CHAPTER 4
THE JUDGMENT
Merlin’s father led him to the open hearth in the center of the great hall. “Sit here. I’m stepping outside for some fresh air. Call me when Tregeagle’s ready to give his judgment.”
Owain’s footsteps echoed across the tile, the door opened and shut, and Merlin stood alone with the fire sparking its pine aroma into the air. He closed his eyes and prayed that Christ would uphold Garth.
A harp tune echoed through the hall again.
Merlin lifted his head and listened carefully.
The beautiful notes originated to his right, from some other room. He tapped his staff across the floor until he found a wall; then he followed it with his hand. Sensing light and a draft of pleasant air, he halted before he stepped in front of the open doorway, hoping he couldn’t be seen. The music lifted his spirits, and he wondered if his own mother had ever played an instrument.
The harpist sang … with Natalenya’s voice, high and sweet like a bird after a rain shower as it fluttered about the bushes near the smithy.
The wind did take my love away,
Over the seas and far away.
He’s blown to south and blown to north;
He’s blown so far from my own hearth.
Come home my love, come home today.
Over the seas and hills to stay.
Ne’er blown to east nor blown to west;
Ne’er blown to make my love a jest.
In deepest winter I am numb;
In spring I wait for him to come.
The summer dove doth always wait
For autumn rains to come so late.
The wind did take my love away,
Over the seas and far away.
He’s blown from me and blown so far;
He’s gone an’ died in Gaulish war.
Natalenya ceased her singing. “Dyslan, stop spying. Go away!”
Merlin froze. Did she mean him? Or was Natalenya’s younger brother nearby?
He heard shuffling, the echo of the harp being set down. And footsteps.
Merlin put his back against the cold wall.
The footsteps grew louder.
He wanted to hide but couldn’t, considering his poor eyesight.
Natalenya walked around the corner. Her dark hair smelled of roses, and her green dress was a beautiful blur.
“Oh … Merlin.”
“I …”
“Are you here to talk with Father about the accident?” she asked.
“Yes, I …”
“Your foot was sticking through the doorway. Come in and sit down.” She took his arm and guided him through the room to a chair, where he sat stiffly.
“I practice here in my father’s library. Do you like harp music?”
“Yes, I …” He trailed off, at a loss for words now that she was speaking to him.
“My grandmother taught me that song. Grandfather died in Gaul fighting with Constantine’s army. It makes me think of him.”
Swallowing hard, Merlin asked, “Would you play more?”
“Any song in particular?”
“Uh … anything you’d like to play.”
She picked up her harp and set it on her lap. “Maybe something brighter.” Her fingers struck the bronze strings, and they hummed to life.
Merlin’s breathing rose and fell with the melody, but after a few lines Natalenya stopped in midsong.
“Have you ever played?” she asked.
“No, I can’t say that I —”
She slid her chair next to his.
Merlin’s throat closed up.
He dropped his staff on the floor as she placed the harp on his lap. He held its smooth wood, amazed at how little it weighed.
“This is how you play.” Her warm hand touched his and angled it toward the strings.
Merlin plucked them roughly. “Not as pretty as your playing.”
“You don’t have my fingernails, either.” Her laughter filled the room, and the sound felt to him like a refreshing drink from the spring after working in the heat of the blacksmith shop.
Merlin ran his fingertips across the strings and experimented with the notes. The whole harp vibrated into his chest. It would take a lot of work to play a real song.
“You’ve got natural talent,” she said.
“I do?”
She turned her head to listen. “Sure. What song is that?”
“I’m trying to remember … I heard it many years ago.”
“Let me give you my practice harp. It has only ten strings, but you could learn on it.”
Learn the harp? He’d never thought about music. What if he damaged it? “I’d better not. I’m already in trouble with your father —”
“I saw what happened.”
“The wagon’s badly broken, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mean that. I witnessed what my brother Rondroc did to you. I had come to the doorway when I heard shouting. Father won’t listen to me, and … I’ve learned not to cross him.”
“We say in the blacksmith shop, once burned, always careful. I have a few scars to prove it.” He held up his right forearm for her to see.
She hesitated, then reached out … but her soft fingertips touched the scars on his right cheek instead.
He tightened his lips and tried not to pull away.
She traced the long gouges that disfigured his eyelids and ran across his right temple and forehead. “I see you in chapel, but I’ve never asked what happened to your eyes. People talk, of course, but you never know whom to believe.”
“Seven years ago. The memories are painful …”
“They’re faded now.”
“No, I’ll always remember.” He turned away slightly, hoping the subject would change.
“I … I meant the scars have faded. And your long hair covers many of them.” She ran her fingers through his black curls. “You have an honest face, with a handsome nose. When we moved to the village a few years ago, your scars still looked red, but they aren’t anymore.”
He wanted to walk out. He didn’t want to talk with her about this.
“How could Rondroc be so cruel,” she said, her voice trembling, “as to knock you over? Let me look at your scalp.” She walked behind him and gently leaned his head forward, probing the area where he’d hit the rock.
“Just because I’m mostly blind doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”
“It’s a mess … All crusted over. You should get it washed.”
He turned his head away from her. “Is your brother all right? I hope I didn’t hurt him.”
“I saw him pull the knife on you; he deserved the thump.” Natalenya moved across the room. “And your little monk friend was funny!”
“You mean Garth?”
“I laughed when he dumped Dyslan into the hay trough.”
Merlin suppressed his own laugh. “I didn’t know whether to believe Garth, especially after he lied and told me he had permission to borrow the wagon.”
But Merlin couldn’t bring himself to tell her that Garth had said she had given permission. And Merlin had believed it. What a daft slow wit he was. “I should have gone back to verify his story. I really should have.”
Returning to him, Natalenya removed the harp from Merlin’s lap and laid in his hands what seemed to be a flat, lightweight piece of wood.
“Here’s my practice harp. I don’t use it anymore, so please take it.”
He felt two carved posts bending out from the top of the sound box. Shaped like a lyre, the harp had bronze strings stretched over an angled bridge. It was much smaller than Natalenya’s lap harp. “I can’t. Your father …”
“I bought it with my own denarii. It’s not up to him.”
“I just can’t. I’m sorry.” He held it out to her, but she didn’t take it.
A loud voice bellowed from the corridor.
“That’s Father,” Natalenya said. “He’s angry, as always.”
“I need to go.” Merlin found his staff on the floor, stood up, and set the practice harp on the chair.
Natalenya began to say something but stopped.
“What?” Merlin asked.
“Never mind.” She walked with him toward the door. “I’m sorry for all this. I’ll be praying for you.”
Tregeagle’s voice called out, “Lictor Erbin!”
The rough, familiar hand of Merlin’s father guided Merlin to a chair in the great hall where everyone had gathered.
“Where’d you go?” his father whispered.
“Talking. With Natalenya.”
“Garth must have had a hard time.”
Merlin took hold of his father’s arm. “What am I seeing?”
“Tregeagle’s at a table, and there are now three soldiers with him from the fortress. Erbin just entered. He’s kind of short but strong, with black hair and beard. Got a leather jerkin. And a long whip.”
Tregeagle pounded the table. “Hear my verdict.”
Everyone went silent.
“I find Merlin guilty of lying and of assaulting my sons. However, Merlin is found not guilty of stealing the horses and wagon due to the clear confession of Garthwysus … and the meddling of monks.”
Tregeagle scratched a stylus on a parchment as he recorded the decision.
“I find Garthwysus guilty of lying and of assaulting my sons. I also find him guilty of having stolen and damaged my property.”
“I didn’t steal the wagon!” Garth said. “I told you I was just borrowin’ it!”
Tregeagle ignored the outburst and continued writing on the parchment. “And now for restitution. I charge you, Owain, as the blacksmith of the village, with fixing the wagon, along with the aid of your son. The bent axle will need straightening, and much of the wood will need to be replaced. You will procure other craftsmen for their services as required.”
Merlin’s father stood up, an edge in his voice. “Magister, who pays? My son is not responsible.”
Tregeagle stopped scribing. “I said nothing about Merlin’s innocence regarding damaging the wagon. Did not your son ride in it and interfere with the reins prior to the crash? Your son holds partial responsibility, and it is clear why I put you in charge.”
“What of payment? My work is free, but I cannot pay others.”
“The monks must compensate you for some costs. Is there anything Garthwysus owns?”
Abbot Prontwon spoke up. “He owns nothing, Magister, except an old bagpipe passed down from his father.”
“Then it is forfeit.”
“Nooo!” Garth sobbed. “I did nothin’ wrong!”
Merlin reached out and found Garth’s hand. It was sweaty, and the boy gripped Merlin’s hand firmly.
“The abbey is required to sell it and give the money to Owain.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t sell me pipes!”
“Costs beyond that, the abbey must find a way to pay,” Tregeagle continued.
Garth let go of Merlin’s hand and lunged at Tregeagle. Owain and Dybris grabbed Garth’s arms and pulled him back to his chair.
“Now his punishment for stealing the wagon —”
Prontwon stood. “Is it not enough for him to be parted from his sole inheritance and the only remaining memory of his dead father?”
“No, it is not.” Tregeagle clapped, and the thunder of it echoed in the great hall. “Repair doesn’t pay for thievery. Erbin, what judgment had I decided for the imprisoned Connek?”
Erbin paused. “You know, Magister, that your judgment does not vary for thievery.”
“For the sake of our guests, what is my unwavering judgment?”
“Flogging,” Erbin said smugly.
The hall fell silent.
“In this case, Lictor Erbin, I no longer consider the testimony true regarding Connek’s attempted theft.”
Merlin stood. This was too much. That foul-smelling thief had tried to steal their lamb yesterday, but Merlin and his father had caught him. “Connek is a thief. Everyone in town —”
Tregeagle raised his voice. “Silence!”
Merlin sat down, his lips burning to say more.
“The nerve of you, Owain, tying Connek up and sending him here for my judgment. I now deem that Connek has done no wrong. He is to be released.”
Erbin stepped forward. “I shouldn’t flog him?”
“No. Instead, you will whip the young monk.”
Merlin closed his eyes. This was his fault. He should never have cajoled Garth into walking up the hill past Tregeagle’s house. Garth hadn’t wanted to go that way — he’d been frustrated that the longer path would prolong their coal-gathering task. If Merlin hadn’t convinced him, none of these horrors would have occurred.
Garth blubbered. Prontwon bent over and put his arm around the boy.
Tregeagle continued. “Not the full nineteen lashes, considering his age. Nine should be sufficient to teach a lesson. Guard, go and free the prisoner.”
“Yes, sir.” One of the guards left the room.
Merlin couldn’t believe Connek would be set free.
Prontwon bowed before Tregeagle. “Is there some other punishment you would accept?”
“Gold. It has been the lifeblood of the empire, and I will accept it instead of the boy’s blood. Three gold coins I ask. One for every three lashes, and I will halt the judgment.”
Prontwon sputtered. “Magister, we —”
“Gold!” Tregeagle thundered. “Surely you monks have some squirreled away. Gold!”
“We are a poor abbey. We have not even one gold coin.”
“Then my judgment stands.”
“I beg you, allow me to take this punishment on his behalf.”
Tregeagle pulled Prontwon up while laughing in his face. “You fool. You think I will have it said that I flogged the abbot of Bosvenna? An absurd request, Prontus!”
Guilt and remorse battled a rising anger in Merlin’s heart as he listened to the exchange. Garth had done wrong, but nine lashes? He was just a child.
Abbot Prontwon tried again, “Mercy, Magister —”
“Mercy?” Tregeagle shouted. “The only one whom I would allow to take his place would be him.”
Merlin’s father leaned over and whispered through his teeth, “He’s pointing at you.”
The room spun. Merlin gripped his father’s hand. The thick metal armband his father always wore reflected dizzily before Merlin’s eyes.
Walking forward, Tregeagle mocked, “Have mercy, Merlin. Have mercy on the thief!”
“Sir, I —”
“Yes, have mercy. You who dare hurt my son!” Tregeagle slipped his knife from its sheath and waved it in front of Merlin’s eyes. “Take his place so we can see mercy.”
Silence filled the room, except for the sound of Tregeagle’s clacking heels as he returned to the front.
“I … I accept,” Merlin said.
Garth caught his breath and stopped crying.
Tregeagle turned. “You what?”
“I accept!” Merlin’s voice echoed through the room.
Tregeagle rapped on his table. “So be it. You shall —”
A stifled sob went up from somewhere behind Merlin. A girl’s voice.
Tregeagle hesitated.
Merlin turned his head but could only guess who it was.
His father hissed in his ear, “You cannot. Are you a fool? Garth’s done nothing but make trouble for you.”
“I can’t let him be whipped.”
“Yes, you can. Wash your hands of this rascal!”
Merlin tightened his shoulders. “I’m responsible too, and I won’t abandon him.”
“You’ll be scarred for life. Everyone who sees your back will think you’re a criminal or a runaway slave. It will take weeks to heal.”
Turning to his father, Merlin tilted his head until the light from the open window fell upon his face. “I’m already scarred. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
His father moaned.
“Lictor Erbin, we have a change.” Tregeagle’s voice betrayed no emotion. “Merlin is to be flogged in the boy’s place. Guards, take Merlin outside to the post.”