"Baroness," said Fitz, "are your men ready?"
"They are," replied Hayley, "though they're not all men."
"Sorry," the baron said. "You have men, women and Orcs. I'm not sure which form of address would be appropriate.
"They're all rangers," she suggested.
"Of course," he said. "In that case, are your rangers ready?"
"They are, my lord," Hayley replied.
"Good," said Fitz, "then let us delay no longer."
He turned, looking directly at the impressive structure that stood before him. The Earl of Shrewesdale was a rich man, thanks to his marriage to his late wife, the daughter of the previous earl. Fitz strode up the walkway to the door, the rangers following. Halting, he rapped the door three times with the hilt of his sword.
"Open up, in the name of the queen," he called out.
People on the street stopped to stare as a servant opened the door. The colour drained from the man's face at the sight of the rangers.
"In the name of Queen Anna, I am here to arrest Lord George Montrose, Earl of Shrewesdale. Stand aside!"
Fitz pushed his way in, followed by Hayley and two rangers. The rest waited at the door, taking the servant into custody, lest he try to warn his master.
They found Montrose in his library. He had risen at the sound of the knock on the front door and now stood, waiting, his face a mask of calm.
Fitz halted as he entered the room. "You are under arrest," he announced, "on the charge of treason."
"I see," said the earl. "I suppose I should have expected as much from our young queen. Am I to be hauled off to the dungeon?"
"You are hereby placed under house arrest," said Fitz, "and are forbidden to leave Wincaster, under penalty of death."
"And how long is this punishment to remain in place?" asked the earl.
"Until such time as a trial can determine your guilt or innocence."
"Guilt or innocence?" said Montrose. "I should have thought my guilt would have been a foregone conclusion. Why else would the queen arrest me, if not to see me executed?"
"The queen believes in the law," said Fitz, "and promises a fair and just trial. You are allowed to seek counsel. The rangers will guard your estate. You are not to leave it, do I make myself clear?"
"You do," said the earl, "very clear indeed. May I ask who is to be my jailer?"
"Baroness Hayley Chambers of Queenston," said the baron. "Though you will likely not see her in person."
"I see," said the earl. "In that case, who is to be my intermediary?"
In answer, the baron nodded to Hayley. She disappeared into the hallway to reenter a moment later, an Orc in tow.
"This is Graluk," said Hayley. "He will be your jailer."
"An Orc?" said the earl. "This is preposterous. How am I to communicate with him?"
"Graluk is fluent in our language," said Hayley, "and I might add, he's a very gifted hunter."
"Hunter?" said Montrose.
"Yes," said Fitz, "an expert tracker, should the need arise."
"I see," the earl said. "Are there any other restrictions until my trial?"
"Yes," said Fitz. "All communications in or out of the estate are subject to search. Any visitors must be announced to the rangers. Any staff members that leave the estate will be followed. Within those restrictions, you are at liberty to act as you see fit."
"And my defence?" he asked.
"You may choose your own representative, but his name must be forwarded to us so that his passage may be allowed."
"This hardly seems fair," complained the earl.
"I should think it far more comfortable than the dungeons of Wincaster," said the baron, "or would you prefer that?"
"No," said Montrose, "I accept your limitations."
"Very well then," said Fitz, "I bid you a good day, Lord Montrose."
"And a good day to you, Lord Fitzwilliam," the earl replied.
Gerald made his way through the Palace, plate in hand. He had been to the kitchens only to find that Anna had not eaten. Taking matters into his own hands, he arranged for food to be prepared and resolved to deliver it himself. Now, he wandered the halls, a covered plate in hand, wondering why the damn thing was so heavy.
Finally, he approached the door to her office, nodded at the two guards there, and then opened the doors. Anna was, as usual, behind her desk while Tempus stretched out on the floor in front. The great mastiff immediately sat up on Gerald's arrival, capturing the young queen's attention.
"Gerald!" she said, a smile creasing her lips. "What have you got there?"
"Your dinner," he said, laying his burden on the desk. He pulled the cover from the tray, revealing the tasty meal beneath.
"Sausages," she said, "my favourite. Will you join me?" She pushed the papers aside, then lifted the plate, placing it before her.
"I've already eaten," he said.
"I've never known you to resist an extra sausage," she countered.
He looked at the plate, indecision evident on his face. "Very well," he finally decided, "maybe just one." He reached across the table, plucking a sausage from the plate. Looking around the room, he spotted a chair, so he dragged it to the desk and sat.
"What have you been up to?" he asked.
She tucked a slice of meat into her mouth and chewed it, deep in thought. Gerald could almost see her mind working out the details of something.
"I've been giving this trial some thought," she said at last, then sliced off another piece of sausage.
"And?" he prompted.
"Shrewesdale is proving to be quite... what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Difficult?" he suggested.
"Yes, difficult." She popped another slice into her mouth, chewing it quickly.
"The man's fighting for his life," said Gerald. "I would expect him to resist as much as possible. What is it he's being difficult about?"
"He knows the law well," said Anna, "and he's insisting things be done properly."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning he knows that, by law, he can only be judged by his peers."
"What does that mean?" asked Gerald. "He can only be judged by other nobles?"
"Not just nobles, but peers. The nobles must be equal or greater in rank than him."
"So just the earls and dukes then," said Gerald. "Is that a problem?"
"It might be," said Anna. "You see, there are only four people that can rule on the case at the moment."
"Four? Is that all?" said Gerald. "I would have expected more."
"The only other earl is Tewsbury," said Anna, "and we know he's a friend of Montrose."
"But the dukes, surely we have enough of them?" said Gerald.
"Well," she continued, "there's you, of course, along with the Duke of Kingsford. The only other duke is the Duke of Colbridge, and his father stood against us in the war."
"So you expect a stalemate," said Gerald. "Two votes for either side."
"Yes," confirmed Anna. "We can appoint someone to Eastwood, but that might be seen as interference if we name someone we trust."
"A fact that Montrose is no doubt counting on," mused Gerald. "Now, I see the problem."
"The problem is plain enough, but what I don't see is a solution."
"I think the solution is clear," said Gerald. "Appoint your own person and let him hang."
"I want a fair trial," said Anna, "and the kingdom deserves it. I can't push for new laws and then ignore them to get my own way. The law must be fair to all, even if I don't agree with it on occasion. I don't want the realm returning to an absolute monarchy."
"You have to appoint someone to rule Eastwood," said Gerald. "It's been without a duke since Valmar fled."
"I will," said Anna, "though I'm going to return it to an earldom, as it should be."
"Why was it made a duchy?" asked Gerald.
"King Andred made the decision after the rebellion. He gave it to Valmar and wanted him to be a duke rather than an earl. I suppose it sounded more grandiose. It really doesn't warrant that, though, its population is too small."
"Still, you have to appoint someone to the position."
"I suppose I do, but if I make the wrong decision, it could ruin everything we've worked for."
"You can't keep second-guessing yourself, Anna. During your reign, you'll have to make many decisions. They won't all be easy."
"I know that, Gerald, but this one comes at a pivotal moment."
"Pivotal?" he said. "What makes this any different from the other choices you've had to make?"
"This one will have far-reaching consequences," she explained. "If the trial is considered fair, the people of the realm will see a bright future, but if they think we're just putting on a show, they'll lose their faith in me. It's a heavy burden to bear."
"You're not bearing it alone," said Gerald, “I’m here for you, we all are."
"Thank you," she said. "It's nice to know there are people I can trust. I suppose that's the root of the problem. I'm fine with those I know, but I have a hard time trusting those outside my circle of friends."
"That's only natural, Anna," he said, "but, as queen, you have to learn to accept the things you can't change. There's far too many positions to fill to use only your friends."
"And therein lies my dilemma," she said. "What do I do?"
"You trust your own people to find others," he said. "It's not unlike the army."
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"Well," he continued, "you put me in charge of the army and allowed me to delegate command to others. It's the same way with the rest of the realm, isn't it? You don't tell Aubrey how to run Hawksburg, or Lord Avery how to run Kingsford, do you?"
"No, I suppose not," she admitted.
"Then you must allow your people to make their choices for you. They won't always make the right one, but it's important that you support them, nonetheless. You can't have people second-guessing themselves all the time. King Andred did that, and look what it got him, nothing but fear and loathing."
"You're right," said Anna. "Thank you, Gerald, you've lifted a great weight from my shoulders."
"That's what I'm here for," he said. He took a bite of his sausage, feeling the fat dribble down his beard.
"There's more of them here," said Anna.
"More of what?" he asked.
"The sausages, silly," she giggled. "I'm not going to eat them all."
"You're obviously feeling better," he said.
"I am," she admitted. "You always know how to help me think things through."
"So what are you going to do about Shrewesdale?" he asked.
"I'll arrange a meeting with him," she said, "and we'll come to an agreement as to an acceptable jury. If we're going to lose this trial, let us at least be seen as being fair and just."
Gerald, in his position as Duke of Wincaster, was the one to meet with Shrewesdale, at least officially, but it was Aubrey who did most of the talking, a fact that was much to the marshal's liking.
They sat at a large table, Gerald, Aubrey, and a clerk on one side while Shrewesdale and his retinue took the other.
"I take it," said the earl, "that you've come to resolve the issue of the jury." He smiled in what Gerald felt was a condescending manner.
"We have," said Gerald, "and we think we may have a solution that will be acceptable to both sides."
"I'm intrigued," said Montrose. "I had expected you'd place one of your own on the jury."
"The queen wants a fair trial," insisted Gerald.
"So you keep saying," said the earl, "and yet here you sit, yourself a commoner elevated to the ranks of the nobility by the queen herself. Fine clothes do not a noble make."
Gerald remained calm, despite the insult.
"If I may," interrupted Aubrey, "we are here to come to an agreement suitable to all. Will you hear us out?"
"I will," said Montrose, "though it pains me to be in the company of one so rustic." He stared at Gerald, daring him to say something.
The marshal merely smiled at the man's attempts. "Please proceed, Baroness Brandon," Gerald said.
"In light of the recent war," said Aubrey, "we maintain that Valmar's claim to the Duchy of Eastwood is null and void, wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose I would," said Montrose. "After all, the man has fled, has he not?"
"We would further propose," continued the baroness, "that we recognize the claim to the title Earl of Eastwood put forward by Lord Spencer."
"The previous earl's nephew?" said Shrewesdale in surprise. "Now that is an interesting thought, considering his uncle took up arms against his rightful king."
"The sins of the father are not the sins of the line," said Aubrey, "and, truth be told, Eastwood fought against tyranny, not unlike our present queen."
"You realize," said Shrewesdale, "that the Winthrop-Spencer family trace their nobility back for countless generations."
"We are aware of that," said Gerald.
"And that he's unlikely to side with a commoner," Montrose added.
"We are willing to take that chance," said Aubrey. "The queen desires a fair trial, even if we should lose."
"Tell me," said Montrose, "if I should lose, I'll obviously lose my head, but what will happen if I win?"
"You will receive full restitution of your lands and holdings," said Aubrey.
"And your queen is willing to accept that decision, should it be rendered? I would hardly like to be fighting this for years."
"She is," confirmed Gerald.
"Excellent," Montrose replied, "though I would like to consult with my people before I make a decision on this appointment."
"Of course," said Gerald, rising from his seat.
Aubrey followed his lead, along with the clerk. They made their way from the room, walking down the hallway a little before halting, well out of earshot.
"Well," said Gerald, "what do you make of it?"
"I think he might go for it," Aubrey stated. "He didn't offer any real argument to the contrary. It's more of a gamble for us."
"How so?" he asked.
"We don't know much about Lord Spencer," she said, "or how he'd feel about the charges."
"I've met him once," admitted Gerald.
"I didn't know you mingled with the nobility, Gerald. When did you meet him?"
"It was years ago, at Uxley. Henry came to visit, he was only a prince then, of course. He was meeting two of his friends before they continued north to hunt. One of them was a young Lord Spencer."
"What was he like?" she asked.
"He didn't impress me much," Gerald replied, "in fact quite the reverse. He tried to force himself on poor Sophie. At least he would have if we'd have left him alone long enough. I can't abide someone that would do such a thing."
"Does the queen know all this?" Aubrey asked.
“She does, but she has little choice. There's no other legitimate claim to the title."
"Can he be trusted to behave?"
"Anna will warn him when she offers him the title. He's likely smart enough to agree."
"Poor Sophie," said Aubrey. "I imagine it would be quite disturbing to see him at court."
"I'm sure Anna would have talked to Sophie about it. She trusts her maid implicitly. If she thought it hurtful, she'd never suggested it in the first place."
"It gives me the shivers, just thinking about someone like that," said Aubrey, "and to have him at court..."
"Sophie's a different woman now," he said. "She's the queen's confidant and Lady-in-Waiting. She'd stab him if he tried anything like that again."
"Stab him?"
"Yes, and the queen wouldn't argue, that's how much she's trusted."
"How long ago was this?" Aubrey asked.
"Let me think now," he said, looking at the ceiling as he thought back. "Must have been five years ago or so."
"Didn't the Earl of Eastwood have a son?" asked Aubrey.
"He did," said Gerald, "he was a Knight of the Sword, but he died during the war. Beverly told me he was awarded his spurs during the same ceremony as her."
"I assume he fought for the king?" she said.
"He did," agreed Gerald, "and he died at the Battle of the Crossroads."
"Killed by the men of Bodden?"
"Actually, I believe he was killed by the Kurathians," corrected Gerald.
"How do you know all this?" she asked.
"As marshal, it's my job to keep track of such things. With the war over, we had to go through the list of knights and see who was left."
"And out of curiosity," said Aubrey, "how many remain?"
"Not many, I can tell you. The order was decimated, but that's no surprise. They were, after all, the chosen knights of the king."
"The very reason we can't trust them now," mused Aubrey, "with a few exceptions, of course."
"You're thinking of Heward," said Gerald.
"He seems the capable sort," she replied, "and a good man to have around in the north."
Gerald turned to her in surprise. "Are you fond of the Axe?" he asked.
"Not in the way that you think," she said, "I merely respect his ability. Besides, he's far too old for me."
"I suppose you'll have to marry, eventually," suggested Gerald.
"Speak for yourself," said Aubrey, "you're the Duke of Wincaster now, the same could be said of you."
"Well spoken, Aubrey, I'll give the victory to you. Shall we see if the earl has agreed to our proposal?"
"Yes," she said, eager to change the topic. "I think he's had long enough."
They made their way back down the hallway and knocked on the door. One of Shrewesdale's men opened it, admitting them.
"Have you come to a decision?" asked Gerald.
"Yes," said Montrose, "we have decided to agree to your proposal. Please convey to Her Majesty that I find the appointment of Lord Spencer to the rank of Duke of Eastwood to be most acceptable."
"The queen has returned the title to that of an earl," said Aubrey, "as befits the size of the city."
"It makes no difference," said Montrose, "it is still acceptable."
"Thank you, Your Grace," said Aubrey, bowing slightly.
Gerald remained standing tall, refusing to honour the earl.
"I suppose now the trial can move forward," said Montrose.
"It can," said Gerald.
"Good," said Shrewesdale, "I'm looking forward to it."
"You are?" asked Gerald.
"Indeed," confirmed the earl, "once this is over, I can resume the life to which I have become accustomed."
"You're assuming you're going to win," said Gerald.
"What can I say, I'm an optimist," said Montrose, a smile breaking across his face.