Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [127]
“True, my lord,” Sturm replied, “but all know the elves are expert marksmen. If they had wanted to kill us, they would not have been hitting trees!”
“What do you believe would have happened if you had attacked the elves?” Gunthar questioned.
“The results would have been tragic in my view, my lord,” Sturm said, his voice soft and low. “For the first time in generations, elves and humans would be killing each other. I think the Dragon Highlords would have laughed.”
Several of the young knights applauded.
Lord Alfred glared at them, angry at this serious breach of the Measure’s rules of conduct. “Lord Gunthar, may I remind you that Lord Derek Crownguard is not on trial here. He has proven his valor time and again upon the field of battle. I think we may safely take his word for what is an enemy action and what isn’t. Sturm Brightblade, do you say that the charges made against you by Lord Derek Crownguard are false?”
“My lord,” Sturm began, licking his lips which were cracked and dry, “I do not say the knight has lied. I say, however, that he has misrepresented me.”
“To what purpose?” Lord Michael asked.
Sturm hesitated. “I would prefer not to answer that, my lord,” he said so quietly that many knights in the back row could not hear and called for Gunthar to repeat the question. He did so and received the same reply—this time louder.
“On what grounds do you refuse to answer that question, Brightblade?” Lord Gunthar asked sternly.
“Because—according to the Measure—it impinges on the honor of the Knighthood,” Sturm replied.
Lord Gunthar’s face was grave. “That is a serious charge. Making it, you realize you have no one to stand with you in evidence?”
“I do, my lord,” Sturm answered, “and that is why I prefer not to respond.”
“If I command you to speak?”
“That, of course, would be different.”
“Then speak, Sturm Brightblade. This is an unusual situation, and I do not see how we can make a fair judgment without hearing everything. Why do you believe Lord Derek Crownguard misrepresents you?”
Sturm’s face flushed. Clasping and unclasping his hands, he raised his eyes and looked directly at the three knights who sat in judgment on him. His case was lost, he knew that. He would never be a knight, never attain what had been dearer to him than life itself. To have lost it through fault of his own would have been bitter enough, but to lose it like this was a festering wound. And so he spoke the words that he knew would make Derek his bitter enemy for the rest of his days.
“I believe Lord Derek Crownguard misrepresents me in an effort to further his own ambition, my lord.”
Tumult broke out. Derek was on his feet. His friends restrained him forcibly, or he would have attacked Sturm in the Council Hall. Gunthar banged the sword hilt for order and eventually the assembly quieted down, but not before Derek had challenged Sturm to test his honor in the field.
Gunthar stared at the knight coldly.
“You know, Lord Derek, that in this—a declared time of war—the contests of honor are forbidden! Come to order or I’ll have you expelled from this assembly.”
Breathing heavily, his face splotched with red, Derek relapsed back into his seat.
Gunthar gave the Assembly a few more moments to settle down, then resumed. “Have you anything more to say in your defense, Sturm Brightblade?”
“No, my lord,” Sturm said.
“Then you may withdraw while this matter is considered.”
Sturm rose and bowed to the lords. Turning, he bowed to the Assembly. Then he left the room, escorted by two knights who led him to an antechamber. Here, the two knights, not unkindly, left Sturm to himself. They stood near the closed door, talking softly of matters unrelated to the trial.
Sturm sat on a bench at the far end of the chamber. He appeared composed and calm, but it was all an act. He was determined not to let these knights see the tumult in his soul. It was hopeless, he knew. Gunthar’s grieved expression told him that much. But what would the judgment be? Exile, being stripped of lands and wealth?