Reunion 19

Lord Connor stood up and exclaimed, "Have both sides of the argument to a reasonable place to which we can start these evil yet necessary proceedings?"

Sir Owen and Attila shared a glance and nodded as Sir Owen declared, "We are ready, My Lord Connor."

Sir Ioan, who had been in a deep discussion with Lord Tristran concerning the murder of Katheryne, looked up and said confidently, "Yes, My Lord Connor, we are both ready."

Lord Connor glanced quickly around his courtroom. Duke Duncan was grave, the Sarmatians were wary, his fellow Knights were angry yet willing to hold out their final judgment until all the evidence had been accounted for and reviewed, the Solicitors were both confident, and his twelve jurors were politely curious, as they waited for the proceedings to begin.

With a regal nod, he sat back down on his thrown-like chair and said loudly, "We are here today to try Lord Attila duHuk of the Horse tribe of the Sarmatian Tribesman. He hereby stands accused of the murder of Miss Katheryne Little, the Royal Families Fruit-Lady, and on this day, May 15, 472, at five o'clock A.M., the proceedings begin as thus: Sir Owen, your opening statements in defense for Lord Attila are ready to be heard."

"Your Majesty, My Lords, gentle Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, my client, Attila duHuk of the Horse Tribe, has done no wrong. This has all been a series of numerous misunderstandings. My client came to Camelot in search of the Sons of Sarmatia who he thought had been killed because none of them returned to the land of their birth. Instead of cold death, he found warmth and life in the Sons of Sarmatia who refused to go home. Whilst it is unfortunate that Miss Katheryne died, I will strive to convince you all of my clients innocence, and that the real fault lies with the clashing of our cultures and frayed nerves."

Sir Ioan stood up, pulled his top down smartly, and said seriously yet gravely, "Innocent…that is the topic of discussion here. Sir Owen's client will have you believe that he is innocent of all wrong doing. But, let me remind you, because of Attila's so-called innocence, an innocent young girl-woman, Miss Katheryne, is dead. While Sir Owen will try and make you believe his words, I will strive to make you, the Ladies and Gentlemen, Lords, and Honored Judge, believe just the opposite. In your hands rests the fate of Attila and the justice for Miss Katheryne. Think on that…a young woman old enough to be our sisters, mothers, aunts, and cousins…is dead thanks to his cruelty and bigotry towards our culture."

Lord Connor cleared his throat and said, "Sir Owen, your witness."

Owen stood up and said clearly, "Yes Your Honor, I call to the stand, Tor, of the Bear Tribe, supporter of Attila."

Their was a frozen amount of time, where the men and women of both Briton and Sarmatia whispered amongst themselves, when Tor was dragged to this feet by two well-muscled men and dragged to the stand seated in front of the Lords High Table.

Duke Duncan stepped forward and asked gravely, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, by the Blood and Honor of Mithras, Son of Sarmatia?"

Tor's face paled of all color at the older man's words. This couldn't be possible?! How does he know about the ancient codes of Honor and Truth amongst the Sarmatian councils?! If I answer in a lie and I'm found out, I'll be killed anyways! If I tell the truth, I'm just as badly off…

Sir Owen jumped to his feet and shouted, "I object, Your Honor! This is not the Oath we as Briton's normally use! It is unfair to use Sarmatian laws whilst under Briton Law!"

Lord Connor raised an eyebrow and asked dryly, "Is it?"

He turned towards Duncan and said with a submissive bow of the head, "Duke Duncan, I tell you this in honesty with all here to witness it. It is true we are using Sarmatian Blood and Honor Oaths here, but that is because on our journey to the Wall, Lord Miskoc, Regent Leader of the Horse Tribe Blood and Honor bound to serve Marque Dagonet Monies Hors, gave us a blood Oath that should any of our people meet their demise whilst they are here, and we find one of their own accountable, the accused will be killed by Miskoc's own hand. To show the Sarmatians that we aren't without chivalry we, The Knights of the Round Table, have set up this Trial to try Attila in a fair unbiased setting. Now, is it unfair to Attila, Tor, and all the others we cal forth if they themselves offered the oaths first on our grounds?"

Duke Duncan bowed his head and thought for a moment. His head lifted and turned towards the Sarmatians seated a little ways away from him.

He banged his staff once and asked acutely, "Did you or did you not offer a Blood Oath before this trial, Lord Miskoc?"

Miskoc rose to his feet and announced loudly so that no one could confuse his words with those of other words, "Yes, Duke Duncan, I did offer the Oath. In accordance to our Laws, all those who are traveling with the Oath Bound MUST obey the words the bonded had spoken."

Duncan nodded turned towards the High Table, slammed his staff into the stone floor twice more, in sharp taps, and announced, "Equality and Fairness have not been breeched. Sir Tor say your oath word for word as I did."

Tor schooled his features as best as he knew how and answered, "I, Tor BearHound of Sarmatia, Leader of the Bear Tribe, swear to tell the truth as I know it in the Honor and Blood of Mithras, this I swear."

Sir Ioan jumped to his feet and cried out, "Objection! Those were not the words of Duke Duncan!"

Duke Duncan nodded and said, "I agree, use the words of the Oath I told you of Sir Tor, or you'll be in contempt and sent to Miskoc's ward to do with you as he sees fit."

Tor gulped and looked at the older man who he once respected for his fighting prowess, but hated because Miskoc was of the Horse and he the Bear-opposing sides of the same theology. Miskoc was glared heatedly at him and no amount of British winter would ever kill the rage and hatred that burned in the older man's eyes.

He closed his eyes in acceptance and said, "I, Tor Bearhound of the Bear Tribe, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, by the Blood and Honor of Mithras, may I be killed for dishonoring this sacred pact."

Duncan nodded and returned to his seat.

Sir Owen stood up and asked as he walked up to his witness, "Lord Tor, would you tell the court why you and the others came to Briton. After all, Briton is a long journey from the lands surrounding the Black Sea."

Tor sighed and replied, "It was Princess Habren of the Lion Tribe's idea to come here in the first place. She didn't believe that all fifty of our sons were dead, and wanted to find out what had happened. After a long time period, we were all gathered together and we came here, to Briton. When we arrived, we were shocked. The lands that our fathers had told us about were nothing like the stories at all. All we wanted was to find our dead and send them off with a proper Sarmatian farewell. When we arrived we found that not only were some of our brothers still alive, but they had no intention of telling us of WHOM they truly are."

Sir Owen nodded and prodded, "And what did you find out about your fellow Sarmatians?"

Tor shook his head and said angrily, "We found out, that not only did they marry those not of our kind, they had children with the women here, and had children who were half-Sarmatian and half-Briton! Plus, they had no intention to go home at all! They wanted to stay! Can you believe it?? They gave up our warm lands for this place!!"

Sir Owen winced at Tor's tone and could tell that many of the women jurors were eyeing his witness like he was a raw juicy leg and they were starving lions. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and thought as he eyed his opponent wistfully I wish I had his job!! Why do I always get stuck with the lunatics???

But, as his job ordered of him, Sir Owen of the Round Table would defend his client to the best of his ability, "And how did you feel when you found out that your older brother, whom you adored so much as a child, refused to go home with you?"

Tor blinked and answered more calmly, "I was understandably angry and hurt. Bors is my brother and he didn't come home after his fifteen years were done. He is our villages' true chieftain, not I. He's the one who is supposed to have the supreme Roman training to run our village not I. Plus, he chose to stay with half-breed mongrels and a British cow that tied him to her because she birthed babe after babe for him…they probably aren't even all his! Bors has a perfectly good pureblood Sarmatian betroth at home, all he has to do is go home with me and he can have all the power and children he wants! I don't understand why he chose to stay!"

By the end of his triad, Tor was huffing and puffing badly. Sir Owen gave him an extra minute to regain control of himself and asked one more question before he handed it over to Sir Ioan, "Please describe to the court the Sarmatians obsession with the Purity of Blood."

Tor blinked and answered with the first thing that came to his mind, "It all a matter of pride."

Sir Owen frowned and prodded, "Explain."

Tor shrugged and said, "It all comes down to pride. When we were a free, nomadic people, before the Romans defeated us in battle, our people were numbering in the thousands. We were free to marry whomever we wanted. Our men could marry as many women as they wanted too. Also, age didn't matter between a wealthy man and a woman from a poorer household. Then the war with Rome occurred. Thousands died that day on that field. T'wer better they all died that day, in my honest opinion. But, in the aftermath of that war, where thousands of men and women alike rested in their final graves, only a few thousand of our once grand race survived. But slowly, thanks to the deal of our ancestors, our numbers, instead of growing once more in times of peace, dwindled generation after generation as more and more of our sons were taken by the Empire and made to fight in causes not our own. It wasn't until the times of my grandfather, that our lust for purity became a solution to our dwindling population problem. It was a way for our people to grow once more into the numbers they had once been before Rome utterly destroyed us."

Habren and the others could only sit there in shock. Habren, Tarkan, Garen, Agravine, and Miskoc could only place their heads in their hands and groan. When it had been presented to the court and spectators, it sounded even more horrible than they had thought. Is this why people claimed that our race is a fierce battle-ready race but a dim witted one as well? Habren thought fuzzily.

Sir Owen bit his lip to stop himself from groaning at the stupidity of his client's supporters. He sighed and said crossly, "No further questions, your witness."

Sir Ioan stood up and asked in a politely confused yet sarcastic tone, "So, it's all a matter of Racial Pride…your own words correct?"

Tor blinked stupidly for a minute then answered warily, "Yes…"

Sir Ioan opened his arms as wide as they could without making it look-like he was stretching, and pointed out, "But, Lord Miskoc, who is of the generation of your grandfather's educated reforms, has changed his views on the matter of blood. Why can't you?"

Tor replied promptly like the answer had been scribed into his head countless times until it was an instinctual response, "Because the Pride of Sarmatia demands it."

Sir Ioan raised an eyebrow and tried another tactic, "Lord Tor, why is Pure Sarmatian blood so important to your tribesman? Is the Purity of Blood so important that you would be willing to destroy your own nieces and nephews just because they were half-bloods?"

"Yes! Our people must remain strong! We cannot allow impurities to weaken the lines we have! Our lines must retain the strength of our ancestors to make our people grand again!"

Sir Ioan shook his head sadly at the man's words, and asked one more question, "Why, instead of killing all those of half or less blood, couldn't the heirs of your people be raised as Sarmatians? Isn't it the culture of your people that is truly dying out, Lord Tor?"

Before Tor could answer, Sir Ioan laughed suddenly and added, "After all, even you must admit that there are other races of people that are just as good at warfare as the Sarmatians are."

Tor growled and responded stubbornly, "No! Our people are the most important thing! If our people are strong and pure heirs are named, our culture will thrive!"

There was a pregnant pause where the men and women of Briton tried vainly to grasp just what Tor was talking about. It wasn't in their abilities to understand what Tor was talking about. In the many generations that Rome had ruled Briton, they had lost many of their sons and daughters in many hundreds of battles with Rome and the Sons of Sarmatia that Rome sent to the island. But, they had never let that bitter them to the wonders of every child they could birth from their women precious wombs. For ever child was of the clan and every one held responsibility of raising them. This…this complete and horrid disregard for innocent babe lives was horrendous!

Many of the Sarmatians found themselves on the receiving end of dozens upon dozens of mad glares. Those Sarmatians that wanted the help their people embrace new ways of thinking, felt like they were as small as those mythical leprechauns, and felt their faces flush a horrendous red.

Sir Ioan cleared his throat and ended, "Why do you support Attila?"

Tor answered once again like he was scripted to without fore-thought, "Because he is our greatest and strongest ruler! He can bring our people back to purity and greatness!!"

This chapter was spit in half. The next one will be up tomorrow or Wednesday depening on how fast I can edit it.