The Demon World, page 24
What Catherine needed was a piece of evidence so indisputable that no one in the crowd would protest when she declared Edyon innocent. She could only hope that Edyon would present an argument that did the job.
If he didn’t, would she find him guilty? Should she sentence her own cousin to death in order to prove herself to Farrow and to the people of Pitoria? She recalled Ambrose saying to her, when they were on the Northern Plateau, “If you’re to become a true leader, you must make hard choices. Sometimes you must sacrifice troops. You lose a battle to win a war.” Was this one of those times?
Turturo turned his back on Catherine and faced the public. “We accuse that man there”—and he pointed at Edyon—“of maliciously killing the good and law-abiding man, Ronsard, a sheriff’s man who was doing his duty in Dornan when he was violently murdered.”
There were a few shouts from the public, and before Catherine could intervene Turturo held his arms up. “Calm yourselves, my good people. We wouldn’t want any of you thrown out and having to pay the good lady her five kroners.” He turned back to Catherine and smiled at her.
Catherine said, “The fine is to the court, not to me, sir. However, you are inciting the people with your language. Please stick to facts. What evidence do you have?”
“Witnesses,” declared Turturo.
“Witnesses?” According to Edyon, only Tash, March, and Edyon himself were witnesses to the murder. “Who are these people?”
“Harron and Jonas, two sheriff’s men.” At this, two large men with red hair came out of the mob.
So either Edyon was mistaken or these were liars—and Catherine had a strong suspicion it was a case of the latter. Turturo had the upper hand, though, and all she could do was hear them and check their evidence. She said, “Guard, escort Jonas from the room while we hear from Harron.”
Jonas began to complain. Catherine enjoyed saying, “Do remember Rule Fifteen. If there is any disruption to proceedings, you will be arrested for contempt of court, which means you won’t be able to give evidence.”
Turturo said, “Your Highness, I appreciate—”
“You must address me as ‘Your Honor’ while I’m acting as judge.”
Turturo squirmed and took a breath. “Your Honor, I have worked for many years in Pitorian courts of law and I appreciate that you are a woman and a Brigantine and you are not familiar with proceedings, so may I say that it isn’t normal procedure to ask witnesses to leave.”
“Sir, I am a woman and I am a Pitorian. But I am also capable of reading and understanding rules. I know the rules that apply here and I am the judge and this is my court. I will apply those rules correctly. Of course, if there is a good reason for the other witness to stay, I will hear it. So? Is there a reason he needs to stay?”
Turturo muttered, “Well, if normal Pitorian convention isn’t a reason, let’s get on with it.”
But Catherine wasn’t going to let that go either. “I’ve just said that the rules will be applied properly. Are you saying that I’m applying the rules incorrectly or saying that normal convention is that they are not applied? What exactly is your complaint here, sir?”
Turturo glared at her and seemed to want to say something but couldn’t.
Catherine asked as sweetly as she could, “Do you wish to complain about me? About me acting as judge in this case? About my application of the law perhaps?” Turturo stared back. “Because if you do, then you should not be in my court, sir. And you know it.” She waited, then added, “So? Do you wish to remain in my court and continue?”
Turturo’s lip began to curl before he replied, “As I said, Your Honor, let’s get on with it.”
Catherine told the guard to escort Jonas out of the room and Harron was left standing in front of the court. “You may proceed with your evidence, sir.”
Turturo put his finger to his lips and tapped it. “First of all, Harron. Please tell us how you knew the deceased.”
“The what?”
“The dead man, Ronsard. How did you know him?”
“He was a sheriff’s man, like me, at Dornan. And on the night of the murder I was walking through—”
Turturo interrupted. “Hold on a moment, my man. So he was a sheriff’s man, like you. And a good man? He was well liked?”
“Yes, Ronsard was a good friend. My cousin. A very good man.”
So they’d got in the relatives to testify. Edyon tried to speak up but Catherine silenced him.
Turturo asked the witness, “And he was a father?”
“Yes, he’s got a wife and three children. I don’t know how they’ll survive now.”
Turturo turned to the court and said, “Indeed. This murder means we lost a good man in the community, but also means that a woman and three children have no one to care for them.” He turned back to Harron. “Tell us who you are and what you do.”
“I’m a sheriff’s man in Havershaw. Worked there for fifteen years.”
“Where’s Havershaw?”
“It’s the next town to Dornan.”
“And what happened on the night of the murder?”
Harron cleared his throat. “On the night of the murder I was walking through the woods near to the fair. It was very busy. The Dornan fair is always busy with people coming from all over Pitoria, and even beyond. I was walking through the woods—patrolling with Jonas, another sheriff’s man—”
Catherine interrupted, “But why were you there if you work in Havershaw?”
“We get drafted over to help out whenever the fair’s on. Usually just a bit of wild partying, nothing more than that.”
Turturo smiled. “Not wild partying by you of course; you mean by the people at the fair.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. We’re working.”
Turturo nodded. “So usually the most trouble was a bit of wild partying. But this night was different?”
“It was indeed, sir. We were walking through the woods and we—”
Catherine interrupted, “Why were you walking through the woods if you were there to help at the fair?”
Harron stared at her. “We were patrolling the area. The whole area. You can’t just assume trouble will happen in the places with all the people. There are thieves and troublemakers that like to hide their deeds in the woods.”
Turturo nodded. “Indeed. And your many years of experience would allow you to know that. So what troublemakers did you come across?”
“We were patrolling and we saw a fight ahead of us. We saw that it was Ronsard struggling with that man there—Edyon Foss. Edyon stabbed Ronsard. We shouted and ran to help Ronsard and Edyon Foss ran off.”
Harron’s words were so obviously rehearsed and learned that in other circumstances Catherine might have been amused. Harron was no actor.
Turturo had a stern look on his face. “That is a serious accusation, sir. You have no doubt the attacker, the man who stabbed Ronsard, was that man standing there, Edyon Foss?”
“No doubt at all. It was him all right.”
“And then what happened?”
“Come again?”
“You ran to help Ronsard, the murderer ran off, and then what happened?”
“Oh yes. We ran to Ronsard, but he was bleeding, an awful mess, and his last words were: ‘Edyon Foss. It was Edyon Foss.’ And then he died.”
“And did you give chase after Foss?”
“We tried, but he’s a faster runner than he looks. He was gone in no time. We called for help and we searched the woods for days, but Foss had fled like a coward.”
“Were there any other clues as to the murderer’s identity?”
“Um . . . what?”
“Was anything else found at the scene of the murder? A bag, for example?”
“Oh yes. There was a bag of clothes by the body. The sheriff has the bag there and the shirt in the bag.”
The sheriff held up the shirt for the court to see. On the left-hand side two initials were sewn in gold stitching. The initials were E. F.
Catherine asked to see the shirt. It was finely woven and soft, with beautiful stitching to make the letters.
Catherine asked, “And this bag—do you know it belongs to Edyon Foss?”
“Well, it has his initials on it, Your Honor,” Harron replied.
“Initials but not a name. Could it not belong to Edward Flyte or Ethan Fosdyke?”
Turturo said, “Yes, Your Honor. It could belong to anyone by any name, but we believe it belongs to Edyon Foss.”
Harron added, “Yes, Foss was leaving the fair because of a debt he owed to another trader called Stone. A huge sum of fifty kroners. Owed in compensation for items he’d stolen from him.”
Catherine glanced at Edyon, who had gone pale.
Turturo frowned. “So you’re saying that Edyon Foss is a thief as well as a murderer?”
“Indeed he is. And I believe Ronsard was arresting him for theft and that was why Edyon was fighting him, why he murdered him.”
Turturo smiled at Catherine. “I’ve no more questions for this witness.”
Catherine wasn’t sure what to make of the accusations of theft and could only hope that somehow Edyon could deny them. Edyon was acting as his own lawyer so she turned to him and said, “It’s your turn to question the witness.”
Edyon cleared his throat and asked his first question. “Can you describe the deceased man, Ronsard?”
“I’ve said he was a good man. And he’s my cousin.”
“Yes, we understand that. I mean, was Ronsard a small man? Wiry? Old? Frail?”
“No! None of those things. He was huge. A huge bloke.”
“How huge? Bigger than me?”
“Way bigger.”
“Stronger?”
“Bigger, stronger . . . just a great big bloke.”
Edyon nodded. “So I was struggling with this great big bloke. You did say I was struggling with him when you first saw us, didn’t you?”
“Struggling is the word.”
“So I was struggling with the big bloke and then what did I do?”
“You stabbed him.”
“With what?”
“Knives, of course.”
“Do you have the knives?”
“No, you ran off with them.”
“So I struggled with this big bloke and then somehow got out of his grip and even though you were approaching I stabbed him and then took my knives and ran away.”
“Exactly that.”
“And you ran after me?”
“Yes.”
“And shouted for me to stop?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought you ran to help Ronsard.”
“I ran to him first and then he died and we ran after you.”
“Are you good runners?”
“We ran to help Ronsard first. We tried to save him.”
“And Ronsard died in your arms, not crying in pain or asking for help, but saying it was Edyon Foss that killed him.”
“Yes, he said it was you.”
“And how did he know my name?”
“I don’t know. He was arresting you. You must have told him it.”
“And were we alone? Was there anyone else nearby who could have come to Ronsard’s aid?”
“It was just the two of you, struggling. And then me and Jonas, of course.”
“To summarize your explanation then . . . this huge man, a sheriff’s man of Dornan, a man familiar with fights and weapons, was arresting me, a student, and though I’m proud of my strength I wonder how I managed to best him.” And Edyon pulled back his shirt sleeves to reveal his puny thin arms and flexed his biceps. “It can’t have been my strength. Did you see my technique? Was it my speed? My fighting skill?”
Harron narrowed his eyes and said, “Trickery. You’re good at that. Talking, then stabbing when Ronsard wasn’t expecting it. He was arresting you. It was kill or go to jail and you knew you’d be as good as dead in jail.”
“And why did I, so good at trickery as I am, leave my travel bag with my best shirt by the body of the murderer?”
“We all make mistakes.”
“And why would I reveal my real name to Ronsard if I was so good at trickery?”
“You’re with the fair. People know you. Ronsard knew you.”
Edyon turned to Catherine. “Your Honor, some of what this man says may sound true, but he wasn’t there. I was.”
From the public there was a shout of “He’s admitted it!”
“Ronsard’s last words were not spoken to this man. I did not reveal my name to Ronsard. And if Harron lies about the last words of his friend, his cousin, then he can’t be trusted to speak the truth about anything. Truth is not in his heart but revenge is.”
Catherine asked Harron, “Can you prove that you were with Ronsard when he died?”
“Jonas was with me. He’ll confirm it. We’re both sheriff’s men of many years. We are men of our word.”
Edyon replied, “Well, my word is that you were not there.”
Edyon looked to Catherine, clearly hoping she’d step in, but she needed to convince everyone present of her impartiality, as well as the truth of Edyon’s story. She said, “Thank you for your testimony, Harron.”
Harron was escorted out. Jonas took his place and under Turturo’s questioning he gave a strikingly similar account, almost word for word to that of Harron. Jonas was as unconvincing as Harron but he was a sheriff’s man and he had sworn that he was telling the truth. It was up to Edyon to prove him a liar, and Catherine desperately hoped that he would.
Edyon began his questioning with: “So you saw someone attack your friend, the huge man, Ronsard, and you were with Harron?”
“Yes.”
“And this attacker ran away.”
“Yes.”
“And you chased after the attacker how far? Harron was a little vague on the distance.”
Turturo had a coughing fit.
Jonas looked at Turturo and mumbled, “Um, not far. You’re faster than you look. Younger than me.”
“So, you gave chase for, what, a few hundred paces? Over the stream and north?”
Again Turturo was coughing.
“Is there a problem, Turturo, or do you just need some water?” Catherine asked.
“No problem, though these details are often hard for the witness to remember in the heat of the chase and the shock of seeing a man dying.”
“Well, they’re your witnesses. You allowed them here because you thought they had something of value to add. Or are you now changing your mind?”
“No, of course not.”
Edyon repeated his question. “So, you gave chase for a few hundred paces over the river?”
“Something like that. I can’t remember exactly. You were fast, though.”
“‘Something like that,’ you say! More like nothing like that at all. Harron said you stayed with him and didn’t chase me.”
“He was mistaken. He was too upset.”
“He was mistaken about that. So perhaps he was mistaken about the dying man’s words?”
“Ronsard said it was Edyon Foss that killed him. And your bag of clothes was there with your fancy shirt with your initials on it to prove the point. Or do you deny it’s your shirt?”
“I just told the court I was there. I just confirmed that it’s my shirt. But that doesn’t prove I stabbed Ronsard.”
“I saw you do it. Harron saw you do it. That’s proof.”
Edyon flung his arms at him and sat down, saying, “It’s a lie.”
The court was silent. Unfortunately for Edyon, Jonas was right. And Turturo seemed to want to make the point of law clear for Catherine. He stepped forward and said, “As I’m sure you are aware, Your Honor, under Pitorian law two witnesses are worth more than one and are to be believed over one. The law is clear in this case. Two sheriff’s men swear they saw the accused, Edyon Foss, kill Ronsard. It’s a simple matter of law and numbers.”
Catherine nodded. “Indeed, thank you for your instruction, sir. However, I would like to hear Edyon Foss’s full account of what happened, as he admits he was there.” She turned to Edyon. “Edyon, tell the court what happened the night of this murder.”
“Gladly, Your Honor. I wish to tell the truth. I want the relatives of Ronsard to know what happened to him.” Edyon turned to the public and began his story. “My mother is a trader in fine furniture. She travels with the fair, selling goods bought abroad. I am a student of law, though I’d not been given a place at university because I have no legitimate father.
“I was with the fair in Dornan, which was, as usual, packed with people—that is one of the few facts that the other witnesses have correctly stated. I had had an unusual day already. I’d been accused of stealing by a trader, a man called Stone, and a rival of my mother’s. He’d set two of his guards on me and they dragged me to the woods and beat me. As I lay on the ground, a man I’d never met before came to me and offered me some water to drink. He said his name was March.”
“March, your servant?” Catherine asked.
“Your Honor, March is the personal servant of Prince Thelonius of Calidor. He and another of the prince’s servants, a man called Holywell, had been sent to find me with a message from the prince. March met me on the afternoon of the murder in the woods, but I was a mess and needed a bath. The truth is, the guards had not only beaten me, they’d pissed on me as well.”
There was some laughter from the court.
Edyon shrugged. “I’m not strong. I don’t fight. When they beat me, I curled up into a ball and they kicked me and then pissed on me.”
Catherine could see that already some in the court were beginning to side with Edyon.
“Anyway, I was a mess, so I went to the bathhouse and on the way back from there later that afternoon March met me again and told me that I was the son of Prince Thelonius. As you can imagine, I was in shock at this news. I’d dreamed all my life of learning about my father, but my mother had refused to reveal his name to me. She believed he would never wish to know me. But here was March standing before me telling me that I was the son of a prince. He was most sincere but I still didn’t know what to believe. March told me his fellow servant, Holywell, had the ring of my father that matched a chain I’d had since birth.”
