第16章 The Trial

The trial of Aldric the Usurper took place in the throne room of Blackstone Keep, before a court of nobles and soldiers and commoners who had come to witness the fall of a tyrant and the rise of a true king. Edward sat on the throne, the crown on his head, and he looked out at the faces of the people who had gathered, and he felt the weight of their expectations, the hope and fear and uncertainty that filled the room. Aldric stood in chains before the throne, his face a mask of fury and humiliation. He had been captured by his own guards, men who had sworn to protect him and who had instead turned on him when they realized the truth. It was a fitting end, Edward thought, for a man who had built his power on betrayal. You have no right to sit there, Aldric spat. You are a bastard! A farmer's son! You have no claim to this throne! I have the claim of blood, Edward said. And the judgment of the crown. The Crown of Saint Edmund has spoken. It has chosen me. What more do you need? Nothing, Aldric said. Nothing will ever be enough. You are a fraud. A pretender. A nobody. Then let the people decide, Edward said. He turned to the assembled crowd. Who among you remembers King Edmund? Who among you remembers the justice and mercy he showed to his people? Who among you remembers the peace and prosperity that existed under his rule? The crowd was silent for a long moment. Then, from the back, a voice spoke. I remember. He was a good king. Another voice. My father served him. He said he was the best ruler we ever had. Another. Aldric brought only fear. He killed anyone who opposed him. He stole our lands, our homes, our lives. The voices grew, a chorus of condemnation that filled the throne room and echoed beyond its walls. Aldric slumped in his chains, his face gray with defeat. What do you have to say for yourself? Edward asked. Aldric laughed, a harsh, broken sound. I say that I did what was necessary. I did what any king would have done to protect his power. You think you would be any different? You think you would rule with mercy and justice? You are a fool. Power corrupts. It always has. It always will. Perhaps, Edward said. But I will try. I will try to be the king my grandfather was, the king my mother believed in. I will try to build a kingdom where the strong do not prey on the weak, where the truth is not hidden, where the crown serves the people rather than the other way around. He stood and removed the crown from his head, holding it out toward Aldric. What is your sentence? The crowd was silent. Then, from the front, a nobleman spoke. Death. He must die. The crowd cheered. Aldric closed his eyes and nodded, as if he had expected nothing less. Then so be it, Edward said. By the power vested in me by the Crown of Saint Edmund, I sentence Aldric of the Black Rose to death by firing squad. Let his example serve as a warning to all who would steal what is not theirs. The execution took place at sunset, in the courtyard of the fortress, and Edward watched from the balcony as Aldric's body fell to the ground, the tyrant who had ruled the western islands with fear and violence finally brought to justice. The crowd cheered, and Edward felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and sorrow. He had won, but at what cost? How many more would die before the kingdom was truly free? The plan was simple and dangerous. Edward would enter the fortress alone, carrying the crown, and he would demand an audience with Aldric. The loyalists would create a diversion at the opposite gate, drawing the guards away and creating confusion. Edward would use the confusion to reach the throne room and present his claim before the court. It was a gamble, but it was the only one they had. Edward knew that if he failed, if he was captured or killed, the dream of restoring his family's throne would die with him. But he also knew that he had no choice. He could not return to Oakhaven and live out his days as a peasant. He could not accept the life that had been forced upon him. He had to fight, and he had to win. There was no feast that night, though the kitchens had prepared one. Edward ate bread and cold mutton standing at the window of the chamber they gave him, watching men strike the scaffolding by torchlight, and he did not feel like a man who had ended anything. He had ordered a death and a crowd had cheered, and both of those facts would follow him now for the rest of his life, sitting across from him at every council table. Lyra found him there past midnight. You did what the law required, she said. The law required it because I said the law required it, he answered. That is what power is. I keep turning it over in my hands looking for the difference between mine and his, and some nights I cannot find it. Some nights you will not, Lyra said. She put a folded letter on the sill beside his plate. This came from the north before the gates closed. A courier under a green seal. The seal was Northgate's, cracked by someone who had opened and reclosed it carelessly. Inside, in a hand Edward recognized from tax ledgers he had never been allowed to touch, Richard offered neither congratulation nor submission—only five dry lines acknowledging that the western throne now answered to a bastard of Gareth's body, and a warning dressed as courtesy: the northern lords had not sworn to Aldric, so they owed nothing to whoever unmade him. Come south of the river expecting brotherhood and you will find tolls. He read it three times. Then he called for ink, wrote a single sentence in reply—I will come at winter's end, with or without an army—and sealed it with a signet ring he was still not used to wearing. The Trial - Continued