Chapter 21: The Council

They brought Ottoline into the Great Hall in a grey prison dress, with her hair still damp from the lake.

The hall was fuller than I had ever seen it.

People stood in the aisles and at the back, and some had come from the Northern Court on the night train.

Ambrose sat in the king's chair on the dais.

For the first time, the throne looked entirely his.

"The accused will answer a question put by the king," he said. "How many of the twelve knew?"

Ottoline raised her head.

"All of them. Eight signed."

A sound went through the tiers.

"I did not ask them to," she said, almost lazily.

She looked at the tiers.

"Each of them put his name beside mine at one time or another. Ask the Trust's ledger. It keeps a clean book."

The eldest councillor stood up from his chair at the foot of the dais.

His cane was shaking.

"I did not sign," he said. "I will say what I did instead."

He drew a breath.

"I knew the number of wives was nine, and I never asked what happened to the babies. That is my sin."

He laid his chain of office on the floor.

"I resign it."

"Thank you, sir," Ambrose said gravely. "Sit."

He looked down at the other eleven.

"Read me the Trust's countersignatures," he said to the clerk.

The old archivist turned the ledger.

He read eight names, one at a time.

With each name, a councillor in a grey suit stood up from his seat.

None of them met the king's eyes.

"You will lay your chains on the floor," Ambrose said. "You will leave this hall without your titles."

He glanced at the front row.

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