Seth and Lady Simone arrived at the gaol less than an hour later. The noblewoman had been most displeased, being roused so late at night, doubly so when she discovered it was the chaos lord who wished her wakened. However, upon hearing reason for the disruption of her rest, she had quickly dressed and made no further complaint.

Seth, shrouded in his ever-present brown robes approached the duty-sergeant. “Counsel for Isabelle the farmwife.”

The guard grimaced, but slowly opened the barred gate. Seth’s sensitive ears caught a hissed but scathing curse as they passed through. Clearly the laundress was not a popular prisoner.

They finally arrived at the cell holding the farmwoman. Through the peephole Seth could see her laying on the floor of her otherwise dark and empty chamber, a crumpled heap of filthy rags. Seth called to the guard.

“Open the door. I need to confer with my charge.”

Disgust showed on the man’s face. “Speak to her through the door then.”

Seth bridled, but Simone smoothly cut in. “Whatever you might think of this woman, she has not yet been found guilty of her crimes. Please let us approach and speak with her.”

The guard hesitated, but unlocked the door. “Call out when you’d like to leave, then.” he muttered.

Seth snatched up a nearby lantern, then entered the cell, followed by Simone. The door clanked shut behind them, and the guard’s steps quickly vanished down the corridor.

The warrior lifted the light, shifting the shadows over the shape on the floor. “Isabelle.” he called gently. “It’s Seth. I’m here to help you.”

The woman slowly rolled upright, still curled into a tight ball. Seth approached slowly, and the lantern light fell fully across her features. Isabelle had once been a pleasantly attractive woman. Those looks had been destroyed. Both eyes were solid red, filled with blood, swollen nearly shut by their horribly bruised sockets. Her nose had been bent halfway to her left cheek. When she spoke her voice was hissing and badly distorted, whether due to her swollen lips, a badly bitten tongue, missing teeth, or a cracked jaw, Seth could not be sure. Perhaps all four.

“He was hurting me.” She managed. Pink tears seeped out of her eyes. “My husband. It was so bad. He just kept doing it. He was going to kill me. I know it. He came back, and he was going to so I… I…” she broke down completely, sobbing into her knees.

Seth moved slowly and deliberately, crouching down by the weeping woman. He put one gentle hand on her shoulder, wincing as she flinched even under that gentle pressure. Still gently he placed his hand over the farmwoman’s. He couldn’t help but notice the two smallest fingers on her right hand had been badly broken. He spoke in a low-pitched voice filled with patience, tenderness, and compassion. Simone, still standing near the door, nearly gasped at the incongruity of it.

“Slow down. Just slow down now, girl. A whole bunch of bad things happened tonight, and none of them are your fault, okay? We’ll just take a few minutes, relax, calm down, and start working things out.”

Seth’s eyes flicked to Simone. Though he kept his voice soft and his movements easy, the noblewoman could see his eyes blaze and his jaw clench. His placid demeanor was simply to help calm the battered and hysterical woman in front of them. “She needs a doctor.” he stated. “To examine her and treat her wounds.” Simone snapped out of her shock. “A physician?” Perhaps a midwife can be found…”

Seth’s voice remained soft, and level, yet seemed to Seth and lash out. “A midwife is useless. It has to be a man so he can testify in court tomorrow.” He paused, reflecting on the harshness of his words. “A doctor, please.”

Simone went to he door and called for the guard as Seth continued to comfort the injured woman. The soldier was reluctant to do anything until firmly ordered, but finally left to fetch the physician Simone requested.

The noblewoman returned to the chaos warrior and the farmwife, finding Isabelle somewhat recovered and telling Seth what had transpired.

“It was late when he came home.” she began. “He’d been early all week, ever since the day... you spoke to him.” Her eyes pressed into Seth. “I was so happy, it was like it was just after we married.”

“What happened tonight?” prompted Seth.

Isabelle swallowed. “He came home late, smelling like wine. I’d been so worried, and him coming home like that… I was angry, I didn’t notice his mood… he started yelling. And then he hit me. In the face. He hit me so hard, I fell down, and when I got up, he just started hitting me again.” She began crying again. Seth’s face was graven stone, impassive. He glanced at Simone and motioned for her to bring a cup of water from a bucket near the door. Simone noticed Seth’s fingers were shaking slightly as he took the cup from her. He waited patiently until Isabelle had again composed herself, and then offered her the cup. She took a sip, and then continued.

“When I woke up, I was on my belly. He was on top of me. He was… he was…”

Seth shushed her gently, but instead she spoke louder, more stridently. “I wanted him off me. I tried to push him, tell him no, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t even notice.” The warrior winced as he watched her damaged hands move the cup to her mouth to drink. Emptied, she handed it back to Seth.

“Then he got up and left. I just lay there on the floor. I didn’t want to move. I hurt so bad. I just wanted to curl up and disappear. I don’t know what I was thinking. That if I just stayed there and didn’t move that maybe he wouldn’t notice me when he came back.”

She paused, and when she spoke again her voice had become oddly flat. “I don’t know how long I lay there. Mot long, I suppose. And while I lay there I noticed that a knife had fallen from the kitchen table to the floor not far form me. While we were fighting, I guess. And then I became very, very angry. I crawled over to it, and decided I wasn’t going to let him hurt me again. When he came back, I hid it, in my hand. And then he started hitting me again… I cut him. I cut him with the knife. I stabbed my husband to death.” Her sobs began again. “Oh Lady, I killed my husband!” She broke down completely. “They brought me here, and I asked for you, my champion, you have to help me! My sons, little Louis and baby Jacques. They were at home. They were there. They’re all alone. Help me, I can’t leave them!”

Seth tried to soothe her fears. He poke to Simone. “Can you send someone out to the farm to find the boys? Or at least where they are?”

“They’ve almost certainly gone to stay with neighbors or nearby family.” Simone agreed, speaking to the farmwoman to calm her fears.

“Perhaps.” Seth conceded. “But it might be of some comfort to know for sure.”

Simone returned to the door to speak with the guard, but before she could call it clanked open, and admitted an older gentleman in scrupulously clean robes, accompanied by the duty sergeant and the guard Simone had spoken to earlier. The robed man spoke in a nasal and slightly irritated voice. “Good evening, milady. I was summoned from my bed by these men, apparently at your request?”

Simone nodded. “My thanks for your promptness, Doctor.” She motioned to Isabelle. “This woman requires your assistance.”

The duty sergeant muttered something to his companion, who guffawed. Simone looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Neither Simone, nor the doctor saw Seth move. In a room as small as the cell, that should have been impossible. Yet somehow he managed to sweep right between them, his hood falling back, to slam chest to chest, eye to eye with the sergeant. Seth’s lips curled into a dog-like snarl. “He said ‘The gallows bait ain’t worth doctorin’, since she’ll swing come mornin’.’” The menace rolled off the was so heavy you could almost see it. The guard went pale, taking a panicky step backward, tightening his grip on his sword hilt. Seth’s eyes moved to the weapon. “You thinking of pulling that thing, friend? Do you have any idea how much I would enjoy that?” “Seth…” murmured the noblewoman, not wanting to inadvertently set the warrior off. “This isn’t helping.”

The Chaos Lord continued to stare cold steel and hot blood into the man’s eyes. The guard flushed and stammered, “What I meant to say was…”

“Get. Out.” Seth’s voice hung in the air like vapor on a winter’s day. Both guards wasted no time complying. The door rattled shut.

Seth’s eyes moved to the doctor. His voice softened, but remained icy. “Physician, I need a thorough examination of this woman. I require a list of every cut and bruise, every injury, no matter how insignificant.”

The robed man unconsciously touched his forehead where horns would have sprouted had he been the chaos warrior, and then down across the cheek where his scars would be. “You… you’re… you can’t be…”

Simone came to the rescue again. “Lord Garrick is currently a hostage here in Brionne, awaiting ransom under the care of Commandant Bourdon. He has been granted noble status by the chief magistrate during his stay.”

The Doctor looked wildly back and forth at both of them, not believing what he was hearing. “But he’s… he’s a…”

Seth went back over to Isabelle. “Yes. I am. This woman was attacked tonight. Whatever you might think of me, have pity on her. See to her wounds.”

The Doctor regained some of his self-control. “Attacked? By whom?” The question left little doubt as to whom the physician presumed to be the culprit.

“An animal.” answered Seth. “Your examination should include all areas of her person which may have been assaulted.”

“’All areas’?” echoed the doctor. He flushed. “Perhaps…”

Seth shook his head, silencing the man’s protests. “Sorry, Doc. You’ll have to testify in court in a few hours with your findings.” He paused. “Not that it makes any difference, but for the record her husband did this to her. I was just summoned here to try and help.”

Seth rose and spoke quietly to Simone. “We can’t stay.” he told her. “I have to get to the Justice hall, to the law library there, and you have to escort me. It might be best if there was someone she knows here with her during this. Could you send for one of the women she works in the laundry with?”

Simone hid her surprise and picked up the train of thought quickly. “Certainly, but don’t you think a mid-wife might be better? A woman with two children would certainly know one. She won’t be of any use a s a witness, but it would definitely be better for Isabelle.”

The chaos warrior thought a moment, then nodded. “Have them bring a wash basin as well. A warm bath won’t be the worst thing to be inflicted on her this evening.”

Simone could not help at marvel at the emotion evident in the face and tone of the chaos warrior. She covered her shock by calling for the guard and relaying the instructions. She then explained what they had planned to the doctor, who looked apoplectic.

“Madam, I have no need of aid from some peasant woman with leeches or magic charms made of dung...” Then he noticed the flat stare of the horned chaos warrior and the noblewoman’s crossed arms and impatient foot tapping. “Yes, well, a wash basin to remove dirt and blood. Fine, yes, fine.” He began intently removing bandages and other medical equipment from a bag he had brought.

Seth and Simone then quickly made their way to the Justice Hall, descending to the library doors. There they found two scribes intently copying thick vellum scrolls. Seth wasted no time.

“I need to see every passage and article you have on murder, crimes committed under duress, self-defense, Bretonnian marriage, and the legal rights of women.”

At first the scribes simply stared. At one another, and then at the intruders who insisted on disturbing their solitude. Finally one rose to seek the Chief Librarian, while the other remained with the interlopers, ostensibly to prevent them from stealing anything.

When the Librarian arrived he had at first planned on simply having the invading brigands ejected. Noticing one was actually a woman under her veils nearly caused him to faint. A woman in the legal library? The scandal might very well cost him his position. The very idea…

It took Simone something less than thirty seconds from the time she started speaking to ensure uninterrupted study time for Seth and to dispatch both the scribes and the head librarian to gather the material the chaos warrior had requested. Her response to the librarian’s insistence afterward that she should depart before her ‘fragile femininity’ be ‘jeopardized’ by the ‘confusing and sometimes upsetting’ Bretonnian legal history was somewhat longer and considerably more colorful. And she only had to draw her knife once.

Seth just smiled, sat down quietly, and began to read very, very quickly.

By dawn the steps of the Justice Hall were covered in gentle whispering. Women of every age and description had begun arriving an our before, finding space and sitting down to wait. Rumors of the arrest and trial of Isabelle had started when the gaoler-guards had arrived at the Keep and taken one of the laundresses with them. Now apparently every early rising or late working woman in Brionne had heard and joined the female ocean eddying and flowing outside the Hall’s sturdy doors.

Three hours later their number had only grown. New arrivals brought food and water with them. They had no intention of ending their vigil. And the whispers had grown as well; to mutters and growls.

Then, with a clank, the doors parted. Seth, hidden beneath his robes, strode boldly out, followed by Commandant Bourdon. Impatiently Roland seized the sleeve of Seth’s garment and pointed out Simone, sitting at the foot of the steps. The nobleman all but dragged the robed warrior to her.

“Now you have him. I’ve wasted enough time this morning.” His smile was mirthless. “Appointments to keep, you know.” He checked his new, expensive garments for dust or lint. “Lady Simone, might I ask that Lord Garrick be delivered to my Chateau this afternoon? I’ve received several promising dispatches I’d like to discuss with him.”

Simone nodded ostentatiously. “Certainly, Commandant Bourdon. I’ll deliver him myself.”

If Roland noticed her pique at being dispatched like a deliveryperson, he paid it no mind. He gave small bow of minimal politeness, turned on his heel, and sped away.

Simone regarded Seth. “So, how did things go?”

The Chaos Lord yawned widely. “I was surprised. Better than I expected, actually. They’ll announce the verdict in a few minutes.

Astonishment was clear in Simone’s voice. She’d expected the worst. “What happened?’

Seth glanced at the crowd nearby, and motioned for the noblewoman to follow him across the street to talk in greater privacy. “Sir Rene, the noble who arrested Isabelle began. No surprises there. Two farmers who had been drinking with Yves, Isabelle’s husband told what they had seen; our girl hacking at the man’s dead corpse in the middle of their dining room. No one else going in or out the only door of Isabelle’s home.”

"And what did you say?” pressed Simone.

“In Bretonnian law, a husband can, under certain circumstances, strike his wife.” He raised his hands to stave off the coming protest. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t write it. It’s called ‘corrective discipline’ and it’s meant to adjust behavior of wives the same way that a parent might do to their child. The wording of the statute is distressingly vague, and extreme circumstances allow for an extremely vigorous corrective regimen.”

“Vigorous?” asked Simone, distressed. “How vigorous?”

Seth rolled his eyes. “How does death grab you? There were three cited instances where husbands actually killed their wives in the corrective process. One woman was a chaos worshipper and witch, the second a repeat adulteress, and the third killed her husband’s brother in a drunken argument.” He shrugged. “In our case, the law guaranteed Yves right to beat his wife. As such, she was not attacked at all, and thus had no right to defend herself by killing her husband. Ipso facto, she’s a murderer.”

“What? That’s insane!”

“It’s the law.” said Seth calmly. “My argument, through the physician, was that Yves inflicted four cracked ribs, two blackened and hemorrhaged eyes, four missing teeth, a cracked jaw, five broken fingers, three broken toes, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle, and massive contusions and abrasions over her head, torso, and abdomen, in order to ‘correct’ her chronic nagging about his drinking habits. While he was heavily intoxicated, no less.”

“Lady...” breathed Simone.

Seth’s voice had taken on its familiar flat, icy tone. “I have to give the doctor credit; he made a great witness. He actually said he’d treated only one person with the same type and number of injuries in his entire career. And that patient happened to be a tavern guard and bare-knuckle fighter. Putting Isabelle on the stand and letting the judge look at her might have been the only thing which would have been better, more spectacular. But since women aren’t allowed to participate in legal proceedings, the defendant was spared that.”

Simone grabbed his sleeve. “Seth, but that’s wonderful!” She laughed. “I can’t believe it! You saved her life!”

Seth shrugged again. “Ah, yes. I suppose. Though technically...”

A flourish of trumpets sounded from the parapets atop the justice hall. The gathered crowd hushed, awaiting word from the bailiffs. Finally he stepped forward onto a balcony above the main entrance. He unfurled a scroll and began to read in a loud, clear voice.

“People of Brionne.” he began. “Magistrate Lambert has ruled in the matter of Isabelle, wife of Yves, farmer and bondsman of Sir Andre du Cheval, on the charge of murder.” A pause. “The defendant was found guilty. She is sentenced to die by hanging tomorrow at dawn.”

“Justice has prevailed.”

The bailiff turned sharply and marched back into the building, leaving the crowd of women in silence.

Simone was among the first to break it. “But I thought... I thought you said she’d been found innocent.”

The chaos warrior shook his head. “No, I said it went better than I thought. Of course, I thought she would be summarily executed as soon as the verdict was rendered. As it is, she’ll live about twenty-four more hours than she would have without my legal arguments.

The noblewoman made a disgusted gagging sound.

“Simone,” said Seth. “I checked everything I could, but the short version is the list of women’s rights under Bretonnian law is slim. All women are really allowed to do is pray. ‘Moral conscience of Bretonnian society’, ‘mortal representatives of the Lady of the Lake’. It goes on for a page or two like that. It’s the clause that allows women to become sorceresses, through prayer they manifest the assistance of your goddess. It’s actually against the law to interrupt a praying woman, if you can believe that. But unfortunately Isabelle didn’t drop to her knees and start singing praises to the Lady. That might have saved her, at least from the courts. But the law does not allow for a wife to murder her husband. Isabelle said she did as much last night. And the judge’s ruling confirms she had no legal reason to do so.”

The bitter taste of bile filled her mouth. “So what do we do now?”

Seth grew somber and still. “We find her sons, let her know they’re safe. We stay with her, and help her face what comes.”

The women on the step began drifting away in small, muttering groups. Lady Simone did not move, however. She was enraged. “Cold comfort, Lord Garrick.

"Help her face what comes.’ How could the Magistrate do this? How could he be so cruel?”

Seth looked at the broad facade of the Justice Hall. “Cruel? There’s no cruelty in it, princess. Magistrate Lambert knows the law. That’s the basis of his decision: Yves was within his rights, Isabelle was not.”

Simone clenched her fists and fumed. “That doesn’t seem very just at all.”

Seth smiled a small, bitter smile under his cowl. “I’m forced to agree with your assessment, Lady.” he whispered.

Simone was completely surprised when Seth quietly refused her offer to escort him to the commandant’s chateau before she returned to the gaol. “The commandant will survive a morning without my help.” he had said tightly, and offered no more.

As they walked down the prison hallway toward the cell, Simone pondered what she would say to the condemned woman. Blackly she wondered if Seth had offered to come along simply to be the one to reveal the farmwoman’s fate. One look at Isabelle as they entered her cell, and Simone knew the point was moot.

“I’m to die then.” said Isabelle. “A guard told me, through the door just before you arrived. I’m to die and that’s that...” Isabelle’s fragile composure crumbled as she covered her sobs with her hands.

Simone moved to the woman, kneeling neatly next to her on the rough floor, murmuring comfort in a low voice. Gradually the tears ceased.

“Will you... can you stay?” asked the farmwoman, nearly pleading. “ This is very... I’m alone and so scaaared.”

Simone shushed her gently, lightly embracing the battered woman. “Of course I’ll stay...”

A cough from the cell door. Seth stood rigidly, blue eyes boring holes through the noblewoman’s gray veil. Then he pivoted, staring out into the corridor through the peephole as if expecting a frothing lynch mob to materialize at any moment.

Simone flushed with embarrassment. “Of course we will stay.”

Slowly Isabelle’s panic subsided, slipping away in conversation about more familiar, safer things; the farm, the crops, not enough rain, the laundry, her two boys...

Simone listened attentively, letting the farmwoman do most of the talking. Yet she couldn’t help an occasional glance at the chaos warrior still standing in silent vigil by the door. Why had he come? His interest in mocking Bretonnian law should have ended with the trial. Hedonist that he is, just standing around in a dank cell listening to a peasant woman talk about laundry lye and childhood fevers must be torture. Yet there he was. For a wonder uncomplaining and looking ready to stand there forever.

Seth hissed as footsteps approached.

“Milady?” a voice called. “A word with you?”

Simone rose and walked to the door. “Yes?”

The Captain of the Guard bowed. “Milady, a messenger has just arrived. The prisoner’s children, two boys, have been found. The older had fled to their neighbors, carrying his brother with him. As you requested, they are being brought here now and will arrive shortly.”

The noblewoman nodded happily. “Excellent. Thank you.” She turned to tell Isabelle the good news, but the guard spoke again.

“Milady, one other small matter. There is a woman here. A midwife. She wishes to speak with you concerning the prisoner.”

Simone looked to Seth as the door was unsealed. He merely shrugged slightly, flipped up his hood, and followed close behind her as she left the cell.

They were escorted outside the gaol to where the midwife stood nervously still on the side of the street, conspicuous amongst the busy thoroughfare. Approached by Seth and Simone she dropped into a shallow curtsy, unused to addressing nobility. “Milady, milord. My name is Marie. I attended Isabelle with the doctor this morning. I understand things did not go well for her? That she’s to be executed tomorrow?”

“Yes.” growled Seth. “She dies tomorrow morning. Hanging.” He motioned to a gibbet under conspicuous construction across the courtyard, covered with hammering workmen. “It certain to be well attended, so try to get here early for the best view.”

Marie flinched from his vehemence, but recovered her composure, drawing two small vials from a bag on her hip. She held up a murky blue liquid. “When drunk this will dull pain.” The next vial was a rosy pink. She swallowed. “Isabelle spoke of seeing her boys. Best if they don’t see her quite like that I think. Rubbing this ointment lightly into the skin will fade bruises in only a few minutes.” She gritted her teeth. “I’ve known more than one woman whose man had heavy hands.” Simone took the vials, and reached for her belt purse. “Thank you for your kindness. These must be quite valuable.”

The woman shook her head and looked offended. “I’ve known Isabelle since she was a girl. And I delivered those two boys of hers.” She waved her hands in refusal. “Would be a sin to charge a friend for a few herbs.”

Simone thanked her again, then watched as the woman walked purposefully turned and strode away. She quickly vanished into the bustle on the street. Simone simply held the vials a moment before turning and addressing Seth.

“Seth? We’ll get you home when the boys arrive. I think she’ll appreciate some time alone with them. And you must be bored to tears by now...”

“I’d rather stay, thank you.”

“Oh.” She considered. “You’d rather stay and watch a tearful woman talking and playing with her toddler-age children.”

Seth looked hard at her, then back to the prison gate. “Yes.”

Her misgivings peaked. “Why?”

Seth sighed, not looking her way. “Whatever I tell you, no matter how true, you’d never believe it. Unless, of course, it was sufficiently nasty and perverse to suit your nebulous suspicions, in which case you’d send me away anyway. So let’s cut right to it, shall we?. You can either risk my motives and escort me back in, or have your guards club me unconscious and drag me away. I only hope you can appreciate the irony: you’d sending me away ‘for her own good’, ‘for her own protection’, which happens to be the exact legal justification of her beating in the first place. Be sure to explain that to her when she asks where I’ve gone.” Simone blinked beneath her veil. Seth’s voice had not risen above a whisper, nor had he shifted an inch, nor moved his gaze from the gate. He continued to wait.

“Guard!” she called.

Presently the spy-hole opened. “Yes milady?”

“Open this gate, please. We will wait with the prisoner Isabelle. Her children are expected presently. When they arrive, bring them directly to her cell. Understood?”

The gate swung open, and Seth moved inside. Simone hesitated a moment, and then followed.

The grey half-light of approaching dawn was slowly filling the cell, though only Seth was awake to notice. The chaos warrior still stood at his post by the door, endless scanning the hallway for possible danger.

Awake for more than thirty hours, he reflected, and most of the last twenty standing right about here. Though incapable of feeling the discomfort of fatigue he realized he was feeling something. Tension. Some sort of tension, at any rate. Not of muscle, which was also impossible. Something else. Something deeper. More... ominous.

A tension of spirit.

Ridiculous, he concluded. And equally impossible.

Yet it remained.

“Lord Garrick?”

Isabelle had whispered from her place curled up on the floor. Slowly, to avoid disturbing Lady Simone from her slumber nearby, the farmwoman stood and hobbled toward the door.

Night had receded far enough for Seth to see the midwife’s elixirs had worked as promised, perhaps better. Isabelle’s blackened eyes and broken lips looked back to normal. Even her nose had straightened. Whatever herbs there might have been in those bottles, there was magic floating on the bottom. Not as much as a real potion, which would have restored her completely. As it was, Isabelle’s breathing remained painful, and one knee had difficulty bearing any weight.

Still, the transformation from the bloody, misshapen creature from the previous day was nothing less than miraculous.

“Lord Garrick, I just wanted to thank you...”

Seth’s stern face broke into a shadow if it’s normal grin. “Ma’am, not to contradict you, but seeing how your morning is going to end I hardly think thanks are warranted.”

Isabelle flinched back. Seth felt a flicker of... something. Then it was gone, leaving only that persistent and pervading tension.

Quietly, eyes still downcast, she spoke. “I was alone. You came and did what you could. You found my children, ordered them brought to me. You watched over me as I slept. Should I not be grateful for these things?”

Seth gritted his teeth. This woman is minutes away from swinging from a noose and of all things doesn’t want a lack of gratitude weighing on her conscience. His head snapped suddenly back to the spy-hole.

Bootsteps.

“They’re coming.” he hissed. “Wake the princess.”

Isabelle did not move, nor make any sound.

The warrior’s temper flared. What did this simpleton want? “They are almost here. Wake her!”

“You might acknowledge her thanks in some small way.” said Simone from her resting-place. “‘You welcome’, is typical. And good manners.”

The tension in Seth skyrocketed, and broke with a near audible snap. He snarled and took one menacing step toward the women before he could stop himself. His heart was pounding, breathing like he’d ran a mile, not just a single step. He shook his head to clear it.

Both of the women were now standing together, Simone defensively in front if Isabelle, a hair’s breadth from freeing her knife. The door clattered open behind him. Seth shook his head again, suddenly finding his way. What had he been thinking? With a sigh so deep it was nearly a moan Seth dropped to one knee. “Ladies, my apologies for my... lapse. Apparently I have not weathered the last two days with as much poise as I thought. Isabelle, if my actions or presence has brought you a moment’s comfort, I am glad to have rendered it, and humbly beg your pardon for my harshness this morning.”

The farmwoman nodded. “It’s been a tough time for me too.” Then let loose a strained funny-in-church giggle. She moved forward toward her escort of guardsmen.

“Ma’am?” Seth rose. “If I may offer? Perhaps a friendly chaperone to see you through this last?”

Isabelle laughed again, sadly and bitterly this time. “Well, I suppose I am a single woman, and it wouldn’t do to have me wandering about with strange men, would it?”

The guards gasped in shock at her jest.

Seth moved forward, placing her arm on his to help steady her as she walked.

“Seth.” Simone called warningly. “You really...”

The warrior held up an admonishing finger, neatly cutting her off. “Not now. Later.” He looked meaningfully to Isabelle, whose cheeks were now flushed with belated shame, her eyes again down to avoid the offended glares of the guards. “All right?”

Simone hid the heat of her own cheeks beneath her veil. “Of course. Later.”

Seth turned to Isabelle with a hard smile. “Now chin up, you.” She stared at him in shock. “Yes, you. Dry those eyes, put some steel in that spine of yours. No sniveling, and you only get to limp when I tell you.” His voice became more gentle. “A wise man once told me it’s easy to walk tall and be brave when the sun is shining and there’s an army at your back. The true measure of a person is when it’s coming down in buckets, all at once. When all hope is fled, and you stand alone against the legion who would see you not just defeated, but humbled. Those are the times, he said, that really matter. Maybe the only times. Chin up then, girl, and face what comes.”

Her hands dug into his arm. “Thank you.” she whispered. Then her head came up, and her eyes were stone, her jaw steel. Presently she smiled. “Let’s go.”

The gaolers stared at each other, taken aback.

Seth laughed and smirked his usual smile. “Well gentlemen? Shall we? The lady’s got an appointment. Unless you need more time to soothe those jangled nerves of yours, being around a rough, tough and uncouth criminal like this one? Honestly, it’s disappointing. You expect sterner stuff from big strapping men like you.

“You’d better mind your manners, Sir.” The captain warned.

Isabelle started forward, pushing past him, proceeding down the hallway at a slow walk, the chaos warrior in tow. “Save it for your wife.” she growled.

Seth’s peals of laughter echoed down the stony corridor.

Earl Cadfael was in no mood to be placated. “You spent the night in a cell with a condemned murderer and the Chaos Lord. The Chaos Lord I’ve specifically asked you to stay away from.”

“For my own good.” murmured Simone.

“I beg your pardon?” asked the Earl.

Word had been left at the Keep’s main entry: Upon her return the Lady Simone was to be escorted to her chambers and remain there until the earl arrived to speak with her. And so she had waited the remainder of the day and late into the night until the nobleman had arrived. Simone wondered idly where the Chaos Lord had gotten to. Instructions for Seth to return to his rooms had also been left at the entry, and when last she’d seen the chaos warrior, subdued after the morning’s events, he’d been slouching off with his guards, muttering darkly about ‘finding a decent cup of grape to cut the bile in his mouth’.

She noticed her brother-in-law looking at her expectantly. Apparently he’d proceeded further with his lecture and had asked another, more pertinent question. “Sorry?”

He bristled. “I said, ‘What did you think you were doing?’ Do you understand how the appearance of sympathy in such a case might be construed by others?”

“Appearance of sympathy?” she hissed back, rising from her chair. “I assure you my sympathies run far deeper than mere appearances, Milord. Had you troubled to learn more than the most superficial details of the case, you might feel similarly.”

Cadfael blinked. “She was convicted of murder.”

She was raped and beaten as well,” Simone fired back. “But then I suppose those little details might easily be overlooked as inconsequential.”

“What?”

“She. Was. Raped. And. Beaten.” repeated Simone. “Her husband, the victim, died when she defended herself from a second attack.”

The Earl’s brow furrowed. “I had no idea.”

Simone seated herself. “Odd. There were over a hundred women in attendance at her execution, and they all seemed to know.”

“A hundred women?”

The noblewoman nodded. Quite easily that. Mostly commoners, but a handful of nobles as well. After the sentence was carried out a small handful cut Isabelle down and took her away for burial.”

“Why would women want to see that sort of thing?” asked Cadfael, scowling.

“Why would men?” returned Simone.

The Earl snorted, conceding the point. “But why on earth did you take Lord Garrick along? Certainly his presence was not required?”

Simone sighed and told the Earl about Seth’s quiet insistence on staying with the farmwoman. Her story ended at the foot of the gallows where Isabelle finished the last few feet of her journey alone.

“He stayed with her the whole time? Why?” The Earl’s confusion was plain.

The noblewoman took a deep breath. She’d been considering this for hours. “Perhaps she was part of some Chaos-wrought intrigue. But if so, what does Seth gain from defending and saving her? An accomplice as notorious for her defender as her crime. One utterly useless in any further plots against the people of Bretonnia. Furthermore, if she was his cat’s-paw and he refused to defend her, any accusations she might make against him would be tainted by the fact she’d just stabbed her husband to death in front of witnesses

“So the question remains, why would Seth defend her?”

“I think Seth genuinely wanted to protect her.” she concluded. “There was some sort of emotional connection between the two.”

The Earl couldn't suppress a small smirk. “You’re saying the Chaos Lord fell in love with the Bretonnian farmwife?”

Simone gritted her teeth in exasperation. “No, I’m saying that Seth acted contrary to his best interests in defending her. Rather than just washing his hands of the entire business, and going to Bourdon’s chateau to further facilitate his ransom he passed a day and a night and a morning keeping her company. And when the time came for her to face death, she did so with poise and dignity because Seth helped her find these things.”

“It seems impossible.” managed the Earl.

“Impossible?” Simone asked lightly. “No. Unlikely, yes. Contrary to our expectations? Yes. Disturbing? Yes. But not impossible.”

The earl chose his words carefully. “You seem pleased by this.”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? This dangerous, self-indulgent, vulgar criminal is showing signs of altruism and compassion. What could be wrong with that?”

Earl Cadfael was silent for a long time. “‘What does Seth gain from defending and saving her?’ You asked me that a moment ago. Simone, what I’m seeing is the answer to a different question. What does he gain by defending her and losing? A change in your opinion of him.”

Simone began to protest, but quieted when Cadfael held up his hands. “I suggest nothing untoward, Lady” he smiled slightly. “But my sister-in-law is justly famous for the strength and tenacity of her opinions.”

Simone surprised both of them with a genuine laugh. “Indeed, as my brother-in-law is known for testing them.”

The Earl rose. “But I’m afraid the point is moot. Whatever traces of an honorable man you’ve managed to uncover, they will not last. Lord Garrick cannot remain here, nor will he for long.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, tired breath. “I had meant to apologize earlier for keeping you waiting so long. My meeting with the Duke and his advisors was extended due to unexpected diplomatic problems arising from Lord Garrick and his situation.”

“‘Diplomatic problems’? What do you mean?”

Cadfael managed a laugh. “Every nation with an emissary to send has condemned us for his mild treatment. Word from the east is that several of the more excitable and ambitious Elector Counts from the Empire have begun demanding we turn Seth over for ‘proper’ justice, and threatening to invade and take him if we do not. The fragile contacts we’ve fostered with the Kingdom of Athel Loren have gone utterly silent, and every missive we’ve sent within bowshot has wound up pinned to the ground with wood elf arrows. Even the high elves of Ulthuan are said to be gathering a fleet and preparing to land upon our shores. Needless to say all this has left the Duke feeling somewhat pressured.”

Simone desperately wanted to know more, but could tell the Earl was exhausted and wished to depart. She rose and escorted him to the entrance to her rooms. “What will you do?”

“We will defend our borders against any aggressor, Lady, but it seems unlikely to come to that. Roland himself was called in to ‘advise’ on the subject.” Clearly this consultation had not met the Earl’s approval. “Bourdon did little other than brag about the numerous responses to his demands for ransom, and seemed confident Lord Garrick would be on his way and out of the country in no more than a week, possibly two.”