“I do not understand.”

“Sire, if it pleases you, I am not prepared to speak of this matter further at present. I beg your indulgence.”

“That you shall not have!” shouted Ceremon. “That you shall never have until I have heard an explanation!”

Nestor glanced worriedly around the room. “I would rather not, Sire.”

“You!” the High King cried, leaping from his chair. “What you prefer is of no interest to me at this moment. I demand an explanation, and I will have it or I will have your crown!”

Nestor grimaced, as if a wound pained him. He pulled himself slowly from his chair and shuffled to the center of the circle. “Sire,” he said softly, “I had hoped to avoid this. Open confrontation was not my intent.”

“We are waiting,” said Ceremon hotly.

“Then I will put it plainly. Nearly two weeks ago I sailed from my harbor to come to Poseidonis. On the fourth day out, we were hailed by a ship in distress, near an obscure island off the coast of Mykenea.” He drew a long breath and shut his eyes, as if it were too painful for him to continue.

“I ordered my ship’s captain to turn aside and help the disabled ship in any way we could, fearing loss of life if we did not. But no sooner had we pulled alongside the ailing vessel than we were secured by grappling hooks and attacked.

“As we had no weapons, my ship’s crew was slaughtered without mercy and I was taken captive.”

The gallery gasped aloud.

“Go on,” said the High King. “We are listening.”

“I Believe the plan was to kill me outright, but I bargained for my life with gold. This caused a dissension among those leading the attack. I seized the opportunity and pressed for my release. I convinced them with gold and was put adrift in a small boat, reaching shore on the evening tide.

‘ ‘I continued on foot for two days until I came to a village where I could hire a horse. I have ridden for five days and arrive as you see me.” Nestor spread his hands to emphasize his deplorable state.

Ceremon frowned. “A most shocking tale, King Nestor. How do you account for this strange event?”

“It was clearly an act of war, Sire.”

“The word comes quickly to your lips,” observed the High King.

“I know no other word by which such an act might be called.”

“Nevertheless, it is a serious indictment, Nestor.” Cere-mon’s voice was cold and flat. “You must be prepared to name the perpetrator of this outrage.”

Nestor turned slowly and, with an expression of utmost anguish, raised his hand and pointed his finger. Avallach did not know which shocked him more: Nestor’s finger pointing directly at him or the man’s brazen audacity.

‘ ‘It was…” whispered Nestor hoarsely, as if being forced to name his attacker was bitter agony, “Avallach of Sarras.”

“Liar!”

The shout came not from Avallach but from the chair beside him. Belyn was on his feet, fists clenched, his face livid. “It is a lie!”

Startled voices cascaded down from the gallery to whirl inside the rotunda. “Silence!” shouted Ceremon sternly. He took up his staff and pounded it on the floor until the blows rang in the chamber. “Silence!”

When he regained control the High King said, “A most grave offense has been brought before us-for which the punishment is death. There must be no further distraction.”

His eyes swept the room and settled on the king standing before him. “Nestor, you must be aware of the fact that your accusation cannot be accepted by this council without proof.”

“I understand, Sire.” He sounded almost penitent.

“Well, have you any proof?”

“If it pleases you, Sire.” He clapped his hands loudly and a porter entered the chamber from the vestibule with a small chest in his hands. “After the attack I was taken aboard the other vessel and locked in the ship’s stores Below deck while the murderers debated my fate. I searched for something wherewith to prove myself if I should make good my escape. I had almost given up hope when I found this…”

He opened the chest and drew out a length of cloth, shook out its folds to reveal a portion of a king’s banner. Even without the royal insignia, the green and yellow colors were instantly recognizable: Sarras.

“By this I knew I had been attacked under Avallach’s order,” Nestor said loudly, his tone betraying a note of triumph. He took the cloth and handed it to the High King, who glanced at it and had it passed on to the next king to examine.

“You present us with a most shocking indictment, Nes- tor,” replied the High King. He shifted his gaze to Avallach. “What have you to say to this, Avallach?”

“Nothing at all,” replied Avallach equably. “I have never considered it polite to comment upon the ravings of the insane, nor profitable to engage in argument with lunatics.”

There were chuckles around the room; many in the gallery laughed outright and the tension in the rotunda melted. It was clear to all present that Avallach would not be drawn into dignifying Nestor’s absurd accusation with a defense.

“My sympathies, Avallach,” replied the High King, who also appeared relieved. “Still, Nestor has leveled a most serious accusation. Have you no reply?”

“Oh, it was a most amusing tale, Sire-especially the part about riding from the Mykenean coast to Poseidonis in five days. A singular feat of horsemanship, it would appear. I must remember to tell my children.”

Nestor glared furiously and opened his mouth to denounce Avallach, but the High King raised his hand.

“What of the banner?” asked Ceremon. “He has produced a piece of your royal banner.”

“Has he indeed?” wondered Avallach coolly. “I saw only a scrap of green and yellow cloth without insignia.”

“It was his banner!” said Nestor angrily. “I swear before the gods that it was.”

“Let us ask the council for an opinion,” said the High King.

“Sire,” began Musaeus of Mykenea, “aside from the banner, which appears genuine, I too am inclined to doubt certain details of Nestor’s story.” There was general agreement among the assembly.

“Speak freely,” ordered Ceremon.

“As Avallach has already pointed out, it would be most difficult to reach Poseidonis from the coast in only five days- even riding day and night. And then there is the matter of the attack itself-are we to suppose that one of our number would make sucrr an unwarranted attack on another king without provocation?”

“If I may speak, that is precisely the point I wish to emphasize,” said another king.

“Yes, Hugaderan?”

“Sire, it seems to me that just such an attack, because of surprise, would be most successful. And if it were to fail-as it obviously did through the cowardice of those involved- it would not likely be Believed. Is this not the very situation we see before us?”

“As you say,” replied the High King, “I am inclined to wonder precisely what it is we see before us.” He waved the comment aside. “Does anyone have anything further to say? No? Then I invoke the High King’s privilege and propose to resolve this matter myself-if the principals will agree.”

“As you wish, Sire,” replied Avallach.

“Agreed,” said Nestor through clenched teeth.

“Then take your seat, Nestor,” ordered Ceremon. The king made a curt bow, glowered at Avallach, and sat down. “Now then, let us be about our business. Let the Keeper of the Record call the first case.”

The council administered justice until the Bell tolled, ending the day’s session. As the kings filed from the council chamber, Ceremon called to Nestor and Avallach, “I will expect you both to dine with me in my apartments this evening. An usher will bring you.”

Avallach joined his brother and Seithenin, who were waiting in the corridor beyond the vestibule. When the kings were alone together Seithenin said, “That was neatly done, Avallach. I admire your aplomb; I doubt I could have comported myself so.”