'If they weren't so eager to turn everyone they meet into rice pudding, I wouldn't have dropped it, and then perhaps we could have avoided all this.'
Lord Christopher darted forward and picked up the object in question, a gold medallion on a chain.
'Oh, hello,' said Alec. 'Nevilleson. I pushed your sister in the fishpond once. How is she?'
Lord Christopher looked up into his face and gasped. 'Campion! They - I thought you were dead!'
'Well, I'm not,' said Alec. 'Not yet, anyway. May I have that, please?'
Halliday nodded, and the guards released him.
'See?' Alec came forward, holding out the medallion. 'Tremontaine. It's my signet. And my pass. The duchess sent me. May I sit down?'
The entire room was staring at him as he walked to the empty seat between Lord Arlen and the Duke of Karleigh. He nodded courteously to the scribes, and introduced himself, 'Lord David Alexander Tielman (I, E, one L) Campion, of Campion and Tremontaine.' He waved one. hand airily. 'It's all in the heralds' books, you can look it up later.'
Even Richard could see the fierce look Lord Ferris was giving the newcomer. He thought, if Ferris recognises Alec from Riverside, there could be trouble. But Alec only caught the look and smiled at Ferris with a private, malicious joy. Then he addressed the assembled nobles. 'I am so sorry to be late. It was very exasperating: no one seemed to be willing to tell me where you were meeting. You really should leave instructions about these things. I've seen more of the Hall of Justice than anyone should have to. It's quite tired me out. I hope it will be lunchtime soon. And now, shall we get down to business, my lords?'
They were all staring at him now, even Basil Halliday. Only Lord Arlen seemed to be amused. Arlen said, 'You will want to read the notes first, Lord David. I'm afraid we have started without you.'
Alec looked at him with the wind, as they say, momentarily knocked out of his sails. Richard's opinion of the unknown nobleman went up several more notches. He was still too stunned to do much more than take in Alec's performance. So Alec was a relative of the pretty woman with the swan boat after all. The admirable duchess with the wonderful chocolate set had sent her young kinsman to his trial. Maybe Alec - or, as it seemed, Lord David - was going to claim to be the patron in Horn's death? It wasn't completely wrong. The thought of the elegant young noble with the blistering tongue and terrible manners acting as his patron made Richard feel slightly cold. A lot of Alec's outrageous behaviour was due to simple fear and some embarrassment. Whatever he was planning to do here, Richard hoped he could pull it off. He had silenced Ferris for now, anyway.
Alec finished reading the notes, and put them down with a brisk nod. The reading seemed to have given him the time he needed to regain his nerves. 'I have several things to add,' he said, 'and not all of them are suitable to this Inquiry. Tremontaine has been dealt several offences in this case, and would like to see them brought before the entire Council of Lords. I can't be more specific now without prejudicing the case. Also, as some of you know' - here he looked mildly at Lord Christopher - 'I'm interested in old books. Some of them actually contain some useful facts. In one I've found an old legal custom called the threefold challenge. It has never been officially rescinded, although it has fallen out of use. I know observance of the old ways is very much respected by some gentlemen' - and the look he gave Lord Karleigh was less mild - 'and hope that by bringing St Vier into the hall before all the assembled lords of the state, we could require his patron to come forward by crying it three times.'
'It sounds very dramatic,' said Halliday. 'Are you sure it will really be effective?'
Alec shrugged. 'It will, as you say, be good theatre. And you wouldn't want to punish the wrong man.'
'But,' said Lord Montague gently, 'can we summon the entire lordship of the city to a piece of good theatre?'
Alec's chin lifted dangerously. 'You must be joking. They'd pay to see this. Two royals a head, and standing room only. Make 'em vote up the land tax while they're all in there. All card parties will be cancelled.'
Basil Halliday nearly disgraced his position by chuckling helplessly. 'He's right.'
'And that', said Karleigh, glad to have something to disagree with at last, 'is what you think of the dignity of the Council, my lord?'
But in the end, the vote was passed.
Chapter XXVI
Two days later, the deputy of the Fort was getting tired of being beaten at chequers.
'Beginner's luck,' said Richard St Vier. 'And anyway, we're not playing for real stakes. Come on, just one more game.'
'No', the deputy sighed, 'I'd better go and find out who wants to see you this time. Don't these people understand, orders are orders, they don't change from hour to hour. But I'll tell you, I could retire to the country with the bribes I'm offered.'
'I'm fashionable,' Richard said; 'it happens.'
The cell was full of flowers, like their box at the theatre. The gifts of food and wine had to be refused as possibly poisoned, but the clean shirts, bouquets and handkerchiefs were checked for secret messages and then gratefully accepted. It might be in poor taste to make a hero of St Vier with Lord Horn barely cold in his grave; but the nobles of the city had always been intrigued by the swordsman. Now popular feeling was that Horn's real killer, Richard's patron, would soon be uncovered at the impending Council. Even Horn's empty house was fashionable; people drove past it several times, looking for the wall St Vier had climbed over and the room where It had happened. And young David Campion, the instigator of the exciting proceedings, was very much sought after at the Duchess Tremontaine's - but he was never in.
Alec spent much of his days lying on his back in a darkened room, sleeping. The duchess sent up trays of exquisite food at regular hours, which he roused himself to eat. She would not allow him nearly enough wine. At night he prowled the house, haunting the library and reading things at random, scribbling notes and throwing them away. He came across an early copy of the banned On the Causes of Nature, and read it through twice without taking in a word it said. The only thing that kept him from dashing back to Riverside was the fact that Richard was not there.
Nor was the duchess at home to Lord Ferris. His letters to her were received, but not answered. Once, he met her in a public place where he knew she would be. She was charming but not flirtatious. Her eyes and words contained none of her usual doubles entendres, and she answered his own blandly. He wanted to scream at her, to beat her, to close his fingers on her flowerstalk neck; but there were people present, he dared not begin a quarrel for no apparent reason. Her delicate features and clear skin drove him to a frenzy he had not known in many months with her. He wanted to stroke the tight satin over her ribcage, to rest his hands in the curve of her waist and pull her featherlight body to him. He felt like a poor man looking through a park gate, helpless and unrelievedly unhappy. He knew what he had done to offend her; but he did not see how she could possibly have learned of it. Even if she had, he could not continue to live with her begrudging him his independence. He had been her willing apprentice for three years now. She had taught him love, and politics. Through her he had become what he was. And he had served her well, advancing her views in Council while she sat at the centre of the city, a delicate hostess everyone adored who everyone knew had no interest in politics....
He couldn't remember how she had cast off the one before him. Her love affairs were discreet. The city was full of her friends; some of them, perhaps, old pupils who had left her more gracefully. He had been so sure that Godwin was targeted to be the next one. It had suited Ferris to assist Horn's little folly, to chase him away. If he had been right about her interest in Godwin, then she might well be angry now - although a lesser woman would be flattered at his jealousy. But how did she know} She was playing with him. Should he have come to her with an accusation? Waited to be given his marching orders? It occurred to him now that perhaps he had just been given them: not because of Godwin, but because of this young kinsman of hers, the brash young man with the high cheekbones. He looked Lord David up in the Heralds' List and his eyes widened. The bonds of blood were too close, surely. But nothing was sure with the duchess.
Lord Ferris tried through intermediaries to get word to St Vier; but his agents were all turned away, and finally he had to give up lest his interest become known. For some purpose of her own, Diane was sending in her young kinsman to champion St Vier's cause. He had been sure, at the Inquiry, that St Vier had grasped his meaning, and had been about to answer him affirmatively - but then Tremontaine had interfered. He wished he knew what Diane's game was. The simplest explanation was that she wanted St Vier for herself. But Ferris was not ready to abandon his own purpose. Without Diane's support, his bid for the Crescent would be more difficult, but still not impossible. If St Vier had truly understood him, he would have his chance again in open Council to acquire the swordsman's full cooperation. Why, after all, should St Vier listen to Tremontaine's young emissary, who was obviously using St Vier for his house's own ends? Ferris could promise him freedom, patronage and work. David Alexander Campion was offering St Vier nothing that Ferris could see.
In the Council Chamber, which had once been the Hall of Princes, a festive chaos reigned. Every noble in the city who had the right to sit in Council was sitting today - or standing, or milling, leaning on benches to talk to friends two rows over, or calling their servants to fetch another bag of Oranges. The mingled scents of oranges and chocolate overlaid the hall's usual ones of waxed woodwork, ceiling dust and human vanity. The Council was beginning early this morning, and men unused to going without their breakfast were not about to give it up.
The Lords Halliday, Ferris, Montague, Arlen and the other members of the Justiciary panel were not partaking of the general merriment, or its sustenance. They sat at a table on a dais at the head of the hall with the panelled wall behind them. The Inner Council chancellors wore their blue robes, and Arlen and the Duke of Karleigh were richly dressed for public viewing. Of Lord David Campion there was as yet no sign.
Halliday looked out over the milling throng. 'Do you suppose', he murmured to Ferris, 'that we could get them to pass an act or two while they're all here?'
'No,' Ferris answered flatly. 'But you're welcome to try.'
'Where's Tremontaine got to?'
'You don't imagine', Montague said, 'that he's got lost again?'
'Probably.' Halliday glanced out at the crowd of nobles. 'Better get started anyway, before they begin having orange fights.' He leaned across to his aide. 'Chris, tell the heralds to call for silence, and then go and tell the deputy we're ready for St Vier.'
Richard and the deputy of the Fort were waiting patiently in an overcrowded antechamber stuffed with guards.
'I'm telling you,' the deputy was saying to his charge, 'you never saw a set of knives like that foreigner had, each one long as your forearm, and balanced like God's judgement -'
Then the huge double-doors swung open like shutters on the confining chamber, revealing a world of immense magnificence: a hall whose ceiling reached up to four times a man's height, studded with tall windows letting in sunlight that gilded the expanse of carved wood above and tilework below. The deputy dusted off his knees, and Richard straightened his jacket before they passed through those portals.
Closer up, Richard had a dazzling impression of ancient oak and freshly gilded scrollwork; and of a vertical sea of faces, bobbing and roaring just like real waves, but multi-coloured, as though struck to rainbows by the sunlight. He sorted it out into three banks of seats, filled with nobles, and on the fourth side a raised table behind which were seated the men from the Inquiry. Alec was missing. But Alec would be there; must be there. Richard wondered if he would be wearing the green and gold again. Now that he was allied with the Duchess Tremontaine, it was fitting that he look the part. Richard pictured the clever duchess giving Alec the kind of look she had given him at the theatre, long and appraising and amused, perhaps saying in her aristocratic purr, 'So, you're seeing sense and giving up on poverty at last. How convenient. I have a use for you...." But just what that use was, Richard couldn't begin to fathom. Perhaps she was simply confirming Alec's return to the fold in sending him to Council. Obviously, there'd been some rift with Ferris; maybe she'd decided not to kill Basil Halliday after all, and sent Alec to stop it. Richard assumed that, with the duchess behind him, Alec could save his life as efficiently as Ferris could, and at less cost to himself. He didn't think that Alec would want to hurt him.
They gave Richard a chair facing the panel of justiciars. Their interest was all on him: Halliday's look gravely considering; Ferris's cool; the Duke of Karleigh frankly staring. Lord Montague raised his eyebrows at Richard, grinned and mouthed the words, 'Nice shirt.' Behind Richard the stands were noisy with comment. He really didn't like having his back to so many strangers. But he watched the faces of his judges like mirrors for what was going on behind him. Halliday's betrayed irritation; he gestured, and heralds began pounding for silence.
Slowly the ruckus died, with a hissing of 'Shhh!' and one clear, 'They're getting started!' At last the room was as quiet as one so full of living souls could be. Feet shifted, benches creaked, cloth rustled, but human voices were stilled to a soothing murmur. And in that silence one pair of footsteps rang on the tiles.
From the far end of the hall a tall figure in black made its way across the expanse of floor. As it drew nearer, Richard's breath caught in his throat. Alec's customary black was all of velvet this time. His buttons glittered jet. The snowy edges of his shirt were trimmed with silver lace. And, to Richard's utter amazement, a diamond glittered in one ear.
Alec's face was pale, as though he hadn't slept. As he passed Richard's chair he did not look at him. He went up to the dais, and took his seat among the justiciars.
The duchess had advised her kinsman of the precise time to arrive. He had badly wanted not to be approached before the Council began, and not to have to talk to any of the other justiciars when he sat at the table. His seat was between Lord Arlen and the Duke of Karleigh, on the other side of the Crescent Chancellor from Lord Ferris.
The muttering in the stands was rumbling its way to thunder again. Quickly the heralds called for silence, and the questioning began.
Reading from notes, Lord Halliday repeated his questions iron the other day, and Richard repeated his answers. At one point someone from the stands called out, 'Louder! We can't all hear!'
'I'm not an actor,' Richard said. He was snappish because they were making him feel like one. He almost expected Alec to make a crack about throwing flowers; but it was Halliday who told him,
'Move your chair back a few paces; the sound will spread.'
He did it, and felt the high ceiling somehow picking up and projecting his words through the chamber. These people thought of everything.
Finally, Lord Halliday addressed the Council: 'My noble lords: you have heard the Justiciary question the swordsman Richard, called St Vier, in the matter of the death of Asper Lindley, late Lord Horn. That he did conspire in that death and succeed in it is now beyond question. But the honour of a noble house is a fine matter, and not touched on lightly. We thank you all for your attendance in this hall today, and charge you silence in the attendant threefold question.'
He looked over to Lord Arlen, who leaned back in his high-backed chair. Through the relaxation of Arlen's gesture a terrible focus burned; and the hall, feeling it, was still. Arlen lifted his head, and the deep gaze of his old-young eyes seemed to touch all the sides of the chamber, from the solemn men in front to the young men wrangling excitedly in a corner where they thought they would not be noticed.
Arlen's voice was dry and clear. It carried to the ears of everyone. 'By the authority of this Council, and of the Justiciary that presides for it, and by the honour of every man here, I charge any man bearing title of the land, whose father bore it and who wishes his sons to bear it, to stand forth now and proclaim himself if his honour or the honour of his house was touched to the death by Asper Lindley, late Lord Horn.'
The first time he heard the question Richard felt a chill down his spine. There was not a sound to be heard in the hall, and the world on the other side of the windows had ceased to exist. When Arlen repeated the question, Richard heard shuffling, as though people were preparing to rise, though no one did. Arlen waited for silence before repeating it a third time. Richard closed his eyes, and his hands closed on the arms of his chair to keep himself from answering the challenge. It was not his honour these people were concerned about. And in the doom-filled silence, no one stood forth.
'Master St Vier.' Richard opened his eyes. Basil Halliday was speaking to him in a quiet, orator's voice that everyone could hear. 'Let me ask you one last time. Do you lay claim to any patron in the death of Lord Horn?'
Richard looked over at Lord Ferris. Ferris was looking at him in mute urgency, the lines of his face rigid with veiled frustration. It was a stifled command, and Richard didn't like it. He turned his eyes to Alec. Alec was gazing out over his head with an expression of abstract boredom.
'I do not,' Richard answered.
'Very well.' Halliday's voice broke Aden's spell, decisive and normal. 'Has anyone anything further to add?'
As if on cue, Alec stood up. 'I do, of course.'
A long sigh seemed to issue from the corporate mouth. Alec raised his hand. 'With your permission,' he said to the others; and when they nodded, he went down the steps to Richard.
As the figure in black approached, Richard saw Alec's hand reach into the breast of his jacket. He saw the flash of metal, and saw his own death at the end of the fine blade wielded by the man in black velvet. His hand shot up to turn the knife.
'Jumpy,' said Alec, 'aren't we?' He held out the gold Tremontaine medallion, and, still a few feet away, tossed it to Richard. 'Tell me,' Alec drawled; 'and while you're at it, say it loud enough for everyone to hear, have you seen this particular object before?'