“My Lady, please, do sit.”

She looked upon him with a small smile, taking a seat. Only once she had sat did he sit down from the half-standing position he had assumed after her entrance. As if there was nothing to hide, he left the ledger of accounts open on the desk, along with the notes he had been taking—in German, no less. It occurred to her then that he didn’t know she could speak and read Italian.

Well, that was something to bring up at another time.

“Mr Mayor has summoned me for a good reason, I am sure,” she said, not a question, but a statement.

He nodded, raising a hand to still her for a moment. A second of silence passed, then he reached into a drawer, taking out a few papers. “This matter is of interest to My Lady.”

Taking the papers, she read them without question. It was ultimately a simple matter. Or rather, a mess of a situation with a neat bow atop. Fundamentally, it was a request for a pardon, which was something not entirely within her power, yet arguably was.

The King was, in theory, the only one who had the absolute power to pardon a committed crime; however, the ruler of a fief had a place to interject on behalf of a defendant by not pardoning them, but annulling the verdict. Judges were appointed by the ruler and so the ruler could decree they had judged incorrectly.

Of course, the peers were quite keen to protect this supposed right, a handy tool for earning favours from the right people and keeping people loyal to them even more loyal. On the other hand, they were careful in not using this when it would upset the kinds of people who could bring the matter to the King’s courts.

In this case, there was no one of note who would be upset if she “pardoned” the man. Indeed, vouching for his conduct as a merchant, it seemed the Nelli family had a mild preference that he did not die. As for the man himself, he was apparently of good standing in the community—she rather skimmed through the rest of his glowing description—who had, in a rare moment of passion, strangled his wife.

That was the first page which requested the pardon. The second, then, detailed the crime and sentence as declared by the court.

While his personal defence had changed every time he was asked, for the trial, his lawyer put forward that he had caught her in the midst of an affair. Certainly, such a defence would be more than enough to declare him innocent.

However, his wife was a woman of some virtue who had volunteered at the church for as long as she had lived, someone meek, with hardly the beauty to cause a sensation. Not only that, but many witnesses had seen him in the act, her soul gone but body warm, and what he had said in his rage had made it clear he only thought her adulterous, no supposed lover in sight.

Of course, if his lawyer could present the man she was supposedly having an affair with, that would have been enough. Perhaps if he had been more honest in his dealings, there would have been a man willing to suffer the sentence for a suitable reward. Or rather, if the Nelli family had truly cared, a scapegoat would have been presented.

Regardless, the judge found him guilty. His unstable temperament leading up to the murder and in court contributed to the decision for the death penalty, someone a threat to the general public, and his complete lack of remorse didn’t exactly endear him to the judge.

The last page, if one could call a single line a page, came from his daughter. It read: “I ask of Mr Mayor, my father deserves no mercy.”

Julia gazed upon this page almost longer than the second. When she finally looked up, she saw the mayor looking at her, staring, not with nothing behind his eyes, but with such intense interest that she found it hard to meet his gaze.

Hard, but not impossible; she did not hesitate. “What does Mr Mayor think of this matter?”

“What I think matters little compared to My Lady’s thoughts,” he said, gesturing at her. “After all, it is at her mercy that a pardon would be given—or that she would be the one to bring the matter to the King.”

“Mr Mayor should have some respect, that I ask for your opinion not out of politeness, but to hear it,” she said, smiling.

Although he let out a long sigh, it did not dampen his good spirit. “As I see it, if one wishes to give the Nelli family power, then it behoves one to gain favour with them. It tends to be cheaper to buy favours than sell them and this time is no different. Rarely will the opportunity come to have one for no cost at all, however small it might be.”

“Is there truly no cost, I wonder?” she said, her smile sweeter.

He chuckled, rubbing his chin. “My Lady is too elusive in these matters for one such as I to follow. However, I suppose one could consider how this would influence her reputation, that we have already caused some trouble with the judges, and that any further crimes this man commits would be brought against her.”

“Such things are rather too complicated to consider, luck a fickle mistress,” she said softly. Her gaze fell to the paper in front of her with a single line. “Rather, I would consider what could otherwise be gained, that this gain is a cost to the pardon.”

“Ah, yes, this is a concept I am familiar with. Just that, in this case, is there something about the daughter I have missed?” he asked, leaning forward.

She gave no answer to that yet. “Truly, I am not interested in currying favours with the Nelli family. If anything, this is a poisoned gift, that they would see I would act in their favour over this kind of thing. As for the judges, is it not already clear? I intend for them to detest me and become petty over such matters. As for the man, if he dared commit another crime, he would not make it to the trial.”

“My Lady has left me only less certain of whether you intend to pardon him. It sound as if… not?” he asked, now with his elbows on the table, leaning that little closer.

She fought the urge to pull back. It was not that she felt anything improper in his interest, but that she felt inhuman for it. That, rather than a woman, he looked at her as if a clockmaker staring at a beautiful mechanism he wished to disassemble and put back together, piece by piece.

In a way, she would have preferred an improper admiration than this.

“With everything how it is, I would pardon him,” she said, focusing on the topic at hand. “One should know that rarely does the choice matter; rather, it is how one proceeds afterwards that does.”

“The execution or lack thereof, as it were,” he said.

At his joke, she gave a titter out of pity. “Indeed.”

He sat up straight again, back to rubbing his chin as he nodded along to his own thoughts. “However, that is with things as they are now….”

The recommendation had not been for nothing. “If possible, I would speak with the daughter—to see what the cost of this pardon would be.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Of course,” he said, then cupped around his mouth as he shouted, “Send her in!”

After a second, the door creaked open and a young woman entered, flanked by guards; he dismissed them with a flick of his hand, leaving only the young woman to walk to the desk.

“Yes, Mr Mayor?” she said.

“My Lady, this is the daughter: a Miss Gianna. Nineteen years of age, learned in reading and writing in what may be considered an apprenticeship under her father. She was baptised in the old church; however, her godparents have since moved away. When not working under her father, she joined her mother in volunteering at the church. There are some other details I could give if necessary…” he said, trailing off, and ultimately said no more, seeing Julia’s small shake of her head.

Turning to the young woman a little older than herself, Julia had to admit he had surprised her. It was unpleasant. Not that she had lied in saying she wished to speak with Gianna, but that it meant she hadn’t properly considered him and how he would act. In hindsight, she should have suspected he would have brought Gianna here, anything to learn more about how she thought.

While not usually one for pettiness, she felt uncomfortable about perhaps showing him any weakness at this moment. “If Mr Mayor would excuse us.”

Of course, she made no movement towards standing after saying that, instead giving him an expectant look. For his part, he dutifully stood up, yet his smile was rueful, barely hiding his disappointment at not being witness to what would here elapse. “As My Lady requests.”

Silence followed him on his way out, the door opening and closing with hardly a sound.

In that time, Julia gave the daughter a glance over. She very much looked like she hadn’t slept well in a while, rather thin, hollow cheeks showing the bones of her face. Her hair was unusually short—Julia wondered if perhaps to make it harder to grab—and there was an unevenness to her hairline. She rested her hands neatly below her stomach, one finger noticeably unusual, as if it had been broken in the past and not properly set. Her clothing was simple to the point of ascetic, yet the sewing neat, that it was so carefully repaired as to be like new.

Of course, Julia made those observations with what she knew of the woman’s father. To consider what she might notice without such knowledge was a game she had no need to play. Rather than that, she would consider how intentional the woman’s appearance was, unlikely that her father had her work in a store wearing such clothes, or that a sane person would wear such thin clothes this time of year.

How boring it would have been if this matter was simple.

Having turned to Julia the moment he had stood up, Gianna now bowed, saying, “My Lady.”

Julia’s smile turned soft. After standing up and moving to the mayor’s chair, she gestured at the one she had sat in and said, “Please, do sit,” as she took her new seat.

Once both were comfortable, Julia leaned back while Gianna sat straight, the conversation began.

“I have been made aware of your father’s request for a pardon, that I have reviewed the documents, and read that ma’am would ask that I deny him mercy. Is that correct?” Julia asked.

Gianna barely moved. It was not simply that she didn’t react, but she seemed to even take care not to breathe deeply lest her chest rise and fall. “I asked Mr Mayor to deny him mercy, unaware this matter was for My Lady,” she said. A quiet voice, but clear.

“What, pray tell, would one consider mercy? As I see it, his execution is a mercy upon him that he would meet God with fewer sins than if left to live. Otherwise, would you ask I deny him proper burial? In which case, while something I could do, I would not meddle in matters between a man and God,” Julia said, watching Gianna oh so closely.

Her words still provoked no reaction, though. “I thought it clear that I wished for the pardon to not be granted. I apologise to My Lady for the confusion,” she said.

“So you do not consider his execution merciful?” Julia asked, tempted to lean forwards—wondering if it was simply this seat which compelled the seated to do so.

“I am not learned on the matter of mercy, My Lady. I would not say. When I wrote that, I was not thinking of grand things.”

Julia narrowed her eyes. “What small things were you thinking of?” she asked, an inciteful whisper.

“I am unsure if My Lady wants to hear these things,” Gianna said, her posture finally breaking as she looked down.

“Considering I read the report of his crime in full, I would say I am willing.”

Gianna’s eyelids fluttered, chest rising with a deep breath, then she looked up, meeting Julia’s gaze. “To begin with, I witnessed the crime. I am the one who ran onto the street for help. They didn’t let me testify, so I wrote that single line, hoping that, at least for this, I could give myself some peace.”

“Go on,” Julia whispered.

There was no emotion in Gianna’s voice, neither anger nor sadness, only emptiness. A steady pace with clear enunciation. Not rehearsed, because who would wish to produce such a bland act in an attempt to convince, but not words spoken from the heart. Controlled.

“He abused my mother since my conception. From what she told me, he had been sweet before. Sometimes, his temper got the better of him, but he apologised and promised not to do it again, that it was the drink’s fault, and he would stop drinking for a month.

“Then they found out I was on the way. He didn’t hit her, but he grew mean. He stayed out more. Drank more. She didn’t know why, but, after my birth when he first saw me, he called her nasty names, claiming I wasn’t his daughter. His own brother had to hold him back, otherwise he might have done this crime back then—and taken me with her.”

She paused, not to shed a tear, but to breathe in deeply and continue.

“He was always paranoid. The church was the only place she could go, anywhere else and he would beat her. They tried to help, but anything they said, he beat her for. He probably spanked me when I was young, but I only remember the abuse from when I was about six or seven. That first time, I brought in mud and he stepped in it, almost losing his balance, so he grabbed me by the hair and put my face to the floor, rubbing until I bled. But that was too much, so his brother spoke to him. After that, he pulled my hair, but nothing that left a mark.”

Her pause lasted longer this time, thinking what to say next.

“My mother also told me I would have been a big sister. But, every time he found out she was expecting, he made sure it didn’t come to be. She nearly died half the times, but I learned what to do after the first. I didn’t understand at the time, I just thought he’d hit her so hard that he’d squeezed some of her out…” she said, trailing off there as nothing else came to mind to share.

Still, Julia didn’t speak, didn’t gasp nor offer condolences. She only watched—until there was nothing else to see. “Is there anything else you would wish to be known?”

“No. Anything else I say, it doesn’t compare,” Gianna said.

“Very well,” Julia said. After a final moment of observation, she gestured for Gianna to stand, saying, “Please send Mr Mayor back in on your way out.”

Gianna gave a small nod, then stood up and bowed before walking out as calmly as when she had walked in. The door opened with a creak, then closed without a sound, how quickly the mayor returned as if he had been stood there with his ear to the door the entire time.

However, Julia knew he knew better.

His walk over ended at the seat and he took it without a word of complaint that it was not his own. For a moment, Julia considered showing him this small respect, but decided that she still owed him a little more pettiness for the surprise.

“What does My Lady think? Is there a cost to be had in staying his execution?” he asked, staring at her.

She stared back, feeling less pressure from his gaze on this side of the table. “He shall be executed tomorrow.”

His eyes widened, smile wider. “My Lady saw such worth in Miss Gianna?”

“What matters more than the choice is the execution,” she said, pushing the second page—the report from the court—closer to him. “After we deny him the pardon, it is natural that the court would consider his appeal for a retrial. I would not entertain them. As for the Nelli family, is it not that they rather see value in marrying daughters to suitable business partners? Do tell me: what family is the victim from?”

He gave a breathless laugh. “Nothing escapes My Lady’s notice,” he whispered.

“You ask if I saw worth in Miss Gianna, I shall tell you now that she is worthy of the family name,” she said, her gaze falling again to that single line on the third page. “Of course, I had my suspicions from the vouch. It is only natural to protect one’s investment.”

“You see no harm in depriving them of that investment?” he asked.

“His business would go to his daughter, who would sell it to the Nelli family for a modest price, that she may live comfortably until finding a suitor,” she said.

He chuckled, covering his mouth, then his hand moved up to adjust the fit of his cap. “His execution shall happen at dawn.”

She waved him off, saying, “A little after, that people have time to gather.”

“Of course.”

The next morning, she stood beside Gianna at the front of the crowd. Through it all, she saw no emotion on Gianna’s face, not even when her father emerged and spotted her, hurling abuse until the hangman stuffed his mouth with a cloth.

No, Gianna only showed something when the last of his life left him, at which time she softly smiled. A most beautiful smile that made her harrowed features hallowed, as if finding salvation at the end of her struggles.

When they finally carried him away, she turned to Julia and leaned in close to whisper. “My mother was having affairs with a few men from the church over the years. Honestly, I don’t even know if he was my father.”

Julia did not regret her choice.