the newly invested Emperor and work to mend relationships between our two peoples.’
The King paused for a moment to allow his words a chance to be digested. It was a predictable opening, but now came the difficult part.
‘Emperor Surabar and I have found much common ground already in our brief conference together earlier today. We are both saddened that it has taken the violence of two brutal murders to bring about today’s meeting. The further discovery of a third murder, two days ago, this time of the new Shandese Ambassador, Lord Danar, has made Emperor Surabar and I of one accord in wanting to see the killer brought to justice. Today’s trial will allow the Court to hear the evidence brought against the original Shandese Ambassador, Lady Femke, and when the hearing is complete I will make a judgement based upon that evidence.’ Suddenly, King Malo’s voice turned harder and more determined. ‘I will make it quite clear to you, as I have already done to Emperor Surabar – justice will be done today.’
A few spontaneous cheers sounded from various parts of the Courtroom along with a smatter of clapping. Mostly, however, there was an aura of shocked surprise; the Court had not expected King Malo to express his feelings so firmly in the presence of the Emperor. Malo held up his right hand for quiet and all voices fell silent.
‘Let it not be said that my Court does not hear a fair trial. We will hear all the evidence from both the prosecution, brought by Lord Brenden, and from the defence, brought by Commander Sateris of the Shandese Elite Legion who has accompanied the Emperor here specifically for this purpose. Bring in the accused.’
At the order, the main doors were swung open again and four Royal Guards marched into the Courtroom with the dispirited figure of Femke shuffling along between them. Many present were surprised at her appearance. The Ambassador was dressed in clothes befitting a female Ambassador, but her hair had been cut as short as that of the soldiers around her. Femke’s hands and feet were manacled. Her head was down and her shoulders were slumped. There was little of the fire in her that had been widely rumoured. She certainly did not look like a vicious killer.
The guards marched Femke forward to a point about five paces in front of King Ma
lo’s throne. There they stopped and held their relative positions.
‘Thank you, men. You may remove the prisoner’s manacles. I don’t believe Ambassador Femke poses a threat with so many guards present.’
Femke raised her eyes to the King for a moment and gave him a look that expressed gratitude for an unexpected favour. The guards looked less than impressed by the order. Reluctantly they complied. The manacles were removed from Femke’s limbs and she rubbed at her wrists gently. Red weals were clearly evident where the metal had rubbed and Reynik noticed several people in the audience unconsciously rubbing their own wrists in sympathy.
‘Good. That’s better. Now, I think we’re ready to begin,’ Malo stated with a positive edge to his voice. ‘Ambassador Femke, you have been brought before the Royal Court of Thrandor to answer the accusations that you did murder first, Baron Anton, and second, Count Dreban. How do you plead?’
There was a pause. Reynik concentrated hard on the expression upon Shalidar’s face as he waited to hear her response.
‘Not guilty on both counts, your Majesty,’ Femke said loudly and clearly.
A look of anger and disappointment flashed across Shalidar’s face. Despite sitting some distance away, Reynik saw the emotions quite clearly. Once the initial wave of anger had passed, though, the assassin raised his eyebrows slightly in a fashion that spoke of resignation and curiosity. Then the moment passed. Shalidar returned to concentrating on what was happening in the centre of the Courtroom.
‘Very well. The Court shall take note Ambassador Femke denies the charges levelled against her. Lord Brenden, you may begin your opening statement for the prosecution.’
The King settled back in his throne and tried to clear his mind of all prejudice. Regardless of what he had agreed with Femke about today’s trial, he was determined to listen to the presentation of evidence, for the young woman’s life would be lived or lost through his interpretation of the information he was about to hear. If ever he needed clear powers of reasoning, it was now. There were a lot of unanswered questions that continued to nag him. When Femke had volunteered to be tried for the murders, she had insisted all his questions would be answered today. He hoped she was right.
Lord Brenden got to his feet and approached the dais. He bowed first to Malo, then to Surabar, before unrolling a sheaf of parchments and turning to read it to the Court.
Brenden had been well chosen. He had a clear, penetrating voice filled with colour and passion. He made the words on the parchment, which detailed the events of several weeks before, when Baron Anton and Count Dreban had both lost their lives, come alive with his wide variety of pitch and intonation. Lord Brenden was a born storyteller. He had that rare talent which allowed him to transport the listeners’ minds to wherever and whenever he wished to take them with his oration. So skilled was he in the art that even Reynik found he was picturing Femke creeping through the corridors of the Royal Palace to kill the Baron.
Everyone was swept into the vision of her struggling with Anton and plunging her knife deep into his heart, whilst the Baron, with his dying breath, tore her brooch unnoticed from her dress. Then came an account of her spectacular escape from the Palace, displaying skills no true Ambassador would possess as she traversed narrow ledges, made a death-defying leap into a tree and scaled the sheer Palace wall. Lord Brenden paused for a moment and swept his gaze around the Courtroom, as if to confirm his hypnotic story had gained a full hold.
‘Then,’ he said, pausing again to heighten the drama, ‘then, the Ambassador used her assassin’s skills to elude a huge force of Royal Guards sent to comb the city for her. Initially, it was thought she was simply hiding. She was not. Instead, she used her murderous talents to cause more mayhem. Ambassador Femke killed Count Dreban at his home that very afternoon, showing such contempt for our investigative skills that she committed the crime with an identical knife to the one with which she killed Baron Anton. The knife was not recovered from the scene, but medical witnesses will swear the mortal wounds dealt to both Anton and Dreban were made with weapons of precisely the same shape and size.’
Reynik almost had to pinch his arm at the end of Lord Brenden’s opening speech to ensure he was not having a bad dream.
Then it was the turn of Commander Sateris to give the opening statement for the defence. The contrast between the two advocates was stark. Where Brenden was melodious and hypnotic, Sateris was clear, crisp and to the point. He was the epitome of military precision with his short, sharp statements and his concise, calculated response to the prosecution’s dramatic accusations. He spoke with authority, but without passion. He pointed out that the vast majority of what the Court had heard from the prosecutor was conjecture and reconstruction based on a thin line of material evidence, which would not hold up to intense scrutiny. He promised to raise questions in the minds of those who believed in the fairytale approach of the prosecution and to prove there was, in fact, little doubt Ambassador Femke was an innocent victim of someone determined to frame her.
Once the opening speeches were complete, the serious business of presenting evidence and calling witnesses began. Lord Brenden began for the prosecution by questioning Femke in broad terms about the circumstances surrounding each of the murders.
‘Lady Femke, can you tell the Court where you were on the night that Baron Anton was murdered?’
‘Yes,’ Femke replied softly. ‘I was here in the Palace. Asleep in my bed.’
‘Here in the Palace, asleep in your bed,’ Brenden repeated at a much louder volume, ensuring those at the back of the hall could hear. ‘And where were you when Count Dreban was murdered?’
‘I was locked in his cellar.’
‘Locked in Baron Dreban’s cellar?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very well, what about two days ago, at the time of Lord Danar’s death? Where were you then?’ Lord Brenden asked, his voice giving the impression he already knew the answer.
‘I was here in the Palace, disguised as a servant,’ Femke admitted, bringing a gasp from some around the Courtroom. Not many knew Femke had broken free from the Royal Dungeon, much less that she had been found again here in the Palace.
‘So you were here in the Palace on the night of Baron Anton’s death with no alibi. You maintain you were locked in Count Dreban’s cellar at the time of his death, presumably alone, and therefore again with no alibi. Also, you happened to be in the Palace at the time of Lord Danar’s death. Would I be too far from the mark if I were to assume that once again you have no alibi?’
Femke did not answer aloud. Instead she simply shook her head slightly.
‘That is an unfortunate coincidence, Lady Femke. You happen to be in the vicinity of three murders with no alibi for any of them. Don’t you think this a little unlikely?’
Femke shrugged and did her best to look disinterested.
‘It appears not. Well, Lady Femke, I wonder if you can identify this knife for me?’
Lord Brenden reached down into a cloth bag at his feet and pulled out one of her set of knives: blades which she knew had been used for two of the murders.
‘Yes, my Lord, it is mine.’
‘Let the Court record Lady Femke identified the weapon used to murder Baron Anton as her own,’ Brenden stated loudly, his voice almost purring at having gained the admission. It was a damning fact. ‘Does it surprise you, Lady Femke, that a blade of identical dimensions to this one was used to kill Count Dreban?’
‘Not at all, Lord Brenden. I saw the blade. It was also one of mine.’
‘You saw the blade? It was yours?’ This time, Brenden’s voice was verging on incredulous as the admission came out. He had clearly not expected her to confess to this. A pleased smile flashed across his face for a moment as he realised she had strengthened his case further.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Femke confirmed. ‘The weapon was not found because I saw it, and removed it. I realised how damning it would be for someone to find a second one of my knives buried in a dead Noblema
n. It made good sense for me to take it.’
Lord Brenden took a breath and paused for a moment to allow what Femke had said to sink in.
‘If you removed it to hide the evidence, then why admit to it now? Nobody could have categorically proved Dreban’s wound had come specifically from one of your knives.’
Femke looked Lord Brenden straight in the eye as she answered that question.
‘I admit it because the fact will make little difference to the outcome of this trial, my Lord. I’ve been framed with these murders. I am aware of the weight of evidence against me. It is huge. Indeed, the evidence is so great that I must be the most incompetent killer in history to have left such a mass of clues behind me. It is clear to me that if I cannot prove someone set me up, then I am as good as dead. You see, Lord Brenden, I am not a bumbling idiot of a criminal. I did not come to Thrandor to kill, and I have not done so. However, someone wishes you and the rest of those present today to believe this is the case, so go ahead and present the rest of the evidence. I’m sure it will be damning in the extreme.’
Commander Sateris smiled wryly at Femke’s answer. She knew the line his defence would take and had set up the criteria for his reply to the prosecution with perfect timing. There were few in the Court now who would see her as anything but a sharp-witted young woman, given the eloquence of her answer.
Lord Brenden continued his presentation of evidence, offering up the brooch found in Baron Anton’s hand. Again, Femke clearly identified it as hers. He then brought witnesses who had been involved in chasing her when she had fled the Palace. His final witness was one that Femke did not expect.