Chapter 25: Cultural Diversity

Joseph sequestered himself in his study as the citizens debated their verdict. Anytime he recalled the events of the past, his stomach felt queasy and his head began to hurt. He had hoped that bringing Drell forward to face the citizens he’d harmed would bring a sense of peace.

It hadn’t. Drell had been defiant and insulting throughout the day. It had taken all of Joseph’s resolve to keep from killing the man before the decision was rendered. The sound of running feet outside of his door brought his head off the wooden desk. He expected his door to fly open but instead he only heard more men (or possibly women) running down the hall.

He remembered his mother spanking his behind for doing something similar while his father was indisposed and a small smile found his lips. He opened the door and saw more members of the palace guard headed down the hallway toward where the jury was meeting.

With nothing better to do, he followed. The men parted when he neared and he walked into the room. He saw three of his largest soldiers struggling to hold back a woman. There was a pasty man sitting on the floor with blood running from a large gash below his eye.

“What holds?” Joseph asked Morane, who seemed to be doing his best to calm everyone down – rather unsuccessfully, Joseph thought.

“It seems there is a disagreement,” Morane said.

“Yes, the woman who appears ready to kill the guards gave me that much,” Joseph said drolly. “Even if I missed her, the blood was a certain clue. I suppose I should have asked what caused this altercation.”

The woman had calmed noticeably when Joseph entered so he gestured for her to speak.

“That ... that man,” she hissed, glowering at the bleeding man seated on the floor. “He had the gall to tell me that it was Serrat’s will that my daughter was dragged off to the castle! Serrat’s will, my pale ass! I watched Drell and his men steal her from the field! I know what sort of man Drell is. I know what sort of man Wilhelm and his cronies were.”

“Drell stole your child?” Joseph asked.

“There isn’t a person in Tyrell who doesn’t know someone who had a female child taken,” a man said. “It’s why many people sent their daughters away before their first bleeding. I do not doubt Fraya’s words. I can attest that her daughter has not been seen for many years. It was always my assumption that the castle’s occupants were responsible.”

“God above,” Morane said, his face ashen.

“I would say the number is perhaps 100,” the man continued.

“And he claimed it was a privilege to be chosen!” the woman seethed. “An honor? If it is such an honor, I am certain you volunteered your children to be desecrated and killed.”

“To be honest, his daughter is perhaps the ugliest person I’ve ever seen,” another man chimed in. “She is near to 30 years and has never had so much as a suitor. It is rumored that she fornicates with wild dogs.”

“I’m not sure we should discuss rumors,” Joseph said with a sigh.

“Drell certainly made it a point to use innuendo in his defense,” the first man said reasonably. “I, for one, find it far more credible that Vartac’s daughter fornicates with animals that I do that Lady Elena would be unchaste.”

Joseph let out another long breath.

“Have you voted yet?” he asked.

“That is what led to our little ... incident,” the reasonable man said. “Twelve of us voted him guilty; Vartac voted him innocent. That is when Fraya told us about her child and Vartac made is unfortunate comment. She was the quickest, thankfully. The rest of us would have killed him but none of us will sink to striking a fallen man. That seems to favor Drell’s line of thinking more than yours, King Joseph.”

“The vote is sufficient unless you believe more of you will vote for innocence,” Joseph informed them.

“That is not going to happen,” Fraya said.

“Then perhaps we should wait for Vartac’s bleeding to subside and reconvene,” Joseph suggested.

“We might as well convene now, Your Highness,” Fraya said. “As soon as he stands, I plan to strike him again.”

Joseph couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, I can see that Vartac and his kin are unlikely to find many friends,” Joseph said.

“Dear Fraya, do not delve into the depths with the men who hold onto false beliefs,” Morane said. “It is no sin to be deceived.”

“It might not be a sin to be deceived but it certainly is stupid to cling to your beliefs when they’ve been proven false,” Fraya said.

Joseph nudged the Serratian priest with his elbow.

“She has a point,” the king said.

“Indeed,” Morane agreed. “Still, I don’t think we want to encourage retribution against the people who still hold Drell’s ideals.”

“Why not?” Joseph asked. “I am seeking retribution against them.”

“You are the king,” a man said. “It is your responsibility to root out those who cheat and steal. It is not for us to claim that responsibility unless you were to abdicate the role. I do not believe we shall see that day. Fraya, will you refrain from striking Vartac so we may render our decision?”

Fraya looked down at the fallen man, her face set in stone.

“I will not strike him down,” she said. “But I will tell my husband of his statement. I cannot be responsible for his actions. I do not think he will kill him but I will wager that Vartac has more cuts and bruises on the morrow.”

“Fraya, I will not encourage your husband to act,” Joseph said after a moment of contemplation. “This gentleman speaks truly. It is my responsibility. But, at the same time, I have heard no one claim Vartac participated in the abductions. That is a crime. Thoughts and ideas are not criminalized. Nor it is illegal to speak stupidly. If that were the case, I fear I would have to lock myself in irons almost daily.”

“I was thinking perpetually, Sire,” Morane said.

“Perhaps,” Joseph agreed with a rueful smile. “Words are not harmful. Fists and clubs are. If your husband were to attack Vartac for his beliefs, misguided as they might be, what is to stop someone from attacking you because you prefer blue to green? I do not mean to trivialize the loss of your child. You have my sincerest sympathy. But please, Azkoval has seen enough strife. Let us agree that we are all free to think and speak as we see fit. Vartac’s views will be punished. He will have no friends, no allies. There will be people who will refuse to trade with him. There will be those who will not even speak to his family from this day forward. I have no doubt of that.

“Let us cast Drell to his fate and let those who believe as he does be on notice: They are free to think as they will; they are not free to act as they will.”

The citizens with the green sash walked back to the courtyard, escorted by an honor guard from the Second Azkoval Defense Battalion, the men who accompanied Genrico on the trek southward.

Joseph stood beside Morane, Jonathan and Elena. He noticed a group of people situated far away from the main group.

“Those are the Serratians who stood outside the gate and yelled at those who entered the capital,” Elena explained. “The man at the front is Father Vergill. He has been absent since your return. I had hoped that he had fled.”

“So long as they behave, I will not quarrel with him,” Joseph said.

“I most certainly will!” Morane stated. “If I had my way, I would defrock every Serratian priest in this land.”

“We will discuss that after the trial,” Joseph pledged. “For now, let us get through this.”

Jonathan stepped forward.

“Have you made a decision?” he asked.

“By a vote of 12-to-1, we find Drell guilty,” a man said after he arose.

Jonathan nodded and prepared to render the sentence but Joseph stepped forward.

“Does the dissenter wish to speak his views?” the king inquired.

The jurors turned to look at Vartac, who had a bloody rag pressed to his face. He shook his head – but Joseph had succeeded in putting a target on the man’s back. Fraya’s husband would not need to put himself at risk. The grumbling from the crowd told him that a large group of men would see that he paid for dismissing the death of Fraya’s child. A cruel smile crossed the woman’s face and she nodded at Joseph. He returned the gesture.

“I would like to be heard!” a man said as he tried to push his way through the crowd. He wound up pushing the wrong person and landed on his ass in the dirt.

“Vergill,” Elena muttered.

“Let the man through,” Jonathan said. The crowd grudgingly parted and the priest, a large red welt over his cheek, walked forward unsteadily.

“Who are you?” Jonathan asked.

“I am Father Vergill, prior of the Most Holy Serrat,” Vergill stated, drawing himself to his full height.

“You have no reason to speak,” Jonathan declared. “Drell was given his choice of advocates and chose to speak for himself. Please return to your place.”

“I demand ... oof!” Vergill said. One of the guards had stepped forward and driven a fist into the man’s stomach.

“We have been through what happens when you make demands,” the guard said as he grasped the priest’s arm. It took very little effort to lift the man above his head. He walked to the crowd and passed the cleric to a group of men in the front.

Joseph stood and watched as the man was passed above the heads of the crowd from front to rear – where he was unceremoniously dropped with a loud thud and raucous laughter.

Joseph frowned and shook his head at the guard, who simply shrugged.

“Well, now that Vergill has been attended to, I will announce Drell’s sentence,” Jonathan stated. “Drell is sentenced to death in a manner chosen by King Joseph. The sentence will be carried out at sunrise three days hence.”

“Kill the bastard now!” a voice yelled.

There was a general murmur of assent from the other onlookers – except for the Serratians, who had elected to attempt a strategic withdraw out of the castle gates. A group of men broke off from the main body to intercept them.

“Enough!” Joseph bellowed. He was surprised when almost everyone stopped and turned to look at him.

“Enough,” he said in a calmer voice. “I was forced to witness only some of the crimes that Drell, Wilhelm and their associates committed. I have always understood that the crimes I saw were only the beginning of their terror. I wanted this trial so that everyone in Tyrell could see the monster brought to justice. I did not want the populace to seek out justice for themselves. I want you to look toward the future. I do not ask that you forget the children or spouses or parents who died at the usurper’s hands. I do not forget my family and I know Lady Elena does not forget hers. I do not seek vengeance on Drell for what he did to my father and mother. I did not kill Wilhelm for the crimes he committed against my family.

“I wanted these men to pay for the actions they took against you – against Azkoval. I want us – as a country – to accept that hateful, hurtful people ruled our land for a decade but they can harm us no more. I give you my word, I will stand for you. I will wage the battle against hate and deceit. I want nothing more than for you, the fine people I adore, to be free to live your lives knowing I will protect you as long as I am able; protect you from all who would bring you harm. I beg of you: Do not seek vengeance; let us seek justice together. I promise you a fitting punishment for Drell and those who stood beside him. But in order for me to give you the freedom you deserve – to be friends with those you wish to befriend, to practice any religion you find appropriate, to speak freely without fear of reprisal – I must permit those freedoms to others. The men and women who seek to continue the hostility and unrest that we saw for too many years must be allowed their voices, too.

“But we are free to turn a deaf ear to them. We are free to ignore them and to throw their taunts and jeers back at them. We must unite in order to stand against those who would return us to tyranny and despotism. But we will never be able to kill all who oppose us. Instead, let us marginalize them. Today, I will announce the next High Bishop of the Holy Church of Serrat. He is a man I will entrust to root out the lies and greed that have taken root and to return the church to its true path – a righteous path not unlike the others religions practiced freely in Azkoval. Allow me to introduce you to Morane, High Bishop of the Holy Church of Serrat.”

Morane turned with his mouth agape.

“It is time you put deeds to your words, Bishop Morane,” Joseph said in a whisper.

Morane closed his eyes for a moment and said a quick prayer.

“My first order to is to remove every Serratian priest ordained under Drell,” Morane said in a loud voice. “I will review these men individually. Those who do not preach the true path will be ex-communicated.”

The group of Serratians near the gates turned in shock.

“I hereby order all worldly goods belonging to the church to be sold and the proceeds distributed among the citizens of the parishes,” Morane continued. “I will ask King Joseph to send members of the Azkoval Defense Battalions to ensure this is done as swiftly as possible.”

“Dronnan, dispatch soldiers to secure the nearby parishes,” Joseph ordered. “Bishop Morane will have further orders for you later.”

“Yes, King Joseph!” a guard said before taking off at a run.

“My third order is to remove the name of Drell from all records and to ex-communicate him from the church,” Morane said. “You will not receive atonement for your sins. According to scripture, you will find no solace at Serrat’s hand upon your death.”

“You can’t!” Drell yelled, the first words he’d spoken.

“I can and I have,” Morane stated flatly. “Finally, I will echo King Joseph’s pleas. Serrat is a religion of love and tolerance. It has most of the same tenets as Euclid, Grobism and any other religion you can name. Allow me the opportunity to show the good people of Azkoval the true meaning of Serrat. Allow me the opportunity to teach those misguided souls who claim Serrat as their god but who don’t know the meaning of his words. As with King Joseph, I pledge to stand with you in the battle against evil.

“I am a humble priest from a far-off land. It was never my intention to lead the church. It was my intention only to teach its true meaning. Those you have known as Serratians worshipped power and coinage. A true disciple of Serrat is generous and modest. Those you have known use violence and terror to ensure their will. A true disciple of Serrat believes the Holy Word will lead to righteousness. I beg of you, do not resort to violence against those who do not understand their mistakes. They were led astray. I cannot guarantee I can lead them back to the path but I will do my utmost to ensure that the name of Serrat is never used as a pejorative in this fine land again.”

Octavia and Liala had avoided King Joseph during the days coming up to the trial.

It was evident to both that he had things of great importance on his mind and neither wanted to interfere. Instead, they found ways to occupy their time. Liala seemed intent upon studying every facet of the new staff that Azkoval’s weapons master had designed. She asked him for one that was unassembled so she could see the components and barraged the man with questions about the effect different weights would provide.

Octavia spent her time surveying the country’s growing merchant fleet. Marindar had few ships because the northern ports were blocked with ice at most times of the year. The first time she had boarded a sailing vessel was the day she and her brother had left for Azkoval.

She worried about her brother – not about his health or well-being but more about his irrational temperament. She had no doubt that her father would view Azkoval as an enemy, not only for expelling Junius but also for harboring Octavia after she was insolent to her brother.

Junius would try to return to exact some sort of revenge. Still, she believed the man to be crafty enough that he would not attempt a frontal assault on such a large army. It would take years for Junius to raise and train a group that would come anywhere near the size of Azkoval’s forces. By then, Octavia suspected Azkoval’s army might double its current size.

Since the winter weather came to an end, men and boys by the scores had arrived in Tyrell and volunteered to serve King Joseph. They demanded no wage, asking only for food and the chance for adventure. With food stuffs plentiful, the king hadn’t turned them away.

Each day there were hundreds of men (and even a few women) training in the castle courtyard with experienced soldiers. By the time Junius managed to bring his rag-tag men back from Marindar, he would face perhaps a thousand Azkoval soldiers (and perhaps 200 more from Troyvet).

That didn’t take into account that Joseph was sending men to neighboring countries to lend aid in training forces in those locales. Even Creight, which was once Azkoval’s sworn enemy, was now allied with the new king. If Junius tried an overland campaign to a closer seaport, he would be forced to fight for every blade of grass against troops trained by the Az.

It would be nothing for Joseph to dispatch a small group of men to her homeland to dispatch her father and assume control. She was amazed when she wondered if that was a good thing. She didn’t relish the way she had lived. Any change was bound to be positive.

Still, she saw how Joseph had fretted about every facet of daily life in Azkoval. She doubted he would be able to withstand the strain of remaking a country with habits and traditions that his country had abandoned centuries before.

The two young women had put off their personal endeavors when the trial started. For each, it was something entirely new. Neither had seen or heard of a system where a person is judged by his peers. In Octavia’s country, the rich and powerful owned the justice system. The man who controlled a certain region would decide upon a person’s guilt or innocence, hand down the sentence (usually death) and see it carried out. There was no airing of grievances; no recitation of facts from others.