The next day, Aragorn, attired in his robes of state, made his way to the Hall of Kings to preside over the trial of the traitors. The Crown of Eärnur adorned his head and he bore the sceptre of Annuminas in his hand. The hall was packed to overflowing with spectators and the Guards had had to turn many more away at the doors.

Some, who had not been present at the funeral, wanted to see for themselves if the King truly had returned, others were eager to see justice done on those who had dared harm their lord. Many of the people were merely curious, while huddled at the back, a small and apprehensive group were concerned to see how their accused kinsfolk would fare.

All eyes were upon the King, as he regally processed through the Hall, with Imrahil one pace behind him. Only those who knew Aragorn well would have perceived the slight stiffness with which he moved and the sorrow buried beneath his stern gaze. The King slowly mounted the steps and took his place upon the throne, where he would sit in judgement.

The proceedings were now ready to begin. On either side of him stood masters of lore, well versed in the laws of Gondor. They held scrolls, detailing the charges against the prisoners, as well as the penalties prescribed in the ancient laws of the Realm, for such fell deeds.

A herald blew his trumpet to announce the start of the trial and cried, “Let the prisoners be brought forth!”

The Guards first led out Dervorin, scowling and defiant. The crowd jeered and spat at him. A downcast Fontos, who was taken to a separate part of the Hall, followed him. His distraught wife rushed to his side, holding a wriggling toddler. The guards made to pull her away, but Aragorn gestured for them to desist. He saw no harm in allowing Fontos and his lady a few moments together during the entry of the next batch of prisoners.

Aragorn’s men had searched both Dervorin’s and Fosco’s holdings. The scoundrels who had kidnapped Aragorn had quickly been discovered, working as servants for Dervorin. Faramir’s secretary, Delos, still languished in prison awaiting trial together with others known either to have been aware of the conspiracy or to have raised weapons against the King.

Meneldil of Lebennin had taken his own life rather face the charge of high treason and the penalties that would befall him if found guilty.

Aragorn arose and addressed the assembly “Lords, friends, and people of Gondor, we are here today to see justice done upon those accused of high treason. They conspired against the life of mine own person, King Elessar Telcontar and through me, the Realm of Gondor. The traitors are also charged with forging documents, spreading lies and dissent, kidnap and assault.”

“Let the first witness be called!” the herald cried. "Fontos of Lossarnach is now called into court!”

A shamefaced Fontos took his place before the assembly. At Aragorn’s prompting, he recounted the same story that he had told the King a few days past. As his story progressed, he raised his downcast eyes and looked at Aragorn with admiration at the restrained and lordly manner in which he conducted himself before those who had used him so ill.

Dervorin became increasingly infuriated throughout his narrative and eventually shouted, “Traitor to your House, my curse be upon you! Cursed be the day when I gave my daughter to a turncoat such as you!”

“Silence!” roared Aragorn.

“It was indeed an evil day when I gave you, my alliance, my Lord Dervorin, and forsook that which I owed to my rightful liege lord,” Fontos said resolutely, though he blanched at his father in law’s curse. ”I shall endeavour to die with honour; again a loyal subject of the King.” With that, he looked away from Dervorin and continued to give his evidence.

Next to speak was Imrahil, who told of Dervorin’s endeavours to stir up trouble in the Council and his attempts to secure a marriage between Prince Eldarion and the child Elbeth, using a marriage certificate now known to be forged by his son in law, to suggest that Lord Boromir had left a legal heir. He then recounted Dervorin’s attempts to usurp his authority and seize control of the Council on the day of the funeral.

“What about your nephew?” Why is he not standing beside me?” Dervorin challenged when Imrahil evaded a detailed description of the meetings where Faramir had insulted the King. “Did he not support the raising of his niece to her rightful place? Did he not wear the Ring of Barahir before the full Council? Did he not complain repeatedly about his mistreatment by the King? And did he not agree with my contention that Lord Boromir was murdered? “

Imrahil looked uncomfortable but said nothing.

“Silence, you traitor! “Aragorn roared. “It is you who stand accused here and it is not your place to judge others. Lord Faramir is still recovering from wounds which one of your archers dealt him. All I have to say at this time, in the hearing of you all, is that although, Elbeth is not Lord Boromir’s legitimate heir, she is indeed his child, born outside wedlock. She will be placed under the protection of the Crown and become a Lady of rank, as befits the daughter of Denethor's firstborn son. I shall issue a proclamation in due season. Lord Imrahil, I thank you. You may retake your seat.”

Aedred was the next to give evidence concerning the many injuries he had seen on the King’s body.

Aragorn gazed fixedly ahead during this narration, though he stiffened slightly at the mention of the brand upon his shoulder, describing it as one used exclusively to demonstrate ownership of cattle in the fiefdom of Ringlo Vale. “What manner of fiend could thus brand King Elessar?” mused Aedred.

“I branded no one, as only the servants of the Dark Lord would behave thus!” Dervorin said haughtily. “It was Lord Faramir who thus abused the King!”

Aedred blanched at these tidings. A collective gasp echoed around the Hall and the crowd began to chatter excitedly amongst themselves. The King felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in his shoulder and found himself biting his lip. Éomer caught his eye from a seat in the front row, and gave him a sympathetic glance. Aragorn smiled faintly at his friend then forced himself to regain his composure and shouted, “Silence, Lord Faramir is not on trial; but rather the prisoner who now stands before you all. Let the prisoner now speak!”

Completely unabashed, Dervorin drew himself up to his full height and drew his sumptuous robes, which as a Lord of the Realm he was entitled to wear, more closely around him. “I do not recognise this Court, nor this man, who calls himself your king,” he sneered, “Elessar the Usurper, he is and always will be! Who is he? This supplanter, who would rule over you instead of the House of Hurin that has served this land faithfully for well nigh a thousand years! Where did he come from but some Northern wasteland, claiming to be of the line of Isildur, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship and honour? The line of Isildur can lay no claim to Gondor as decided by the Steward Pelendur in the days of our longfathers. I could make a better claim to rule Gondor than he did, as the blood of Pelendur runs true in my veins.”

“The Steward of the Realm, the people and the Council, all accepted me as their rightful King,” Aragorn said sternly. “Who are you to judge otherwise?”

“Neither Lord Denethor nor Lord Boromir would ever have countenanced your claim,” said Dervorin. ”Is it not very convenient that Lord Boromir died while in your company? Then what have you done since you seized the throne, save favoured a ragtag of peasantry and bankrupted the Nobility? A pestilence has ravaged the City, a sure sign that your rule is accursed! You did not even take a wife from amongst the ladies of Gondor to give us the hope of an heir from our own people, but instead take to your bed an Elven witch and make her our Queen! ”

Aragorn’s eyes now blazed with fury and all turned from his searing gaze. ”How dare you slander my wife!” he said in an icy tone.

“I borrowed that delightful turn of phase from your Steward,” Dervorin replied calmly, though he was unable to meet Aragorn’s eyes.

“I have heard enough of your insolence,” snapped Aragorn. ”You will now answer my questions. Who was the man you murdered and had dressed in my clothing?”

“I know only that he was one Malvegil, a merchant from Arnor who came to trade furs in Minas Tirith, but was turned away because of the contagion. I raised no weapon against him, though, that was Fosco’s doing, despatching that Northern scum before he and others of his kind could cheat us of our riches and seduce our wives and daughters away from us!”

Aragorn sighed deeply. He now knew all too well who the victim was. His father had been one of his Rangers. Malvegil had been born with impaired hearing, which had made him unfit to become a Ranger like his sire. He was a fine man though, of Númenórean lineage who had become a successful merchant and had been happily married with several children. “ He was a man of far greater honour and lineage than you!” the King said sternly. “What became of Anborn and his men? They disappeared on the way to Emyn Arnen.”

“I have no idea,” purred Dervorin. ”Fosco of Lamedon dealt with any threats to our plans here, in the environs of the City. And what became of him? He was murdered most foully and most likely by Lord Faramir with whom he was last seen!”

“Any man in Gondor is at liberty to draw sword in defence against a traitor - as you well know!” Aragorn replied. “Do you wish to make any plea or apology before you are sentenced? “

“I regret only that you still stand in a place to which you have no right!” Dervorin sneered .At this, the guards at a nod from Aragorn, came forward and dragged him back to his place.

Next, the retainers were given their chance to speak, but apart from telling that they had been instructed by their lord to watch the Houses of Healing and seize the King when he was unguarded and looked too weary to resist, they had little to say apart from that they were merely obeying their lord’s orders.

Aragorn had heard enough. He was now ready to pronounce sentence.

At his command, a page brought forth a black velvet cushion on which two swords were laid. The naked blades glittered against the dark material. One was an ordinary sword, sharp and ready for battle, and called the Sword of Justice, while the other had a blunt point and was known as the Sword of Mercy. The youth knelt before the King and waited for him to take up one of the blades. If the blunt sword of mercy were selected, the prisoner would be given at least his life. If the sharp sword was chosen, the prisoner was sentenced to die.

TBC