The Trial

Fredrick stared in horror at the scene that lay before him.

The king was sitting atop his throne, his face obscured by shadow. The light of a full moon filtered through the stained-glass windows behind him, illuminating the court in a ghostly white hue.

The king’s shadow stretched long and narrow across the court, whose lavishly decorated halls, usually brimming with the song and dance of nobility, now lay barren, devoid of life. However, the court was not entirely empty.

In the centre of the court, kneeling on the floor, Fredrick could see four women, or rather, three women and one girl. He could not see their faces, but he could see that their hands were bound behind their backs and their feet bound together at the ankles. Presently, Fredrick spied the king’s loyal bodyguard, Otsu, roughly and expertly tightening the bonds of the young girl as she made soft whimpering noises of fear. Her sounds were muffled, and it was then that Fredrick noticed that all four prisoners had their mouths covered in thick cloth.

As Fredrick rushed across the floor of the court, Otsu heard his approach and spun around, a hand moving quickly to the hilt of the sword he wore at his hip. When he saw that the footsteps belonged to Fredrick, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders relaxed, but he did not move his hand from his sword.

Fredrick held up his hands and slowed his approach. Otsu’s eyes followed him as he manoeuvred carefully around the small group of prisoners so that he could see their faces, very aware of the efficiency and practice of Otsu’s blade.

Pausing briefly only to glance up at his king’s face, which had not moved since his entrance, Fredrick turned to survey the four bound women in front of him.

The eyes of the women shone with fear in the moonlight and their cheeks glistened with fresh tears. They were, all four of them, exactly who Fredrick had expected to see – the Queen Isabelle, her two daughters, the Princesses Victoria and Penelope, as well as their handmaiden Marta. They were all dressed in their night clothes, evidently having been abducted from their beds in the night, probably by Otsu himself.

It was of little surprise that these were the four women that lay before him, as all the other nobles had abandoned the court long ago, when it had become evident that the tide of the war was changing. Only those truly loyal to the king remained – his family, their maid, the king’s personal bodyguard, and the king’s royal advisor, Fredrick himself.

The women looked up at Fredrick with pleading eyes and began to struggle against their bonds, making noises of desperation against the cloth covering their mouths, imploring him to help.

Fredrick turned to Otsu, who had removed his hand from his sword and was standing behind the women with his arms crossed.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Otsu remained silent. In actuality, Fredrick had never heard the man speak and wasn’t even sure if he possessed the ability.

His desperation and confusion mounting, Fredrick turned to the shadowy face of the king, who still had not moved.

“Sire,” he implored. “What – ” For the life of him, Fredrick could not find the words and in his discombobulation all manner of ceremony fell away. “What is this?”

The king sat very still; his face still shrouded in shadow. Then, without moving, he began to speak.

“A carving to be taken

from trusted hands and shackled remains.

The will of men bend, break, shatter,

a forked tongue and poisonous embrace.”

The king said nothing more, choosing to let his words hang in the space between them.

Then he stood suddenly, and his shadow loomed over the group, causing them to cower unwillingly before him. He began to descend the stairs of the throne, his steps echoing with every footfall.

Fredrick remained rooted to the spot as the king approached him and his face became visible in the gloom. He was surprised to see that the king’s eyes were not crazed but rather cold; his expression one of distaste as he surveyed the small group of women huddled before him. His gaze lingered on his queen, who could only stare back at him, eyes wide and fearful.

“This kingdom is ruined,” the king said. His voice was clear and powerful, as if he were addressing a courtroom of nobles. “The war is all but lost. The enemy is at the gates.” Finally, he turned to Fredrick. “And one of these creatures is responsible.”

Fredrick’s mouth hung open at this sudden accusation, again not knowing what to say. He glanced at the women and in that moment his eyes caught those of Princess Victoria. “Sire, please,” he finally managed. “See reason.”

“I am more certain of this than anything else,” the king continued, heedless of the words of his advisor. He stabbed a gnarled finger at the group of women, causing them all to flinch. “A sorceress!” he boomed.

The word echoed in the hall, transforming into a hiss. Sorceress, sorceress, sorceress.

Fredrick had heard whispers of sorceresses before. Women of dark magicks, who made pacts with the Devil and feasted on the flesh of children. Women whose mere words could lay waste to entire armies and whose breath could freeze the blood of even the most powerful men. They were myth; fairy tales told to children to make sure they behaved correctly.

“It came to me in a dream, my friend.” The king suddenly grasped Fredrick’s shoulders and brought his face close. For a moment, behind the war-weary eyes of this failing ruler, Fredrick glimpsed a shadow of the man he had grown up with within these very halls. The king whispered to Fredrick, and he could hear no doubt in his voice. “One of these women is not as she appears. A demon in woman’s skin. It has brought ruin upon us.”

Despite his own doubts, Fredrick heard himself asking, “But, who?”

“Bah!” The king released Fredrick. “That is what we are to find out. For my dream has only alluded to the nature of the corruption, not the source.”

With that, the king turned to his man Otsu and pointed at the handmaiden, Marta. “That one.”

At the king’s order, Otsu grabbed Marta roughly and lifted her bound form over his shoulder. The maid screamed, but her screams were muffled by the cloth covering her mouth. She kicked and struggled against Otsu, but the man’s grip was iron as he carried her over to the large fountain that adorned the east side of the court.

Water normally spurted from a lavishly carved lion’s head built into the stone wall, splashing into the fountain, creating both ambiance and a supply of clean drinking water. However, it had been months since they had last had rains and the keep’s water reserves had all but dried up. Thus, the lion’s head no longer supplied water. Instead, it stared silently and ominously into the court.

The fountain itself, however, was still full to the brim, its waters now still and murky.

Otsu carried Marta to the fountain and held her above the water, as if he were carrying a newborn baby whom he was preparing to bathe. Marta stared down at the black water and shook her head furiously.

Fredrick made to move towards the pair, but the king held him back with a forceful had on his chest.

He turned to his king in horror. “What is this madness?!”

“The water will muffle the voice and dull the magicks,” the king explained. “Regardless, the sorceress will attempt to save herself rather than drown, and thus her identity will be revealed, and she will be dispatched.”

The king nodded at Otsu and the warrior lowered the screaming woman into the water, submerging her entirely. As he held her under the water with one hand, he removed the cloth from her mouth with the other, throwing the wet rag aside. Bubbles began to emerge rapidly from the inky blackness.

Panicked, Fredrick looked from the water to the group of women that remained. They were all looking horrified at the execution that was taking place, shaking their heads and screaming against their gags. Again, he found himself looking at Princess Victoria, who stared back at him pleading.

Fredrick made another attempt to have the king see reason. “And if Marta is not the sorceress? What then?”

Again, the king’s reply was simple. “Then she will die an honourable woman and we will move on to the next suspect.”

Otsu continued to hold Marta under the water. The bubbles breaking the surfaces became more sporadic. Eventually, they ceased altogether and the water stood still.

Otsu stood and turned to face the king. He shook his head once.

“It seems Marta was not the sorceress,” the king uttered, and there was genuine mourning in his voice. “Which means that the demon lies within my own family.”

Fredrick looked past Otsu, to the fountain’s waters. The pale form of Marta’s nightdress floated to the surface, yet the top half of her body remained submerged, mercifully obscuring her face.

Fredrick had known Marta since she was a young girl.

As Otsu fished Marta’s body out of the fountain and laid it to rest on the cold stone floor, the king addressed the remaining prisoners.

“Who is it then?” he questioned, pacing slowly in front of them. He stopped in front of his older daughter. Fredrick felt his heart tighten.

“Victoria,” he said. “Always rebellious. Hot-blooded. Does my blood truly run through your veins? Or is it that of demons?”

Victoria’s tears had stopped, and she glared up at the king in brave defiance.

The king moved on to his youngest daughter and looked down at the puddle of urine around her knees. The poor child had soiled herself out of fear. The king grimaced in disgust.

“Penelope,” he growled. “You were always uncouth. Perhaps demon spawn are harder to train than human children.”

Penelope hung her head, shaking with fear and shame.

As the king stepped towards the queen, he flung his arms open and announced, “Confess Demon, and I will grant you a swift death! Should any of you be protecting the sorceress in our midst, please rest assured.” He stopped and locked eyes with his queen. “I have no qualms about killing all of you in order to rid our kingdom of the corruption that has befallen it.”

The queen looked up at her husband. Fredrick watched on in horror as her eyes darted almost imperceptibly to her right, towards the Princess Penelope.

The king hesitated only for a moment. Then her grabbed his youngest daughter by the scruff of her neck and began to drag her to the fountain.

Both Victoria and Penelope screamed through their gags, the younger girl struggling in vain to gain any kind of footing against the pull of her father.

Fredrick made to run at the king but before he could get close, the wind was knocked out of him. Doubling over in pain, he looked up to see Otsu standing over him. The man was not even looking at Fredrick; he was still watching over the king as he began to drown his youngest daughter.

Despite her diminutive stature, the princess fought harder than her handmaiden had, kicking and struggling against her father’s hold. Alas, it was to no avail.

Under she went, the king pressing her into the inky blackness, her screams and thrashes muted until all that could be heard was the gentle sloshing of water. From under the water, the king removed her gag and tossed it aside.

As Fredrick lay on the ground gasping for air, he dimly heard a scream erupt from somewhere behind him. He turned around to see that it was Princess Victoria, who was glaring at her father’s back, her eyes filled with rage.

Summoning his remaining strength, Fredrick lifted himself heavily to his feet. One foot in front of the other, he tottered unsteadily towards the fountain. Otsu allowed him to move, evidently seeing that he could do nothing to stop what was happening.

When Fredrick arrived at the fountain, he placed a weak hand on the king’s shoulder, hoping to tear him away from the girl. However, as he turned to face the king, he was surprised to see that the king’s expression was one of utter shock, his face drained of all its colour. The king’s gaze was not directed at him but rather to the murky waters of the fountain, his eyes wild and terrified.

His mouth opened and out came a whisper. “You.”

Fredrick turned slowly to the water and what he saw froze his blood.

The Princess Penelope lay submerged in the water, still as death. However, her eyes were wide open. Furthermore, they were glowing with an otherworldly light, and the light seemed to radiate from beneath her very skin. The light felt cold and evil.

The princess’s glowing eye sockets seemed to fix on both Fredrick and the king. Then, from beneath the water, she opened her mouth in a soundless scream.

To Fredrick, it felt as if a hundred invisible hands had erupted from the water and shoved him aside. Both he and the king toppled to the ground under the weight of an invisible wall, spray from the fountain showering over them.

Fredrick sat up and stared. The princess had emerged from the water. Yet she was no longer the princess. Her wet hair clung ragged to her face as the evil light emanating from her pores grew brighter and brighter. She turned to face the king. She opened her mouth to speak once more.

Fredrick did not see what happened next. He only heard the sound of metal against air. Then Otsu was standing before Penelope, his sword extended outwards. A thin line of crimson dripped from the blade.

Penelope’s eyelids fluttered and the light behind them faded. She managed to turn towards her attacker, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Then, her head toppled from her shoulders, landing in the fountain with a dim splash, her body following shortly after.

In two swift and practiced movements, Otsu flicked the princess’s blood from his sword and sheathed the blade. The warrior looked down at the fallen body in the water, then to his king.

“It is done,” the king breathed.

It was then that Fredrick remembered Princess Victoria.

He scrambled to his feet and ran to his beloved’s bound form before anybody could react.

In his panic he did not see the queen shaking her head and screaming at him through her gag. Nor did he notice the faint glow emanating from beneath Victoria’s skin.

Too late, the king saw Fredrick. “No!” he managed to scream.

But Fredrick was already removing Victoria’s gag. The sorceress lifted her head and turned to face the king slowly, her eyes glowing with both malice and fury over the slaying of her beloved sister. Her lips turned upward into an animalistic sneer. Otsu rushed forward in silence, his blade sharp, his face determined. He would be too late. The evil light grew brighter still.

The sorceress, her forked tongue finally free of the bondage that once silenced her, opened her mouth to speak.