The Trial of Henry Toddington

[Tahla]

My Queen, and those gathered here,

I have listened carefully to what has been said and much of it is true. Henry Toddington betrayed Andor. He aided those who wished harm upon the realm. People died because of the choices he made. Nothing I say changes those facts, nor do I wish it to. He has admitted his guilt. The question before us is not whether he committed treason.

The question for me is what justice should look like now.

I am not Andoran by birth. I am a woman of the Two Rivers, and a daughter of the blood of Manetheren. The laws of Andor belong to Andor, and I will not presume to tell the Queen how they should be applied. But since we have all been invited to speak, I would offer another perspective.

I have heard many say that grief does not matter. In one sense, I agree. Grief does not excuse what Henry did. Neither does youth. Neither does manipulation. A wrong thing remains wrong regardless of the reason behind it. But understanding a reason is not the same as excusing it. If reasons never mattered, there would be no need for trials, witnesses, or judgment. We would simply count crimes and carry out sentences.

Yet every ruler worthy of the name understands that people are not numbers scratched onto a ledger. The act matters. The person matters too. I have also heard it said that mercy is being offered because Henry is a lord. If that is true, then it is wrong. A shepherd should stand beneath the same measure as a noble. A farmer should stand beneath the same measure as a queen. Fairness that belongs only to the powerful is not fairness at all.

So let me be plain.

If Henry were a shepherd from Emond's Field, I would say the same thing. If he were a blacksmith's son from Deven Ride, I would say the same thing. If he were a farmhand with no name beyond his own, I would say the same thing. My argument is not for a lord. It is for a human being.

To the Wisdoms, I owe an apology. I spoke carelessly when I suggested that Henry should be sent to you. That was not my decision to make. You have your own duties, your own apprentices, and your own people depending upon you. No one has the right to place another burden upon your shoulders.

For that presumption, I deeply apologize.

What I meant was not that the Wisdoms should bear responsibility for him. Only that he should spend whatever years remain to him learning service instead of selfishness. How that lesson is taught is for wiser heads than mine to decide.

Now I come to the heart of the matter.

Many have argued that justice demands death. Perhaps Andor's law agrees with them. That is not for me to say. But I would ask a simple question. What punishment truly weighs more heavily? A single day at the gallows? A short walk, a final breath, and then nothing? Or a lifetime spent carrying the weight of what you have done?

In the Two Rivers, a person earns trust slowly. When that trust is broken, it is not restored with a single apology. It may take years. Sometimes it takes a lifetime. The old blood of Manetheren remembers much the same. Duty was not a thing set aside when it became difficult. A debt was not erased because it became painful. A burden was carried because it was yours to carry.

Henry betrayed his Queen. He betrayed those who fought to rescue him. He betrayed the memory of the man who died trying to save him. Those are burdens that no sentence can erase.

If he dies, they end with him. If he lives, he must carry them every day. Every morning he wakes. Every night he lays his head down. Every year that passes. He will remember the soldiers who died. He will remember the city that suffered. He will remember Den. Most of all, he will remember that he chose the path that led there.

To my mind, that is not mercy. That is a punishment that never truly ends. The dead pay no debts. The living do. A dead man cannot make restitution. A dead man cannot serve the realm. A dead man cannot spend years confronting the consequences of his actions. A living man can. Perhaps the Queen will decide that death is required. If so, I will respect that judgment.

But if there is still a path that allows Henry Toddington to spend the rest of his days repaying what he owes, then I believe that path asks more of him than a swift death ever could. That is why I speak as I do. Not because I believe him innocent. Not because I believe him undeserving of punishment. But because I believe some burdens are heavier when carried for a lifetime.

Lady Tahla ni Rahein t' al'Arad
Red Eagle of Manetheren

[Chloro]

Chloro bided her time in line with the rest of the nobility to air grievances in the reception hall of the Andorian royal palace. No doubt others had sought to influence Morgase on how to treat this boy, but a level head was needed now, and Morgase was anything but at this time. There was one royal, that could turn her head if needed. Mothers always did favor the youngest males.

The floor length skirt of blue silk rustled as she moved a step forward with the line, heavy bustle swaying slight. The waist coat was nearly as tight as her corset and the feathers in her blue suede hat could give any peacock a run for their money. It was torture being this garish in public, but times were tough, and there is little other way to get the message she needed across..

As her time came she pulled the hat forward slightly to hide the upper part of her face and eyes, she looked like any other noble until they could see her eyes. Reaching a lace gloved hand into her purse she pulled out a square of folded paper sealed in gray wax with a kestrel catching a snake. Her own signet developed over the years.

Dropping in a deep half kneel, half curtsy she offered up the letter to Gawyn. Waiting for him to take it before she lifted her head enough for the boy to see her full face and icey gray eyes. The expression he made told her, he knew exactly who she was. Standing gracefully she nodded to him in respect, he need some sort of boost if he was to change his mothers mind. Then she offered a "Light illumine Queen Morgase" before turning and departing.

The hat was tossed in a dust bin near the entrance to the foyer, she could suffer it no longer. Dark red hair spilling over her shoulders she headed for the library and her sister Masuri.


Within the folded square:


To the Honorable Prince Gawyn,

It troubles me that we have met of late due to some political incident or other, but I am glad to see your political knowledge grow. Many will plead with your mother to execute Henry Toddington. That would be a mistake young prince. An execution would make him a martyr and harbor further division in Andor.

He must however be made an example of, before another high seat thinks to challenge your mother for the throne. She may best be served by stripping the entire family of noble status, and banishing Henry from Andor. There is little chance Henry pulled off that stunt alone, with so many men, other houses where involved. If high seats thought they could loose everything, they might be dissuaded not to attempt it in the first place.

What ever her decision, it should not be execution, there is to much to loose should other nobles use his death to insight a coup.

With Care,
The woman with gray eyes.

[Artorias]

Artorias moved with sure steps as he danced from one form to another. Barely any movement wasted in what some would call a dance, while others would call it "flailing around with your weapon". It has been almost a week since the events in Andor. All anyone has been talking about is what should happen to Henry Toddington. He's just a boy some argue. Show mercy and forgive him. Others want to see his head removed from his body. If that is what the Queen wanted, then it would have been done the day he was captured. Again, scenes from that day flashed by in his mind, the screaming mercenaries leading squads of bandits. "Squads of bandits" he muttered as he practiced spinning his trident that, in his mind would block multiple foes attacks. To those watching it just looked like wasted movement and stamina to spin it around his body like that.

When was the last time he had seen an army of bandits and murderers? How long had it been since he had seen man pitted against man like what happened a week ago. For years now he has always been in the Blight, fighting the blasted Shadowspawn and those who would aid the Dark One. "So many dead and injured, the Queen included all because someone got into that boys head. There is no way that boy was able to gather all of those so-called Bandit Lords and organize an army that size. Let alone get them all to work together and siege Caemlyn. Getting into the Royal Palace and having the Queen herself spill blood in the throne room.

As he started to remember the events of that day, his weapon started to slow and his movements become sloppy. "So many bodies" he thought as he remembered storming the three bandit hideouts. He had to of killed almost one hundred bandits that day. "So much blood" he muttered, not realizing that others were starting to look at him oddly because of his muttering. "Not only were we led away from the city on a wild goose chase, but the city itself was overrun and the bandits laid in waiting." He saw flashes of the Aes Sedai who were overwhelmed as they entered into the Western Gate. Of Maddy being struck down from her horse after Kokoro was overwhelmed. Feeling his knuckles pop he looked down at his weapon. "Maddy may not be my partner, but I've always had a soft spot for her" he thought to himself as he tried to relax again.

He remembered fighting his way back to the throne room and regrouping with the Queen and what soldiers she could muster. How the "boy" strode in like he owned the place. Staring them all down and putting the blame for Den's death at the feet of Adael and all of Andor. "That was not someone who will just magically become a good person" he breathed out between strikes. "No, that was someone who might have started out as being tricked and used but ultimately gave in to those thoughts and now believes whole heartedly what was told to him. There is no changing someone's mind once they cross that line." Coming to a stop, Artorias looked around the practice yard at the all the warder students. He noticed the Novices and Accepted watching the Gaidin and students practice. His eyes met Coulin's who gave him a grim nod, almost as if he knew what Artorias was going to do before he did himself.

"I have lost one home once already. I will not lose another. I will do what must be done to protect this place and all those who call it home as well." Having made up his mind he worked his way towards his quarters where he donned his armor and cloak. The same cloak that still had the Queen's own blood on it from that day, somehow refusing to come out no matter what he tried. Almost as if it was there to remind him and anyone else that would listen of what was almost lost that day. He strode to the stables and mounted his horse as he tossed the stableman a gold piece before leaving the city. "I always think better when I'm training or staying busy. I already know that not many will like or agree with what I have to say."

Arriving at the Royal Palace of Caemlyn, he dismounted and strode towards the reception hall. Eyeing the line of nobles and others all waiting for an audience or whatever nobles loitered around for, he walked right past them all to Prince Gawyn. "I need to speak to your mother" he told him, getting an incredulous look back. "Or Gareth. Yea Gareth might be better. He will understand better and know why I propose what I do." As Gawyn just stared at him and the others in line broke out into chatter, Artorias pulled his cloak forward and rubbed the blood stain absent mindedly. "Everyone is going on about Henry. I want to find Sarinda Sedai. I can get him to talk if you have no one else that can. Or try to at least" he said with more force than he intended. "Some have already said that there has to be someone else involved in all of this. We need to find out how many and who if we can" he said loud enough for most of those near them to hear. "Now please, send someone to tell Gareth I need to talk to him."