First Rider's Call

They were doomed.

There was always the chance, Laren supposed, that the support of the other lord-governors would weigh in Zachary’s favor, but it was only a chance. The lord-governors were a fractious and self-interested lot at best.

Zachary obviously hoped D’Ivary’s appalling behavior would be enough to sway the others, but as appalling as his acts had been, it was hard to say whether or not the lord-governors would support or go against one of their own. They might try to force Zachary’s hand so that he’d have to make an unpopular decision without their backing.

How could Zachary afford to offend Lord Coutre at this time?

Laren thought she knew the answer. Someone else had his heart and he couldn’t bring himself to do what was best for his country and commit to marrying Lady Estora. This, despite the fact he had known all his life he would one day marry for political expediency, not for love.

Laren had her suspicions about who captivated him, and that was the most unsettling part of all.

She shifted her stance in the shadow of his chair. Sperren and Colin winged him at the head of the table. They looked just as unhappy as she felt.

“I have called you to this council meeting in regards to actions taken by Lord-Governor Hedric D’Ivary,” Zachary said. “You have been briefed on his breaches of king’s law and the charges I place against him. He used the power of his office against his very own people, subjects of Sacoridia.”

“Those border scum aren’t ‘subjects’,” Lord Oldbury retorted. “They refuse to acknowledge our laws and sovereignty.”

Zachary’s demeanor remained pleasant and calm. “They live within Sacoridia’s borders, and therefore they fall under my protection.” He paused, waiting for more disagreement, but amazingly, none came. “I wish to present to you the actions committed by Lord D’Ivary, personally or by his command, and you may judge him as you will.”

He then gazed pointedly at Lord Coutre. “I should hope you would judge Lord D’Ivary without bias, and not condemn him or free him of charges because of some personal ambition or favor you seek of me. This is too important a matter to trivialize with political schemes and goals.”

Lord Coutre’s scowl deepened.

“I shall not present the case on my own,” Zachary said.

Laren raised an eyebrow. Now what was he up to?

“My words,” he continued, “are inadequate to convey the suffering of border folk in D’Ivary Province. Therefore, I have brought some witnesses to speak before you.”

Sperren and Colin were clearly as surprised as she. When had Zachary arranged this? How? Why hadn’t he informed them?

On the king’s word, witnesses were ushered into the council chamber one at a time. Lynx came in and told of all he witnessed, swearing an oath it was true. Next, a captain of the Sacoridian militia spoke of finding mass graves filled with border folk. Two of his men dragged in a mercenary commander.

“It’s true,” the mercenary said. “Lord D’Ivary paid us to impersonate Sacoridian troops. Wanted to make it look bad for your king.”

Even some of D’Ivary’s own subjects came to speak. “Don’t like squatters on my land,” said a taciturn farmer, “but them squatters didn’t deserve what they got.”

Lord D’Ivary grew paler and paler as witness after witness filed in. The other lords questioned them as they wished.

Then border people themselves came in, telling all they had endured, of their flight from groundmite raids, of seeking refuge in D’Ivary Province where the former lady-governor would have provided them succor, only to find things had changed.

Several spoke of loved ones dead or missing, of women raped. One mother spoke of her twin daughters being borne away by mercenaries for their amusement. The girls were only eight.

Zachary’s expression did not change. He merely gazed upon his lord-governors, watching them with interest. Lord Coutre’s scowl crumbled. He was the father of three daughters, the youngest of whom was eight years old. He rose from his chair to comfort the weeping mother.

Laren, who had known about some of the atrocities, was rocked by these personal accounts, and now knew Zachary had been right not to bend to any of Coutre’s demands just to gain his support. The case deserved to be heard on its own terms, and to speak to the hearts of each provincial lord sitting in the chamber.

Zachary had surprised her, and everyone else, once again. He was as formidable and brilliant as his grandmother, Queen Isen, had been, and Laren should have known better than to doubt him.

The testimony of the witnesses was not only damning, but emotionally draining, and when the last left the chamber, a heavy pall fell over them all.

Presently Zachary said, “I welcome your debate.”

No one offered any. D’Ivary searched the faces of his peers for any sign of reprieve.

“Those—those people lied!”

“All of them?” Lord Adolind asked quietly. “The king’s soldiers, the mercenary, your own subjects?”

“You betrayed your trust to the subjects of Sacoridia,” Lady Bairdly said, “and to all of us.”

D’Ivary’s face drained of all color. “But I didn’t do all those things! I—”

“You caused or allowed them to happen,” young Lord Penburn said, disgust plain in his voice. “You allowed those things to happen, and you participated.”

“A terrible misuse of power and trust,” Lady Bairdly added. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">