Secrets of the Night Special Edition (70 page)

Cathbad addressed the man. "Give the tribunal your name."

"Angus Connor." Squirming in his chair, he threw an anxious glance at Keriam. What had prompted him to testify at her trial? Had the druids managed to find all the merchants she'd warned, and had they used coercion against these shopkeepers?

A confused look came over the man's face. "Druid, it's only recently that I learned the accused's identity. How was I to know--?"

"The accused's identity is not important," the head druid declared. "This woman is charged with witchcraft. It doesn't matter if she is the princess or the lowest scullery maid in the kingdom. Now, let us hear your evidence."

"She came into my store," he said in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "and--"

"Speak louder, sir. We can't hear you."

Angus Connor cleared his throat. "The pr--the accused came into my store within the last nineday. She told me . . . she warned of the black fever, said it would afflict the city if we . . .if we."

"Yes?" Druid Cathbad prodded. "Go on."

"If we didn't kill the squirrels."

Moans and gasps broke out among the spectators, like the angry buzzing of bees. Shocked glares swept Keriam's way, overladen with expressions of strong condemnation. Tempted to return their glares, Keriam lowered her head submissively, knowing she didn't dare antagonize the people. She needed their support, however futile that support might be.

Druid Cathbad rang the bell again. "We must have quiet here. This woman's sacrilege stuns the tribunal as much as it does the people. But we can't conduct the trial amid confusion." He gazed at the witness again, his look hard and unrelenting. "Angus Connor, you may proceed." "Druids, I advised her against this irreverence, for I knew no one would countenance the killing of these sacred animals." He paused, biting his lip.

"And?"

"And I told her she must stop this heresy. I feared she'd bring trouble on herself." He rested his chin in his hand, a glum expression on his face. "As I see she has."

Silence reigned in the tribunal room while Tulchinne continued to scribble. The third druid spoke. "Would you say she cast an evil spell over the city?"

Keriam sprang to her feet. "Permission to speak!"

Druid Nialle nodded, combing his long beard with his fingers. "Granted."

"Druid Nialle, I must protest that question." She looked toward Angus Connor. "The testifier is in no position to judge as to whether or not I cast a spell--"

"Are you denying his testimony?"

"No, Druid Nialle. I'm only pointing out that I merely warned him of the plague. I didn't cause it."

Cathbad spoke. "Strange, isn't it?--that there were no cases of the black fever, a disease we haven't seen in eleven years, until this woman--" He pointed a bony finger at Keriam--"came here and cast a spell."

"Druid Cathbad, I didn't cast a spell!" Still on her feet, Keriam realized the futility of her argument but considered she must make the effort. A slim chance remained that she could explain her position and thus absolve herself. "Druid Cathbad, I knew this plague would strike--"

More gasps erupted throughout the room.

"How?" Druid Cathbad scowled. "Tell us how you knew."

Keriam swallowed hard. "I dreamed it." Goddess, why had she said that? Fear froze her stomach. She had just condemned herself.

Screams and cries filled the tribunal room. One woman fainted and had to be carried out, a disruption that caused further delay. Another ringing of the bell brought a gradual silence.

Cathbad's voice exploded with shock. "You dreamed it! That in itself is a sign of witchcraft. The demoness entered your mind while you slept, told you to cast a spell, and perform her evil deeds for her."

"Druid, no!" She'd gone this far; she had no choice but to proceed, but she harbored little hope of success. Strict religion, not reason or compassion, guided their thoughts and actions. "I often have prophetic dreams."

"Is there any doubt of Keriam Moray's guilt?" Druid Nialle's gaze covered the tribunal room, as if daring anyone to contradict him. "But lest any question remain, we have more testifiers to present our case against the accused. Angus Connor, you may return to your seat. Now we want to hear from Druid Kentigern of the
Sacred
Hospital
."

Surprise collided with panic inside Keriam's head. She clutched her chair arms. Why was Druid Kentigern here? What in the name of the Goddess did he have to say?

"Druid Kentigern, relate Keriam Moray's questions when she visited you at the hospital several moonphases ago."

Druid Kentigern looked her way, his expression unreadable, his long white robe touching the floor. "The accused visited me at the hospital during Seluvia's moonphase. She asked if we had enough pallets should any calamity, such as the black fever, strike."

"And how did you reply?"

"I told her there was little we could do in the event of a calamity, but that it was very unlikely that the black fever would strike again."

"What did she say?"

He twisted his fingers together, then stopped, sitting up straight. "She asked me if we were working on a cure for the fever."

"And you told her--?"

"I told her we had no cure."

Keriam rose again. "Druid Cathbad, I'd like to reply to these statements."

"Proceed."

She ran her tongue along her lower lip. "When I asked Druid Kentigern about a possible plague outbreak, I was merely expressing my worry, should such a tragedy occur. For several ninedays before my visit and a few moonphases after, we have had a drought. Everyone knows dry weather brings fleas, and fleas can bring the plague."

Druid Cathbad spoke. "Again we must say that no one else considered the possibility of the plague, because there
was
no possibility until you came and cast your evil spell." He pointed a finger at her. "Admit it! You brought the plague on us by collaborating with the demoness." He made a broad sweep with his arm. "You have many deaths on your head, Keriam Moray. Worse, you have released evil from the Otherworld."

"No! Only because I saw--"

"Only because you dabbled in sorcery!" He shook his head. His eyes gleamed with hatred. "Wickedness enough!"

Aware of the hopelessness of further argument, Keriam returned to her seat. Had Balor threatened these druids, to make them turn against her? But no, perhaps Balor's threats had not been necessary. The druids had always been stern and uncompromising, governed only by their faith. These learned men apparently believed their accusations. In spite of her admonition not to, she stole a glance at Radegunda and saw the woman's heartsick expression, a look that surely must mirror her own. Panic threaded through her body, a cold, numbing fear that halted all rational thought.

"We have one more testifier." Druid Cathbad nodded toward a woman in the first row. "Gilda Kane, please come forward."

Keriam jerked with surprise. Who was Gilda Kane? Ah, yes, she remembered talking to Edan Kane recently. But why wasn't he here today? He must have turned timid, sending his wife instead. Then she observed what her initial shock had prevented her from seeing: Gilda Kane wore red, the color of mourning. Alarm rippled through her. Visions of burning at the stake tormented her, the stench of burning flesh, her screams and cries of pain. She'd heard that if the executioner was compassionate, he could light the fire in such a manner that the condemned would quickly die of smoke inhalation. Goddess, she prayed, let it be so with me.

Keriam vowed she would continue to plead her case. She would not accept defeat.

"Gilda Kane," Nialle addressed her as she took the testifier's seat. "Explain why you are here today instead of your husband." Tulchinne looked up from his writing, his pen poised in the air.

"My husband is dead!" She waved her hand at Keriam. "This witch killed him!"

Keriam jumped to her feet. "No! All I did was warn him--"

"You killed him! A kind, loving husband, a caring father." She dabbed her eyes in genuine grief, then addressed the druids. "I know our religion celebrates death, and truly, I am happy my husband is now in the
Land
of
Truth
and Eternal Life. But I miss him," she said in a trembling voice. "He was in good health until she came, with her sinful bewitchment. This witch killed my husband, my children's father." She pressed her hand to her eyes, her shoulders shaking.

Keriam wanted to weep, too. All the affection, the goodwill she had developed with the people over the years had been erased with this charge of witchcraft. She recalled the times she'd appeared before her people on occasions such as the Beltane Festival, when she'd scrupulously avoided flaunting her royalty. She remembered the many times she'd mingled among the people, in the Treasury of Knowledge, the stores, riding her horse in the streets of Moytura.

A sudden realization stopped her cold. At those times, they hadn't
known
she was the princess. And now, clad in a plain brown dress, she surely didn't project a regal image, not that her former royal position would save her.

She spoke quietly. "Madam, you haven't explained how--"

"Isn't it obvious? He died of the black fever. He had a high temperature, large black pustules all over his body. Dead within three days!"

Over her heart's thudding, Keriam struggled to stay calm. "Madam, I'm so sorry about your husband's death. But I repeat, I didn't cause it. I merely--"

"He was in good health until you came into his shop, bringing your evil sorcery!" She glared at Keriam. Tears streamed down her face. "You killed him!"

Druid Nialle spoke in a low voice, his tone sympathetic. "Madam, you have suffered enough. You may leave now, go home to your fatherless children." A man came forward to lead the woman away. Her eyes puffy, her cheeks red, Gilda Kane turned to throw one last venomous look in Keriam's direction.

A tense silence settled over the assembly. Men and women dabbed at their eyes and blew their noses. Shifting shadows revealed the passage of time.

In hushed voices, the three druids conferred among themselves. Keriam had no doubt of their verdict. Images of burning at the stake returned to torment her.

After a short time--too short, Keriam agonized, Cathbad spoke. "As the tribunal room can see, there is overwhelming evidence against Keriam Moray. We find the accused guilty of practicing witchcraft. We give her two days to ponder her sins, to pray to Talmora for forgiveness. But we fear her prayers--if she prays at all--will be in vain. We know the demoness is even now preparing a place for this sinner in the Underworld, where she will suffer eternal damnation. On the morning of the third day from this one, Keriam Moray will die from impalement."

Goddess, no!
Please, no!

Queasiness churned inside Keriam, her skin cold and clammy. The room spun like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. She felt the blood drain from her face, and the floor came up to meet her.

* * *

Dizzy and sick to her stomach, Radegunda left the tribunal room in the Magistrate's Hall. Voices droned around her, the words meaningless. She lurched down the stone steps, afraid she'd trip and fall. Her head lowered, she fought her nausea.

She must rescue the princess, but she couldn't act alone. Schemes played in her mind. She needed Major Gamal's help, but would he aid her? Ah, she should never doubt his devotion to his princess.

Could she rid the city of the plague now? Was her magic powerful enough? Throughout the last few moonphases, she'd practiced that very spell but feared she hadn't developed enough skill. For now, she needed all her talent, every bit of power, to save the princess. After that, she must free the city of the black fever.

Her mind made up, her dizziness gone, Radegunda headed for
Perfume Lane
. She knew she would have few customers, so she'd closed the shop this one day. Voices continued to hum around her, the words distinct now.

"Princess Keriam! Whoever would have thought she practiced witchcraft?"

“So say the druids,” another woman countered. “They gave no proof–“

”But the plague–“

”She is innocent!” argued another. “She is a good woman. She must not suffer this terrible punishment.”

“But how can we save her? The druids have the final word.”

Radegunda drew her shawl closer around her shoulders, the voices fading as she passed the silversmith's shop, the sword shop, and the other fine stores, reaching
Perfume Lane
a few minutes later.

She unlocked the door and hurried inside, then dashed up the stairs. She had work to do. Tossing her shawl over a chair, she sat on her bed and reached for a bowl of water on the bedside table, then closed her eyes. She must clear her mind of all worries and misgivings, must concentrate on her task. Only then could she summon the desired images, only then could she bend Roric Gamal to do her will. What if she couldn't draw Major Gamal to her? Assuming that she could, what if he refused to help her? No, she must never doubt his devotion to Princess Keriam.