“With respect, your Honour,” John Flarety said, rising. “I would rather say that these accusations are only more symptoms of the same problem, and that it is best to resolve this matter at once, rather than give Thomas the time to engage in activities that will bring him into greater trouble.”
Anger surged inside Thomas. He clamped down on it, reminding himself that John Flarety’s actions were as much the bishop’s fault as Ailbe’s were, and that losing his temper would do nothing for him in the eyes of the magistrate.
Even so, a little sympathy would be nice.
Magistrate Cauwood frowned at John Flarety. “I think that this other matter, being a hanging offence, might be rather more urgent to the young man.”
Just a little.
The shock of the last few moments and the lack of real sleep for the past three days suddenly threatened to overwhelm Thomas. His legs felt weak, and his hands were starting to shake. Too much was hanging over his head, he realized. He wanted
something
to be resolved. Thomas rose to his feet. “Let’s finish this, if we can, your Honour.”
The magistrate’s eyebrows went up, then down, and he frowned at Thomas for a time. At length, though, he shrugged his shoulders, straightened his robe, and said, “Very well, your father has given his argument. Do you have a reply?”
Thomas nodded, and began to speak, keeping his voice cool and measured. “Your Honour, my father’s disapproval of my education and my behaviour while at the Academy only began a week ago at most. Previous to that, he was fully supportive. I have his last letter in my possession, which will show this, and the testimony of many members of the town who can confirm what I have said.” He glanced back at the nearly-empty courtroom. “If they can be recalled.”
“I don’t need to be recalled,” Madeleine said. Thomas and his father both turned towards her as she rose, her head high. “Nor does my son, Neal. Both of us will testify that what he says is true.”
“As will I,” said Lionel, also coming to his feet. “The man’s been giving nothing but praise of the lad until three or four days ago. Since then, he’s done nothing but complain.”
John Flarety dismissed Lionel with a quick, angry wave of his hand. “This man is no friend to me. Why only last week he tried to cheat me on the price of iron rods for my carts!”
“I did not try to cheat you!” snapped Lionel. “You offered less than they were worth!”
“I offered far more than they were—”
“Gentlemen!” Magistrate Cauwood’s voice cut the argument short. “I’m afraid the plaintiff’s point is made. And I am equally afraid that it is impossible for the court to allow a family to testify against each other without collaboration.”
“I am not testifying for, or against, my husband,” Madeleine said. “I am testifying on behalf of my son.”
“It cannot be allowed, since your husband is the accuser.”
“Then hear this.” She reached into her bag, and pulled out a pouch that, by the way she hefted it, was rather heavy for its small size. “I hold here gold of my own, given to me by my father at my wedding. John Flarety has no claim on it, and I swear now that I will use this money to pay whatever amount will be owing to my husband, should the decision be against my son.”
“Mother,” Thomas protested. “You can’t—”
“What better use do I have for my dowry?” Madeleine demanded. She turned to her husband. “And I say this to you, John Flarety. If you continue with this stupidity, then this money shall be the last thing that you receive from me and this trial the last time that you shall see me. I will go to the convent and I will take vows, rather than return into your house.”
John’s mouth was open, shock clear on his features. He stuttered once, then again before finding his voice. “The lad needs to go to the bishop,” he snapped. “He is a danger to himself and others and needs to be controlled.”
“He does
not!
” Madeleine’s voice, though no louder, carried a weight that made John Flarety fall silent. “You will drop this matter and you will apologize to your son, or I will
never
forgive you and I will never speak to you again!”
Thomas realized he was holding his breath, but couldn’t find the will to release it.
Magistrate Cauwood cleared his throat. “I think,” he said, looking down his nose at John, “that you would be wise to consider your options, Master Flarety. I will reserve this case over until tomorrow morning. At that time, you may tell me if you intend to drop this matter or pursue it.” The expression on the magistrate’s face said plainly that he thought that the former was the reasonable course of action. He turned to Thomas. “If your father wishes to pursue the matter, you may present your witnesses at that time. Is this acceptable to both parties?”
Thomas nodded. “It is,” he said.
John Flarety nodded once, hard and sharp. “It is, your Honour.”
“Good.” Magistrate Cauwood rose from his place. The smith’s family were the only ones still sitting, and they came at once to their feet as the man made his slow way down from the platform. When he reached the ground, he turned to Thomas. “As for the other matter—“
“I am innocent, your—”
The magistrate raised a hand and Thomas fell immediately silent. “Be that as it may, you must still answer the charges made. Do not leave this room until the Reeve has arrived, or I will have you declared a fugitive. Do you understand?”
“Yes, your Honour.”
“Good. This court is adjourned for now.”
They all watched Magistrate Cauwood make his slow way across the tower and out the door. As soon as he was gone, Madeleine turned to her husband, but John Flarety was already on his way out, saying nothing. Anger and horror still twisted his features, but now there was fear there as well. John Flarety was clearly a man torn. He met no one’s eyes as he walked across the room, and stepped out the door without a word.
Thomas sat down behind his table and put his head back into his hands. The tears wouldn’t come again, but the darkness behind his eyes was a safe haven; a place to hide, if only for a moment.
A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, making him look up. Eileen stood beside him, trying to look brave and not succeeding. Behind her, Neal and his mother were talking in low tones to Lionel and Magda.
“This is ridiculous,” said George, leaning forward from his place behind Thomas. “What could Ailbe be doing?”
“It’s not Ailbe,” said Thomas.
George was taken aback. He stared out the door as if he expected her to reappear. When she didn’t, he turned back to Thomas. “It looks like her.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Thomas turned around on the bench and faced his friends, dropping his voice as he did. “Remember how I said the bishop was controlling my father?”
“Aye.”
“Well, that’s what it’s like.”
“It’s awful,” Eileen breathed, coming closer. Her expression lightened suddenly. “Do you think that means that Shamus is still alive?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not likely. If he was, he’d be with her.”
Eileen’s face fell, and she looked at the floor, biting her lip.
“I’m surprised the sheriff isn’t with her,” said George, “if she’s going around saying you killed Shamus.”
“Do you think he’s dead, too?” asked Eileen.
“If he were, then Ailbe would have shouted it to everyone.” Thomas said. “No, he’s still alive, and probably on his way here to hang me.”
The tower door opened, and Bluster stepped through. He pulled the door closed behind him and headed straight for Thomas. Lionel attempted to step in front of him but was stopped by a single word and a sharp gesture. Thomas pushed himself to his feet as the Reeve closed in.
Bluster’s brows were drawn tight together and storms were running in his eyes. His skin was red and the knuckles of his right hand were white around the grip of his truncheon. He stopped three feet away from Thomas. “All right, lad, let’s have it.”
“It isn’t true.”
“Prove it.”
“We were with him the entire time,” said George, coming to his own feet. “He walked back with us and never harmed anyone.”
Bluster didn’t take his eyes off Thomas. “Unfortunately, the woman says that you two helped to murder this Shamus, so your word doesn’t count for much.”
“We’d never kill anyone,” Eileen protested.
“These two already have,” Bluster moved his truncheon in a slow arc from George to Thomas. “You’ve been accused of murder, Thomas. You and your two friends. Explain to me how you could be innocent and I’ll listen.”
Thomas shook his head. “We didn’t murder anyone. We killed the bishop’s men in a fight. They attacked us and they cut Eileen. George told you all about it.”
“Aye. He did. I have yet to see it, though.”
Eileen loosened her bodice. “George, help with the wrappings.”
George did, and Bluster soon got a first-hand look at the ugly, stitched up gash on Eileen’s stomach. It was also Lionel’s first look at it, and the sight of it made the big smith go pale. Eileen saw the look on her father’s face and dropped her shirt down again. “Is that proof enough for you?”
“Aye.” The little man didn’t look at all fazed. “It’s proof you were in a fight. What about Shamus?”
“We left Lakewood three mornings ago,” said Thomas. “It took two days to get here because of Eileen’s wound. Shamus was alive when we left. You can ask the sheriff.”
“There’s nothing to say that a strong pair of lads like yourselves couldn’t have doubled back to the house and killed Shamus,” said Bluster. “I need proof of your innocence, Thomas.”
Thomas’s mind raced, looking for a counter-argument. “How long ago did she say Shamus had died?”
“Yesterday morning,” said Bluster. “Why?”
“And it made her so distressed that she left without her shoes to come here and accuse us?”
“Aye.”
“Did she say she left immediately?”
“Aye, lad. Where are you going with all these questions?”
“Why wasn’t she here last night?”
Now it was Bluster’s turn to look for a hole in Thomas’s argument. It took him a moment before he replied with, “You said it took you two days.”
“One of us was hurt,” said Thomas. “She was perfectly healthy.”
“She wouldn’t go off her head like this,” Eileen said. “When Thomas told her about Timothy, she didn’t react like this, and Timothy was her brother.”
“Her brother?” Bluster repeated, his eyebrows going up. “Didn’t know that.
She told me Shamus was her lover, though. Maybe his death right after Timothy’s pushed her over the edge.”
“If Shamus was her lover,” Thomas argued, “why is it she yelled about the bishop’s men, whom she didn’t know, as if they were as important to her as he was?”
“And how did she know those three were the bishop’s men?” asked George. “The bishop said they weren’t.”
Bluster looked from one to the other. “Did he, now?”
“Aye,” said Thomas. “Ask the sheriff. He’ll tell you.”
“I will,” Bluster stepped back, and the white in his knuckles around the truncheon faded a little. “I’ll send for him now.” His eyes narrowed at Thomas. “If she had more proof, you’d be locked up. As it is, I’ve only got her word, so I’ll leave you with these two. But you’re not to leave—”
“—town until the matter is settled,” Thomas finished. “Strange how used to those words I’m getting.”
“Strange how often I’ve had to say them to you,” Bluster said. “Stay in town.”
The little man turned on his heel and headed out the door, leaving Thomas and his friends looking helplessly at one another. George summed it up best with, “Well, now what?”
“Now, lunch,” Magda said, stepping in with Madeleine Flarety at her heels. “Your mother and brother are joining us, Thomas, so we’ll need to pick up some more food before we head back.”
“Good,” Thomas stepped to his mother and embraced her, feeling relief flood through him. “I didn’t know what had happened to you,” Thomas said. “I was worried. I wanted to talk to you about what happened—”
“And I to you,” said Madeleine. “Come on. You can tell us your version of what happened while we walk to the smithy.”
***
Lunch passed as pleasantly as it could, given the circumstances. After, Magda served tea for them all, and they stayed around the table in the kitchen. Thomas filled in his mother and brother on all that had happened, though he once again left the subject of magic aside. The explanation settled them a bit, though he could still see their apprehension. Thomas changed the subject. “Is the business suffering?” he asked. “I mean, is father’s behaviour noticeable?”
“It’s the strangest thing,” Neal said. “Father is completely normal about everything else. He runs the warehouses the same, he runs the carting the same. The only thing that’s changed is his attitude towards you and the city and the Academy.”
“That’s change enough,” said Thomas, ruefully.
“Aye,” agreed his brother. “But you remember all the morality talk he was spouting at that dinner? None of it seems to matter in any context but you. And if anyone tries to take your side on any of it, that person instantly becomes his enemy, no matter who.” Neal did his best to hide his expression, but Thomas saw the hurt buried there. “It’s like he’s under a spell or something.”
“Now don’t you start with that superstitious nonsense,” Madeleine scolded. “There’s those in this town who might believe you and then where would we be?”
Right on the truth,
Thomas thought.
“So, now what?” asked Lionel.
“We wait for the sheriff,” said Thomas. “He knows Ailbe. He’ll see at once that she’s not in her right mind.”
“And how long will that take?” asked Madeleine.
“A day for the message to reach him,” said Thomas. “Another for him to come back, I would guess. It’s thirty miles by road.”
“Well, then,” Madeleine took another sip of her tea, then put down the mug and patted her son’s hand. “We’ll see the end of the trial tomorrow, and wait for the sheriff.”
“Aye. And Mum?”
“Yes?”
Thomas turned his hand over and squeezed the hand that was patting it. He held it tight for a while. “Thank you for everything.”
“There’s nothing to be thanking me for,” Madeleine said. “We’re family.” She took another sip of her tea, then smiled and added, “Even if you do insist on wearing a sword.”