Page 62 of Saxon Blade Norman Blood
“Cwenhild,” Alfred said with a slight bow. Despite the politeness of the gesture Rowena sensed from his stiffness that he did not trust her. “Forgive me but as William de la Falaise is accused of killing your husband, how can we be sure of your impartiality?”
The woman’s answer was lost on Rowena because at that moment, William whispered behind her. “Why are you here?”
“I had to come,” she said, not turning around to address him.
“I did not kill him, I swear.”
“I know.” There was no doubt in her mind. “Let me listen to what she has to say.”
No one saw them talk. Everyone was watching the confrontation between Cwenhild and Alfred. Though he had questioned her impartiality, with good reason, it was obvious the other lords had already accepted her word that she would translate the accused man’s answers faithfully. Rowena remembered how William had told her the Saxons suspected his interpreters of twisting their words.
Now it seemed the situation was in reverse.
“Ask him if Ecberg tried to put a halt to his peace negotiating,” a grey-haired man asked. “Is that the reason for this despicable crime? And if not, why did he kill him?”
Cwenhild made a commendable effort of translating the man’s words but when William answered, she forgot many details from his answer, transforming his forceful denial into a much more feeble argument. As if it was not enough, she made it sound as if he had answered in a defiant, scathing manner.
Rowena understood that William was aware of it but, frustratingly, could not contradict her. Even more worryingly, it seemed a few of the lords had picked up on the discrepancies as well but were doing their best to ignore it.
This was a parody of justice.
They were not here to listen to William’s explanations, but to preserve appearances and give the illusion they had not executed him summarily. If word of the trial got back to other Normans, they would hear he was given a chance to defend himself but had only succeeded in proving his guilt.
William caught her eye. He must be wondering why she did not intervene, but she wanted to wait until the opportune moment. She wasn’t sure her voice would carry much weight, so she had to give herself as good a chance as possible of swaying the opinion of the lords. In the corner of her eye, she saw Alfred champing at the bit. He had guessed something was not quite right. She looked at him meaningfully.Wait another moment. He nodded.
Next, William was asked to describe his last encounter with Ecberg.
“The last time I saw him we did not argue.” His voice was as assured as if he had not been tied up and on his knees. “I swear he was still alive when I left. If he has indeed been killed, I will gladly aid in the capture of his murderers, wherever they are hiding, however much time it takes.”
“The last time he saw him they argued. My husband swore he would not make it out of here alive, so William killed him. He wanted to hide the corpse in case someone accused him of murder, but he had no time.”
Cleverly done, Rowena thought, the woman had stuck closely to his words, so that the lords would recognize the vocabulary, but had transformed enough details to make him say the opposite of what he had intended to say.
As if anyone would admit to murdering a man with such candor! Unluckily for Cwenhild, there was someone in the room who had understood perfectly what William had said.
This was her chance. There would not be a better one.
“My lords, that is not at all what Lord William said,” she declared, stepping forward. “I’m sorry to say that Cwenhild’s knowledge of the Norman tongue is not good enough for her to interpret William de la Falaise’s words accurately.”
Though she knew the mistranslation had been deliberate, she thought it best not to appear too confrontational.Cwenhild was the wife of a powerful lord, and she had the trust of the men, while Rowena was no one.
“What did he say then? We all understood a few words. Something about a dispute,” Alfred said, helping her along.
“He said they had not argued the last time they saw each other. Ecberg was still alive when Lord William left. Moreover, he offered to help you with the capture of his murderers if he has indeed been killed, which he seems to doubt.”
“And who are you?” the grey-haired man asked in an aggressive tone.
It was clear that he did not care about knowing what William had truly said, rather the opposite.
She let her hood fall off, revealing her fiery hair. A few murmurs told her that some of the Saxons had recognized her. Three men who had been present the day she had translated for Leowald of Tillburn nodded at each other.
Once again, Alfred spoke out. “This woman is one of Lord William’s interpreters. I brought her along to ensure he would get a fair hearing.”
“Why didn’t she speak earlier then?” a small man to her right asked.
“She was waiting to confound Cwenhild on my orders. As I stated earlier, I do not believe the wife of the victim is the best person to relay the supposed murderer’s words to us, and it appears I was right,” he answered with considerable aplomb. Rowena shot him a grateful look, for he had shouldered the full responsibility of her intervention. “Lord William deserves a fair trial,” Alfred continued. “How can we establish what truly happened if what he says is not properly translated?”
“Why should we listen to her? She’s not his interpreter, she is his mistress, he told me so himself!” a man spat, turning to face her.
