A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 11

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With patience that surprised the both of them, by the time that the treasonous sergeant was on his feet and ready for trial, he had learned enough to become a marginally acceptable swordsman. Rowan had now been taught some minimal basic skills and could now launch simple, but effective attacks along with a few protective guard movements. With time, and growing confidence, they were both sure that someday his skills might almost match the quality of his weapon.

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"Sergeant Worrel, formerly of my bodyguard, sworn in service to both myself and my father, Emdyn de Mosena, Duke of Tellismere, how do you plead to the charge of four counts of murder and of high treason to my personage?" The Lady Ayleth asked, as the formalities of the ad-hoc court came into session.

Her Ladyship had demanded to be allowed to assume the duties of both the prosecutor and judge, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the defense counsel, the Lore-Master Oddtus, made her see the folly of that course, if the trial was to be a lawful and just one. Grudging, she accepted that Coryn, the ship's captain was better suited to being the judge, and despite the murder of the young lady sailor Brenga, he swore an oath that he would judge the merits of the case impartially and without letting anger rule his judgment.

"For the accounts of three murders, and the treason, I do doth swear my complete and utter unpardonable guilt!" Worrel loudly replied, with his head held up high as he stood to confess to his crimes. "Except for the murder of the young lady Brenga, of which I had no knowledge or involvement. My hands are quite bloodstained enough, and I freely admit my guilt without reservation otherwise. I shall not even beg this court, or my accusers or judge, for mercy... but I shall willingly accept my pre-ordained fate."

The crowd of townsmen and the remaining sailors were quite astonished by this admission, and they quietly respected the fact that the old soldier had stood steadfast and had not wavered in the slightest from taking the responsibility for his crimes. His defense advocate, the Foole, was not yet ready to abandon his client, and in fact he now spoke eloquently in his defense.

"Honorable Lady, is it true that this yon miserable soldier has shed blood on your behalf, that he took two wounds on-board ship in your defense?"

"He has done so." She admitted cautiously, unsure as to what ends the Foole was leading her. "As a member of my bodyguard, that is indeed his sworn purpose and function, in fact it is his mortal duty."

"Quite so, but once blood had been shed on your behalf, is there not another duty that you yourself bear, in return to him? To see to his needs; to not necessarily tend to his wounds yourself, but to acknowledge them and respect that they were received in your defense and, at minimum, bestow your thanks and appreciation? Can you tell this court and the defendant, that you indeed returned your obligation to your wounded servant? I suggest instead, and quite to the contrary, that you spoke no words at all of either praise or comfort to any of your guardians, thus breaking an even more sacred bound; specifically the oaths and loyalties of blood. By some definitions, particular the older ones, any blood-oath or oath of fealty, loyalty or honor you might have been due, were instead violated and rendered null at the first, by your indifference to your guards care and welfare. By your distain for his wounds suffered in your name, any and all oaths to you, by law, were rendered null and void. Thus no possible treason could have occurred afterwards, as he never laid his hands, or his blade, upon your personage. Can you make oath otherwise?"

Indeed, the Lady was quite aghast that she could think of no action, even minimal or token, that she had spoken or performed to any of her guards during or after the battle. Now she understood where the clever gléaman was going with his argument, and she had no ready rebuttal or defense that would not make her appear even more indifferent or petty. She held her tongue and bowed her head a little in shame.

"As there is not any counter-argument, nor oath spoken from the defense witness, we petition the judge that he must drop the charge of treason from the prisoner's moral account." Captain Coryn agreed, and the startled audience soon quieted down so that the Lore-Master could continue with his defense.

"As to the counts of murder, the defendant does plead guilty to the deaths of his three guardsmen, done under the orders of his then lawful superior officer, but we shall make no use of that particular defense! The crime was done, and only the further betrayal by Lieutenant Rothale prevented this man from potentially benefiting from these crimes. This betrayal by his partner in crime, caused a terrible gut wound that nearly all men would have shortly fell mortal victim to, but instead Worrel lived. He lived on, alone in darkness and increasing terrible and excruciating pain that only redoubled his misery as the days wore on, lying helpless in a tall grassy field, slowly awaiting his certain judgment in the Shadowlands. But still he lived! Did the Weaver's have yet a plan for him -- to assist our heroic couple in their perilous return to us? Or is the Sergeant just a tough old bird. Perhaps both! But live he did, until everyone had been safely returned to their friends and companions! Then, nearly indeed did he allow himself to succumb to his dreadful and certainly virtually mortal wounds... but at the very gates of death, still he lived, or rather, was life restored as a gift by the guardians of the gates to the Shadowlands, who did not accept his passage! His judgment there declined and postponed. Lady, I ask you as you were a witness by his deathbed, to make oath! How long did his heart stop and for long did he no longer take breath?"

Ayleth clinched her lips tightly, certain that she was again to be outfoxed by the wily Foole, but she was sworn to answer. "He was indeed dead to all, and I saw you beat his on chest to force his heart to beat blood, and you also blew air into his mouth hard for several minutes to try and restore him, in vain. It was four minutes, perhaps five until he again breathed, entirely on his own, and was returned to the realm of the living." She said, again quite uncertain as to what case for mercy the Foole was making.

"I too was present and agree with the Lady's account of the passage of time, except to suggest that perhaps at least a full five minutes or more was the more correct measure of time that the accused passed to the border between the living and the spirit world." Boyle stated, offering his hand in truth-oath, and the Histrio nodded to each of them.

"Indeed. The Sergeant was quite at the gates to the Shadowlands, perhaps closer to them than any mortal man I've yet know, except for a lad that had once nearly drowned in a frozen river, including our trouble-finding young Champion, Rowan here." Oddtus said with a smile become continuing. "I submit that he was rejected by the gatekeepers of the Shadowlands, and released from their judgment because his time was not yet done in this world, and that perhaps some further and future good might yet repay the murder-debt owed. As these three murdered men were all without kin or family, it is to the Duke that his geld-debt must fall. He must make payment or offer service to cleanse this debt. As he has no coin, a victim, as Her Ladyship herself was, of Rothale's thefts, should he be able to offer service in geld-payment in the future, would you accept it?"

"No, I would not!" She said, hoping that his would be the end of this tiresome trial that didn't seem to be at all going the way she had intended.

"Then, I submit that we request the judge, jointly accepted by us to arbitrate, to set the mount of geld due to the Duchy, to be give to the Lady, in her father's name in payment for the blood debt to the dead."

Now trapped, the Lady suddenly discovered that by the very rules of the law, she would be forced to accept the judges ruling, and the offered geld payment, or at least until she could return home to the Ducal court to arrange a more suitable appeal of the verdict later. If she had proposed an outrageous geld, then the Foole would have been honor bound to accept it for his defendant, but since she had bluntly rejected payment herself, in her father's name, then the judge could and did set the death-geld.

The final verdict was now simple, and swiftly commanded, for there was much commonly known legal precedent. The sum of a pound and half of silver was named, the appropriate amount in total for the felonious deaths of the veteran guardsman, and Oddtus produced that very amount in gold from his ever-present purse and handed it to the astonished Lady.

Boyle and Rowan were agog with disbelief, as it was the first and only time that they had ever seen the gléaman reach into his own purse for any expense, no matter how trivial!

"The geld price is paid in full!" He announced, and everyone nodded in agreement, witnessing the transaction. Then to the astonished Sergeant, he said, "I have paid your geld-debt, and as such by custom, your service now belongs to me until such a time as you can pay back the debt in triplicate. This is the law! Although you are of near middle years, of about thirty or so, you have some skills and abilities that I shall find most useful, but perhaps not normally involving the cutting of throats in darkness... a skilled act that I've needed to perform a time or two in my own life. I shall take you as my apprentice, to learn to be solely a Histrio and medicus, to learn other acts of lore beyond your skilled stitching of deep internal wounds. It is possible that your lips might be pleasant enough for song and story, to become a tolerable gléaman, or your hands might suit the acts of juggling or acrobatics, to become a suitable joculator, or perhaps your fingers are suited to the playing the thousand tunes of a minstrel, as well, but I shall not force you to those duties if you have not the aptitude. Until such time as you become a master in any of these new crafts, or your geld-debt is repaid thrice over, I shall become your new master. Do you accept these terms?"

The former Sergeant was confused at this turn of events, but after a moment's thought he bowed his head and bent a knee to his new master. The Lady Ayleth stormed off in a volcanic fury; lividly angry that her will had been so completely and utterly thwarted.

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Also in accordance with old folk custom, as a man who had touched the very gateway to the Shadowlands, Worrel later that night burned all of his own clothing and gave all of the rest of his meager possessions away until he owned nothing whatsoever from his previous life. Then naked by the fire, he ceremonially burned away his old name and his old life, and became a newly reborn man, according to the ritual of the old custom.

The old Sergeant Worrel was now gone; dead in his heart and soul, and to the words of men. In his place stood a mature but eager new apprentice named Ashburn, a man who had sworn to leave murder and treachery behind him with his old life, and now was reborn anew in the ashes.

This transformation was accepted by virtually everyone, except for the Lady Ayleth who had much returned to her previous ill-tempered ways, and was giving everyone around her a taste of her growing ill-humor.

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With the wounded all now mostly healed, or at least well enough now to safely travel, it was now time to make a decision that everyone had been putting off while waiting for Rowan's return; in which direction should they next head The Lady Ellyn; either further upstream to almost certain further danger from hordes of Boar-Men, now crossing the Emerald River in vast numbers, or to take the rain swollen Elm River now south to the great walled town of Elmcrygh.

Rowan and Gwenda had seen a great many large war-party tracks heading south during their escape, and they greatly wanted to attempt to warn the important trade town of the approaching danger, if there was even still time. Others were instead greatly fearful that sailing along the river they would soon meet some or most of those invading warriors in a fight that they probably couldn't win. Either way, acute danger would likely shadow them on either path they could take.

In the end, everyone now seemed to look towards Rowan to make the final decision, but it was the advice of Boyle that guided him.

"We don't yet know for sure that Elmcrygh has been attacked yet. From what Gwenda has told us, the river upstream is afire with raiding Eorfleode and the settlements ahead of us there are even smaller, and less well protected than Silana was. At least if we go south we have the hope of being able to warn Elmcrygh, or at least be able to add slightly to its defense. Perhaps we might not arrive far too late to help or give warning. We must ourselves find help, and from wherever we can gather it, to provide a safe shelter for these townsmen that we have defended, rescued and accepted into our protection. We must also find some swift means of warning the Duke, for if he waits too much longer, he will have no Duchy and no subjects left to protect!"

Rowan announced the decision to head south for Elmcrygh, with all possible haste and speed, and nearly everyone nodded in agreement. The ship was large enough to take all of the surviving townsfolk onboard, but there was little if any deck room left otherwise, but even the grumbling Captain had to agree that it would have been murder to leave anyone left behind. A few surviving horses were added to the crowded hold of the ship, but certainly not enough nearly mounts for everyone. Travelling by land was going to be a very slow option now.

Within fifteen minutes of Rowan announcing their intended destination, the last remaining supplies from the town ruins had been gathered, and the ship was rigged to travel in an almost exact beam reach to the strong eastward flowing winds from the distant ocean. The boat was now crowded, but not dangerously so, and Rowan soon found himself soon too busy to brood back at the bow as he had done before. The distance upriver to the town would take several days, and he would have much to do before then, sorting supplies and gathering weapons for immediate readiness.

A few of the handful of surviving men that were without families left had sworn themselves to his service, and now that he had a guard of his own, he fretted constantly that he couldn't adequately arm, armor, train or protect them. His daily fencing lessons were also too important to skip as well, and soon Rowan despaired of getting much, if any, relaxation time onboard the ship.

The Lady Ayleth, once again, most stayed in her cabin, but the ever amused Boyle tried hard to divert her mood with regular visits, and eventually by the time that the ship came into view of the walled city of Elmcrygh, she had returned to the deck with the others. Her timing was not auspicious, and soon after she climbed up the ladder stairs to the main deck to rejoin her companions, she shared with them in silence the terrible sight of the broken stone defending walls and the still flaming ruins of the formerly great town of Elmcrygh.