A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [56]
Dovyn was slumped so low that his forehead almost touched the floor. Melaudd leaned back in his chair, his hands twisted together, the broad knuckles bloodless.
“Therefore,” Addryc went on, “I demand a recompense for this fault beyond the wounding of Councillor Aderyn. The laws have no lwdd to pay for their bleeding, Tieryn Melaudd. The penalty for this offense is twenty-five lashes in the public ward.”
“Your Highness.” Melaudd rose and flung himself down beside his son in the same smooth motion. “I’ll beg of you, if ever I’ve served you, to spare him the shame of it. Not the lashes so much, Your Highness, but the shame—strung up in the ward like a common rider.”
“I fear he’s comported himself like a common rider, Tieryn Melaudd.”
“Your Highness?” Aderyn rose and bowed. “I, too, will beg for mercy. The lad is very young.”
“Old enough to know the laws. This injury doesn’t concern you, good councillor.”
“Your Highness?” Halaberiel rose and bowed. “Never would I question the wisdom of your judgment, but may I ask one thing?”
“You may, my prince.”
“Is the penalty for this offense death?”
“It’s not.”
“But the lad’s young and might well die from so many lashes.”
“Just so,” Addryc said with a nod. “Very well. I hereby lower the penalty to fifteen. Dovyn, raise your head and look at the man you thought your enemy. He’s brought you mercy.”
Slowly Lord Dovyn raised his head and turned Halaberiel’s way, but his cornflower-blue eyes, blackish in the candlelight, burned with hatred.
Prince Addryc picked up the ceremonial sword and flipped it point upward, holding it high.
“Hear then my decree,” Addryc said. “Tieryn Melaudd will pay the full lwdd for Councillor Aderyn’s wound. Lord Dovyn will receive fifteen lashes in the public ward from my executioner tomorrow at dawn.” He lowered the sword and rapped the pommel three times on the table. “So be it.”
Melaudd began to weep, a little sob under his breath, the rusty tears of a man who hasn’t wept since he was a little lad. At Addryc’s call, two guards stepped in, hauled Dovyn to his feet and marched him out, with Melaudd trailing after. Halaberiel caught Aderyn’s elbow and helped him bow to the prince; then they left Addryc alone with his righteous rage.
“How do you feel, Ado? Well enough to come to my suite for a goblet of mead?”
“I’m not a drinking man, but tonight I will. But I have to go down to the great hall first—there’s someone I need to see.”
In the great hall, they found the various human warbands drinking quietly, free of elven presence, as Halaberiel had told the men of the Westfolk to stay up in their own quarters. Off to one side Aderyn found Cinvan sitting with a beefy blond lad whom he introduced as Garedd.
“I’m sorry, lad,” Aderyn said. “I tried to speak for mercy, but the prince judged otherwise. I’m afraid they’re going to flog your lord tomorrow.”
“So we heard. The guards came out and told us the news. It aches my heart, but I’m no man to question a prince.”
“It aches mine, too,” Garedd said. “Here, sir, is it true that your prince spoke for mercy?”
“It is. It’s thanks to him that the lad will get only fifteen strokes.”
On the morrow, Aderyn stayed in his chamber when the prince’s justice met Dovyn’s bare back. From his refuge up in the main broch, he heard the distant noise of the various warbands being marched out to witness what happened to a man who broke the prince’s discipline. Then there was a deadly silence. Once he heard a faint sound that might have been a scream. Aderyn did