Cardonaccum, The beauty of a thistle. Options

[haute ecole rider]

@Sage Rose: As Lady Cora's grief over the loss of her beloved Lord Wallace subsides, other things emerge to preoccupy her mind. Beyond the day-to-day management of the holding, she is beginning to question things she has always taken for granted. She is now learning to look at things from different perspectives. The Eight (remember Talos is still very much a flesh-and-blood man at this point) is not immune to her questions.

@Acadian: Gothic murder mystery! I used to read those when I was in third grade! After the tenth or eleventh one, though, I began to get bored. I hope this is more interesting than the Victoria Holt stories I read so long ago! As for Cinnie, well, does she even have a role? Or is she just being a typical mysterious cat? I mean, who knows why cats do the things they do?

@TSG: Welcome back! You've been missed here in this remote corner of High Rock tucked between the Eltheric Ocean and the Wrothgarians. I do rather like SubRosa's suggestion of posting here and updating your comments until the next update. That is what Treydog has done sometimes.

The story so far: Sir Broc is facing a sentence of exile, only now Lady Cora has learned that Sir Broc's younger half-brother has died under rather suspicious circumstances.

***************
Chapter Thirty

Rodric and Edine appeared together just as the thistlemen brought Mercutio and the boy before the Thistle Seat. As soon as the two nobles took their seats, Captain Enrick gave us a brief summary of how he had discovered Tywin’s death.

“The body was still laid out in the manor chapel,” he finished. “I thought it best to bring it to you, Milady, for examination.” He nodded in the direction of our own place of worship. “Under the circumstances, and given the nature of the boy’s death.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I turned to Rodric and Edine, seated at my left. “Do you have any further questions for Captain Enrick?”

Rodric cleared his throat. “Did you bring any of the witnesses you spoke to?”

“Yes, sir,” Enrick nodded at the two Northsiders standing back from the firelight. “Steward Mercutio, and the younger brother of the man who was named as Tywin’s killer.”

Edine shook her head when Rodric and I glanced at her. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”

I nodded at Robert. “S- steward Mercutio, please.” The man glowered sullenly at me. So he is Broc’s loyal man. Let’s hear what tale he has to tell. “Please t- tell us what happened, Steward.”

The older man tossed his grey hair back defiantly and lifted his chin in unspoken challenge. “‘Tis simple, Witch -” The thistleman at his left shoulder slapped him on the back of the head, effectively cutting off the next words.

“You may h- have noticed,” I inhaled carefully, “th- that my men don’t like folk t- to speak t- to me disrespectfully.” I folded my hands in my lap and kept my spine painfully straight. “Ch- choose your words with c- care.”

Mercutio lifted his gaze to mine and spat blood onto the rushes. “As I said,” his tone held a little less insolence and a little more pain, “‘tis simple. The boy was practicing swordplay with one of our men-at-arms. Nevin slipped, and his blade pierced the boy’s chest. The young’un died between one breath and the next. Happened yesterday.”

“Nevin?” I repeated the name. “Was that the man-at-arms practicing with Tywin?” Mercutio nodded. “I thought swordplay was done with wooden swords?”

“Young master Tywin wanted to make it more - real,” Mercutio responded.

“Nonsense!” Rodric exploded. “Even among experienced men, swords are dulled, if not blunted outright! Can’t afford to slip and lose a finger, a limb or a life!”

I met Robert’s gaze. He nodded grimly. So this accident shouldn’t have happened. Was the boy set up? I wouldn’t put it past Broc to eliminate all potential threats from behind. He was never fond of Tywin.

“Th- thank you, Steward Mercutio,” I turned back to the Northsider in front of me. “Please make yourself c- comfortable in th- the accommodations we provide for you.” I nodded at the thistlemen. “Th- the dungeon, please.”

While the recalcitrant Northsider was hauled away, I waved the young boy up. As he moved uncertainly into the firelight from the hearth, I eyed him thoughtfully. “Who are you, young man?”

“Hamish, milady,” he bowed awkwardly, his bright red hair obscuring the freckles covering his nose and cheeks.

“How old are you, H- Hamish?” I kept my voice gentle, recognizing his skittishness.

“Fourteen, milady,” he answered, straightening up and meeting my gaze from beneath that fiery thatch. I could see the beginnings of a bruise forming across one cheek, and the traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Who did that t- to you?” I brushed my fingers along my own cheek.

“Th’ steward, milady,” Hamish replied. “He was angry at me.”

“Why?”

“B’cause I tried to tell yon Captain -” he nodded at Enrick, “th’ truth.”

“The t- truth?” I repeated. “I’d like to h- hear it very much, Hamish.”

The boy’s blue eyes shifted from me to Enrick, then Robert. Enrick nodded curtly when Hamish’s gaze drifted back to him. “Milady doesn’t like being lied to, boy,” Enrick spoke gruffly. “Tell her like it is.”

Hamish took a deep breath and met my eyes. “Th’ young master nae liked swordplay, milady,” he said. “Preferred books and figures. But he would practice with wooden swords b’cause old Sir Duncan always said a knight should have a full eddication.”

I nodded encouragingly. I remembered the old knight well. Like Sir Rodric, he was kind enough to me when I first came to Cardonaccum. I had grown to appreciate his experience and wisdom before he died six years previously.

“Yester morn Sir Broc told Steward Mercutio to have Nevin - that’s m’ brother - use th’ longswords from th’ armory for th’ young master’s daily lesson.” Hamish swallowed audibly. I could see a telltale glimmer in his eyes and waited silently. “Nevin tried to tell him that th’ young master was nae ready for real swords, but th’ steward told him to shut up and follow Sir Broc’s order.” He looked down at the hearth between us and I knew he relived that moment in his memory.

“C- clearly,” I said after a moment’s silence, “your brother was a man of h- honor. We will not forget.”

Hamish looked up from the hearth, firelight obscuring the blue of his eyes. “Th- thank you, milady.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Nevin was very careful yesterday. He dinna push th’ young master at all.” I felt my brows rise at the words. Nevin tried everything he could to avoid harm? “He even took a few blows from th’ young master - got cut on his right hand and arm.”

Again Hamish paused, obviously struggling with grief. He blinked liquid firelight out of his eyes and cleared his throat. “That’s when th’ steward took th’ sword from Nevin. He said ‘Train th’ boy properly! Don’t go easy on him!’ Then he struck at th’ young master and pushed him across th’ courtyard. Nevin tried to stop him but th’ steward would have nae of it.”

Now Hamish met my gaze. “You’ll nae believe me, milady, but I saw Steward Mercutio run th’ sword into th’ young master’s heart. Then he turned on m’brother and killed him on the spot. M’brother was unarmed!” The last held outrage at the memory.

“Why did S- Steward Mercutio not kill you t- too?” I asked gently.

Hamish shook his head. “B’cause he dinna ken I was there,” he answered. “I ran and hid as soon as I realized m’brother was dead.” His head drooped. “I should’ve have stayed, should’ve -”

“He would have k-killed you too, Hamish,” I stopped his self-recrimination. “Then we would never know the t- truth. Your brother would h- have died in vain.” I looked at Captain Enrick. “Did you see th- the guardsman’s body?”

Enrick nodded, his lips set in the hearth’s twilight. “Yes, milady. They tossed him outside the walls of the manor. He had a direct blow to the heart. Dagger was still in its sheath. Never had a chance.”

“We will s- see Nevin buried in the chapel yard, as is proper,” I turned to Edine and Rodric. “Do you h- have any questions for young H- Hamish?”

“Aye, I do,” Rodric’s voice held gruff gentleness. “Young Hamish, do you normally watch the practice sessions?”

“Nae, sir, I dinna,” Hamish shook his head. “But yester morn was strange. Sir Broc leaves with all of the men-at-arms except for Nevin and Aulay. Then th’ steward tells Nevin to use the sharp swords. Nevin told me something was up and to be careful.”

Such a shame. A good man wasted, young potential lost, and now a manor leaderless. Sir Broc cannot be allowed to live. “What is your function at Northside, H- Hamish?”

“I work in the kitchens, milady,” he answered. “Mostly with the meat.”

“You will need t- to stay here a wh- while,” I rose to my feet. “Until we decide what t- to do about Northside.” I glanced at Gavin. “Please s- see that Hamish is s- settled with Machara’s assistants.” My right hand sought the ache in my left side against the protest from my shoulder. “T- tell Machara Hamish will be c- called on to t- testify.”

As Hamish was escorted away by Gavin and one of the thistlemen, I turned to Rodric and Edine. “It grows late,” I stifled the sigh at the weariness I felt. “I must examine th- the boy’s body. I hate t- to ask this of you, but I must c- continue the Enclave and put Sir Broc on trial t- tomorrow morning.”

Rodric nodded. “If milady is agreeable, I would like to see Tywin for myself as well. I propose that we keep our conclusions to ourselves until tomorrow. Did I not see Siné go to the chapel earlier?”

“Yes.” I glanced at Edine, her face pale in the firelight. “She will t- tell us her own determinations in th- the morn. We will question S- Steward Mercutio and young Hamish again in S- Sir Broc’s presence.”

“Aye,” Rodric gruffed through his mustache. “And I have more questions of my own to ask that young upstart!”

“As do I,” Edine rose to her feet. “I will appreciate the time to prepare. If it is acceptable to Lord Cardonaccum, I would like to send my captain to evaluate the wounds on Tywin’s body. He has far more experience with combat injuries than I do. You remember him - Tomsen.”

I nodded. “H- he is more than welcome to t- take a look. I will have the th- thistlemen admit him.”

[SubRosa]

It turns out Do'Sakhar and Do'Sakha were not the only ones in the litter, there is Do'Shakir as well!

It looks like we are in for an episode of Murder, She Bled. I hope Lady Cora has the chance to take a break soon! It is too bad she doesn't have a nice old monk like Brother Cadfael handy for this...

"Even among experienced men, swords are dulled, if not blunted outright! Can’t afford to slip and lose a finger, a limb or a life!”
Indeed. Either someone ends up getting killed or maimed by accident, or you wind up teaching yourself to hold back and not hurt the people you are fighting.

Hamish? I wonder if his last name might be Macbeth? If so, I suspect he might grow up to the Northside's town constable...

So it looks like Broc was behind it all. Given his other machinations, it is not too surprising.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 19 2014, 10:06 PM

[Acadian]

“You may h- have noticed,” I inhaled carefully, “th- that my men don’t like folk t- to speak t- to me disrespectfully.” I folded my hands in my lap and kept my spine painfully straight. “Ch- choose your words with c- care.” - - This was the epitome of ladylike self-defense. The truth behind her words is quite the testimony to her leadership. Cora has grown so much!

’Hamish took a deep breath and met my eyes. “Th’ young master nae liked swordplay, milady,” he said. “Preferred books and figures. But he would practice with wooden swords b’cause old Sir Duncan always said a knight should have a full eddication.” - - I loved this, as well as Cora tailoring her manner to encourage earnestness from the frightened boy.

Cora is wise to put young Hamish into her ‘witness protection program’ for the time being. I suspect examination of the bodies will support the lad’s account. I wonder how Broc and his minions will try to discredit the damning testimony.

[ghastley]

Broc of course gets his minions to do his dirty work, but this time Cora has the killer in her custody. Somehow I suspect the blame will land where it should once the evidence is all presented.

The only thing I found a little confusing is how Mercutio was less than murderous with Hamish when he tried to tell what had happened. Presumably he'd already been disarmed, and could only hit out with his fist?

I wonder what Tomsen will be revealing?

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Yes, I enjoyed meeting Do'Shakir the other day! I had to laugh. Too many warriors and not enough wizards in Elsweyr, perhaps? I agree that we are definitely looking at the same page on the UESP wiki! I agree, Brother Cadfael and his world-weary ways would be so welcome right about now! But I think you'll agree that Lady Cora has plenty of help in that area . . .

@Acadian: I'm glad that you liked Lady Cora's approach with both resentful Mercutio and skittish Hamish. I actually had two certain police investigators very much in my mind as I wrote this scene, and they were the biggest influence on Lady Cora's interrogation techniques. Detective Frank Pembleton and Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson are high on my list of effective interrogators. No torture for them, mind you!

@ghastley: Why didn't Mercutio not kill Hamish? He didn't know what Hamish knew until both were already under Captain Enrick's custody. By that point all Mercutio could pull off was that blow to Hamish's face. I may have to go back and rewrite Hamish's testimony to make that a little clearer.

The story so far: Lady Cora has learned that Sir Broc's younger brother Tywin has died under highly suspicious circumstances. Another charge to add to those already brought against the recalcitrant knight. The Enclave continues this morning . . .

******************
Chapter Thirty-one

“I wish you would let Siné heal you, Lady,” Titus’s gaze on me turned assessing. “You look terrible this morn.”

“I feel quite ghastly,” I agreed. Fear of those recurrent nightmares, worry over the fate of Northside, and the pain of my injuries had kept me up much of the night. “But I do not have the t- time for h- healing.” I looked down at the soil beneath my bare feet.

“Is standing in the garden helping?” Titus waved his hand at the herb seedlings.

“It eases th- the pain,” I sighed. “And I feel less dizzy when I s- stand up now.”

“You seem more stable on your feet,” Titus agreed. “Less need of my arm.”

“Thank you for th- that, Lieutenant,” I met his gaze. “And for your s- support yesterday.”

“‘Tis my duty,” Titus shrugged. “You have more value to my General as Lord of Cardonaccum.”

I hid my flinch at the reminder of Titus’s true loyalties. “I still don’t understand th- that,” I muttered. “Why me?”

“Why not?” Titus tipped his head back at the clear morning sky above us. The shadows from the eastern walls fell across halfway across the bailey, sheltering us from the sun. “That is for the General to know, and for us to wonder.”

“So h- he never explains himself to you?” I wondered.

“A soldier does not require explanations of his commanders,” Titus answered. “General Talos does not require my understanding, only my loyalty.” He smiled. “I have played chatrang with him, and have only begun to plumb the depths of his mastery of strategy and tactics.”

“So we are mere pawns in h- his game?” I didn’t like that idea. Not Cardonaccum. Not if I can help it!

“Who knows?” Titus shrugged. “I don’t question him of his strategy.”

“Do you t- trust General Talos?” I stepped out of the garden to stand before Titus. He looked down at me, his expression neutral.

“Trust?” he repeated. “I’m not certain what you mean by that, Lady.”

I considered his response. “Do you trust him to k- keep your best interests to heart, the way a friend would?”

“We are not friends,” Titus answered. “I trust General Talos to use me as he sees fit. If I am no longer useful, I hope he puts me out to pasture like an old warhorse, rather than ending my life the way we slaughter worn-out milk kine.”

My unsuccessful attempt to stifle my snicker at his unexpected turn of phrase brought an answering glint in Titus’s dark eyes. “I h- have a difficult time picturing you as a milk c- cow, Lieutenant,” I apologized. “R- rather, a bull would be more appropriate.”

His brows rose. “A bull?” He shook his head. “That is more your castellan’s style than mine.”

“No, R-Robert is a bear.” I smiled up at him. “One of the big Wrothgarian ones that are so c- cranky in the spring.”

“And dangerous,” Titus nodded his agreement. “You have a good man at your side there, Lady.”

“He’s not th- the only one,” I drew my cloak closer around me as my toes curled on the hard cobblestones and considered Titus’s words. My ribs stabbed as I inhaled cautiously, and I watched my breath sough into the morning air. Titus remained silent, and I realized that he was waiting for me to speak again. Instead, I walked toward the front of the donjon. The Colovian fell into step beside me, matching his longer strides to my slow steps.

“Do you t- trust General Talos to always do the r- right thing?” I did not pause in my plodding.

“The right thing?” Titus’s voice held only neutrality. “What is the right thing? What’s right for you may not be right for the General. So who has the - forgive me - right to judge what is - right?”

“There’s a morality, isn’t th- there?” I thought back over my Chapel teachings. “Arkay is about balance - for every life th- there must be a death, and vice versa. Mara is about love and k- kindness toward all. But soldiers don’t always live by Mara’s t- teachings.”

“No, you’re quite right, Lady,” Titus responded. “So when you ask me do I trust the General to always do the right thing, whose standards are you referring to?”

Whose standards, indeed? Right for whom? “Your own, Lieutenant. I s- suppose it’s as good as mine.”

I sensed Titus’s sharp glance at me. “I’ve seen enough of you, Lady, to take that as a compliment.” He was silent again, but only for a breath or two. “To answer your question, Lady, yes, I trust Talos in that sense.”

The sun met us fully as we rounded the corner of the donjon and approached the great double doors at the top of the steps. Titus may trust Talos to do what is right for him, but what about for me? For Cardonaccum? Is there a higher morality? Or only what is imposed by those in power? What was right for my father was not right for my mother. Or for me.

“Do you have need of my presence, Lady?” Titus’s voice interrupted my musings. I glanced up at him, the sun warming my cheek.

“Do you have plans for t- today, Lieutenant?” I countered softly. “S- something you must attend to?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that cannot be handled by my men. I ask only if I can be of assistance to you today. I sense that this will be a momentous time for you, Lady.”

I sighed. “T- today we finish the Enclave. I must h- have Broc answer for his actions. This ends t- today.”

“It will not be easy,” Titus spoke softly “You are in great pain, and must not show it.”

“Aye,” I found myself agreeing with the Colovian. “To s- show it is to show weakness, at a t- time when I can least afford it.” I started up the steps, but Titus remained at the lowest stair. He met my gaze when I paused and turned back to him. “Lieutenant, this is s- something I imagine you must report to General T-Talos. It would be best t- to give him a first-hand account, no?”

“Yes, Lady, it would be best,” Titus moved to my side. “For General Talos. But would it be best for you?”

“As much as I may h- hate to admit it,” I spoke slowly to minimize my stutter, “it may not be amiss to r- remind people that I have General T- Talos’s support as Lord of Cardonaccum.”

“Then I shall be as unobtrusive as possible,” Titus promised me. “But if there is anything I or my legionaries can do for you, Lady, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

I considered him thoughtfully. If people didn’t take the point you made with the point of your sword yesterday, then you need to be less unobtrusive. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Titus pushed the left-hand portal open and waved me through. I stepped into the warmth of the hall and looked toward the Thistle Seat. Niall has been busy. On either side of the Thistle Seat two of the ornate chairs normally found in the dining room rested before the circular hearth. In place of the normal crackling fire, magelight burned argent, splashing light as bright as day across the center of the great room. Simple wooden chairs were arranged in a row opposite the grand seats. A lectern stood on a podium halfway between the two groupings, to one side of the hearth.

Against the east wall several men stood silently, stripped of armor, weapons and surcoats. I cast my gaze over them and considered their mood. They have had fairly comfortable lodgings overnight. I’m certain Machara fed them well enough. How many will choose fealty to Cardonaccum and me as Lord after Broc is deposed? Once again I wrestled with the question of Northside Manor. Once Broc is gone, who will lead Northside? Lord Duncan left no more get that I know of.

Siné appeared from the corridor leading to the chapel. She met my gaze as I stepped to the Thistle Seat and nodded. We had not spoken since before Enrick’s return. In accordance with the rules set by Wallace’s wise father years ago, evidence was examined independently by Siné in her role as Arkay’s representative, myself as Lord of Cardonaccum, and Rodric and Edine in their roles as vassals. We would not share our findings until the formal hearing now about to begin.

Siné’s gaze on me held the typical healer’s concern as I seated myself carefully on the cushion. Only her thinned lips belied her awareness of my pain. We still did not speak to each other as she moved to the podium.

Niall approached, Thistlethorn in his hands. He set the tip of the sheathed sword on the floor at my feet and extended the hilt to me. With a nod of gratitude I took the weapon with both hands and cradled the pommel against my left shoulder.

I cast my gaze around the hall again, seeing Titus with his optio seated against the western wall, and Enrick with his men ringing the Northsiders. Where is Robert? He should be here. Rodric and Edine are coming.

Just as the two knights appeared from upstairs and took their seats with courteous nods in my direction, Sir Rodric on my left and Dame Edine on my right, Robert appeared from the kitchen wing with a group of thistlemen. In the midst of this armed group walked three prisoners - Sir Broc, Mercutio, and young Hamish. Robert led them to the three chairs opposite the hearth and motioned for them to sit. The kitchen boy hastened to obey, but Broc and Mercutio paused.

Broc cast his gaze around and met my eyes. “So I’m to be put on trial? Do I not get a defense?”

“There is no prosecution, S- Sir Broc,” I answered. “Merely a h- hearing to establish the facts. You will have your s- say.”

The knight’s jawline rippled, but Broc remained silent and took his seat with a glare at Rodric and Edine. Mercutio remained on his feet, his eyes full of disrespect and defiance. Robert stepped behind the older man, clamped a great hand on his thin shoulder, and shoved him down into the chair so hard the wooden legs grated on the stone floor. The steward flinched as if to leap back up, but Robert’s strong grip kept him pinned to the wooden seat.

“Everyone is present and accounted for, milady!” his growl reverberated around the hall.

[SubRosa]

“You have more value to my General as Lord of Cardonaccum.”
Spoken bluntly, but honestly.

“General Talos does not require my understanding, only my loyalty.”
Now he sounds like a Minbari! Check his head, does it have a bone?

I also liked the discussion about "retirement". The Cyrodills are civilized enough that one doubts he'd go the way of the milk cow. But then again, Talos did try to use the Numidium to kill every member of every ruling family in Tamriel as well...

Even more I enjoyed Cora's thoughts about morality, and whose morality was right, and who has the right to decide whose right was right? Those are questions that still dog people today, with no clear answers.

And now the hearing begins. I am looking forward to a fair trial followed by a first class hanging...

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 27 2014, 01:53 AM

[Grits]

Catching up:

I love the descriptions of Lady Cora’s clothes.

But the Goddess is older, much older than the Eight. Nirn is only her most recent manifestation, if I remember Mother’s teachings aright.

Now I understand! This went a long way to get me back into the story after scratching my head over what Lady Cora meant in her musings.

Oh dear, young Tywin is dead and so is his accidental (or not) killer. Hmm…

Lady Cora’s scene with Hamish was a quiet delight.

Siné appeared from the corridor leading to the chapel. She met my gaze as I stepped to the Thistle Seat and nodded. We had not spoken since before Enrick’s return. In accordance with the rules set by Wallace’s wise father years ago, evidence was examined independently by Siné in her role as Arkay’s representative, myself as Lord of Cardonaccum, and Rodric and Edine in their roles as vassals. We would not share our findings until the formal hearing now about to begin.

OK, now I’m ready for the hearing.

[Acadian]

Interesting musings about Talos, loyalties and morality.

You were right when you forecast that I would like Titus. He is not perfect, but he is a good piece of gear. Like Lady Cora, I’m glad he’s there.

Speaking of being glad someone is there, I loved Robert the Bear near the end. 'Have a seat, prisoners . . . or I’ll break your legs!’

And now we have everything in place. I join SubRosa in my confidence that the hearing will be fair. . . and hopefully followed by a swift execution.

[ghastley]

“There is no prosecution, S- Sir Broc,” I answered. “Merely a h- hearing to establish the facts. You will have your s- say.”

This is the inquest. Once the inquest determines there was a murder, then there may be a trial. Do I take your unease to suggest that you already know the proper outcome of the inquest?

[jack cloudy]

BROC!

I knew that leaving him unsupervised during the winter was a bad idea, but dang. Looks like his plan has become bigger than his pants for a change.


It is also worth mentioning that if the true lord of Cardonaccum had taken along the escort her retainers wanted, this might not have happened. Bandits, games aside, are probably not going to attack a large number of well-armed and well-trained men without a very good assurance they'll win. And pyrrhic victories don't count.


Fortunately Cora had a dashing escape. (which also gave further proof of something protecting her. She calls it Nirn or the goddess which is fine for now)


Back at the castle, it appears that Broc has devised a backup plan for when plan kidnap the lady and forcefully marry/impregnate her doesn't work. Given the number of troops he'd brought along I assume that one of these backup plans (Z?) is takeover by force. I still think he is outnumbered with the Thistlemen and the Legionnaires, but with the Broccolis in the right place he could do a lot of damage and decapitate the chain of command.


Cora's insistent refusal of all healing on the grounds that she can still function and has a mission to fulfill amuses me. As did her sudden flipout into murdermode. Yes, I can see what she is trying to accomplish with it, but it was surprising nonetheless. And the surprise may have been what made it so effective. No one expects the friend of all living things and weak woman without a man to brutally kill someone. Especially not without an arrow stuck in her and who knows what other injuries.


And I've only read up till the murder of Tywin. The plan to kill him was a bit bad what with relying on a friend of the victim to run him through, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway if it wasn't for the sneaky brother in the bushes. It would have been a he said she said sort of thing and Mercutio probably thought he could pre-emptively deal with all known witnesses if the witch (seriously man, why did you just call her that to her face?) had asked for them. As for the lad, he was probably brought along not as a witness, but to represent the accused and maybe face punishment in his stead. I dunno how feudalism might look on relatives of someone who perpetrated such a serious crime.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Now he sounds like a Minbari! Check his head, does it have a bone? Sage Rose, we all have bones in our heads! It's called a skull. Granted, some of us have thicker ones than others. The questions about right versus wrong are things I wrestle with frequently, as part of my own faith process. Taking the ethics courses I have taken, I've learned to question accepted dogma and to search for my own truth. Lady Cora is going through the same process here. I'm glad it came through for you as it did.

@Grits: Between you and me, the clothes of the twelfth century are some of the most flattering, feminine and lovely clothes ever designed. And they were based on practical considerations, too! Never mind the corsets, stomachers, and bustles of later fashions, these were the best! As for the theology, I 'm glad Lady Cora was able to clarify some head-scratchers for you!

@Acadian: To be honest, I keep our friend McB very much in mind as I write Robert. McB's stick avatar is actually the inspiration for our bearish castellan. Perhaps instead of Robert White-arm, he should be Robert the Bear-armed!

@ghastley: In the modern legal system, yes, this would be an inquest, the main purpose of which is to determine if there is grounds for a trial. But in the Second Era High Rock, the legal system is very different, if it even exists at all. I came across something in the Lore about Tiber Septim's biggest contribution to the Empire was not as a warrior, conqueror or emperor, but rather as a legal tactician who created the legal system that is still used in the Empire during the time of the Oblivion Crisis. Before then, there was no real legal system, though attempts have been made to establish one, as evidenced by Wallace's father's efforts.

@cloudy: I had to chuckle at your comments and summary of what has transpired so far. Looks like you accomplished a lot of catching up! I doubt that Mercutio was counting on Hamish's brother to do the actual deed. He was likely hoping for an accident, or planning to do the evil act himself and blame the good guardsman.

The story so far: With the evidence of Broc's misdeeds now gathered, the Enclave has been called to hear the roll call of his crimes and to pass judgement. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I just could not write a courtroom scene to fit this setting, leastaways not to the caliber of Destri Melarg's nail-biting version in Interregnum.

***************
Chapter Thirty-two

“. . . the wound is consistent with a keen, two-edged blade typical of a longsword,” Siné finished summing up her examination of Tywin’s body. “Death was nearly instantaneous.”

I looked at the knights. “Do you agree, S- Sir Rodric, Dame Edine?”

“Aye!” Rodric’s affirmation held unshakable confidence.

“It concurs with my captain’s assessment,” Edine nodded at Tomsen, standing at her shoulder.

“I agree that Tywin was k- killed by a sharp blade, not by a dulled sword as S- Steward Mercutio testifies,” I shifted restlessly in the Thistle Seat. Pain flared up again and disrupted my breathing. Closing my eyes dispelled the bats that swirled in my vision. When I could see again, Broc’s gaze had turned defiant. “S- Sir Broc, it would s- s- seem that the evidence does not support your t- testimony.” I held his eyes for a few agonized breaths. “What say you?”

“You claim to have no magicka, Cora ap Askey,” Broc drew himself up in his chair. “Yet I see here ample evidence of your power to manipulate good folk to your own evil ends. It began with your seduction of Lord Wallace into marriage so you could gain entry to Cardonaccum. You have lured Sir Rodric and Dame Edine to your side. Somehow even that Colovian general has been ensnared in your honey trap. Where will it end?”

“Enough!” Robert roared. “This is a court of facts, not slander and libel!”

“Castellan,” I murmured. “Let S- Sir Broc speak. Every word he utters reveals his true c- colors.” My eyes locked with Broc’s own. “After all, one can only see what his own mind is c- capable of seeing.”

“I am done speaking, Cora ap Askey!” Broc sat down abruptly. I raised my brows at him. Giving up so easily? What else do you have planned for us? For me?

“Very well,” I said finally. “Sir R- Rodric, Dame Edine, Healer Siné, do we h- have any further questions?”

“No!” Rodric’s emphatic reply was echoed by Edine’s and Siné’s softer voices.

“In the case of T- Tywin’s death, what say you?”

“Guilty!” “Guilty.” “Guilty.”

“In the c- case of conspiracy of assault on Servius T- Terentius and myself, what say you?”

Once again the verdict was unanimous. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly against the pain in my ribs.

“In the case of t- treason against C- Cardonaccum, what say you?”

Rodric slammed his greatsword against the stone floor and rose to his feet. “Guilty, I say!” His tone held barely repressed anger. I sent him a warning glance, then turned to Edine.

“Guilty,” her whisper matched the paleness of her face. She knows what will happen next and it brings back shame and unhappy memories of her husband’s betrayal.

Siné lifted her chin as she met my gaze from her place at the podium. She twirled the quill in her hand and regarded me somberly. She is a healer. Her calling is to preserve life, not take it. How will she vote on this? “Guilty.” Her soft voice fell clearly in the silence of the great hall.

Broc’s face paled as apparently the gravity of his situation sank in. His eyes glared at me across the magelight as I set Thistlethorn upright before me and rose to my feet. With both hands wrapped around its hilt, I straightened against the agony filling my body.

“Th- the vote is final,” I pitched my voice to carry around the hall. “The s- sentence for murder is death. The s- sentence for assault is exile. The sentence for t- treason is death.” Behind Broc appeared the castellan’s bulk, bracketed by two of his most reliable thistlemen. “Castellan, the execution s- shall take place at sunset tonight. See that the courtyard is ready.”

“Milady!” Robert’s affirmative set off murmurings among the gathered folk. As the thistlemen escorted a stunned Broc away, I turned my gaze to Steward Mercutio. “For your role in T- Tywin of Northside’s death, you are also sentenced to death. As s- soon as the gallows is completed, you will h- hang by the neck until dead.”

“Damn you, Witch!” the thin man shouted as he was dragged away. “You will burn at the stake for this! Arkay set his hand on you and curse you!”

I am already cursed, I kept my face blank and turned to Hamish. “Young Hamish, th- thank you for your testimony. You are welcome to st- stay here, or return to your place at Northside.”

The boy straightened his shoulders. “I’ll go back, milady. ‘Tis my home.”

“Then wait until the morn, H- Hamish,” I managed to smile at him. “You can accompany the new lord of the manor when h- he departs tomorrow.” His eyes flew wide, and I sensed other gazes snap toward me. “Yes, I h- have decided who will run Northside for C- Cardonaccum. But first,” I turned to the gathered men-at-arms still waiting behind their guards. I motioned for Enrick to bring them forward.

“You may have heard of the c- conditions I offered Sir Laird’s men last winter,” I addressed them. “I give you the same t- terms. If you followed S- Sir Broc because you shared his convictions, you will be exiled from C- Cardonaccum forever. But if you followed h- him because of the oath you swore to him as h- his father’s heir,” I paused to catch my breath. Damn this stutter! “And if you are now willing to s- swear that same oath to Northside’s new lord, you may return with Hamish t- tomorrow.” Now I met each man’s gaze in turn. “But be warned, th- the new lord will run things differently. You may need to ch- change your behavior accordingly.”

One of the men stepped forward, away from the rest. “Milady,” he addressed me with inclined head. “I served Sir Duncan for many years. Those were good days. If the new lord milady has chosen is as honest and wise as Sir Duncan, he would not ask for a more loyal man-at-arms than myself!”

Several of the men echoed the soldier’s sentiments, moving to stand behind him. They’re all older - past their prime fighting years. But they have experience that can be valuable. I will be certain to send plenty of younger men with them to fill those numbers back up. I looked at the remaining men, about half of Broc’s contingent. Most of them, as young as Broc or younger, it seems, returned my gaze with overt hostility.

“We will not tolerate a Witch as Lord of Cardonaccum!” one of them shouted in defiance. I sighed.

“You will not need t- to,” I answered. “You are t- to go into exile immediately. Lieutenant Alorius’s legionaries will escort you to the Bluestone T- Tower and see you off my lands. If you r- return, you will be s- slain with extreme prejudice.”

“As you wish, Lady,” Titus moved from the shadows with his officers to take the forty-odd rebels in hand.

“One more th- thing,” I held up my right hand, wincing at the stabbing pain in my shoulder. “C- Captain Enrick?”

He stepped past the Northsiders to stop beside the hearth, its magelight casting his shadow high onto the walls above our heads. “Milady?”

“Come closer, C- Captain,” I picked up Thistlethorn. “Kneel.”

His eyes widened as I moved to the edge of the dais. Slowly he obeyed, taking one knee before the shallow step. “As you command, milady.”

“Captain Enrick has s- served Lord Wallace as his field c- commander for several years,” I addressed the gathered castle folk and thistlemen. “He h- has shown naught but loyalty to my husband. Since Lord Wallace’s passing, he has s- shown me naught but the same loyalty. I can th- think of no man more deserving of the knight’s r- rank.” Slowly I lifted the tip of the massive blade and rested it on his left shoulder, then his right. “From this moment forward, you are now known as Sir Enrick Dougal, th- the new lord of Northside!” Carefully I lowered Thistlethorn to the floor and met Enrick’s stunned gaze. “It is what Wallace wanted for you, C- Captain,” I whispered for his ears only as the hall erupted into cheers. I noticed that Titus’s legionaries added their voices to the accolades.

“Milady!” Enrick could only gasp. “I know nothing -!”

I nodded at the older Northsiders. “You h- have a group of men-at-arms who once served Lord Duncan gladly. You will have th- their support. Also I would suggest you take some of th- the younger thistlemen from your own field c- command to fill out their ranks.” I held my hand out to him. “Stand up, Sir Enrick!”

[Acadian]

And so is ordered a pair of sunset executions. Although the sentence brings Cora no joy, it is swift, appropriate and necessary justice.

I’m betting the newly dubbed Sir Enrick will make a fine knight and lord of Northside.

Lady Cora done good here. Perhaps she will now stop holding Sine at bay, so can the two can work on some much needed witch-mending.

[Grits]

I was wondering if Lady Cora would let Thistlethorn handle the executions, but she put it to happier use knighting Sir Enrick. As Acadian said, perhaps Sine will finally get a chance to work on Lady Cora before the evening’s festivities.

[SubRosa]

How did I miss this? I am sorry for replying so late. Somehow your post slipped through the (many) cracks in my brain.

Now that is the fair trial (hopefully) followed by a first-class hanging that I was looking forward to. Now I am wondering if Sir Broc will be decapitated, or hanged? Hanging was usually an execution for commoners, where lopping off the head with a sword was reserved for nobles. I noticed that Cora specifically said "hanging" in reference to Romeo's friend Mecrutio, but she only said execution in the case of Broc, and did not make any mention of building a gallows before doing him in.

I appreciated that it was not Cora who pronounced sentence upon Broc. Rather it was the others. A trial by a jury of his peers. That is very enlightened, very Viking if I dare say. It is an excellent way of Cora directly showing that Broc's execution was not the personal whim of a tyrant, but rather a lawful act conducted by The State, as all true executions are.

And we see Cora offering the same amnesty that she did to Sir Lard's men. I am not surprised the older men would go with her. They go back to the days of Sir Duncan, so likely their real loyalties were with him, and not personally to his no-account son. The younger ones, brought on by Broc himself, will probably be a different matter though...

And welcome Sir Enrick! Well done on both Cora's and En's parts!

[haute ecole rider]

@Acadian: Overdue witch-mending, indeed! And Sir Enrick will be awesome as the new leader of Northside. I think Lady Cora was extremely wise to reward this young man for his unswerving service to her cause, and as she is in no hurry to replace her trusted castellan, the vacancy at Northside is an excellent choice.

@Grits: Don't worry, Thistlethorn's work isn't done yet. We will see what Lady Cora plans to do with it.

@SageRose: I'm glad that you picked up on how fair and balanced this trial/hearing was, compared to the standard of medieval justice. I wrote this segment almost a year ago, and wanted to show how much the legal system in Cyrodiil had progressed since the Second Era. I can see "enlightened" nobles seeking to improve the administration of justice to be more fair and balanced to all involved, and not be partial to those with power and rank. As for your musings concerning the method of Sir Broc's execution, you will see how right you are.

The story so far: Sir Broc and his henchman Mercutio have been sentenced to death for their actions, and the Northsiders who have chosen not to swear fealty to Lady Cora and her chosen knight of the manor have been sent into exile. Captain Enrick is now Sir Enrick, Knight of Northside -- a suitable reward for his continued loyalty to Lady Cora as Lord Wallace's successor.

****************************
Chapter Thirty-three

“Don’t feel so flabbergasted, young man!” Rodric’s voice reached me as I paused outside the study. Niall opened the door for me. Within I saw the beaming knight gripping Enrick’s shoulder. “If you ever need advice, just send to me or Dame Edine. We’ll help you, not to worry!”

Enrick’s head turned as I entered the room, and the others bowed to me. The three knights stood before the warm fire, its heat welcome even at noon on this cold spring day. The former captain clapped his fist to his breast in the soldier’s salute, then remembered his new place and hastily echoed the others’ greeting. “Milady, I’m very honored that you think I’m capable -.”

“S- Sir Enrick,” I stopped him with a hand on his left forearm. “I don’t think you’re c- capable at all. I know it. In th- the absence of any more get of Lord Duncan’s, I cannot think of anyone better s- suited to run this holding than you.”

A flush bloomed across Enrick’s lean visage, and his gaze wavered from me to the knights. His eyes finally settled on Robert, standing near the window.

The big Nord grinned at Enrick’s obvious discomfiture and clanged his own mailed fist to his breast. “Hail, Sir Enrick!” His blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “You’ve done well, and rightly deserve your promotion!” His gaze shifted to Niall as the steward laid Thistlethorn carefully on the desk. “Let me see that yon sword’s as sharp as can be, milady.”

“Yes, it must be very s- sharp indeed.” I nodded. “R- Robert, please see to it, and bring it back t- to me before sunset.”

My final words halted Robert in the act of reaching for the sword. His eyes narrowed at me. “Bring it back to you?” he repeated. “Do I hear aright?”

“Milady!” Rodric exclaimed, stepping forward. “Surely you are not thinking of -!” his voice trailed off at the look I gave him.

“I must perform th- the execution myself,” I kept my voice steady. “As Lord of C- Cardonaccum I can do naught else.”

“Milady,” Siné’s voice reached me from the doorway. “Your shoulder is not healed. You will only cause more damage because of the arrowhead.”

“Yes,” Edine reached a hand out to me, a plea on her careworn face. “You are not well, milady.”

“I will not s- shirk my r- responsibilities as Lord because I am a woman!” I could not keep the frustration out of my voice. “When Wallace was injured in th- that bandit raid, remember R- Robert?” I locked gazes with him. “Remember what h- he did?”

“He executed the traitors himself,” Robert nodded. “But he was - “ He stopped himself just in time, his eyes darkening. “Milady, you are only so strong. We do not want to see you harmed any further.”

“You c- cannot protect me from my duties,” I moved my gaze to Rodric. “Because S- Sir Broc is a knight, only the Lord of C- Cardonaccum can honorably execute him. His rank entitles h- him to this much, at least.” Now I looked at Edine. “And I must s- show everyone that though I am a woman, I am s- still Lord of Cardonaccum!”

“Then at least let me remove that arrowhead immediately, milady,” Siné moved to stand beside Edine.

“Yes, let Siné do that much,” the older woman echoed.

For a moment I considered the thought. Can I really endure this? Will I be able to pick up Thistlethorn with that piece of sharp steel in my shoulder? But I can’t let them hear me screaming, for nothing will stop me from doing so. Even if we went into Siné’s alchemy lab deep below the donjon they will still hear me. And the wound won’t heal in time - my shoulder will still be too weak. No, I lifted Thistlethorn once, I can do so again. I closed my eyes. Goddess, give me strength!

“Milady, please!” Rodric’s tone held a plea. “I will do it for you!” Yes, let Sir Rodric do this. But he is the same rank as Sir Broc. That is unacceptable by High Rock standards. No, the treasonous act was directed against the Lord of Cardonaccum. As the aggrieved party, I must be the one to mete out the sentence.

I saw the anxiety in his gaze, the worry in Robert’s. Enrick’s face remained carefully neutral, but his eyes held uncertainty.

“No.” I shook my head. “I must be the one to c- carry it out. I must s- see it through.” I turned back to Robert. “That is why Thistlethorn must be as k- keen as you can possibly make it. Do not t- try to put an enchantment on it. You know what will h- happen the moment I pick it up.”

“Aye,” Robert nodded gruffly. “Any magicka will bleed right out into the ground!”

I turned back to the knights. “The sword will be k- keen, I know Robert will see to it himself. And a keen s- sword will do all the work, as both of you fighters well know. All I ask of the th- three of you is that you be present t- to witness the just punishment of the t- traitor Sir Broc.”

Edine stepped forward first. “Of course,” she said quietly, her own face as ghastly as I felt. “You can rely on me, Lord Cora.”

“And I, milady,” Enrick bowed to me, his left hand on his hilt.

I shifted my gaze to Rodric. His mustache puffed in exasperation, then he nodded curtly. “Aye, I will be there, milady!”

Of the three of them, only Edine has called me Lord. I still have a great deal of work ahead of me. That is why I must carry out the execution myself. If that is what it will take to get men to think of me as Lord of Cardonaccum -!

“I will go to my son,” Edine gathered her skirts around her. “I must speak to Tevan of the verdict.” She shook her head sadly. “This has not been easy for him.”

“Nor for you, Dame Edine,” I murmured softly. If Laird had survived Talos’s ambush last fall, would his head be on my block too? “I will s- see you in a few hours.”

Edine curtseyed gracefully and left the study. Enrick straightened his shoulders. “If I have your permission, milady,” he met my gaze, “I would like to go meet those Northsiders who will be accompanying me tomorrow, get their measure.”

“I think it is an excellent idea, S- Sir Enrick,” I smiled at him. “You will do well, I’ve no doubt.”

As Enrick departed after Edine, Rodric moved to the desk and ran his fingertips thoughtfully along the sheathed blade. Cinnie leaped onto the desk from behind the chair and paced along the sword, her whiskers brushing the back of the aged knight’s hand. Absently he cupped his hand over her head, then turned back to me.

“My apologies, milady,” he rumbled softly. “You are right, of course. As Lord of Cardonaccum you must do what you must. But ‘tis difficult for me --” his voice trailed off.

“It is difficult at t- times for me, too, Sir Rodric,” I assured him. “But I think of Lord Wallace and how he h- handled such issues. Would he let one of you perform the deed? No. So h- how can I?”

“There’s no shame in having a champion serve on your behalf in these matters,” Sir Rodric mused. “Yet that would suggest weakness on your part.” He shook his head. “Rest, milady, for that sword is a heavy burden to bear!” He spun away and limped out of the room.

Only Siné and Robert remained. The healer moved to stand before me, her large eyes expressive. “Milady, I will stand at your back. I am ready whenever you are.”

“Th- thank you, Siné,” I whispered. “I will come to you in t- time. Trust me that much, healer.”

She inclined her head gracefully before leaving.

“Sir Rodric has a point,” Robert picked up the greatsword easily in one large hand. He met my gaze as Cinnie seated herself primly on the spot where the pommel had rested. “And I know full well how stubborn you can be! I pray to Shor that this stubbornness of yours will give you the strength you will need for tonight.” He touched the hilt of the sword to his lips in salute. “I will make this keen enough to shave Shor’s beard!” Then he was gone in a swirl of his brown cloak, the door closing behind him.

Alone in the study, I turned back to look at the moggy. She sat upright in the proper way of cats, her long tail wrapped around her feet. Her golden eyes gleamed at me as she regarded me intently.

“You have s- something to say, too, Cinnie?” I asked her. In response, she picked up a front paw and began licking it. “That’s it?” I sighed, feeling the weariness in my bones beneath the constant pain.

[SubRosa]

I see it will be Thistlethorn that Sir Broc will be getting a neckfull of indeed!

This entire episode is filled with Cora's greater battle. That of earning not simply the loyalty of her retainers, but their respect as a leader first, and a woman second. The entire story is filled with that, but here Cora's struggle against High Rock's gender roles is made very stark. As is her determination to bear any sacrifice.

[Acadian]

That is one troublesome arrowhead! It’s taking on more of a life of its own than a Destri sweet roll!

“I will make this keen enough to shave Shor’s beard!” - - You’ve built a nice scenario where the justice, it’s manner of delivery and choice of executioner all make perfect sense.

Loved the reappearance of Cinnie and her insightful advice.

[ghastley]

One is almost tempted to suggest that Broc deserves a blunter blade, but let's not be cruel.

Liked the slight indecision about healing before or after the execution. Cora already knows that Thistlethorn can do the job, but will the arrowhead allow her to do her part? Cinnie appears to think so.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Yes, Lady Cora is determined to have others fully accept her as Lord of Cardonaccum. Without their unwavering support, she knows she is nothing. What she doesn't yet realize is the power of her own personality on others.

@Acadian: I'm not sure that arrowhead compares so well against Destri's Sweet Roll! But thanks for the reminder! I knew one of you would notice Cinnie's role in this little scene.

@ghastley Lady Cora can be cold-hearted when she has to be, but she is not cruel. So, no blunt blade for the dastardly plotter. As for the healing, I'm glad you like the back and forth in Lady Cora's mind about having it done before or after her grisly task is completed.

The story so far: Sir Broc and his cronies have been sentenced to death and exile. Lady Cora has made it clear to her knights that she is the one, in spite of her injury, that must perform Sir Broc's execution. Now there is someone else she must convince . . .

***********************
Chapter Thirty-four

Silence fell over the study as I moved to the desk and stroked Cinnie’s ears. She stretched into my palm and purred, her eyes closed in hedonistic pleasure. The pain returned with a vengeance, and I leaned my hands onto the desk.

A soft sound behind me drew my head around. I glanced back over my right shoulder toward the shadows beyond the fireplace. A hooded figure moved into the firelight.

The agony racked my body and stole my breath as I startled at the apparition’s sudden appearance. “Wh- who are you?” I managed to gasp, groping for the letter knife resting near the candle. A soft paw firmly pinned my skittering hand to the desktop, and a quiet rumble reminded me of Cinnie’s presence.

“Only I, Lady Cora,” the voice I had not heard since last fall unsettled me further as the stranger lowered his hood from his face. General Talos’s hazel gaze caught the firelight as he stopped a few steps away from me.

“H- how did you get h- here?” I shot a panicked glance toward the closed door that led out to the passageway and the rest of the castle. For a gasping breath I thought of calling out for the thistlemen, but the pain in my side stole my voice. Cinnie’s head swiped against my arm.

“I came as soon as I heard of your attack,” Talos held his hands up in a manner clearly intended to reassure me. “I wanted to see for myself that you are all right. I see that you are not, however.”

Carefully I turned to face him, bracing my hands on the edge of the desk behind me. Cinnie’s odd behavior didn’t help to ease my terror at confronting the man of my nightmares alone in my own study. I struggled to gather the scattered threads of my wits into some flimsy sort of fabric. “Th- that happened not even two days ago! H- how did you get h- here from Wayrest so q- quickly?” The road to Phrygia isn’t even open yet!

“Your people have a point, Lady Cora,” Talos apparently chose to ignore my questions. “You are too weak to even lift that sword, let alone control its drop. The slightest waver from you will only lead to failure. You need a champion, as Sir Rodric said.”

I shook my head. “Who?” I managed to put a note of challenge into my voice. “You?” Through sheer will I forced the tremors in my body down into my pounding heartbeat. “Th- that will only make me appear all th- the weaker!”

“Why not Lieutenant Alorius?” Talos countered, his voice infuriatingly calm. “When he returns from the task you have set him, he will be glad to do it. He’s outside the ranks of High Rock.”

“Th- that is precisely why he c- can’t do it!” I shot back. “None of you c- can do it. Cardonaccum is not c- conquered!”

“Lady Cora,” Talos took on the tone of a patient father with a wayward child. “I heard what your healer said. That greatsword of Wallace’s is nearly as long as you are tall. You can barely carry the thing, let alone lift it.”

“That s- sword of Wallace’s is now mine, as Lord of C- Cardonaccum!” I barely managed to keep my voice just above a pained whisper. His condescension is so infuriating!

“To even try will cause that arrowhead to shred your shoulder to pieces.” Talos took a step closer. “The damage it could cause may be permanent.”

I lifted my chin and tipped my head back to keep my gaze on his. “It will be worth the price if it gains the r- respect of my knights.”

A hint of exasperation crept into Talos’s eyes as he inhaled slowly. “You have their respect, Lady Cora, as you have mine. If you push yourself too hard at this time . . .”

Of its own volition, my right hand cracked across his cheek, hard. The sound of the slap echoed into the crackling emanating from the hearth while my injured shoulder tortured an involuntary cry from my throat. Talos rocked back on his heels as I clutched at my shoulder with my left hand. Numbness followed fire down my right arm, and something hot trickled down my back.

Though my heart pounded in terror of his reaction, I looked up at him as he slowly returned his gaze to me. His brows drew together and nearly vanquished what little courage I had left. Yet my father’s temper would not allow retreat. “I’ll be the one to decide when t- too much is t-. . .”

Talos moved swifter than my vision could follow. His hands caught the two centers of my pain and drew me against him. Before I could raise my hands in protest, his lips stopped my stammer. Hard and hot, the kiss breathed golden fire into my mouth and down my throat. Similar energy coursed from the broken ribs in my left side, the wound in my right shoulder and met beneath my breastbone in a swirling conflagration that stopped my heartbeat.

I couldn’t breathe against that terrifying sensation. I had been exposed to magicka before, but this was something more - fundamental - than mere magic. Where ordinary spells merely crackled through my body into the ground with little more than a psychic lightning burn, this power filled my very being and threatened to split my skin. In the face of such heat, the pain that had been my constant torture burned away into nothingness.

Then cold darkness surged upward from the stones beneath my bare feet. For a breathless eternity that lasted barely longer than a breath night and day danced together between us. Quicker than a blink of an eye the elemental symphony disappeared.

Only his hands on my wounds held me up, only his lips met mine. For a stunned moment I tasted cloves and ginger, felt the warmth of mortal passion on my mouth. It was only a moment, but it was more than enough for my body to begin singing the way it had beneath Wallace’s loving hands. Then he broke away before I could think of an appropriate response.

I realized that both of us were breathing hard, as if we had raced each other to some undefined prize. His hot breath tickled my right ear, the side of my neck. I closed my eyes at the sudden memory of how Wallace had always touched me there so gently. For a moment I dared to imagine my husband during our moments of intimacy. But my scrambled thoughts reassembled themselves, and I recalled who held me so closely.

His fingers pressed hard into my right shoulder. I gasped at the absence of pain from either wound. Then Talos eased me back against the desk and his grip lightened. He did not meet my gaze when I looked up into his face. A deep breath came without agony, and I realized that my ribs did not hurt anymore. His hands fell away as I straightened up.

“I’m sorry, Lady Cora,” his whisper brushed my right ear as something clattered to the desk behind me. I looked down to see a broken arrowhead resting on a stained dressing, steel glinting through blood. Cinnie padded over and sniffed at it, then met my gaze and chirped. I looked back up to find myself alone in the study.

“What in Oblivion?” I muttered, leaning against the desk. Sorry for what? I reached over my right shoulder with my left hand. The ridges of a healed scar instead of the pain of a festering wound greeted my fingertips. I breathed deeply, and felt no stabbing in my left side. Air moved freely through my lungs, making me nearly giddy with relief. Why would he apologize for healing me? Why would he even bother to heal me? I am only his ally, nothing more. Does my alliance truly hold so much value to this man?

My heartbeat slowed as my body gradually ceased its thrumming. And why do I feel like this? Talos is nothing like Wallace! How could he make my body sing like this with the merest touch? But that was more than a mere touch. And I permitted it! Me, a loyal wife to a man not dead a year! Sick guilt curdled my stomach and made me groan softly. Wallace, how can you forgive me?

I sighed and moved to sit beside the fire. Do I tell the others that I have been healed? How do I explain this to them? I can’t tell them of this. How can I explain it? I, who have no magicka of my own, who have always been one to drain magicka from others, how can I be healed like this? I recalled the intensity of the fire I had felt, and the answering response from Nirn. This can’t be ordinary magicka. Only a Divine can answer the Goddess with a dance. Just who - no, what - is this man?

A/N I started a new thread in my sub forum. Fans of OHDH may enjoy this little tale.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Feb 16 2014, 03:00 PM

[SubRosa]

Talos? How did he get there indeed? Did he ride a dragon perhaps?

Whoa, his presence was not the only surprise! Looks like that dragon blood in his veins runs hot enough for both of them! It also looks like some dragon magic (perhaps not so much as shout as a whisper), works on Cora after all.

I liked Cora's brief thought of how magic normally ran through her like a lightning rod, grounding out impotently in the earth below.

I also liked Cora's very natural guilt over feeling passion again.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 16 2014, 07:16 PM