Chapter 681: Tribunal’s Verdict (Part One)
Ashlynn’s condemnation hung heavy in the damp autumn air, weighing down on everyone who heard the fierceness and venom in her voice. As gentle and mild as Ashlynn had been with Eamon and Daithi as they described their life in Sir Ollie’s village, when she spoke of Darragh’s treachery, it was as though she had beco an Inquisitor condemning a heretic.
For a mont, the soft crackle and occasional pop of the campfire and the muffled sounds of horses shifting in the night were the only sounds that could be heard. Among the soldiers and servants watching, everyone held their breath following Ashlynn’s pronouncent as they waited for the tribunal of knights to respond. Even Marcel, often one to fidget with a knife or fiddle with the bits of lace at the ends of his sleeves, had gone still as he focused his attention on the knights who served Owain Lothian.
"Lady Ashlynn," Sir Rain said awkwardly as he unconsciously flinched back from the venom dripping from her words. "I admit that this Darragh has broken his word. You took him into your domain, gave him shelter and an enviable life by all accounts. But does it really rise to the level of betrayal? At most, isn’t he just a runaway?"
"Just a runaway?" Ashlynn said, raising a brow at the portly knight. "Even if that were all he’d done, it would still be a grave offense. But it wasn’t as simple as running away now, was it? He tried to tell you that you were approaching a trap. He was a trusted man with knowledge about many secrets that cannot easily be shared. To run away with that knowledge and tell tales about what he had seen is much more serious, don’t you think?"
"I, I suppose that it is," Rain said, swallowing a lump in his throat as he stared into the coldest pair of erald eyes he’d ever seen in a woman’s face. "But how can we know what he was going to say if we don’t let him speak? I think we should hear from the man himself what he intended to tell us so we can judge his cri."
"Mang uum, mran u, emmee eeerm," Darragh mumbled into his gag, straining against Eamon’s grip on him as he all but lunged toward his last hope to be heard.
"Constable Daithi, take out his gag so the tribunal can hear what he has to say," Sir Rain commanded imperiously, attempting to regain so of his stature by reminding people that he and the others on the wagons were noblen with every right in the world to command the commoners around them. He might not be able to influence Lady Ashlynn, but he could still put her n in their place.
"Stay your hand, Constable," Ashlynn said, even though the man hadn’t made the slightest movent to follow Sir Rain’s order. "You should never let a traitor speak at his own trial," Ashlynn continued as though she were recounting sage wisdom. "He has nothing to be gained by telling the truth of his cris and everything to gain by spreading lies or divulging secrets."
At the far edge of the camp, Isabell nodded along with Ashlynn’s words though she wondered what had happened for the young Lady to acquire that particular piece of wisdom. In the Court of the Erald King, during the height of the civil war, she’d seen many n and nobles turn traitor as the winds shifted and she’d seen the chaos ensue when a guilty man loudly shouted that another man was his co-conspirator.
The damage a known traitor could do when given a platform from which to spew lies and sow discord was trendous. That was part of why, in the Kingdom of Gaal, n accused of high cris were often questioned in the presence of Confessors or Inquisitors who had great abilities to see through truth and lies. But questioning was always done away from a trial.
"Besides," Ashlynn said, pulling Isabell’s attention back to the proceedings. "We don’t need to hear his words to know that he had more in mind than just fleeing," she said, looking from Eamon to Olllie before selecting the latter man to speak. "Sir Ollie, when Eamon noticed that Darragh was missing, what else did he discover?"
"Poison in the water," Ollie said, hanging his head low in sha. He’d vouched for all of the n who had co on this mission and even specifically sought out Eamon and Darragh in case they were needed in order to scout the area.
He’d never imagined sothing like this would co to pass because he’d firmly believed, perhaps naively, that both n had settled well into life in the village and that they were as happy there as people like Daithi, who asked that his family be brought to join him in the Vale of Mists. But he’d been blind to the serpent he’d taken into his own village, and if not for Marcel catching the man, who knows what kind of damage this man could have done.
"He used flat-leaf nettles to poison the drinking water," Ollie explained after a deep, shuddering breath as he raised his head to et Ashlynn’s calm, understanding gaze. "It causes a man’s bowels to turn to jelly and his legs as well. If not for Eamon catching it, and Lady Ashlynn providing treatnts to the n, everyone here would still be feeling the effects."
"It isn’t deadly," Ollie added. "But he clearly knew what he was doing when he poisoned the water. He was making sure no one could chase him down."
"Sir Rain, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what would happen to footn afflicted by such a condition," Ashlynn said in a calm, even tone. "But the n of Aleese Barony are famous across Lothian March for their cavalryn. You yourself have been a tournant champion with a lance in your hand for multiple years running," she praised, rembering the way he’d boasted of his accomplishnts when they were introduced at the feast following her marriage to Owain.
"So could you explain to us," Ashlynn said, drawing Sir Rain skillfully into her own rhythm. "What would have happened to my n if they’d tried to ride horses to catch up to the escaping Mister Darragh?"
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