Chapter Six #2
While embroidering a cloak that had originally been intended to be a gift for her betrothed, Kestrel expanded on her daydreams about hers and Father’s vindication.
When Father was declared innocent and freed from his chains, Sir Gerard would fall on his knees and beg Kestrel for forgiveness and for her to marry him.
She’d declare that she’d forgive him for nobility’s sake, but she’d never marry him.
Instead, she and Father would leave Wurrakia to join the war against Mephistopheles, maybe she could be one of the healers in Queen Xochitl’s army.
Maybe Father could help the General with war strategy.
And then, after the war, she’d return home a heroine, minstrels would write songs about her, Lord Aylmer would cover her and Father with honors, knights and lords would come from all corners of Wurrakia to court her.
The one she’d agree to wed wouldn’t be the most powerful and maybe not even the most handsome, for she’d learned that a handsome face could hide the ugliest malice, and power gave him the opportunity to be cruel.
All she’d want was a kind man who’d respect her and be a fair commander to the men of Raptor’s Roost while she ran the demesne.
Her life wouldn’t be what she’d originally fantasized about, but it would be happier.
The next morning, Kestrel’s daydreams were shattered when the noble guard barged into her room and announced that she was to be brought before the council and the court for the inquest.
This time, they dragged her to the great hall, where Lord Aylmer held court, listened to petitions and grievances, announced changes in law, and knighted warriors. The vast chamber was packed from the floor all the way to the balconies in the rafters.
Thousands of pairs of eyes narrowed on her in hostile accusation, except for one.
Her father stood before Lord Aylmer’s throne.
As Kestrel entered the hall, he turned to face her.
The first thing to strike her was how the five months of imprisonment had worn on him.
His once barrel-shaped body had shrunk, making his ragged velvet clothes hang from his narrow form.
His jowls dangled and the bags under his eyes drooped in dark circles.
His salt and pepper hair had gone a grayish-white, and he stooped so low he resembled an elderly hunchback.
The second was the abject guilt in his blue eyes before he averted them and turned back to face Lord Aylmer and the noble council.
Lord Vargus, the chief informer, cleared his throat. “We now call Miss Kestrel Goshawk to the questioning platform.”
The guardsmen released their grips on her arms, allowing her to walk forward.
Snide whispers and scornful stares made Kestrel’s cheeks redden in shame.
It took every vestige of her will not to lower her head and hunch her shoulders.
Sir Gerard sat beside Lord Aylmer, the sadistic smile she’d come to know replaced a mask of wounded betrayal that would have had her in teary-eyed desperation to ease his hurt if she didn’t know better.
Lady Moira gave her a warm, pitying smile that made Kestrel’s heart twist in agony.
The Lady of Wurrakia and High Healer was supposed to have become her new mother.
When she took her place at the platform, Kestrel noticed that she and Father weren’t the only ones there. Beryl stood one side, with along with one servant and two of Father’s most trusted men. On the other side the rest of the household stood, watching Kestrel with wary eyes.
Yet again, Lord Vargus asked her the same questions he’d pelted her with over the past five months. Where she’d been on certain days of the year, where her father had been, what visitors had come to Raptor’s Roost in the past year, where in the capitol she had gone the day of the Queen’s tourney.
On the last, Lady Moira spoke aloud. “Yes, I remember seeing you at the hospital. Your help with the wounded warriors was greatly appreciated.”
A few gasps echoed in the crowded hall, along with a flurry of murmurs.
Kestrel noticed that a few pairs of eyes softened towards her.
Yet for some reason, Gerard’s stare blazed with even more hateful fury.
The livid look he gave to his mother, the High Healer, shocked her like a blast of ice water.
Lord Vargus, on the other hand warmed to her. “Thank you for answering our questions, Miss Goshawk.” He then turned and gestured for a blue-robed woman to come forward. “Lady Sinead, was this maiden’s testimony truth or lie?”
As she felt the unmistakable tingle of magic swirl around her aura, Kestrel’s gasp echoed alone in the hall, eliciting chuckles from the audience.
All these months of interrogation and the Noble Council had a Truthseer mage in their employ this whole time?
Lady Sinead lifted the blue hood of her robe and nodded. “Lord Goshawk’s daughter speaks true. She has no knowledge of her father’s crimes and took no part in them.”
“That is good news indeed.” Lord Vargus beamed at her as if he hadn’t spent the past five months treating her like she was a lying traitor. “Miss Kestrel, you may stand with the others who were ruled not guilty.”
He pointed to his left, where most of the servants Father had brought stood, looking more harrowed than vindicated.
Most of the Goshawk knights and squires stood behind them, pity shone in their eyes when she joined them and a few offered murmured words of comfort.
Others stepped away from her as if she were tainted.
Opposite of her small group stood those who’d been ruled guilty. Kestrel’s stomach dropped as Lord Vargus’s voice rang out. “Cregan Goshawk, come forth.”
Father took his place where Kestrel had stood only moments before, still unable to look at her.
His answers to Lord Vargus’s questions were very different than Kestrel’s.
On the day she was visiting a friend, Father apparently met with Mephistopheles himself on the invitation of a masked man whose identity he swore he never knew, but whom Beryl had sworn Father could trust. He was led to believe that Gerard was in on the alliance with Mephistopheles and was going to be made King of Aisthanesthai while he, Lord Cregan, would become Lord of Wurrakia.
He was promised a cure for his leg, and the ability to sire sons with Beryl, who he’d intended to wed after Mephistopheles had successfully taken over Wurrakia.
Father’s voice quavered as he reached the end of his testimony. “As time passed and I never received any communications with Sir Gerard, I began to suspect I’d been lied to. And when Mephistopheles lost the battle, I realized how wrong I was to ally with him.”
He fell to his knees before Lord Aylmer. “My lord, I am so sorry for my crimes, I was foolish and craven.”
The Lord Paramount of Wurrakia did not favor Cregan with a response and continued to stare at Kestrel’s father with red-faced fury. Gerard’s expression matched his father’s, his fists shook in suppressed rage.
“Thank you for your honest confession,” Lord Vargas’s saccharine tone shifted to booming authority. “And now we will defer to Lord Aylmer for sentencing.”
The Lord of Wurrakia rose from his throne and cleared his throat.
To the frayed nerves of Kestrel and the rest of the detained and to stretch out the suspense of the audience, Aylmer started with the lowest-ranking servants.
The innocent were granted freedom to either return to their home villages, return to Raptor’s Roost, or seek employment here in the castle.
The guilty servant was sentenced to either lashes delivered by Lord Mormont, or one full day and night in the stocks.
Then Aylmer moved on to the higher-ranking servants.
The squires were restored to their full rankings and given the option to return to their home villages, continue to serve the estate of Raptor’s Roost, or find a position serving House Calla.
Then came punishments for the guilty. Father’s cup bearer was sentenced to death by hanging.
Kestrel winced, but she could fully understand the reason.
As cup bearer, the young man would have heard all of Father’s plotting.
And according to Wurrakian law, he was duty-bound to report such a plot to the Lord Paramount. Yet he did not.
But when Beryl was also given a death sentence, an agonized cry escaped Kestrel’s lips.
She hadn’t heard Beryl’s testimony and couldn’t imagine what had motivated her mage tutor to aid her father in his treason.
And although the knowledge that she’d not only been going behind Kestrel’s back in this plot and of her scheme to replace Kestrel’s mother and give Father the son he always wanted stung, the thought of such an important person in her life being put to death filled her with horror.
Lord Aylmer’s voice pierced her internal as he called forth the knights of Raptors Roost. The knights that had been judged innocent also retained their titles and were given the same choices as their squires.
The guilty were stripped of their titles and sentenced to death by beheading, a quicker, more merciful death as befitting the ranks they had held.
The contradiction always confused Kestrel.
“Kestrel Goshawk, come forth.” Lord Aylmer gestured. “Although you are not guilty of treason, you are still without title and suspended from wearing the blue robes of a healer mage. you are my ward until your future has been decided upon.”
Before Kestrel could process the fact that in spite of her innocence, she’d still be punished, Aylmer called her father to stand before him.
“Cregan Goshawk, you are hereby stripped of both your titles. You are no longer a lord, nor a knight. Your lands, incomes, and all other assets are property of the crown. Lastly, you are sentenced to death by beheading.”
She’d known it was coming ever since Father confessed his guilt, and yet, hearing the decree aloud made her stomach lurch and a scream of agony build in her chest and press on her throat, threatening to tear its way out.
Kestrel’s head swam with dizziness as she was dragged along with the others to witness the executions. Some of the nobles and courtiers tittered and whispered like this was grand entertainment rather than the solemn duty and lesson witnessing was meant to be.
When they reached the rear courtyard, with the arena style seats, assigned according to class, the gallows were already set up for the hangings, and Lord Mormont stood by the chopping block, a whip in hand and an ax at his feet.
Sir Gerard’s voice boomed out. “Wolf! Bring me the traitor’s daughter. She should have a front row seat for the show.”
The Wolf separated himself from the Calla family and strode toward her, seizing Kestrel’s arm in one mailed fist much more roughly than he had at any other time. Tears burned the edges of her eyes, but she refused to give the audience any satisfaction at her pain.
The lashes were delivered first, making Kestrel wince while the crowd cheered at its first appetizer of blood.
She tried to comfort herself in the knowledge that these people would at least live, but it was a cold comfort, for she knew that no Lord or merchant would hire them, and no commoner would buy anything from them, much less allow themselves to be seen in their company.
Therefore, they’d likely have to leave Wurrakia.
Then came the hangings. As Beryl made her way up the steps to the gallows, she met Kestrel’s gaze once and mouthed an apology before lifting her chin to stare resolutely at the sky as the nose was placed around her neck.
Even though the woman had been betraying her for several years, Kestrel couldn’t bear to watch her or Ted the cupbearer die. Instead, she looked down at her boots.
She also looked away as each of her father’s knights knelt at the block before Lord Mormont swung his broadsword and cleaved their heads from their shoulders.
But when it was Father’s turn, Gerard wouldn’t allow her such a reprieve.
“Wolf! Grab her head. Make her watch.”
Kestrel flinched in expectation of rough, metal-clad hands digging into her face, but instead The Wolf gently grasped her chin and guided her in the direction of the chopping block.
Father met her eyes as he sank to his knees before Lord Mormont and his bloody sword. “I am sorry, Daughter. I only wanted what I thought was best for us. And for you to be Queen.”
As he lowered his head to rest it on the block, Gerard’s voice shouted in her ear so close that his hot spittle struck her cheek. “Keep your eyes open, traitor spawn, or I’ll have your eyelids cut off.”
“Gerard!” Aylmer hissed in reprimand. “The girl doesn’t need such a brutish threat to do her duty.”
Still, Kestrel forced herself to keep her eyes open.
The fingers grasping her chin suddenly applied firm pressure, tilting her head slightly upward so her gaze instead centered on Lord Mormont.
From this angle, she could actually avoid having to see her father die.
In fact, when she tried to angle her head down to where she’d be able to see the block, the Wolf’s fingers dug into her jaw, keeping her from being able to move.
So instead, she watched Mormont raise the sword, shiny and clean of the blood of the previous men he’d killed. She stared at the bright reflection of sunlight on its steel surface, allowing it to blind her further.
The sword came down in a brilliant arc and though the roar of the crowd pelted her like a live thing, Kestrel could still hear the thump of her father’s head hitting the ground and see the crimson splatter of his blood decorate Lord Mormont’s breastplate.
Her knees gave out and blackness danced along the edges of her vision. The Wolf caught her before she collapsed and swept her up into his arms like the time he carried her away from the tourney field when Mephistopheles had attacked.
“That’s enough, Gerard.” Lord Aylmer’s voice sounded hazy and distant. “Lycus, take Miss Goshawk back to her rooms.”
Before Kestrel allowed herself to sink into blissful oblivion, she wondered if the Wolf had intentionally helped her not have to watch her father die. Immediately, she rejected the idea.
His cruelty was too well known.