CHAPTER NINETEEN
.
SUMMARY: Bard holds court to confront the criminals. How will they plead? And what will happen to Jack?
.
.
"This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me…"
Fight Song by Rachel Platten
.
City of Dale, 9th of March 2946 T.A.
The King of Dale stood before the mirror, set the plain gold circlet on his head, and turned a little to make sure it was on straight.
"Here, Meleth nîn," Thranduil appeared behind him. "Let me. You have some stray hair here." He picked up the brush and smoothed down a lock that had caught in the back.
"Thanks," Bard said, turning to eye his husband. "Aren't you wearing a crown?"
"Not today," Thranduil said. "I want an outward sign that you hold authority here."
"That makes sense." Bard stepped back and smoothed down the front of his velvet tunic with gold trim.
"Are you ready?"
"Not really, but best to get it over with."
"There is no need to be nervous."
"I know."
"I can understand why you are upset, Bard, but this is part of being King."
"I know that, too."
"Are you worried about charging those men?"
"Those three?" Bard gave him a grim smile. "Maybe it bothers me that I honestly don't care what happens to them."
"I would be disappointed if you were not." Thranduil stroked his cheek with his finger. "What about Evan's nephew?"
"That..." He pushed down the wave of anxiety before it overcame him. "I'm working on that, but I can't be sure until it's over with. Actually, I'm hoping we can get this whole thing over with today."
"How? Have the men confessed?"
"No," Bard leaned against the side of the dresser, "and yes."
"Meaning?"
"If you're asking if we beat the truth out of them, no; that was the Master of Laketown's method, and I won't allow that here."
Thranduil's thick brows lowered. "I thought you said you could not speak to the prisoners until court."
"I can't," A small smile lifted a corner of Bard's mouth, "I didn't."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Bard?"
"Nothing outside of the law, I promise. I only suggested something that might help save Dale—and your Kingdom—a lot of time and anguish. If it worked, I could wrap this up and, and you can get those arseholes of my city. By nightfall, if we're lucky." Bard kissed Thranduil's cheek, stepped back and surveyed his husband's attire. "You look great, even without the crown."
The Elvenking slowly shook his head. "You never cease to surprise me."
"You shouldn't be surprised at all," Bard winked. "It was your idea."
"What?"
"You'll see. But don't stop praying; it's not over until it's over."
.
Dressed in their ceremonial attire, all but one member of Council of Dale gathered at the bottom of the Grand Staircase. Along with an unexpected replacement for Evan.
"Da." Bain stepped forward, his chin set. "I want to be there."
Bard met his son's determined gaze, then glanced over at his husband. "Did you know about this?"
"I did not," Thranduil glanced between them. "The decision is yours; I will support whatever you decide."
"But?" Bard's eyebrow quirked expectantly.
"Our goal is to prepare him, yes?" the Elvenking shrugged slightly. "Much of Kinging is unpleasant."
Bard considered this for a moment. "The rest of you go on ahead," he said. "I'll be right behind you."
After they left, Bard placed his hand on his son's upper back and urged him over toward one of the upholstered benches.
"Are you sure you want to, Bain?"
" I don't want to at all," he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, "but Ada's right. It's the hard stuff I need to be ready for, not the easy ones."
"If you do this," Bard told him, "you'll be helping to sentence three men to death today. Just because Ada is taking care of that, doesn't mean you won't feel the weight of it."
"I know."
"And that's not the worst of it. If we can't clear Jack's name, I'll have to pronounce him guilty, too." Bard held the back of Bain's neck. "Are you ready for that, son?"
The boy's breath caught, and his throat bobbed. He looked deep in to Bard's eyes. "Are you?"
Was he? The forthrightness of the question took Bard aback. "No," he admitted, rubbing his jaw. "I don't think anyone can be. I just don't want you haunted by these things before you have to be, that's all."
"But don't you see, Da? I'd rather learn to face this now than after I'm crowned. Do you know what I mean?"
"I wish I didn't, but you're right." Bard ran his hand over his face. "I'd spare you this, if I could."
"But you can't, Da."
The sudden lump in Bard's throat prevented him from speaking. After a quick nod and a pat on the shoulder, father and son made their way to the Throne Room.
The small group stood at attention in front of the double doors, ready to be announced.
"Take the seat to my left," Bard whispered to Bain. "No matter what happens, remain calm; no anger, no surprise, nothing. If you can't, no one will be angry or disappointed, but you need to leave the hall. Quietly. Understood?"
"Yes, My Lord," Bain whispered back.
At Bard's sidelong glance, his son said. "You're my King in there, not my Da."
The doors opened, and, with his heart thrashing against his ribcage, the King and his Council threw back his shoulders and lead the procession, keeping head high, his eyes straight ahead. As he climbed the steps to the platform and turned to face his people, Bard recalled something Thranduil told him just after the Battle, when he revealed his royal lineage to his people:
"Besides a ruler, you are a symbol. If there are men in your kingdom who lack confidence and hope, they will always look to you to assure them. Always. You are their strength and example. You must show them how to give their best. This helps them, Bard. Showing empathy and compassion is one thing, but giving even a hint that you are unsure and afraid will only undermine their confidence, and make them feel unsafe." 1
At the time, Bard didn't appreciate those words, but now, as his eyes swept over the crowd, he could see the wisdom of it, not just for others. Thranduil's words, instead of adding to the burden of these past days, had given Bard a sense of mission in this chaos, when the turmoil threatened to overcome him.
After observing the Reverent Silence, the King of Dale sat on this throne and the others took their seats. Percy went to the podium, picked up the top document, and read: 2
"Hear ye, O hear ye all assembled here on this Tuesday, the Ninth day of the month of March in the year Twenty-Nine-Forty-Six of the Third Age. We, the citizens of Dale beg the court of Bard I, son of Brand, King of Dale and its Surrounding Lands, to hear and judge the charges against three persons, all the race of Men, who have been identified and will be referred to as:
"Stan, son of Jonas; Ronald, son of Theo; Gustav II, son of Gustav I; all from East Bight, stand accused of murder, kidnapping, Attempted Murder and robbery.
"We also beg His Majesty to hear and judge the charges against one Man, identified as Evan II, son of Tobias, of East Bight—also known as Jack-who stands accused of Conspiracy in the aforementioned crimes, and of Misprision failure to report the criminal intentions of the three aforementioned Men upon their arrival in Dale." 3
Percy laid the parchment on the podium and bowed before the Throne. "Will you preside over and fairly judge this matter brought before you? What say you, My King?"
Here we go. Bard steeled himself, took a breath and said, "If it pleases the Council and the Citizens of Dale, I humbly accept this request and vow to act in accordance with the laws of this Kingdom. Bring forth the accused!"
A low gasp went up in the audience as the four prisoners entered in chains, led by Constable Egon and his men. A flash of defiance crossed Stan's face, which was quickly dropped and replaced with a wide-eyed bewilderment which fooled no one. Gustav and Ronald shuffled nervously. Jack looked like he hadn't slept since his arrest.
Evan went pale, and his eyes filled. He put his arm around his wife, who quietly started to cry. Rhian grabbed Eryn's other hand and held it tight, while Daeron murmured something to Evan over their wives' bowed heads. Hannah sat on the other side of Evan and rubbed his upper arm. Lydia was not present, but Eryn's Uncle Rowen was, and whether the fury on his face was on behalf or because of Jack, Bard couldn't tell.
Stan, his arm swathed in bandages, Gustav and Ronald were taken to the left side of the dais and made to sit, a guard behind each chair, keeping the aisle clear to admit witnesses. To Bard's right, Jack wearily sat, shoulders slumped, his gaze down.
Bain made a small sound, but didn't move. Bard fought of the wave of anxiety using a trick Thranduil had taught him shortly after he brcame King. He slowly curled his toes inside his boots, then released.
Curl. Release. Curl release.
"Let us begin," Bard commanded. "I call the Chief of Dale's Constabulary to come forth and present his findings."
Tom rose from his Council seat with his scroll and bowed before Bard. "My King. If it pleases this court, and in the interests of clarity, I request we first address the charges against the first three prisoners, then after we can speak to the charges against Jack."
"Your request is granted, My Lord." Bard bowed his head briefly. "You may proceed,"
Tom cleared his throat, went to the podium, opened his scroll and read: "King Bard, learned Council, and to all citizens of Dale:
"Be it known that, on Friday last, on the 5th day of March 2946 of the Third Age, three men called Stan, Ronald, and Gustav, respectively, did, according to witnesses, enter the Royal Stables of Dale intending to kidnap a valuable foal, the property of Lady Tauriel of Dale. The filly named Trastapîn, aged four and one-half months bred out of Lasbelin and Mistanâr, was housed in a box stall with her mother when these men attacked and murdered Voron, son of Vernor, Elf and citizen of the Woodland Realm. Also according to eyewitnesses, these same Men shot Haden, son of Arminas, and Amrol, son of Ilinsor, both Elves of the Woodland Realm, intending to kill and leave them for dead. After they loaded the foal onto one of their wagons, they proceeded to the East Gate, where they presented falsified papers to the Keepers of the West Gate of Dale, left the City.
"Once the authorities were alerted, these same three men, driving two wagons were captured ten miles southwest on the Dale lands road, where the foal named Trastapîn was recovered, as well as another wagon full of stolen goods from the homes of several of Dale's elderly citizens. They were then arrested by members of the Guardians of the Woodland Realm, acting under the full authority of the King of Dale, and brought to the dungeons of the Northeast Tower, where they remained until summoned before this court."
Curl. Release. Behind his mask of neutrality, the King of Dale eyed three men. "What is your response to these charges?"
Stan, the spokesperson and the apparent brains if this outfit, stood and took a step forward. "We protest our innocence, Milord."
No surprise there. "I understand you've been made aware of the seriousness of these charges and given an opportunity to prepare a statement?"
"We have."
"Go on then."
"Well, first I want to say those good were sold to us fair and square, and if those folks can't remember that right, then it's not their fault. They're old, you see, and sometimes they get all mixed up about things. Now, we're willing to let bygones be bygones. You'll drop those charges, we'll return all that stuff and just to show we don't want to hold a grudge, they can keep the money we paid them. Back home, we were raised to respect our elders, and that's a fact.
"When we left on Friday, did your guards see any animals on our wagons? No! That's because there wasn't one! Your gatekeeper allowed us to leave, and if neglected his duty, then that's something you'll have to take up with him, and I don't see how we should be punished for it."
Stan paused, looking for a reaction from Bard, as an inaudible murmur rose among the spectators.
Bard raised his hand and ordered silence, never averting his gaze from the accused. "Go on," he said calmly.
"Now as to that little white horse you found in our wagon, we were only showing it a kindness! We found that poor baby five miles south on the Dale Road, lost and wandering in the plains, crying out for her mother. What were we supposed to do, Milord? I tell you true; it broke our hearts, and we knew if we left her, she'd die, so you could say we saved her life, My Lord."
"I see," Bard nodded. "Let me clarify a few things about your testimony. Do you swear before me and this court that you've never seen that foal before last Friday, nor did you even know of her existence?"
"Absolutely not, Milord."
"What about you?" Bard pointed to Gustav and Ronald, who both affirmed Stan's claim.
"So, it didn't occur to you to turn around and see if the foal came from Dale?"
"Now, we wanted to, but our business is on a tight schedule, you see, and we had to keep going in order to get to Dorwinian in time for their markets to open. If we missed it, that's half our earnings for the year! The kindest thing we could think to do was to take her along with us, then maybe send word back to you. If she belonged to one of your people, why then we'd have taken good care of her until you could come and get her? Why is that a terrible thing?"
When that blond Elf captain and his cronies came upon us, with all those horses and frightened us half to death!" Stan placed a hand over his heart. "For all we knew, they were Elves from those woods over yonder. And all my life I've heard stories about the Elf King! All my life, my dad and mother used to tell me stories of his cruelty and wickedness!"
Bard fought down the urge to get up and break the man's jaw. Curl. Release. Next to him, Bain stiffened and grabbed the arms of his chair. Bard cleared his throat softly, waited for his son's fingers to relax, then asked Stan in a sympathetic voice, "I want to be sure I understand exactly what you are saying; you're saying that you believed those Elves came to rob and murder you?"
"Yes, Milord!" Stan said, making his face as earnest as a child. "This has all been a huge misunderstanding."
Stan was every bit as slippery and cloying as Alfrid used to be, only worse; his handsome features all but paved the way for his life of crime, and he was sure it spared him jail time, and probably a death sentence two. It wasn't hard to imagine him with the old folk in Dale. Many of them are lonely and with a lifetime of stories they want to tell. All it would take is someone like those three to pretend to listen, and they'd ended up charming the good right out from underneath them. That was a problem, and Bard made a mental note to deal with it and soon.
Stan's windy diatribe was far from over. "I tell you true, I was scared for my very life, when they came upon us, swords waving, looking like there were going to kill us! The only thing I could think of to keep that blonde Elf away was to do was to threaten to hurt that poor little creature—though I swear on my father's grave I'd never do such a thing—just to keep him from chopping my head clean off! Then," Stan lifted his heavily bandaged arm, "that red-headed bitch and her brown beast attacked me! That horse nearly bit my arm off!"
"You must have known those Elves were going to bring you back here," Bard said.
"How could we know they didn't come from that cursed forest?" Stan was a very good-looking young man, and it was clear he knew it.
"That's certainly something to consider," Bard crossed his legs. "Do you have anything else you want to say in your defense?"
Stan was saving the best of his performance for last. "Milord, I'm telling you the absolute truth, and I can only throw myself at your feet and beg mercy for myself and my friends." His lips quivered, his voice cracked, and his chains rattled as he raised his hands to wipe imaginary tears from clear, dry eyes. "We are innocent."
Once again, the crowd grew animated, and a few people hissed.
"I will have silence!" Bard shouted sternly. "The laws of this land state that everyone—without exception—who stands accused in this court must be given the right to a fair defense! In criminal cases, the burden of proof rests upon the government, not the accused."
"This is your last chance," the King of Dale addressed Gustav and Ronald. "If you have anything you wish to add or detract from your friend's testimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace."
After a pregnant pause, the two men shook their heads.
"Very well." Bard addressed the Court. "This court will now present its case against the defendants. My Lord Tom, call the first witness, please!"
"Yes, Sire," Tom nodded. "We call forth Master Gloín, son of Oin, Treasure Keeper of the King Under the Mountain!"
The guards dashed forward to open the doors wide with a soft creak. Gloin marched in looking as businesslike as he always did, though there was a grey hair or two in his thick red braids. He was accompanied by his son Gimli, a skilled soldier in his own right, and there was talk that he would eventually take Dwalin's place as General of King Daín's armies. Feren said Gimli was as honest and loyal as his predecessor, and, while he was friendlier than Dwalin, he was just as fierce in combat.
The Dwarves came before Bard, bowed low, as was the custom of their people. "King Bard, it is an honor."
"The honor is mine," Bard bowed his head. "My Chief Constable has several questions he'd like to ask, if you don't mind?"
"Sure thing," Gloin bowed again, and turned to Tom. "What's up?"
Several in the crowd chuckled softly, and Bard let it go. Curl. Release.
"Master Gloin," Tom began, "is it your testimony before the members of this court that you were recently in Dorwinian?"
"Aye, it's true enough," Gloin said. "Lord Brandir asked for some blacksmiths, and I was along to broker the deal."
"And is it your testimony that during your stay, you had occasion to visit some taverns there?"
"Oh, aye. There are several fine ones there."
"I am sure there are. During one of those visits, did you hear talk of a," Tom pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket, "a, to use your language… Ghîvashel?"
"We certainly did," Gloin nodded vigorously.
"Would you tell the court exactly what that word means?"
"In Westron, it means a 'jewel among jewels,' something that's highly prized."
"And when you overheard this talk, what did you hear?"
"Well, they were talking about the magic horses in King Bard's pastures. A mother and a baby, one silver, one that shimmered like the inside of a shell, and when the light hits the wee one's coat just right, you can see bits of different colors."
"Did you know to whom they were referring?"
"I sure did. Those horses belong to Lady Tauriel, bond-mate of the late Prince Kili, may Durin rest his soul and heir of Lady Dis."
Stan and his companions looked uneasy. Tom's eyes were almost gleeful, Bain leaned forward slightly, and Bard curled his toes again.
"Master Gloin, are the men whose conversation referred to the foal named Trastapîn here today?"
"Aye," Gloin lifted his hand and extended his thick, stubby forefinger and pointed it directly at Stan, Gustav, and Ronald. "It was those three, My Lord sure as the beads in my beard, it was them."
This time, Bard had to quiet down the crowd with a wave. "If that is all, Master Gloin, you're dismissed with our thanks."
"My pleasure, Lord Bard." And with another low bow, the Dwarves departed.
Next to be called was Mervyn, Keeper of the West gate, then Ivran and Cwën, whose testimonies reaffirmed that day's events.
"Next we call forth Tauriel, Captain of Royal Guard of Dale, and adopted daughter of King Bard!" When the red-haired Elf strode up the aisle, the Ronald's eyes widened, Gustav slunk down in his chair, as if he were hoping to disappear, yet Stan still seemed confident he could talk his way out of this.
The next witness, however, finally wiped that arrogant smile off Stan's face.
"We call forth Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm!"
Stan, the self-appointed brains of this endeavor, scowled at both of them to shut up.
The double doors opened, in walked the last Elvenking in Middle Earth, looking as proud and powerful as Bard had ever seen him. He bore no crown, but he didn't need it.
Stan's jaw went slack, and two splotches of red emerged on his cheeks.
"Oh, shit," Gustav murmured, "He's the Elf King?"
Under Tom's questioning, Thranduil recounted the events with precision and authority. By the time finished and took his place to the King of Dale's right, the anguish on Stan's face was no longer fake. The man was terrified.
Bard gave his husband a nod, then said, "Chief Constable, is there any other evidence you need to present before this court."
"I do, Sire."
"Which is?"
"Their confessions."
"What?" Stan said, his voice unnaturally high.
This time, it was Percy who told the crowd to shut up. Using those exact words. A snort escaped Bain, Thranduil's mouth twitched, and Bard raised his fingers to his lips to hid a smile.
"If you would proceed, Tom?"
"With pleasure, My Lord: I have several eyewitnesses who say that these three Men not only admitted their crimes, but discussed them at length after the fact. If it pleases My King, I'd like to—"
"What evidence?" Stan blurted and was on his feet before Egon could stop him. "What are you talking about?" He pointed a shaking finger in Jack's direction. "You lying bastard, this was all your idea!" he turned to Bard. "Whatever Jack said to you, it was a lie! He wrote to us and told us to come!" Egon slammed Stan back into his chair with a scowl, but it didn't stop him. " He planned the whole thing, My Lord! He's the real leader in all of this. We were only-"
And just like that, Stan realized his mistake. His words dwindled to nothing as the color drained from his face.
"You were saying?" Bard quirked an eyebrow. When Stan didn't answer, the King ordered that he, Gustav and Ronald brought forward.
"In light of the admission by this man before everyone in this hall," pointing to Stan, "who, by your agreement, was authorized to speak for you, I hereby declare your earlier pleas of innocence to be void. I find you guilty on all charges, and release you into the custody of King Thranduil, whose people suffered grievous harm under your hands. You will be taken from this court immediately, transported to the Woodland Realm, where you will stand before the Elvenking before his throne and his Council, to face sentencing as he sees fit. May the Valar have mercy on your souls. Take them away!"
With glee, the guards dragged the men out the side door, where the Feren and five of his troops were waiting with a wagon.
The people burst into applause, so Percy gleefully repeated his admonition. "Hey! We're not done yet!"
"Thank you, Lord Percy," Bard fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Jack, of Tobias, how to you plead to the charges made against you?"
Jack rose from his chair, swiping his eyes. "I plead innocence, Sire."
"Very well. Let the plea be entered into the record. Tom?"
"Well," the Chief shrugged, "we don't need their testimony against those other men, but we do need them to provide proof of Jack's guilt or innocence."
"And do you believe you have this?"
"I do, My King." Tom said solemnly. "We call forth Judd, son of Jarvis, to testify before this court!" 4
The crowd murmured and craned their heads toward the double doors in confusion. Bard could feel Thranduil's questioning gaze, but he kept his eyes forward as the man approached. In his peripheral vision, Bain squirmed a bit in his chair, but his demeanor remained calm.
Jack's mouth dropped open as his eyes followed Judd up the aisle until he stopped before the throne. "My Lord Bard," he bowed.
"Judd, Bard bowed his head. "Is it true that you were contacted by the Chief Constable of Dale and Feren, Commander of the Woodland Army, and asked to spend a few days in the dungeons under the guise as Carl, a man charged with…" he quirked an eyebrow, "what was your 'crime,' again?"
"I believe the story was that I was a Peeping Tom, My Lord."
A titter went up in the audience.
"Ah. I hope your wife didn't take that seriously," Bard smiled. "And I believe you were put into a cell with Jack, over there?"
"I was, My Lord."
"Are you prepared to testify as to what you witnessed?"
"I am, and glad to do it."
Bard presented his hand, palm up. "Go ahead."
Judd bowed to him and the Council and began: "I overheard the other three men admit to their plan to come to Dale and swindle as much as they could from our elderly because—as Stan put it—'They are always an easy mark.' Apparently they've been at it for several years, and they spoke at length about their operation in Dorwinian, which they visited several times a year."
"How does Jack fit into all this?" Tom asked. "Is it true what Stan was claiming, that this was all Jack's idea?"
"No. Jack knew the men back in East Bight and they all got into some trouble, but only youthful pranks. When they showed up in Dale and asked Jack for a reference, he hadn't seen them in seven years."
"And this is what Jack told you while you shared a cell?" Bard asked.
"Yes, Sire."
"That's what Jack told us when they asked him to vouch for them," Percy confirmed.
"What did the other prisoners say?"
"They overheard us talking, and whether or not they intended to, they confirmed Jack's version. Jack accused them of setting him up, and they threatened to lay the blame at his feet."
"And can you confirm for this court that until three days ago, you had never met Jack?"
"That's true, My Lord. We live outside of the city and grow most of our own food. If there's something we need from the Marketplace, my wife and my mother make the trip. I know Jack's uncle Evan and his wife, but I hadn't met the nephew."
"Thank you, Judd, you can take your seat." Bard turned to his left and right. "Does my council wish to confer, or are we in agreement?"
Nods all around, and Bain was beaming.
Bard rose from his throne, walked off the platform and helped the young man to stand. "Jack," he whispered, "on behalf of myself and my Council, I humbly offer my apology. I hope you will still consider Dale your home, and," he leaned in closer, "if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know, all right?"
"Thank you, My Lord," Jack burst into tears.
"I declare this man innocent of any crime!" Bard called out in a loud, clear voice. "Take off these shackles and release him to his family."
A loud cheer went up. Evan burst from his seat and ran to his nephew, and as soon as the chains dropped, swept Jack up into a long, hard hug.
Bard turned back to the dais where everyone was on their feet, joining in the applause. Thranduil gave him a small wink, and Bain's grin was full of pride.
The feeling was mutual.
.
.
1 What Makes a King, Ch: 9: /works/10838010/chapters/24824964
2 And Winter Came…, Ch. 41: In May 2942 T.A. King Bard had decreed that all public events would begin with a moment of silence to honor those who died in the Fires and in the BOTFA. /works/12026709/chapters/32411847
3 Broken Wings, Ch. 35: Evan Jr. was named after his uncle, but everyone calls him Jack. /works/20519588/chapters/58357912
4 An Invincible Summer, Ch. 37: /works/14127870/chapters/37243763
.