Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [66]
“We have before us a charge of sacrilege,” Glyn announced. “Lord Dannyn is accused of attempting to profane the person of Gweniver, lady and priestess. Let the evidence proceed.”
“My liege,” Dannyn called out, “let me spare you that. I confess. Just take me out and kill me. If ever I’ve done you any service, do it now and swiftly.”
Glyn considered him with eyes so cold that he might have been looking at a stranger. Saddar smiled to himself.
“Lady Gweniver,” the king said, “step forward.”
Gweniver came to the foot of the throne.
“We offer you a choice of retribution, to take as the Goddess advises and desires. Death or banishment. The banishment will be from our court and our lands. We will strip Lord Dannyn of all rights, rank, and privilege, yet will we retain his child, to be raised as our son, out of pity for one too young to share his father’s shame. This sentence would spare his life only because the crime was uncompleted. If the Goddess desires otherwise, we will have him given fifty lashes, then hanged until dead in the market square of our city of Cerrmor. In your Goddess’s name, speak and sentence this man.”
Although Ricyn knew what she was going to say, he had to admire the way Gweniver looked as she pretended to debate the question, all solemn and profound. Saddar looked as if he had a mouthful of vinegar as he began to guess what was coming. Finally Gweniver curtsied to the king.
“Banishment, my liege. Although the affair was grave and sacrilegious at root, the Goddess can be merciful when a crime is freely confessed, and when the criminal has been driven to mad actions by things beyond his control.”
She paused and let her eyes meet Saddar’s. The old man turned very pale indeed.
“Done, then.” Glyn raised the golden sword high. “We hereby pronounce the aforesaid sentence of banishment against Dannyn, no longer lord. Guards! Take him away to prepare for his journey out of my city. Let him have no more than the clothes he wears, two blankets, a dagger, and the two pieces of silver due a banished man.”
As the guards dragged the prisoner away, the audience in the crowded chamber began whispering in a sound like rushing water. Since he had an errand to run, Ricyn slipped out a side door and hurried to Dannyn’s chambers. In the middle of the floor, Dannyn was kneeling and rolling up a cloak into his bedroll. He glanced Ricyn’s way, then went on working.
“Have you come to kill me?” he said.
“I haven’t. I’ve brought you somewhat from the lady.”
“It’s a pity she didn’t just let me hang. The flogging would have been better than this.”
“Don’t talk like a dolt.” Ricyn took the prepared message tube out of his shirt. “Ride to Blaeddbyr and give this to Lord Gwetmar. He needs a good captain with all the cursed Boars on the border.”
Dannyn looked at the proffered tube for a moment, then took it and slipped it inside his shirt.
“She’s most generous to those she conquers, but taking her favor is the cursed worst thing of all. Tell me somewhat and honestly, Ricco, for the sake of the battles we’ve ridden together. Are you bedding her or not?”
Ricyn’s hand seemed to find his sword hilt of its own accord.
“I’m not, and never would I.”
“Huh. So you’ll be her little lapdog, will you? I thought you were more of a man than that.”
“You’re forgetting the Goddess.”
“Huh.” It was more a snort than word.
Ricyn found his sword in his hand without his being aware that he’d drawn it. Dannyn sat back on his heels and smirked at him. With a wrench of will, Ricyn sheathed the sword.
“Clever bastard, aren’t you? But I’m not going to kill you and spare you your shame.”
Dannyn went as limp as a sack of meal. Ricyn turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.
The ward was packed with people from wall to wall, every lord, every rider, every servant, all whispering and waiting. Ricyn found Gweniver and Nevyn down by the gates,