Found Heritage

Chapter 10

I stood still while the tailor finished the last of the final fitting. In the past week, Delaunay managed to organize a birthday party for me. Not only was it suppose to be a birthday party, it was to be being introduced to society and all of high society. At home, with my newly tailored dress in a forest green, I found a man I hadn't met there. The horse was lathered and looked like it was ready to fall over.

"Delaunay!" the man shouted.

I watched him appear, sword in hand, Guy and Joscelin with their own sets of daggers, and my siblings rush out in a matter of seconds. Guy worked his way to my side. The unknown man kept his gaze on Delaunay.

"Isidor d'Aiglemort just accused House Trevalion of high treason."

Delaunay lowered his swords. "Surely you jest."

"No." The man shook his head. "He has proof; letters addressed to Lyonette from Foclaidha of Alba."

"What?" Delaunay kept staring. "How?"

I shifted my gaze between them. I put a hand on Guy's arm, making him lower his daggers.

"Messenger birds. Since the Cruarch's visit. My friend, what do I do? I"m innocent in this matter. I have a home and a family to think of. Already the King sent his fastest riders to Comte Somervile. He's mustering the army."

I looked to Delaunay, wondering what he was thinking. "You swear you knew nothing of this?" he asked.

He stiffened. "You know me. I'm as loyal as you to House Courcel."

"There'll be a trial. There will have to be one." Delaunay leaned on his sword. "Send your three best to Fourcay." Delaunay began saying plans and how Lyonette was at the bottom.

"Baudoin's been implicated," the unknown man said.

I wished someone would say his name. The best I got was he was from Fourcay. "You'd best come in," Delaunay told the man. "And tell me what you know. Get your men en route to Fourcay. We'll devise a letter to de Somerville and you'll petition the King for an audience. Ganelon's no fool."

The man tossed an old fashion coin purse to one of the men and dismounted, following Delaunay inside. I watched as food and wine was served and the man ate. Seeing how my presence had gone relatively unseen, I went upstairs to hang my dress. When I reappeared, the man was telling how word was passed from a boastful Glory-Seeker, whatever that was. The story went that Lyonette conspired with some forces from Alba, Foclaidha and her son, the new Cruarch, to join forces. With a Pictish army, Lyonette planned on gaining the regency of France and put Baudoin on the throne. Of course, this Foclaidha and her son will hold Alba against the disposed heir and his allies.

"It's a clever plan," the unknown man said. "Dangerously clever. If d'Aiglemort hadn't proved loyal... He stood to gain, being Baudoin's friend."

Still, no one had bothered to explain to me who this man was, what a Glory-Seeker was, or even seemed to notice my existence.

"What about Marc?" Delaunay asked.

Finally, I grew tired of waiting and I jumped in. " Is anyone going to explain all this to me?" I took a seat and looked at Delaunay. "I've been here nearly a month. I can barely keep the Great Houses straight."

It was at this point that the unknown man took notice of me.

"Gaspar," Delaunay spoke up. "Meet my daughter, Morgan Delaunay. Morgan, Gaspar Trevalion, the Comte de Fourcay."

Gaspar looked at me. What he saw, I don't know, but he must have recognized something between myself and Delaunay. "A pleasure, Lady Morgan. Marc is my cousin," he told me. "My friend, if I could answer truly, I could. My heart tells me he would never do such a thing. Yet... He's at odds with the King over the matter of Quintillus' fleet. And the question of pride's at stake. He long disapproved that Ganelon will not see his granddaughter wed and the fate of the realm settled."

"I understand," Delaunay said and didn't press any further.

"How did this d'Aiglemort get the letters?" I asked.

The answer Gaspar had at the ready. "Melisande Shahrizai."

I watched a silent exchange between Delaunay and Phédre, who had opened her mouth to speak, only to be silenced by Delaunay. I thought it was due to Phédre's knowledge. Still, she spoke. "Baudoin was in her thrall. Why would she give him up when he stands to gain the throne?"

"I'd like to say because House Shahrizai's loyal." Gaspar ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "But I think it's more likely that Melisande knew full well that Lyonette wouldn't allow Baudoin to wed her. Lyonette seeks a biddable daughter-in-law. One that brings a formidable alliance with her. If Baudoin hasn't defied his mother in this, he wouldn't do it when she has the power to gain him the throne. Melisande's formidable in her own right, but she's no match for the Lioness of Azzalle."

Again with comparing Melisande to Lyonette. Was Lyonette truly so powerful that even her own son dared not defy to marry Melisande? It must be so. I've heard little of this Duke d'Aiglemort. I had learned that he was the Duke of Camlach, a province that bordered Skalida. And unlike most from Camlach, the Duke didn't think with a sword.

The days passed and events fell in with what Delaunay said. Parliment was called into session and a High Court trial summoned. The royal army, under Comte de Somerville's command, headed to Trevalion and the King heard Gaspar's petition; granting clemency to the Fourcay estate provided that the Comte was under the watch of the Palace Guard until the trial.

I was in the Cockerel when the word of gossip was heard. A day before Somerville's messenger arrived, Trevalion surrendered after a short battle led by Baudoin and his Glory-Seekers. March ordered the surrender. Somerville, Percy I later learned was his name, accepted his sword, left a garrison, and made for the City with the entire Trevalion family and their entourage.

"Why did Melisande have to ruin this for me?" I asked Phédre. We were in my room, I was attempting to zip up the dress that was meant for my birthday, and Phédre sat on the bed. "Of course, the trial has to be on the day of the party."

"I'm sure that Delaunay will hold the fête once this all blows over," Phédre attempted to reassure me. She stood and helped zip my dress. "We should go."

I nodded and followed Phédre from the room and we joined Delaunay and Alcuin.

The Hall of Audience was so packed, I found it difficult to follow my family. I managed to find them at the side of the hall. At the grand table sat the King, right in the center, and the Princess, the Dauphine Ysandre, to his right. Flanking them were twenty-seven people I learned were nobles that were members of Parliament. Palace Guards lined the hall and two Cassilines shadowed the King. A woman was led into the hall, bound in chains. She was dressed in a blue and silver brocade.

Phédre leaned over. "House Courcel's colors."

"You think she's saying something."

We learned later that Lyonette had insisted on the chains. Apparently she wanted it to add to the drama. She denied nothing of her part in the scheme. The evidence was heard, though I've heard it before and watched Lyonette's chin rise in defiance of her brother.

"How do you plead?" he asked when the matter had been paid before Parliament.

I heard the tremble hidden by the attempted sternness. I wasn't sure, but I believed I saw his right hand shake.

Lyonette laughed. "You dared to ask me, brother? Let me charge you and see how you plead! You cripple the realm with your lack of resolve, clinging to the ghost of your dead son in a murderess' get without even the decency to make her an alliance through marriage." From where I stood, it looked like her eyes flashed.

"And you dare question my loyalties. I admit, I did as I saw fit to secure the throne for the D'Angeline people!"

I heard murmurings from the crowd. I'm sure someone would voice their approval, if they dared.

"Then you plead guilty," the King asked softly. "What part did your husband, or even your son and daughter, play in it?"

"They know nothing," Lyonette answered with contempt. "It was my doing alone."

"We shall we see." I watched the King look left, then right, his expression sad and weary, like he didn't truly want to do this. "Lords and ladies, how will you sentence her?"

I looked around, hearing whisperings. Then I saw it. It reminded me of the old Roman days when the spectators of gladiatorial days giving a thumbs up or down, deciding the fate of the gladiator. Those present called for Lyonette's death. I looked to Ysandre, cool and pale, who gazed at her great-aunt. She made her motion slow and deliberate, raised a fist and rotated it down. "Death."

"So be it." The King's voice sounded thin. "You have three days to name the manner of your choosing."

I watched some of the Palace Guard escort her from the hall. There was no struggle from Lyonette who left with head held high. Marc took her place. From where I stood, I saw age lines mixed with sorrow on his face.

"The writings of the Yeshuites, the sin of Azza is named pride," he began quietly. I had to strain slightly to hear. "We are D'Angeline, and the sin of angels is the glory of our race. Elua's sin is that he loved too well of earthly things. I've sinned against you as they do, brother, in pride and love."

When the king spoke, I picked up that his voice shook. "Do you say that you aided my sister and conspired against the throne?"

"I say I loved her too well." March's gaze never wavered. "As for my son, who shares your blood. I knew. Yet I didn't countermand her orders to the admiral of my fleet, nor the captain of my guard. I knew."

The vote came again and it fell to Ysandre, I wasn't raised within Cereus House where it was seen that beauty fades into steel, but I heard it within her. She turned to Ganelon. "Let him be banished."

"What say you?" he asked of Parliament.

I watched as none spoke, but all nodded with hands open, palms up. The King turned back to Marc. "Marc de Trevalion, for your crimes against the throne, you're banished from Terre d'Ange and your lands are forfeit. You have three days to clear the border. If you return, there shall be a bounty of ten thousand ducats on your head. Do you accept?"

Marc looked at the Dauphine. "You jest."

She didn't reply. The King did. "I make no jest. Do you accept these terms?"

"Yes, my King," Marc muttered with a bow. Palace Guards closed in. "My lord, my daughter knew nothing. She's innocent in this."

"We shall see." The King waved his hand. "Be gone."

I sighed, growing bored with this. All thanks to Melisande, I was spending what would have been the day used for a party standing in attendance to a trial. Of course I had little choice being seventeen in a country where one reached their majority at eighteen. I watched Bernadette walk in, but paid little heed to the questioning. For her, she was banished. I wouldn't know how she and her father felt, being banished from the very land that bore then, unable to return. Actually, I may knew already, but all I had to do was somehow work a way back. Finally, Baudoin was led in. Chained, he made the most of it.

"Prince Baudoin," Ganelon said aloud. "You stand accused of high treason. How do you plead?"

Baudoin tossed his hair. "Innocent."

Ganelon nodded to someone I couldn't see. From a wing, Isidore appeared. He inclined his head to Baudoin then bowed to the King and gave his testimony. It was the same as Gaspar's; a drunk soldier's boast and a loyal duke's investigations. He withdrew and Melisande was summoned. I looked out into the Hall of Audience and saw a splash of people who bore blue-black hair and their long, almost trench coat, coat of black and gold. All had the same sapphire eyes. I had learned that of all the ancient Houses, Shahrizai was where Kushiel's flame burned the hottest. When I laid my eyes upon the group of Shahrizai, something began beating inside my head, like a beating heart, but it sounded more bronzen and less like the pulsing of a beating heart.

I shook my head to clear it of the beating sound and turned my attention to Melisande, how had went closer than even I would dare. She answered all of Parliament's questions, spinning a tale of an ambitious Prince in the thrall of his powerful mother, potential allies, and a throne to be had. Melisande spoke of how Baudoin showed her the letters in boast, making good on his claim. The vote came, for what Melisande said was more than enough, and the vote called for death. I looked to Ysandre. She looked at Baudoin, unmoved as ice.

"Tell me, cousin," she spoke. "Would you wed me off to a foreign potentate, or killed me off right?"

No answer came, which answered the question. Granted, I'd probably would have killed Ysandre off, too. One less person to worry about while securing my position. Ysandre gave her vote; thumbs down. Too much evidence was against him, and no sigh was heard after the King's. "So be it. Baudoin de Travelion, you're sentenced to death. You have three days to chose the manner of your death."

He didn't make as good of an exit as Lyonette's, stumbling as if he didn't know what happened. Gaspar was called forth for his own trial. There was nothing held against him, save but his bloodline. Delaunay testified for Gaspar, saying that the Comte knew nothing of the plot and came right to him. In the end, Gaspar was absolved and his title and estate affirmed in public forum.