2nd January 1103

“Could I please have some silence,” Eallair asked, his voice barely audible above the low murmur of conversation that filled the echoing throne room. Now that outdoor building had ceased for the winter, Madlenka decided it was about time they set to paneling the hall. She knew a few men that would be up to the task.

Madlenka longed to interject, to call out in her loud, clear voice for some order. To demand the subjects show some respect for their King. But in doing so, they would only respect Eallair less. She remained silent, her fists clenched against the soft material spread across her lap.

Eallair continued resolutely, despite the fragmented ends of conversations drifting around the room.

“We are here to discuss the unfortunate matter of the Earl’s wife. I have gathered you all here because I want you to listen to the evidence that Lochan has gathered with regard to the matter. My decision will be final but I will take into account any opinions that are ventured forth here today.”

They had gone over this little speech together this morning, her head cradled in the warm nook of his shoulder, listening to him sleepily recite the sentences they had agreed on. She was glad to hear he neither stumbled nor stuttered over the words. He sounded like a man in control of his Kingdom.

“Discuss… discuss. What is there to discuss,” Radomir barked across the echoing hall, half rising from his chair, “The man raped my wife. He should be executed.”

“Radomir,” Cindra piped in softly, her voice soothing, “We must go about this in the proper way. Shouldn’t we hear the evidence first and let the King make a decision. If he is found guilty then I am sure His Majesty will decided on a just sentence.”

But Radomir was in no state to be soothed. Mostly people had spent the last week trying to stay out of his way, but there was the unfortunate servant who ended up with a swift cuff on the ear for no more indiscretion than getting in the way. Madlenka understood that he must be there, it would have been cruel to leave him out but she despaired at the idea of the King reaching a descision while he was berated and bullied by the Earl.

“A just sentence… there can be no just sentence but death for what he did. He has no right to lay a hand on another man’s wife. No right. Creeping in and taking her while she was ill. Filthy bastard.”

Lochan interjected, “Radomir, I must remind you that it was not so long ago we sat here deliberating over what your punishment she be after you drove your fist into the face of another man’s wife. Would you please be silent and allow this discussion to proceed.”

Radomir grimaced briefly as he glanced over at Sigurd and nodded briskly.

Madlenka glanced over at her husband noting his lost expression. She would have to prod him a little.

“So it seems to me that we have two issues to deal with. First, did Father Harndall actually commit this crime, what is the evidence? What is the proof? Second, if so, what should his punishment be. Your Majesty, I would like to suggest that we hear the evidence The Duke has gathered on the matter so that you can make your descision.”

Subtly, she passed the command over to him. She had prompted him and knew full well he would seize on her words and continue the line of reasoning like an actor, his prompt muttered from the wings.

“Yes indeed, Your Lordship, would you be so kind as to outline the conversations you have conducted in the previous days.”

“Of course Your Majesty. To begin with I would like to say that I do not think it is enough to condemn a man based solely on the appearance of a baby. We all know that babies look different when they are newly born, their eye colour and hair colour can change drastically. So I would like, first of all, to ask for us to be reasonable, and put the child‘s looks aside and look at the cold, hard facts.”

“First, I have a statement from Mistress Ylder, The Countess’ lady maid stating that she did not allow any men to enter the room during the specified time other than the Earl. More concerning is the statement from Lady Inbar which reveals that she did in fact allow the Priest into the room with the Countess for the period of one hour in order that he might pray by her bedside.”

“She what,” Radomir roared, half-rising in his chair “How dare she. That meddling bitch. Against my expressed wishes she let that man into the room.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my wife in that way you monster,” Sigurd was already rising from his seat, his face twisted in anger, “You have no right.”

“Silence,” barked the Duke, “Sit yourself back down Sir Inbar, I won’t allow your wife to come to any harm. And you, Your Lordship. Don’t you dare speak of Lady Inbar in that way. And if you so much as look at her funny I will have your hide. Do you hear me?”

Madlenka’s eyes slid over to Eallair, who was sitting there looking sheepish. She longed to reach his hand over and give it a reassuring squeeze but there was no way she could. She didn’t know how much longer she and the Duke could keep up this dance of covering over Eallair’s insufficiency as a ruler. She had hoped for so long that he would step up and take charge with a little encouragement, but lately he seemed to be folding in on himself. It was a desperate circumstance when the people had no one else to turn to.

“Now, as I was saying. I have also spoken to the Priest and…”

There was a hollow knock on the huge, iron doors. The King’s steward hurried over dragging them open. There standing in the rectangle of light was the Countess, her face as pale as the glimpse of snow behind her.

“The Countess of Moraghdu,” Garald solemnly intoned.

Arwaduhn, Elmvarn, Hwratar, Inbar, Moraghdu, Murchadh, Tadhgar, The Royal Family