Chapter 23 - MORGAUSE TAKES THE STAND
Morgause chose to speak at sentencing.
Her lawyer could have kept it short.
She wanted to explain.
That was dangerous.
She began well.
“I broke Eluned’s glasses intentionally.”
No euphemism.
“I knew she needed them.”
Good.
“I did not intend to injure her eyes.”
Also true.
Then:
“I was angry because I believed my daughter was always expected to step aside for Eluned.”
There.
The worldview.
The prosecutor asked:
“Did Cerys ask Eluned to polish her shoes?”
“No.”
“Did Cerys ask you to throw away Eluned’s achievements?”
“No.”
“Did Cerys ask you to break prescription glasses?”
“No.”
Morgause swallowed.
“No.”
“Then whose grievance were you acting on?”
“Mine.”
There.
Then Sunday.
“Did Alaric confront you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you promise not to take Eluned’s glasses again?”
“Yes.”
“Did you promise not to make her perform Cerys’s personal chores before eating?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Quillon?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Did you know Alaric wrote Eluned a letter?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find it after his death?”
“Yes.”
“Did you keep it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Morgause cried.
“Because I knew Quillon would never leave her with me again.”
Silence.
That was the truth.
Not:
to protect Eluned from distress.
Not:
Dad changed his mind.
She wanted to preserve access.
Then:
“Did you continue caring for Eluned afterward?”
“Twice.”
“Did you repeat the conduct?”
“Not until the dinner.”
Until.
One word.
Then the dinner.
Why destroy awards?
“Because Dad used to put everything Eluned won on display.”
Dad was dead.
The mantel at our aunt’s house had his framed photo.
Morgause saw Eluned’s medals near it.
She felt:
Here it is again.
Eluned gets sympathy.
Awards.
Special medical needs.
Attention.
Cerys becomes background.
So Morgause tried to reverse the picture physically.
Take the medals.
Put one on Cerys.
Make Eluned polish shoes.
Then the glasses.
Punishment for refusing.
She finally said:
May you like
“I made a child carry resentment I should have brought to her father.”
That was the most accurate sentence of the case.
