Gerald opened the door to peer into the great hall.
"How does it look?" asked Anna.
"I've never seen it so packed," he grumbled, "and all here to see me getting raked over the coals."
"Nervous?" she asked.
"Wouldn't you be?" he responded.
"I remember a time, not so long ago when I was," she said.
He looked back at her, "Yes, you were about to speak to the nobles for the first time."
"Do you remember what you told me?" she asked.
"No," he replied, "I can't say as I do."
She smiled, "You called Tempus to stand beside me."
"I remember now," he said. "He made you feel safe, he always has."
"You do too, Gerald. I may have to tell you off today, but I shall always value your friendship. This whole gathering is all for show."
He closed the door, shutting out the noise of the great hall. "All right," he said at last, "let's get this over with, and then I can go to prison."
He stood back and waited as a servant came forward to open the door. The queen would go first, taking up her position on the throne while Gerald must wait to be summoned.
Horns sounded as she entered the massive chamber, then the door shut, once more cutting off the noise. Gerald waited, nervously fidgeting. The door behind him opened, revealing Sophie.
"Something wrong?" asked Gerald
"Not at all. The queen asked me to make sure you're doing all right and to lend you something."
"Lend me something? Whatever does that mean?"
In answer, Sophie whistled. The hall beyond echoed with the sound of running feet, then a great head peered around the door.
"Tempus!" said Gerald.
"He's to be your guard," said Sophie, "to keep you safe."
The great mastiff trotted over to Gerald, who bent slightly to rub his head. "My old friend," he said, "we've been through so much together."
"And you've so much more to do," added Sophie, "both of you."
Gerald stretched his back, resuming his upright stance. "Thank you, Sophie, this means a lot to me."
"You're welcome, my lord."
"No," he said, "don't call me my lord. Gerald is fine by me."
"Of course, Gerald," the maid responded with a smile.
The door to the great hall opened to reveal Beverly fully armoured, save for her helmet. She stood in the doorway a moment before speaking, the sound of the crowd evident in the background.
"In the name of the queen, I summon Lord Gerald Matheson, Duke of Wincaster and Marshal of the Army, to receive your censure." Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "Are you ready, Gerald?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," he grumbled.
Gerald stepped into the great hall to be met with utter silence. The room was crowded, as he had noticed earlier, but a path had been cleared from the door to the foot of the throne, lined with soldiers, all with their swords drawn.
He started the slow walk, Tempus padding forward to stay at his side. Gerald had only passed the first half dozen or so guards when movement caught his eye. They all raised their swords, holding them upright in a salute. He felt emotion wash over him, tears forming in his eyes, and made no move to hide them.
Beverly's measured steps echoed behind him as he made his way to the throne, where Anna sat. He halted, facing her, and the great beast sat beside him. Beverly drew her sword, the sound of it being unsheathed clearly audible in the chamber.
Queen Anna rose from her seat, taking a step closer. She looked him in the eye and nodded slightly in greeting.
"Lord Gerald Matheson," she started, "Duke of Wincaster and Marshal of the Realm, you have been found guilty in a court of your peers and have been sentenced to receive your punishment this day."
Her words trailed off, the room still in absolute silence. Gerald could see her fighting to get the words out, and knew it was as hard for her to stand there and issue this punishment as it was for him to receive it.
"You have, by your deeds, brought disgrace to the crown," she continued, "and though you have served the realm with distinction, it does not make you immune to the law. Be it known far and wide that you no longer carry the favour of the crown, and that you will serve out your days in imprisonment until such time as you can make recompense."
She paused, her eyes avoiding Gerald's direct gaze. "Dame Beverly," she commanded, "take the prisoner outside that he may make his amends to the people of Merceria."
"Yes, Your Majesty," said the knight, who then turned to face Gerald. "Lord Matheson," she continued, "prepare to speak to the people. About turn."
Gerald turned, his back now to the queen. He marched forward, the length of the hall, where the soldiers had created another path. Beverly walked behind, the point of her sword held at his back as was the custom. Tempus, as eager as ever to protect his friend, trotted alongside, none daring to interfere with the great mastiff.
As Gerald passed them by, more soldiers raised their swords in respect. He could dimly make out the faces of the crowd in his peripheral vision. They were silent for the most part, but he was sure the family of Lord Walters was happy, as was the Duke of Tewsbury for that matter. They would forever be his enemies, of that he was certain.
He was marched to the door, then through the hallway to the large paved area in front of the Palace. Someone had put up a wooden platform, and he walked up the steps to take his place, Tempus sitting as he halted.
Before him was a massive crowd, a sea of humanity that lined up beyond the massive iron gate that held them at bay. They were all talking, creating a rumbling sound that echoed throughout the city. A horn sounded them into silence, the signal for him to make his speech.
"People of Merceria," he began, his voice echoing, "long have I served this realm, first as a common soldier, then as General of her Army." He waited for the echo to die before continuing.
"But even I, the Marshal of all Merceria, am not beyond the reach of the law. My actions, during the riots back in '53, were contrary to the wishes of the crown, and for that, I ask for forgiveness. It is not the place of men such as I to question the will of the monarchy, but rather to carry it out. I live to serve my country, my god, and my queen."
The crowd erupted into cheering, a sound that rolled over him like a torrential rain, washing away his sins.
Beverly appeared beside him, "It's done, Gerald. Let's get you back inside, shall we?"
He let her lead him from the stage, too numb to react. She guided him through the crowd until they were back in the entrance to the Palace, then she turned left, into the private rooms, rather than the great hall.
He looked around to see his friends assembled. They had all come to see him off, for he must report to the debtor's prison to begin the second part of his punishment.
Fitz was the first to greet him, moving directly towards him, Albreda at his side.
"My dear fellow," the baron began, "so good to see you again, I'm only sorry it couldn't have been under better circumstances."
"My lord," said Gerald.
"Now, now," said Fitz, "you're a duke now, you can't call me 'my lord' anymore."
Gerald chuckled, "Very well, Lord Fitzwilliam."
Fitz sighed. "Ah, well," he said, "it was worth a try."
Albreda, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during the exchange, suddenly took a step forward, embracing Gerald. So surprised was he that he didn't know what to do. He waited, patting her back gently as she held him tight. Finally, she released him and returned to the baron's side.
"Richard tells me the jury had trouble," she said, her voice husky with emotion.
"Yes," agreed the baron, "Lord Stanton was pushing for the death sentence, and he had a majority. If it hadn't been for Lord Anglesley, that might have been the end of it."
"Lord Anglesey," said Gerald, "The Duke of Colchester? I would never have picked him as an ally."
"He appears to have come around to the queen's way of doing things," continued Fitz. "It was his idea to pay a fine to the Walters family instead of executing you. The real problem after that was finding an amount that the Walters could agree to. Mind you, Stanton was furious. He was finally persuaded by the others but insisted on the public apology. I think it was his last chance to try and embarrass you and the crown. I'm only sorry that the payment was so high."
"It matters little in the long run," said Gerald. "I'll be dead long before even a portion of it is paid off."
"At least you're alive, my dear friend," said Fitz, "and as long as you live, there is hope."
"What are the conditions of your sentence?" asked Albreda.
"I must reside in the debtor's prison between sun-down and sun-up. During daylight hours, whatever I make is first used to cover the costs of my imprisonment, with the remainder going to pay off the fine."
"I must admit," said Albreda, "that I found the entire trial utterly ridiculous. If any man deserved death, it was this Captain Walters you spoke of."
"I broke the law," said Gerald, "and I must pay the price."
"Nonsense," the druid continued, "you are far more valuable to the realm here, than rotting in prison."
"Nonetheless," said Gerald, "if Merceria is to have the rule of law, we must abide by the court's decision."
"Come, my dear," said Fitz, turning to Albreda, "let us leave him to say his goodbyes. Others are waiting."
Gerald moved past them, spotting Arnim and Nikki talking quietly between themselves.
Upon noticing his approach, Nikki moved forward to give him a hug, then backed up slightly, instinctively grabbing her stomach.
"Sorry," she said, "the young Master Caster kicked again."
Gerald smiled, "It could be a girl, you know."
"If it is," said Nikki, "it's a strong one."
"Congratulations to you both," added Gerald. "I'm afraid I've been too busy of late to say it sooner."
"Understandable," said Arnim, "you've had a lot to worry about."
They stood awkwardly in silence, unsure of what to say.
"You know," said Arnim at last, "I know a few people at the prison. I can put in a good word for you, if you like?”
"I doubt that will be necessary," said Gerald, "I'm still the Duke of Wincaster and Marshal of the Army."
"A good point, I suppose," muttered Arnim.
"Take care, Gerald," said Nikki, "and look after yourself."
"I will," he promised, though he felt his spirits sink deeper as the sentence drew closer.
Hayley was next, with Revi tagging along.
"I'm sorry, Gerald," she said.
"You were only doing your job," said Gerald. "If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. I have no complaints about my captivity during the trial."
"You know," interjected Revi, "debtor's prison falls under the purview of the High Ranger. In a sense, Hayley remains your jailer."
"You're not helping, Revi," insisted Hayley.
"Still," the mage persisted, "it is a most curious thing."
Unsure of what to make of the exchange, Gerald pushed past them, excusing himself. He was moving towards Beverly and Aldwin when a hand caught his arm.
"Gerald," said Jack Marlowe, "I wonder if I might have a word?"
"Of course," the marshal replied.
Jack guided him to the side of the room, the better to talk privately.
"What do you know of this Aldwin fellow?" he asked.
"Aldwin? You mean Beverly's husband?"
"Yes," said Jack. "I know he's a master smith, but how in the name of Malin did they meet?"
"Why don't you ask Beverly?" said Gerald.
Jack made a face. "That wouldn't be seemly," he said. "After all, I have my pride."
"But you'll stoop to gossip?" asked Gerald.
"I prefer to use the term 'staying informed'. Tell me, is it serious between these two?"
"They're married, Jack, of course it's serious. They've known each other for years."
"You should have told me, old fellow," said Jack.
"I tried to," defended Gerald, "back in Weldwyn."
"So what's he like, this Aldwin?"
"Why don't you come and see for yourself?" said Gerald. "I'd be happy to introduce you."
"That's awfully decent of you," said Jack. "I believe I'll take you up on that offer."
Gerald led him back towards Beverly and her smith.
"Jack," said Gerald, "may I introduce Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam."
Beverly bowed slightly while Aldwin extended his arm. The cavalier took the proffered hand, shaking it with a firm grip. Gerald saw the look of surprise on Jack's face as Aldwin's firmer grip returned the shake. Was this about to become a test of strength, he wondered?
Aldwin released his grip and Jack looked him up and down. "A most worthy man for Dame Beverly," he announced.
"It's not your place to judge, Jack," said Beverly, a note of irritation in her voice.
"I meant no disrespect," explained the cavalier, "but one of your calibre requires a husband to match."
"I think he means it as a compliment," added Gerald.
"I would hope so," said Beverly.
Aldwin, amused by this discussion, simply smiled.
"I imagine Beverly told you all about me," offered Jack.
"No," said Aldwin, "she’s never mentioned you."
"Oh," said Jack, "it wounds my soul to hear you say that. You must ask her sometime about how we fought together to kill the drake of Tivilton."
"I seem to remember Gerald being there as well," said Beverly, "not to mention all the soldiers."
"Perhaps," offered Aldwin, "I can tell you how I forged Nature's Fury?"
Beverly smiled, "He's got you beat there, Jack."
Jack bowed in the old style, an over-exaggerated act, complete with an extended leg. "I resign. There is no shame in admitting defeat by a worthy opponent."
Beverly turned to look at her old mentor. "Gerald," she said, "what are we going to do without you?"
"I'll still see you during the daytime," he defended.
"Yes," said Beverly, "but we'll miss those stories of Bodden."
"You've all grown up now, Beverly," said Gerald. "It's time you start telling your own stories."
Aldwin extended his hand, this time towards the old warrior.
"I shall miss you, Gerald," he said. "Though we haven't spent much time together, I feel as though I really know you. Though I daresay, I won't miss you standing by the doorway, keeping an eye on Beverly."
Gerald chuckled, "That was so long ago. Thanks for reminding me of how old I am."
"Prince Alric awaits," interrupted Jack.
Gerald finished shaking Aldwin's hand, then let Jack guide him towards the Weldwyn Prince.
"Your Highness," the marshal said.
"Gerald, I'm glad to see you safe. I know how much you mean to Anna."
"I thank you for the sentiment," said Gerald, "but I must face up to the error of my ways."
"Tell me," said Alric, "any regrets?"
Gerald thought a moment before answering, "If I were to live my life over, there are things I would change, but we cannot undo the past. We must learn to live with it."
"Truer words were never spoken," the prince replied. "You should become a poet."
"It appears I'll have plenty of time to consider it," said Gerald.
"Let me take you to Anna," said Alric. "I know she'll want to say goodbye."
The prince let Jack clear the way, then guided Gerald through the crowd to where Anna waited.
Gerald could tell the queen was upset, her red eyes betrayed the fact that she had been crying. He felt terrible for placing her in this situation, but could think of nothing to say in his defence.
"We'll get you back," said Anna, through tears, "I promise you." She moved forward, embracing him in a tight hug.
Tears came to his eyes as he held her. She finally released him, and he held her at arm's length, taking her in. He thought back to the little girl with the matted hair he had met so long ago in the hedge maze. How much she had changed. Now, before him, stood a queen, regal and elegant, a woman of power. Words failed him, and he simply looked at her, returning her stare.
Finally, the guards moved forward.
"It's time," he said, and the soldiers escorted him from the room.