Paks, listening to the list of her injuries, felt the descriptions as an echo of the blows that caused them. She was determined not to faint in front of everyone, but her knees loosened and her head drooped. The dark guard shook her arm. “Don’t listen to that,” he muttered. “Look up; count the mess hall windows. You can make it.” Paks stared at the windows, trying to shut out the mayor’s voice.
“—two welts across her shoulders,” the mayor was saying, “and a gash that could be from a blade or some stiff instrument on a whip. Similar welts on buttocks and thighs, including several more gashes. Bruises on ribs and belly—from hard blows, but with what is uncertain. Bruises on thighs, especially intense on upper inner thighs. Some sign of internal bleeding. The external evidence, Captain, is consistent with rape. Additional examination would be necessary to confirm that, if it is at issue.”
Paks noticed that the captain was looking at her for the first time; she could not tell if he was still angry with her.
“Have you any additional comments, Councilor Ministiera?” asked the captain.
“Captain Sejek, when one finds a woman beaten up like this, and two men only lightly marked, the usual interpretation is that the men assaulted the woman.” The dark woman’s voice was brusque, with an edge of sarcasm. “But she is in chains, so I suppose she’s charged with assaulting them. On the evidence, without testimony, that’s absurd. Even if she started the fight, she didn’t do much damage—and she’s been well punished. Furthermore, chains are clearly unnecessary. She can hardly stand up, let alone escape. She should be in the infirmary if you want her in shape to stand trial.”
The captain nodded. “Sergeant Stammel,” he called.
“Sir.”
“Convey your recruit to the infirmary; the witnesses will take her testimony later. Guards, you may strike the chains.”
“Hold up, now, till we get them off,” said the fair guard softly. “Seb’ll have to go for a chisel and stone—not long.”
Stammel slipped an arm under hers on the other side. “You’ll be all right, Paks. Take it easy.”
The dark guard came back with his implements, and chiseled off the bent spikes that fastened wrist and ankle cuffs. “There you go. Need any help, Sergeant?”
“We’ll make it. Keep an eye on Bosk; he may need you.”
The guard grinned. “Aha!” He picked up the fallen chains and moved to the side of the courtyard.
With Stammel’s support, Paks was able to manage the few yards to the door of the infirmary. Once inside, she slumped against him, shaking and sick again. He swung her into the nearest bunk, and pulled a linen sheet over her. Maia was ready with a bowl of poultices and a jug of numbwine.
As Stammel came back out, he looked square at Korryn’s face. Korryn ducked his head and turned even paler than before. Stammel walked back to the head of his unit, impassive.
“Are you ready to take testimony?” asked the captain. The witnesses nodded. “Very well. I’ll begin. After supper last night, I was chatting with the recruit sergeants and corporals in the Duke’s Court, when one of the guards brought word that a recruit sought Sergeant Stammel because of trouble in the barracks. The recruit stated that Corporal Stephi was involved. Stammel and I and Stammel’s two corporals went directly to the barracks. As I came to the door, I saw that recruit—” he pointed at Korryn, “holding the woman. Stephi was lying on the floor with blood all over his face and tunic, and fingermarks on his throat. The woman appeared to have a black eye and bloody nose; she didn’t look nearly as bad as she did this morning, nor did she complain of any injury. The recruit holding her stated that he had restrained her from killing Stephi, that he had just then gained control of her. Stephi seemed dazed and was unable to give a coherent story, but did say that he had asked the woman to bed him. The recruit said that Stephi had teased her when she refused, but nothing more, and that she had attacked him. On the evidence, Stephi appeared to be injured, perhaps seriously. I had the woman secured under ban, and set a summary trial for this morning. Sergeant Stammel requested permission to question the woman about her actions, which I granted, and several hours later he appeared with a request for a formal trial, and evidence to be taken today by witnesses.”
“Did the woman say anything yesterday? Did you question her then?”
“No. The other recruit did all the talking. She didn’t argue. It seemed obvious.”
The mayor turned to Stammel. “Is this the way you remember it?”
“Yes, Mr. Mayor. May I amplify?”
“Go ahead.”
“When I visited Paksenarrion in the cell, I realized that she had taken more damage than was at first apparent. It seemed to me that her injuries made the story told by Korryn—the other recruit—inconsistent or even impossible. Her story made more sense.” Stammel repeated what Paksenarrion had told him, and then reviewed his own reasoning. “This story fit her injuries better than Korryn’s. Paksenarrion has been, until this, an outstanding recruit, honest and hardworking. Korryn has a grudge against her; she has refused to bed him.”
“What is her background, Sergeant?”
“She’s a sheepfarmer’s daughter, from the northwest. She ran away from home to join us.”
“And this—uh—Korryn?”
“He joined us in White Creek; claimed to have been in Count Serlin’s guard, but wanted more—action, I believe he said.”
“And his record?”
Stammel frowned. “He has not done anything that would require his expulsion.” The unsaid “yet” trembled in the air. “However, he has been the subject of complaint by Corporals Bosk and Devlin, and Armsmaster Siger.”
“That’s not fair!” Korryn’s face twisted in anger. “You favor her; you always have! A pretty face—I’ll warrant one of you has bedded her—”
Bosk and Devlin each took an involuntary step forward; Stammel was rigid and white with fury. Before he could say anything, Kolya Ministiera stepped toward Korryn and looked him up and down.
“Hmmph!” she snorted. “A fine—man—you are.” She spat at his feet, and turned back to the captain with a swirl of her brown robe. “I suppose we must hear his testimony, just to keep things straight.”
“He’s out, whatever he says now,” growled Stammel.
“Nonetheless,” said the captain. “He must speak. And keep to the truth—” he said to Korryn, “—if you can, recruit.”
Korryn’s eyes slid from side to side. “It is the truth—what I said. She went crazy, and started hitting this corporal, and I thought he could take care of her, and I guess he did hit her a few times. Then she got a grip on his throat, and I decided to help him out and pull her off. He’ll tell you—” Korryn gestured at Stephi. “I—I thought it was just a bit of fun at first, and then—I did what I thought was right,” he said, pulling himself erect. “Maybe I made a mistake—but you can’t punish a man for doing what he thinks is right.”
The captain and witnesses received this in tight-lipped silence. “Is there,” the captain asked Stammel after a pause, “any other witness to all this?”
“That recruit we met coming out of the door—the one who said he was going for help—he should have seen something.”
“Where is he?”
“Corporal Bosk,” said Stammel. “Escort Jens to the front, please.”
“No!” came a squeal from behind Stammel. “I—I don’t know anything—I didn’t see—I—I just came out—”
“He’s a friend of Korryn’s,” said Stammel, as Bosk half-dragged Jens out of formation to the front.