Her last visit to the capitol had brought her to a chamber in the relative centre of the building; after all, it had need to be near the public entrance that the common petitioners did not foul too much of the air inside.
Today, her visit took her deeper into the halls, over in the west wing of the building. It was a much different chamber, still with a place for the King at one end of the room, but the rest of the room was arranged with two sets of benches which faced each other, and then a small bench to the side of the King. A more ornate room, it had paintings on the walls and fine rugs on the floor, even a receptacle for burning incense.
Unlike the last time, she entered after the King had arrived. That may have been custom or because she did not have such an influential vouch this time. While she had an insight into most matters, this was a place with some mystery.
The King’s Council was a simple reflection of the balance of power within the kingdom. It was, in principle and in practice, politics.
As for who she was in front of today, it was the King’s Bench who primarily heard cases of law to do with the landed. These were still lords of some influence—or rather, lords with some influence behind them. They sat here by nomination and confirmation through votes with all lords of the realm, done so on the infrequent occasion that a member needed to be replaced due to death, retirement, or (something so rare it had only happened once before) being sentenced of a crime.
While these members had even less ties to the King, it ended up the case that they usually had some fondness for him. They were people who liked old books more than politics and the King, above all, must be charming, that they often spent much time in his company, not overly opposing him in their work. However, their work at times involved interpreting the exact limits of the King’s authority and, if nothing else, their egos kept them from being too deferential.
So it reached an equilibrium.
Today, the side-benches remained empty, only the one by the King’s side full of all but one member. Seeing that the Crown Prince did not join them, she felt a smirk tug at her lips. The King’s Bench was rather particular about who may speak at any moment.
Approaching them, she stopped at a respectable distance. “Your Majesty, My Lords,” she said, curtseying.
Spitzhut, although merely a Baron of a quaint village, had seniority among his fellows on the bench, the longest-serving of them all. This meant he had first choice in taking the lead on proceedings, which he often did. Today was no exception.
He had a nasally voice and watery eyes, modestly tall and rather thin, something which his clothing couldn’t entirely hide. However, he had spent many years refining his attitude and took great pleasure in being the master of the room as it were.
Standing up, he clapped his hands together and said, “Countess Augstadt, you have been summoned here today as part of an inquiry into the events regarding the assault of Grosburg Castle.”
Having been addressed, she ended her curtsey and stood up straight. There was more light in this room if only out of necessity for reading reports; it fell upon the benches on either side and at the far end, spilling through high windows.
From what she knew, Spitzhut tended to guide matters in the King’s favour. He had a deep belief in religion with a penchant for citing the Bible when it came to “giving to Caesar what was Caesar’s”. In other matters, he was known to ask for the King’s opinion, not necessarily to follow it, but always gave it some consideration.
She felt today would be proceeding in such a way.
Although he had yet to carry on, she did not mistake the silence as permission to speak. Such things she was necessarily conscious of as a woman in this society.
His pause lasted another few seconds, then he found his voice. “It is quite curious that, so soon after that engagement, My Lady found herself involved with the struggle between the Marquess of Bavaria and the late Duke of Bohemia.”
It wasn’t a question.
After a beat, he loosely gestured at her. “That is, something of a massacre occurred there too, did it not?” he asked.
“My Lord, I am here for the inquiry on the matter at Grosburg Castle,” she said, her voice gentle and smile soft.
“An inquiry into one matter may relate to another, such as to establish a pattern of behaviour,” he said, continuing to gesture as he spoke.
She tilted her head. “Why, a pattern of behaviour? I am not learned on the subject of law; however, that sounds like the sort of accusation a person should have suitable representation for.”
“Pray do not speak out of turn,” he said with a certain sharpness.
Her smile turned apologetic for a moment.
He cleared his throat, fiddling with his collar. “There have been whispers of certain allegations against My Lady and, while this court has no reason to believe them, we thought it prudent that we put them to rest.”
She said nothing.
“Is My Lady aware of such rumours?” he asked.
“My Lord would have to be specific, that I hear many a rumour,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes, staring at her for a good few seconds. “That is, it has been alleged that My Lady ordered the murder of the mercenaries that had surrendered or were otherwise incapable,” he said.
“Yes.”
He nodded, pacing back and forth once before continuing. “My Lady says she has heard the rumour?”
“Well, yes; however, I would also confirm that it is true,” she said.
It was quite funny, she thought, watching his reaction at this time. How he became so very still—except for his mouth, which quirked as if trying not to smile. Across the bench, the members turned to one another, muttering.
“My Lady, do you understand what it is that you have confessed to?” Spitzhut asked.
“Confess? Why, you make it sound as if I committed a crime, My Lord. This is an inquiry, is it not?”
He seemed to swell, taking in such a deep breath, only to be silenced at the last moment by her speaking further.
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“Besides, how could it be a crime to enact justice?”
“And on whose authority would you enact this so-called justice?” he asked, the words coming out quick and heated, a prelude to a monologue about just who the arbiters of justice in this realm were.
However, he had asked her a question and so she had to answer. “Why His Majesty’s authority, of course, that I even keep the commission on display. There are not many who could say they have enacted the King’s will,” she said with a certain lightness at the end.
He glared at her. “I doubt His Majesty included such intentions,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Well, this is an inquiry and he is present,” she said, her gaze sliding past Spitzhut to the King. “Your Majesty?”
Spitzhut hesitated for a moment, then turned around to look at the King. Reginald, for his part in this, met her gaze and held it for some seconds. “I wonder?” he said.
“Sir—” Spitzhut said, silenced by Reginald raising a hand.
“The commission is something which can be retrieved and inspected at a later date if necessary. For today, let us first conclude the inquiry,” he said.
Spitzhut bowed his head, then turned to the bench. “It is as Sir says.”
A moment passed as he collected himself, bringing his focus back to her.
“My Lady believes the commission gave her the right to put surrendered soldiers and incapables to death?”
She did not hesitate, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. “Yes.”
“Pray tell, why would My Lady think that these men of our realm did not deserve their due trial nor mercy?” he asked.
“If these are men of our realm, I assume My Lord has petitions from their lords or families asking for justice? Forgive me if I am incorrect, novice in such matters I am; however, to bring forth such a case, there must be an injured party, no?”
He let out a snort. “First of all, this is an inquiry. Second of all, while I shall not entertain My Lady’s amateurish grasp of such nuanced matters as standing, such a case would be brought forth by the Crown, as otherwise one could freely commit such gruesome crimes as this without recourse. Last of all, My Lady did not answer the question. Pray refrain from thinking this is a game of words one may play at a tea party.”
Since he had asked, she took this seriously, staying silent since he had not asked her a question.
It took him a moment to pick up on that, bringing forth another burst of frustration at this child’s antics. “I repeat the question to My Lady, what is her answer?” he asked, tone calm.
“I am afraid My Lord would have to ask His Majesty. That, in this matter, I looked to how revolts have previously been dealt with and it has always been the case that perpetrators were to be executed. However, that assumes My Lord can prove that the deceased are of this realm. I thought at the time and still do now that they are foreigners who dared occupy the King’s land. For such outlaws, I am under the impression that they have neither a right to life nor to trial. As for mercy, I granted them that, their bodies buried and rites read by a priest, something they did not offer their countless victims.”
She had spoken with as calm as tone as him, her pace measured and voice clear.
However, this was not a place of politics where, more than content, delivery mattered. What mattered here was the substance and how it is was presented. On those grounds, another of the bench spoke up.
“Lord Spitzhut, pray recall we have read the report by Lord Isarau, now Marquess of Bavaria. This is not a matter of determining if there was criminal intent. We all agreed that, in the case of revolt, whether acting as lord of the fiefdom or in the King’s name, all rights of the criminals are forfeit.”
Spitzhut clenched his fist, holding it over his mouth. “I ask that Lord Erberg need not divulge such matters in front of those outside the bench.”
“Then I ask that Lord Spitzhut does not make divulging such matters necessary, that we are neither here to prosecute My Lady nor make judgement on the matter. In truth, I question why any of us are here; however, I have trusted My Lord has reason, so I shall continue to trust him—for now.”
Her gaze drifted to her “defender”. Erberg, his name brought to her mind a small town to the north, beyond the capital, but still fairly central to the country. Despite how he looked older than Spitzhut, she thought him perhaps the newest member, someone not included in her father’s notes.
That said, her mother had written of a viscount by that name. Viscount was an odd title, in olden times being the deputy to a count when such titles were by appointment and not inherited; since then, while count had become a hereditary title, viscount had instead fallen out of favour until recent times where it had been brought back for kings to hand out as favours in such times that they had little else to give.
The Viscount Erberg her mother wrote of was one such man, having put forth a proposal for rewriting the laws on minting coins. Who owned such rights had become such a mess that it had been impractical to even begin to address the issue. While the lords had been reluctant to give up their alleged right, Erberg had navigated the politics of it all, framing it as facilitating trade and identifying three of the largest blocs who would retain the right, each who specialised in different areas: one of farming, one of mining and industry, and one of trade. Such an arrangement, he proposed, would allow the currencies to reflect supply and demand and so suitably balance out.
In other words, consolidation of power to those already with power, with the King’s support as such a state was much preferable to the chaos of before where even coins were looked upon with distrust. The genius was not in what it accomplished, but in that it was something which could be accomplished at all.
Of course, she couldn’t say that this was the same man; however, she would not be surprised if he was, seeming like a man who preferred practicality to politics.
Spitzhut took Erberg’s words with a stony expression. Whatever response he might have wanted to give, he was only master of the room so far as the rest of the bench supported him. At this time, well, the others did not chide Erberg for his remarks nor otherwise offer Spithuz support.
The members of the bench may not have wished to play politics, yet everyone had to play it whether or not they so desired.
“Countess Augstadt,” said another, “I am Lord K?slanz. We appreciate that My Lady would voluntarily attend this inquiry. As Lord Spitzhut stated at the beginning, it is regarding the matter of the mercenaries’ deaths. While there is no debate My Lady was lawful in her actions”—he noticeably glanced at Spitzhut—“we simply wished to know if there were any circumstances that made such an action necessary, rather than bringing in those subdued.”
Although not a question, she took his politer attitude as permission to speak. “My Lord, it would have been difficult for my men to safely bring so many, that I would fear they would escape.”
“Your men,” Spitzhut said, a finger on his chin, “but what of the Marquess of Bavaria?”
“Is it not in the report that he had need to hurry?” she asked, head tilted.
He stared at her a moment. “What, pray tell, had he need to hurry for?”
“His current engagement,” she said—as if speaking of attending a wedding rather than a war that had already taken Isarau’s father.
“Where My Lady is also alleged to have attacked our people without warning,” he said in a quieter, yet sharper, tone.
She held her smile, gaze looking beyond him to Erberg and K?slanz, both of which she read as giving her permission to speak. “My Lord, it should be said that the late Duke of Bohemia began this war without announcement, that either he is the one who began such slaughter and invited such retribution upon himself, or that war is declared upon the commencement of such actions, and so matters of life and death are thus weighed differently. I leave such a matter to the King’s Bench to decide.
“Regardless, I am merely an ally of the Marquess of Bavaria. If anyone should be brought here for that matter, it is he who gave the order. Perhaps another inquiry may be… performed… after he cleans up his matter?”
A lone chuckle rose from the bench, her emphasis not going unnoticed.
K?slanz sighed. “I fear such an inquiry will take some years to undertake,” he said, rubbing his temple.
“My condolences,” she said with a sincerity to her tone.
Spitzhut cleared his throat. “I fear we are getting off-topic,” he said, walking in front of the bench, then back to the centre.
“Rather, I am thankful we have concluded,” K?slanz said, standing up. “My Lady has provided a satisfying answer and we have otherwise wasted enough time.”
A ruler could only rule with support.
Thinking of rulers, she looked up beyond Spithutz to her own liege who had sat there in silence this entire time, observing. A fear at the back of her mind, she wondered how much he had learned this day.
No one in this country knew as much about her as the King did and, for as long as possible, she hoped even he would not know enough.
Plans within plans, lies atop lies, the younger Isarau had said, yet the truth was far simpler and deeper than that. Like the river which carved the easiest route, she would push and prod, tipping over those aged structures in disrepair, break already swollen banks, and swallow those foolhardy few who sought to conquer her.
A storm ever-growing.