The Veiled Lady
I nterested persons filled the courtroom to witness the judgment of Karigan’s crimes.
Mostly merchant folk had assembled to see the great Clan G’ladheon brought low.
A large contingent sat on Clan Suttley’s side, and Celesta sat proudly in the complainant’s chair with her hand swathed in bandages.
Karigan glowered for it was all for show.
She hadn’t inflicted that much damage to Celesta’s hand. At worst, she’d been bruised.
Everyone took their seats with the judge’s arrival, and the case was introduced.
Master Winston was about to begin speaking on behalf of her defense when a clerk hurried to the judge’s high desk and whispered into her ear, then handed her a paper.
The judge examined it, then eyed Karigan through her specs.
Finally she turned her stern gaze upon Celesta.
“What’s going on?” Karigan asked Master Chester.
“I haven’t the faintest,” he replied.
“I have studied this case,” the judge said at last, “as I do all cases that come into my court. I will render judgment today with the power vested in me by His Majesty the King, but the case will not be argued.”
An uproar among the onlookers filled the room.
“This is unusual,” Master Chester said. “Not unheard of, but most unusual.”
“But what can it mean?” she asked. How could the judge render a decision without hearing the case?
“Be prepared,” Master Chester replied. “It’s either very good, or very bad.”
She was not reassured.
Bailiffs banged the butts of their staves on the floor and called for order. When the ruckus settled down, the judge said, “The accused and her accuser will approach.”
Karigan left her seat with trepidation. Winston and Chester stood to either side of her, Celesta standing with her own counsel, a smug expression on her face. Karigan wondered if she had bribed the judge. If so, Karigan and her clan were in very dire trouble.
The judge again gazed down at them through her specs. “There is no question that Sub-chief G’ladheon is guilty of inciting a brawl at the merchants guild house and causing both bodily injury and material damage.”
Karigan’s heart sank. She was going back to jail.
The Suttley supporters broke out in cheers.
Celesta’s expression was triumphant. In one ill-considered decision to go to the guild house while angry and grieving, Karigan had doomed herself and her clan.
She bowed her head, thinking about how she had ruined the lives of those who depended on the clan for work—all the drovers and dock workers, the caravanners and sailors, and all the suppliers and shopkeepers.
Worst of all was imagining how disappointed her father and aunts would be in her.
What would Aunt Stace say, were she still alive?
And, oh, gods, her fellow Riders? Colonel Mapstone?
And worst of all, Zachary. She had let everyone down.
When the bailiffs restored order once more, the judge asked her, “Sub-chief, do you have anything to say regarding your actions?”
“Stay strong,” Winston whispered. “Speak from your heart.”
Karigan stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Go ahead.”
Karigan turned first to the Suttley side of the chamber. Many were casual spectators looking for entertainment. Members of the Suttley crew, however, had a feral look in their eyes with victory at hand and the downfall of Clan G’ladheon’s might.
“I formally apologize to the merchants guild, its triumvirate, and those who were injured in the incident.” Somehow, she kept her voice steady. “I expect no forgiveness.”
“You won’t get any,” a Suttley shouted.
The bailiffs banged their staves and the judge said, “Any further outbursts and you will be removed. Continue, Sub-chief.”
“I will face whatever punishment is levied upon me without protest,” Karigan said.
Next, she turned to the G’ladheon side of the chamber where a few clan members, employees, and friends of the clan sat, including Robert. And her grandfather. She scowled to see him there, probably amused out of spite that his son’s ventures had come to ruin.
A stylishly attired lady who cut a fine silhouette and was impossible to miss stood in the far back.
She wore a feathered hat with a tulle veil draped across her face.
Karigan could not think of who she might be.
A distant cousin in the middle row wept, and a vendor held his head in his hands.
They all knew this was the end of Clan G’ladheon.
“I have let you all down,” she said. “I was never suited to be Sub-chief. I accept entirely all the blame for my actions. Please do not blame my aunts for they were burdened with their sister’s illness and.
..” Here her voice cracked. “Her passing. They were taken advantage of by an unscrupulous accountant and found out only when it was too late. It is my hope he will face justice for his misdeeds.”
She glanced at Celesta, whose expression was hard as she waited to hear more of what Karigan had to say about the “unscrupulous accountant.” Celesta was to be disappointed as Karigan was advised by Inspector Chief Wheatland to say no more of him to keep Celesta from guessing the constabulary were on to her.
She took a deep breath before continuing. “Until my father’s return from his trading mission, I place what is left of the clan’s business affairs in the capable hands of Robert Hollingdale.”
“Madam?” he said in surprise.
“I name you sub-chief in my stead,” she said, and removed her clan ring, seals, and medallion, and handed them to Chester, who, in turn, passed them to Robert.
Celesta laughed as if at a great joke. Karigan did her best to put her foe out of her mind.
Robert gazed at the items in his hands. “I—I can’t.”
“You will, and are, from this moment forward.” She did not think he would thank her for passing all the clan’s woes to him, but suddenly, despite the judge’s pronouncement of her guilt, she felt so light, so free, as though she had wings to launch her into the air.
She could breathe. She had not realized how heavily the responsibility had weighed on her, how hard it had been to divide her life in two as Rider and merchant, yet bearing the weight of each in full.
Tired , she thought. She was tired, but elated.
Before Robert could lodge further protest, she turned back to the judge. “I present myself to the court for whatever punishment is rendered, Your Grace.”
Celesta mockingly applauded without apparent pain to her bandaged hand. “Quite the little drama you put on, Karigan. Perhaps you can earn a living as a player at the Royal Majestic when your clan dissolves. Oh, wait, you’ll be going to jail first.”
“Silence,” the judge snapped. “I will have silence for sentencing.”
As the judge wished, everyone quieted, and the chamber grew still and tense, the silence broken only by someone coughing. Anticipation gleamed in Celesta’s eyes.
“Sub-chief,” the judge continued, “it has come to my attention that your fighting skills come from hard training and are in demand by the Crown, and may be needed very soon. I have also been informed that you served a certain amount of time in jail already and suffered greatly as a result. Likewise, it is known that you have served the realm with several courageous acts, not least of all leading many citizens to safety when the lower city was aflame during the conflict with Second Empire. This, combined with confirmation from His Majesty that you have been faithfully complying with the punishment he personally instituted as a remedy for your offenses, moderates your sentence. I see no need for you to serve further jail time.”
Karigan’s relief was immense. Zachary said he could not interfere in the case directly, yet he had found a way that appeared entirely reasonable, and she loved him for it.
As she stood in quiet reflection, the G’ladheon side of the room cheered while the Suttley side jumped to their feet in protest. The bailiffs banged their staves for order and had to remove the most belligerent members of the audience to prevent fist fights from breaking out.
Others were forced back to their seats. A fight at her sentencing, Karigan thought, would have been most ironic.
“I am not finished with sentencing,” the judge said. “Any further interruptions and I will command my bailiffs to arrest the disorderly.”
Karigan’s relief faded and she stood up straight. She hadn’t finished with sentencing? What could be next?
The chamber once more settled down, the judge clasped her hands upon the high desk.
“Sub-chief, you are, as I said, a highly trained fighter in service to our king and queen, a swordmaster, even. You put those skills on display in the merchants guild house causing numerous injuries among its attendants and the constabulary, and damaged the guild house, itself. Both guild and constabulary have enumerated the cost of lost pay for the injured, and payment to hire replacements while the injured recuperate. The guild has also enumerated the costs of repair and replacement of furnishings.”
A sick feeling gurgled in Karigan’s belly.
“Sub-chief,” the judge continued, “you are endowed with fighting skills and the trust of our sovereign, as well as the guild. When you used those skills in the guild house instead of employing civil discourse, you betrayed that trust. Actions have consequences, some of which you’ve already paid for, and are paying for, but it is my judgment that further redress is required.
I order you to pay a fine of ten thousand gold crowns. ”
Karigan wilted. There was no way to pay off a fine like that unless the clan sold absolutely everything including the G’ladheon estate.
“However,” the judge continued as babbling broke out, “because of recent services you’ve rendered on behalf of the constabulary, I am reducing the fine to six thousand to be disbursed to the injured parties.
If the fine is not paid in full in one month’s time, however, the accused will be imprisoned, no matter the needs for her services. This is my final judgment.”
The chamber erupted once more. Celesta cried out that the reduction of the fine was unfair.
Winston and Chester talked at Karigan and to one another.
She wondered, even with the reduction, how on Earth she was going to pay the fine.
Even if they sold everything, it took time, and a month would not be nearly enough.
“Poor Karigan,” said a voice from behind.
The stylish woman in the veil now approached.
“Got yourself into a wee pickle,” the woman said. Her voice and manner were slightly familiar, but Karigan could not place her. The woman shook her head with a Tsk, tsk, and proceeded up the aisle, hips swaying, toward the judge’s high desk.
What the hells? Karigan wondered.
The veiled lady dropped a large purse onto the desk with a pronounced thunk and ring of coins that caught the attention of the excited spectators.
“This should cover the fine,” the woman said.
The judge gazed at the purse. “We will see.” She motioned a bailiff over to begin counting the coins.
“Who—?” Karigan began when the woman turned to her. “Why?”
“The usual response is ‘thank you,’” the woman said, “but I can see you have been distressed and it might not be the first words that occur to you. Frankly, I am a little piqued that you don’t remember me.”
Karigan stood in shock as the woman lifted her veil. It had been some time since she’d last seen her, but recognition now dawned on her.
“Tru- Tru- Trudy?”
“Oh, honey, you are certainly having trouble with words. Perhaps I can offer other ways, besides coins, to alleviate your distress.”
Karigan’s cheeks burned as she stared in disbelief at the courtesan, Trudy, of the Golden Rudder, standing before her.