tell her that Garth had said she had given permission. And Merlin had believed it. What a daft slow wit he was. “I should have gone back to verify his story. I really should have.”
Returning to him, Natalenya removed the harp from Merlin’s lap and laid in his hands what seemed to be a flat, lightweight piece of wood.
“Here’s my practice harp. I don’t use it anymore, so please take it.”
He felt two carved posts bending out from the top of the sound box. Shaped like a lyre, the harp had bronze strings stretched over an angled bridge. It was much smaller than Natalenya’s lap harp. “I can’t. Your father …”
“I bought it with my own denarii. It’s not up to him.”
“I just can’t. I’m sorry.” He held it out to her, but she didn’t take it.
A loud voice bellowed from the corridor.
“That’s Father,” Natalenya said. “He’s angry, as always.”
“I need to go.” Merlin found his staff on the floor, stood up, and set the practice harp on the chair.
Natalenya began to say something but stopped.
“What?” Merlin asked.
“Never mind.” She walked with him toward the door. “I’m sorry for all this. I’ll be praying for you.”
Tregeagle’s voice called out, “Lictor Erbin!”
The rough, familiar hand of Merlin’s father guided Merlin to a chair in the great hall where everyone had gathered.
“Where’d you go?” his father whispered.
“Talking. With Natalenya.”
“Garth must have had a hard time.”
Merlin took hold of his father’s arm. “What am I seeing?”
“Tregeagle’s at a table, and there are now three soldiers with him from the fortress. Erbin just entered. He’s kind of short but strong, with black hair and beard. Got a leather jerkin. And a long whip.”
Tregeagle pounded the table. “Hear my verdict.”
Everyone went silent.
“I find Merlin guilty of lying and of assaulting my sons. However, Merlin is found not guilty of stealing the horses and wagon due to the clear confession of Garthwysus … and the meddling of monks.”
Tregeagle scratched a stylus on a parchment as he recorded the decision.
“I find Garthwysus guilty of lying and of assaulting my sons. I also find him guilty of having stolen and damaged my property.”
“I didn’t steal the wagon!” Garth said. “I told you I was just borrowin’ it!”
Tregeagle ignored the outburst and continued writing on the parchment. “And now for restitution. I charge you, Owain, as the blacksmith of the village, with fixing the wagon, along with the aid of your son. The bent axle will need straightening, and much of the wood will need to be replaced. You will procure other craftsmen for their services as required.”
Merlin’s father stood up, an edge in his voice. “Magister, who pays? My son is not responsible.”
Tregeagle stopped scribing. “I said nothing about Merlin’s innocence regarding damaging the wagon. Did not your son ride in it and interfere with the reins prior to the crash? Your son holds partial responsibility, and it is clear why I put you in charge.”
“What of payment? My work is free, but I cannot pay others.”
“The monks must compensate you for some costs. Is there anything Garthwysus owns?”
Abbot Prontwon spoke up. “He owns nothing, Magister, except an old bagpipe passed down from his father.”
“Then it is forfeit.”
“Nooo!” Garth sobbed. “I did nothin’ wrong!”
Merlin reached out and found Garth’s hand. It was sweaty, and the boy gripped Merlin’s hand firmly.
“The abbey is required to sell it and give the money to Owain.”
“You can’t do that. You can’t sell me pipes!”
“Costs beyond that, the abbey must find a way to pay,” Tregeagle continued.
Garth let go of Merlin’s hand and lunged at Tregeagle. Owain and Dybris grabbed Garth’s arms and pulled him back to his chair.
“Now his punishment for stealing the wagon —”
Prontwon stood. “Is it not enough for him to be parted from his sole inheritance and the only remaining memory of his dead father?”
“No, it is not.” Tregeagle clapped, and the thunder of it echoed in the great hall. “Repair doesn’t pay for thievery. Erbin, what judgment had I decided for the imprisoned Connek?”
Erbin paused. “You know, Magister, that your judgment does not vary for thievery.”
“For the sake of our guests, what is my unwavering judgment?”
“Flogging,” Erbin said smugly.
The hall fell silent.
“In this case, Lictor Erbin, I no longer consider the testimony true regarding Connek’s attempted theft.”
Merlin stood. This was too much. That foul-smelling thief had tried to steal their lamb yesterday, but Merlin and his father had caught him. “Connek is a thief. Everyone in town —”