The Charlatan

Chapter Three

| Chapter Three |

I stood before the king of Alden with my head held high, all the nobility and honor that I had upheld now radiating from me. He had ordered soldiers to tie my wrists again and they had done so roughly, as the members of his court jeered and whispered. To them now I was a whore, a disgrace, and a joke. I was ruining my father's good name and title by gallivanting around like a prized freak for all to see.

As were the laws of the lands of Alden. He who disobeyed the king became a traitor to his majesty and the kingdom, worthy of ridicule, dishonor and death. I wanted to curse the king here now, and curse myself for not expecting the man to stoop so low. He was nothing but a tyrant and a fool, jealous, nursing a wounded pride.

"Whelan of Ainsley, what have you to say for yourself?" the king looked down at me from his throne, a twinkle in his eyes that made me sick to my stomach. He was clearly too drunk to preside over the court that would order my death, but who would dare tell a king that truth?

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't find the right words. Standing here before hundreds of nobles and royalty was not my place. I was a master of the sword, of battle, of hard work and tireless command. Speeches and arguments of logic were not my strong point or specialty. It would have been easier for me to prove myself with a dual then answer to the word games of my king.

"Nothing?" the king antagonized me, much to the merriment of the courtiers around him. He knew I was a usually silent woman, and I felt betrayed. I dropped my gaze, faltering as the crowd clambered for my death, a steady chanting of "Mortir, mortir, mortir!" that grew in intensity until the king held up a hand. "Will no one speak for this charlatan?"

I had not even spoken a word in my own defense, and the king was already calling for witnesses. I turned to look to where my friend and fellow knight Dennison was seated, among his peers and nobles who hailed from France. It was easy to see that he was furious at the proceedings, but I knew that his hands were tied to help me. As a sworn protector of the king and kingdom like myself, speaking up for me would be denouncing his knighthood, something I would never ask him to do.

Dennison of Siers was a Frenchman, dark in complexion but bright with personality. He supported the king as a duty his family and his name, but I knew better then to assume his loyalty to the king of Alden was everlasting. He was my only friend, save Tandy, and the only man in Alden to treat me as his equal. Many of the other knights of the shield detested me, claiming my presence among them was unnatural and unbecoming a lady. I'd heard every excuse on my rise to knighthood, the trials of being a page and a soldier twice as hard for me then they had ever been for a lad.

And now here I stood, having bested even the king's predictions that I would fail after a month of training, waiting for someone to speak for me.

"Your majesty, I will speak for my Lady!"

I cringed, knowing the voice and the hard accent before I saw who had spoken it.

"You, maiden?" the king raised a thick black eyebrow and took a gulp of wine from a gold encrusted goblet. Clearly he was amused by this, and he leaned back in his chair as if allowing her permission to speak.

"I am the Lady Tandy of Kiernan, sworn by oath and blood to wait on and protect my lady Whelan of Ainsley," Tandy introduced herself the members of court, some of which regarded her with the social status of a slave. I hung my head, knowing that now along with my honor hers too would be damaged, if not destroyed altogether. This was not what i would have asked of her, this was not what she promised me to do.

"Surely, young maiden, you have some words of defense in lieu of your mistresses silence?" the king gestured for her to continue on with her speech, and quickly. He was growing bored, and his mind on the subject of me was already made up.