Timestruck (27 page)

“Not soon enough for Dominick and me,” said
Pepin. “By the time my father finally comes to his senses, we will
be dead.”

“I will never be able to thank you adequately
for what you’re doing,” Gina said to Alcuin. “This could prove
dangerous for you.”

“My safety is irrelevant,” Alcuin said. “It
is a matter of justice, and justice is the concern of every man and
woman, whatever the cost may be.”

It was late evening, and they were in the
now-familiar garden courtyard. The only light came from a few stars
and from the open door of the corridor that led to Alcuin’s
office.

“I asked Charles to join me after he was
finished meeting with his councilors,” Alcuin said, explaining the
arrangements he had made. “I used a freshly translated chapter of
the Book of Genesis as an excuse, saying I wanted him to read a
portion of it and give me his opinion on certain passages. I think
he was glad to know he’ll have an hour when he won’t feel compelled
to think about the trial tomorrow.”

“Where is Fastrada?”

“She has taken to her room, claiming a severe
headache.”

“More likely she just wants a bit of privacy
so she can dream up a few new ways to make decent people
miserable.”

“I cannot think the queen is a happy woman,”
Alcuin said in a dry tone that made Gina look sharply at him. She
couldn’t see his face, just his tall shape looming beside her in
the shadows.

“Baloney! That woman loves to be nasty.”

“Baloney?” Alcuin mispronounced the word and
laughed softly.

“It s a kind of sausage.”

“Thank you, Gina.”

“For what?”

“You have just provided a few moments in
which I did not have to think about the trial. It’s a relief to
enjoy a small joke and laugh.” Alcuin touched her shoulder lightly.
“We should go to my office now. Charles will be joining us
soon.”

In fact, they waited almost an hour for him,
and when the king of the Franks arrived, he looked weary. When he
saw Gina, his handsome face creased into a scowl.

“Alcuin, you tricked me,” Charles said
reproachfully.

“Not at all,” Alcuin said. “I do have the
translation I spoke of, and I would appreciate hearing your
comments on it. I admit, I did promise Lady Gina you would listen
to her petition first.”

“As I said, a trick.” Charles sighed, looking
at Gina. “I have just finished speaking with another woman, a lady
I have known since I was a young man, who came to me to plead for
the life of her son and to tell me she suspects that Pepin has been
used and manipulated in this business.”

“I’m glad to know there is someone else who
sees the conspiracy as Dominick and I do,” Gina said. She was about
to launch into her plea for Dominick’s life when Charles spoke
again.

“I will tell you what I told Lady Elza. There
is enough evidence to sentence almost every one of them to death.
They have been remarkably careless in their treason. When their
houses were searched my agents found documents, letters and lists,
stating names. A more clever group of men would have seen to it
that even the smallest bit of incriminating parchment was
destroyed.”

Gina stared at him, knowing Dominick’s house
had not been searched and trying to figure out what that meant. Was
it because Charles knew Dominick wasn’t among the traitors, or was
Dominick’s name on one of those lists because he was Pepin’s
longtime friend and, thus, guilty by association? Not knowing what
evidence, if any, Charles possessed about Dominick, still she was
compelled to continue fighting for him.

“You cannot possibly believe Dominick has
ever wished you ill,” she declared in a firm voice. “He owes
everything to you – his lands, title, and his position.”

“The same could be said about most of the
other men under arrest,” Charles responded.

“Dominick told me once that you were like a
second father to him.”

“One of the conspirators is a son of my own
body. If Pepin could betray me, why not a foster son?”

“If you know anything at all about men, you
must know that Dominick is honest. For heaven’s sake, he came to
you and warned you about the plot!”

“It has been suggested to me that Dominick
and Deacon Fardulf were originally part of the plot, that they
revealed it to me only after they realized it could not succeed,
and that they did so in hope of saving themselves.”

“You saw Fardulf’s condition the night we
told you of the plot, and you saw his torn robe.”

“Fardulf could easily have torn his own robe,
or Dominick could have torn it for him.”

“That meek, innocent soul was manhandled by a
gang of ruffians. In a church!” Gina exclaimed. Outraged by what
Charles had said, she spoke without considering the consequences of
her words. “I came to the palace tonight, planning to get down on
my knees and plead with you for Dominick’s life because I thought
you were an intelligent, reasonable man. If you have allowed Queen
Fastrada to corrupt your mind until you believe anything that
vicious, spiteful, spoiled brat tells you about a person you know
is honest, then you are not the man I thought you were. You are not
the man the Franks believe you to be, not the man they honor as
their king.”

She had gone too far, and she knew it. That
was not the way to speak to a king, especially when she wanted
something from him. She saw Alcuin’s disapproving expression and
knew she had blown her chance to change Charles’s mind.

And yet, she could not bring herself to
apologize. She wasn’t sorry for what she had said. Charles needed
to hear the truth about Fastrada from someone who wasn’t a courtier
with a personal agenda to advance, or a traitor. She hoped she had
made an impression on him, though she feared that Charles already
knew what kind of wife he had and that, for some private, perverse
reason, he wasn’t going to stop her.

Charles didn’t look angry over Gina’s harsh
words. He just stood there with his arms folded across his chest,
watching her closely. She made one more attempt.

“Dominick is completely innocent of treason,”
she insisted. “So is Deacon Fardulf. You cannot believe Fastrada’s
lies against them.”

“What I believe or do not believe,” Charles
said, “will become known at the trial tomorrow. I will not discuss
this matter with you any longer. You have my leave to depart, Lady
Gina.”

There was no way she could protest or attempt
to make him listen to a new plea. If she tried, she’d only hurt
Dominick’s case. The sole action left to her was a polite
withdrawal.

“Thank you for listening to me,” Gina said to
Charles. To Alcuin she added, “I am sorry I’ve caused you
trouble.”

“You haven’t,” Alcuin said. “Go now.”

She did. When she left the palace grounds she
found Harulf waiting for her at the gate where she had left him. To
his questions about the success of her mission she could only
respond that she didn’t know what effect her pleas had had on
Charles. She did not begin to weep until she was alone in
Dominick’s room.

The trial was held in the great hall of the
palace. Charles sat in a simple wooden chair on a raised dais. He
was clad in his usual outfit of undecorated woolen tunic and
trousers, though for this solemn occasion he also wore his golden
crown. His council, his secretaries, and a few clerics, including
Alcuin, stood near him, ready to provide opinions or advice should
he require either.

At one side of the hall, sitting in a row on
benches, were the men Charles had appointed as judges, who were to
listen to the case and offer a verdict. On the opposite side of the
hall, at some distance from Charles, Fastrada was seated on a
gilded chair, her ladies clustered around her. The queen’s face was
hard, and her blue eyes glittered when she looked at the accused
men.

Heavily armed guards were everywhere,
pressing the spectators back so that they were forced to stand
against the walls. The accused were surrounded so closely that Gina
couldn’t help wondering if Charles had heard rumors of a plan for
an escape, or of another attempt on his life, even at this late
hour. Still, security wasn’t perfect; she and Ella had been able to
sneak into the palace by a servants’ entrance that Ella knew, and
no one had stopped them as they made their way to the hall. Both of
them wore cloaks with the hoods pulled up, as did quite a few other
people, and none of them was required to lower his hood.

The men who were to be tried all sat on
stools in the center of the hall. Pepin was in the front row, and
he kept a defiant face lifted toward his father. He and all the
others wore rumpled clothing, their hair was uncombed, and they
were unshaven. Dominick sat on the stool next to Pepin, and next to
him was Bernard. That surprised Gina. She couldn’t imagine why
Bernard would choose a seat next to his despised half brother. But
then, perhaps seating was assigned, and Bernard hadn’t been given a
choice.

From Gina’s point of view, familiar as she
was with television and newspaper coverage of drawn-out
twentieth-century legal proceedings, it was astonishing that a
trial of such vital importance to Francia should be so simple and
so quickly arranged.

Charles acted as the presiding judge. As soon
as everyone directly involved in the trial was seated, he called
the first witness, who was Deacon Fardulf.

Fardulf repeated the same story that he,
Dominick, and Gina had told Charles on the night they overheard the
conspirators. Fardulf was a compelling witness, describing in vivid
detail how roughly he had been treated, and eliciting murmurs of
sympathy when he spoke of his shame at having been completely
disrobed before the holy altar. His account of hastening to the
palace to reveal the details of the conspiracy was corroborated by
Charles himself.

“You made so much noise,” Charles said, “that
I threw on a few clothes and hurried to the anteroom to see what
was wrong. There I found you arguing with the guard who was posted
at my door that night. At my request, you told the story you have
just recounted here. Thank you, good deacon. I will not forget your
efforts on my behalf. You are excused.”

“A moment, my lord, if it please you,”
Fardulf cried. “As you know, Count Dominick of Feldbruck was also
in the church of St. Peter that night. It was he who convinced me
to speak to you when I was too terrified to comprehend what my true
duty was, and he who escorted me safely to your presence when I
feared the conspirators would accost me as soon as I left the
church. Yet today I see Count Dominick seated among the traitors.
My lord, I must speak out. Count Dominick is not a traitor. He
risked his life so that I could tell you what I had heard.”

“Thank you, Deacon Fardulf,” Charles said.
“You may go.” He spoke in the commanding, kingly way he used only
occasionally, the voice that left no room for refusal.

Fardulf retreated after casting a frightened
look at Dominick, who smiled his thanks for the deacon s efforts on
his behalf.

The next witness was the man-at-arms who had
been guarding the door to the king’s apartments on the night in
question. He confirmed Fardulf’s tale of arriving well after
midnight, with Fardulf highly agitated and in a state of disarray
and with Count Dominick and another, cloaked, person in
attendance.

The man-at-arms was followed by the captain
of the palace guards, who described the long search for and capture
of the traitors presently on trial, except for the few who were
arrested in Regensburg. Then it was Charles’s turn to speak
again.

“I have read the documents seized from the
accused,” Charles said. “They reveal a plan to murder me and place
my eldest son, Pepin, on the throne. Among those documents was a
list that included all the men before us today. There can be no
doubt of their guilt.

“Has any one of the accused aught to say in
his own defense?” Charles asked, raising his voice.

Several men did rise from their stools to
make statements. A few proclaimed that Duke Tassilo was still the
rightful ruler of Bavaria, not Charles of Francia. Some complained
of the way the by-now infamous treasure seized from Duke Tassilo
had been handed over to Fastrada. Others denounced Fastrada for
refusing to accept the counsel of the nobles appointed to advise
her while Charles was away at war.

“My lord, the queen exerts a wicked and
baleful influence over you!” one noble cried. “She is an evil
woman, whom you must cast aside if you want to prevent future
rebellions!”

It was a bold statement, and Gina marveled at
the nobleman’s courage, until she realized that all of the accused
expected to be sentenced to death, their nearest kin permanently
confined to convents or monasteries. With their fates already
sealed, they dared to speak what was in their hearts, and doubtless
in the hearts of many other Franks.

“You have heard the accusations, and you have
heard the accused speak freely,” Charles said to the row of judges.
“Take counsel together, and announce your verdict.”

The judges looked at one another, nodded, and
exchanged a word or two. Then they stood, one by one, to pronounce
their decision. The verdict was unanimous. All of the accused were
found guilty, and all were sentenced to death. The hall was silent
as people waited to learn whether Charles would be merciful to any
of the condemned men.

Gina stood with both hands clapped over her
mouth to keep herself from crying out at the injustice of Dominick
being included among the condemned. She was only distantly aware of
Ella’s arms around her waist, as if the faithful girl feared Gina
would faint without that support. As for Dominick, he sat immobile,
his gaze fixed on Charles. Knowing that anything she might try to
do would only make matters worse for Dominick, Gina resorted to
prayer. She prayed as she had never prayed before, and she heard
Ella’s whispered prayer as an echo of her own.