Chapter Thirteen
Uther's callous congratulations, when Gwen was thrown to floor before him, set his son's teeth on edge. This was not something he wants to be congratulated for.
"Why will no one believe me?" Gwen's voice was breaking and her fear was apparent, she knew and she had seen what happened to those accused of sorcery. "They got better, they just recovered, I didn't do anything!"
"I believe you."
Morgana's voice was steady as she swept into the room, her dress rippling about her, her expression set. Jocelyn followed her, several paces behind, paler than she had been sitting comfortably by the fire.
"Perhaps this is a disease that is not always fatal," Morgana reasoned. "Have you thought of that? Perhaps he recovered naturally."
"What of this poultice that was found?" Uther replied, voice cold and measured as he sat secure in the belief of his righteousness.
"What poultice? I don't know anything about a poultice."
Gwen sounded confused and was so clearly telling the truth that Jocelyn could not believe that Uther would still doubt her.
"It was found in your house," he informed the maid. "Undo this enchantment, put an end to this contagion." He demanded, standing to look down on her.
"I can't."
"Then I can show you no mercy."
"I am not a witch, I don't know how to stop the illness!"
"If you will not undo your sorcery you force my hand and I must find you guilty."
"But I told you, I can't – "
"It is therefore my duty to pronounce judgement," Uther interrupted. "And under the circumstances I have no choice, but to sentence you to death. I can only hope that when you die this evil plague will die with you, take her away."
Gwen was once more hauled to her feet, still protesting her innocence but with no one to listen to her. Morgana watched her go, fear in her own expression, but Jocelyn was watching Uther, shocked at how quick he was to condemn the maid, with little to no evidence and nothing even close to a trial.
The rest of the court filed out soon afterwards and when it was just the four of them, Morgana attempted to argue Gwen's innocence once more.
"I know Gwen, she is my maid servant, not an enchantress."
"Have you ever seen an enchantress?" Uther demanded. "Believe me, they bear no sign, no mark. There is no sense of evil in the eye."
"I've seen the way the girl works," Morgana continued to argue, but the King was already turning away. "Her fingers are worn, her nails are broken. If she were a sorceress why would she do this? Why would she kneel on a cold stone floor, morning after morning, when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers. Like an idle king."
Arthur and Jocelyn both looked up at her last words, spoken with cold fury, worried that she had gone too far.
"You have no right – " Uther began, his voice low with menace.
"You have no right to pass a judgement - !" Morgana was almost shouting and the King raised his voice to match hers.
"I have a responsibility to take care of this kingdom. I take no pleasure in this."
"But you're sentencing the wrong person." Her sister was almost begging and Jocelyn wished she knew how to help, that she had the words, a way to prove that Gwen had nothing to do with this plague, or magic at all.
"She's right, father," Arthur said, and both sisters turned to him in surprise. "You hear the word magic and you no longer listen."
"You saw it yourself," Uther's response was automatic and he didn't register the fact that it was Arthur standing up to him; not really, he didn't fathom the importance of the fact. "She used enchantments."
"Yes, maybe, but to save her dying father, and Jocelyn. That doesn't make her guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of – of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil is in this girl's heart."
"Arthur's right," Jocelyn finally added. "If Gwen created the plague why would she save me from it?"
"Natural love for her mistress." Uther replied shortly, unwilling to enter into this discussion.
"But I am not her mistress, Morgana is. Even if it was Gwen who saved me, and I'm not convinced of that, surely she should not be punished for it! I would be dead but for her, she saved my life."
"And I am grateful for it, but – "
"Then show your gratitude! Release her!"
"I have heard enough!" And Uther sounded almost out of control. "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do, I have suffered at its hand, and I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom will perish."
"I understand that – " Arthur began but was halted by the small disbelieving noise Uther made.
"One day you may become king, then you will understand," he said, discounting any wisdom his son might already possess. "Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."
"I know, witchcraft is an evil father. So is injustice," Arthur dismissed the magic and made it so that injustice was the real problem in the situation. "Yes, I am yet to be king and I do not know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in, it will be where the punishment fits the crime."
His speech was impassioned and for half a second Jocelyn allowed herself to hope that Uther might actually listen. But the king's expression was calculating and he paused just a fraction too long before answering.
"I fear you are right," he said, but his words did not reassure any of them. "She has played with fire and sadly she must die by fire."
He left the chamber on the words, throwing one more look at each of them for their defiance before effectively closing the conversation. Morgana hurried through the main doors soon afterwards, where Gwen had disappeared some time before, likely to visit her maid and attempt to offer some sort of consolation.
Arthur took a few impatient turns about the room, ending by one of pillars and tapping it softly with his closed fist, resisting the urge to punch it with his full strength. Jocelyn was still standing in the middle of the room, pale, but not swaying as she had been earlier, staring down at Uther's throne.
"Your father never listens," she told him after a while and Arthur fought the inclination to roll his eyes. Uther always became 'your father' whenever he did something Jocelyn particularly disapproved of. "It will be better when you are king." She continued and his head snapped up, surprised at the seriousness of her tone.
She did not look at him, however, staring at the chair for a moment longer before turning away and also sweeping from the room, leaving him to stand alone and consider her words. Hoping that she was right and attempting to firmly squash the bubble of fear that was rising up inside him. The one that as arguing that she was deeply, deeply wrong.
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When they returned from fighting the Afanc in the caves, Jocelyn was waiting for them in Arthur's rooms. Merlin gave her a brief smile before disappearing to lay the evidence before Gaius, who would then present it to the King and secure Gwen's freedom. Morgana followed soon afterwards to make sure Gwen was alright and nothing was done to hurt her any further, patting her sister's shoulder briefly as she passed, an action that did little to lighten Jocelyn's frown.
Arthur was the last to enter the room and looked up from shrugging off his coat to find himself suddenly alone with Jocelyn. He took one look at her expression and quickly became very interested in unbuckling and stowing away his sword.
"Why did you not tell me?" she demanded without preamble, following him towards the corner he had retreated to. "I wanted to help!"
He sighed, but turned back towards her. "Jo, you've just recovered from a life threatening illness, one that killed many other people. You can't go off to hunt down a creature of magic, can you imagine what my father would say?"
Jocelyn made an impatient noise at his mention of Uther and refused to be so easily reasoned with. "Why did you go, then?"
He looked at her for a moment, before turning back to his task. "Your sister is very –"
"Manipulative," she agreed with a nod and a sigh.
"I was going to say persuasive." He replied, smiling back at her.
"So you allowed yourself to be persuaded into doing something you did not want to do." She concluded.
"Not exactly," he contradicted her, frowning slightly at the idea he was so easily susceptible. "I made an informed decision based on the facts that were presented to me." Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his measured words. "Would you rather I had done nothing?" he asked, sliding towards exasperation. "If Guinevere was innocent, I could not allow her to be executed."
"Yet you arrested her."
He frowned at her. "You know full well if I had not, some one else would have, and there would have been no one to argue her cause."
Jocelyn met his gaze mulishly for a moment before dropping her eyes and moving away to stand by the window. The courtyard was now free of bodies and the plague halted in its devastating tracks. They stood, silently and separately, for some time before Arthur looked up from his contemplation of the empty grate.
Outlined by the cool winter sun, Jocelyn looked insubstantial and thinner than she had before her brief, violent illness. He moved to stand next to her.
"You should rest, Jo." He said quietly.
She didn't reply and he almost gave up and left, but she reached out a shaking hand to his arm, latching onto his sleeve. He watched her a moment before sighing and wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer. He knew that it would be better if the door to his chambers was closed and they weren't standing there for anyone passing to see. But Jocelyn's head fell onto his shoulder and she leaned heavily against him and her breath was descending into near sobs and he thought that maybe if he just stood there, very still, that it would help somehow, and he hoped against hope that she would not cry.
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