Faile glanced at her husband; he was frowning. He looked as if he wanted to speak the requested promise. She laid a hand on his arm.

“I should do it,” he said quietly. “How can any man be above the law, Faile? I killed those men in Andor when Morgase was Queen. I should abide by her judgment.”

“And your duty to the people of your army?” she asked. “Your duty to Rand, and to the Last Battle?” And to me?

Perrin hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right.” Then, louder, he continued, “Let’s be on with this.”

Perrin strode into the pavilion, joined immediately by Neald, Dannil and Grady. Their presence made Perrin feel like a coward; the way they stood made it obvious that they had no intention of letting Perrin be taken.

What was a trial, if Perrin would not abide by its determination? Nothing more than a sham.

The Whitecloaks watched tensely, their officers standing in the shade of the pavilion, their army at parade rest. They looked as if they had no intention of standing down during the proceedings. Perrin’s own forces—larger, but less orderly—responded by standing at the ready opposite the Whitecloaks.

Perrin nodded, and Rowan Hurn moved off to make certain Galad had released the captives. Perrin walked to the front of the pavilion, stopping just before Morgase’s elevated seat. Faile stayed by his side. There were chairs for him here, and he sat. Several steps to his left was Morgase’s stand. To his right, the people sat to watch the trial. His back was toward his army.

Faile—smelling wary—sat next to him. Others filed in. Berelain and Alliandre sat with their guards near him; the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones stood at the back, refusing seats. The last few seats were taken by a few of the Two Rivers men and some of the senior former refugees.

The Whitecloak officers sat down opposite them, facing Faile and Perrin. Bornhald and Byar at the front. There were about thirty chairs, likely taken from Perrin’s supplies that the Whitecloaks had appropriated.

“Perrin,” Morgase said from her seat. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”

“I am,” he said.

“Very well,” she said, her face impassive, though she smelled hesitant. “I formally begin this trial. The accused is Perrin Aybara, known as Perrin Goldeneyes.” She hesitated. “Lord of the Two Rivers,” she added. “Galad, you will present the charges.”

“There are three,” Galad said, standing. “The first two are the unlawful murder of Child Lathin and the unlawful murder of Child Yamwick. Aybara is also accused of being a Darkfriend and of bringing Trollocs into the Two Rivers.”

There were angry murmurs from the Two Rivers men at that last charge. Those Trollocs had killed Perrin’s own family.

Galad continued, “The last charge cannot be substantiated yet, as my men were forced out of the Two Rivers before they could gather proof. As to the first two charges, Aybara has already admitted his guilt.”