by Jeff Wheeler
“Ah lass,” he said, leaning forward and grunting as he stood. “Made queen at last. What a kettle of fish.” There were crumbs in his beard and grease stains on his shirt front, but he looked and smelled and laughed like Jon Tayt, and she had never been so happy in her life to see someone.
Maia shocked the entire kitchen when she rushed forward and gave him a fierce hug. The dawning realization that this opinionated traveler was a friend of the Queen of Comoros seemed to stun the kitchen staff into silence.
Jon Tayt put a meaty arm around her shoulders, its very weight and heaviness a comfort. “I was attempting to explain to these skillful cooks the finer points of Dahomeyjan culture. I think I may have offended several, but I was only trying to help them impress you for dinner by bringing you something you would enjoy.” He cast his gaze around the kitchen, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Mayhap next time you will heed my counsel,” he said to a few frightened-looking chefs clustered at a nearby counter. “The meal, which was delicious, I thank you for. I am pleased to see, my lady, that you insist on feeding travelers.” He patted his belly with satisfaction. “Satisfying my appetite took some doing, by Cheshu.”
“What are you doing here?” Maia gasped with delight. She stroked some hair behind her ear and pulled Jon Tayt away from the kitchen staff. She gave a nod to Solomon to indicate all was well and she would escort him from the kitchen so they could continue their work. She took Jon Tayt back into the hall and started toward the council room.
Jon Tayt smiled and fingered one of his axe blades. “I suppose you could say the Medium bade me to come. Or you did. To be honest, I have not been my normal cheerful self lately. It is not enough to only see you in passing now and then at the abbey grounds. I am not a maston, of course, so I could not cross the Apse Veil. But word came from Aldermaston Wyrich. He said there was a pressing need . . . that you were in danger and needed protection. He sent me three days ago and I just arrived. What is amiss?”
A flushed feeling of warmth came into Maia’s heart. Jon Tayt was one man. But he was her friend, her traveling companion, and—additionally—an Evnissyen. Members of his family were traditionally advisors and protectors of the rulers of Pry-Ree, and her grandmother had sent this man to Dahomey to watch and wait for her. She felt Jon Tayt had been aware of her for her entire life. The relief it gave her to be in his mere presence was staggering. She had thought of summoning him to help track down the kishion, but events had overwhelmed everyone, and the message had never been sent.
She quickly shared the news from Simon Fox, warning him of the implications. If they were in the middle of a civil war when the Naestors posed their invasion, they would provide an easy target.
Jon Tayt rubbed his nose as they walked, listening carefully to her. “You would be amazed, Maia, at how few it takes to conquer many. I know this problem is urgent and difficult, and I assure you it will not be easy. But consider how Pry-Ree fares beside such a large and violent neighbor. We have tactics for occasions such as this one. There are ways you can mislead another army into thinking you are bigger than you are. If Schuyler believes he is marching into a trap, he will be hesitant and overcautious.”
Maia felt a ray of hope brightening inside her. She could not help but grin at him. “Are you telling me, Jon Tayt, that there is a proper way to defend a city during a siege?”
“My lady, there is only one proper way to defend a city or fight a war. And it just so happens that I know the secret. It is simple. Be wise and always do the unpredictable. We will make those false earls believe we have ten times our number. Once a Pry-rian captain ordered his men to run through the woods in circles to make them look mightier . . . and it worked. It is not a hopeless situation, lass.” He hooked his arm around hers. “Let me tell you a little story while we walk.”
If fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil, then we must unleash the anticipation of the most evil possible. Fear chases away the Medium. It leads to doubt and then despair. Fear will win us this war.
—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ludgate
It was past midnight, but no one in the castle was asleep. Maia and Suzenne sat near each other on a comfortable couch, their hands gripped together. Their last report from Dodd revealed that he was pushing his men to exhaustion, but they would still not arrive at the city for several days. They would arrive well after Schuyler’s force. Meanwhile, reports that Schuyler’s army had reached the outer villages surrounding the capital had unleashed a mass panic in the city. Curfew was being enforced, but some families were trying to slip away and flee into the countryside in the night. The gates were closed and under constant watch, but much of the city had been built up outside the walls. The citizens were rightly terrified.
“And I thought I felt ill at ease the night before Whitsunday,” Suzenne said, pressing her other hand against her forehead. “Will these pangs of dread never leave us, Maia?”
The other ladies-in-waiting were gathered with them in Maia’s chamber. All of them wore nightgowns and shawls, but everyone was too nervous to sleep. Maia had another reason to fight sleep. Every time her eyelids grew heavy, a dark feeling fluttered in her heart—anxious, watchful, waiting . . .
“We have no army,” one of the girls, Raquelle, said nervously, wringing her hands and fidgeting. Her lashes were wet with tears. Jayn Sexton walked over and put an arm around her. Maia appreciated how calm and collected the other girl appeared to be, and she herself tried to radiate that same comforting presence.
Maia patted Suzenne’s hand. “Much of my life has been spent in dread. I suppose I am used to it.”
There was a series of loud noises, followed by the solemn pounding of boots in the corridor. Maia released Suzenne and stood just as the door was thrust open and armed men burst into the chamber. Jon Tayt was at the front, wearing a chain hauberk. His left arm was enclosed in metal—bracers, gauntlet, ribbed shoulder guard. He looked like a ferocious man—half metal, half beast—and the look in his eyes frightened half the girls out of their wits.
“Who is that! Will they kill us!”
“Do not harm us!”
Raquelle shrieked hysterically, which made many of the others rise up and turn as white as their chemises. Jon Tayt frowned in annoyance and marched up to Maia, trailed by Richard and by Maia’s personal guard. Simon Fox slipped in at the end of the small procession.
“Chut!” Jon Tayt barked curtly as if he were trying to silence Argus. It both made Maia smile and hurt her heart. The hysterical girls quieted, but they still shivered fearfully.
“Please,” Maia said. “Settle down.” She turned back to her advisors. “Where is Justin?”
“At Ludgate,” Jon Tayt said with a sniff. He hooked his gloved hand around the axe head wedged in his belt. “We need someone with authority there in case the force strikes before dawn. That gate is the closest to the palace and the abbey. If it falls, the city falls with it.” He wiped his nose and gave another sharp look at the whimpering girls. Suzenne and Jayn were trying their best to soothe their fears, but the ladies-in-waiting were clearly unsettled by the presence of armed knights and soldiers in the queen’s chamber. Undoubtedly it did not help that they were still in their nightclothes. Appearing to sense that it would be next to impossible to calm the girls, Suzenne and Jayn began to lead them out of the room.
Richard pulled out a long parchment scroll and swept his hand across the nearest table to clear away the trays and chalices. He unrolled the scroll, revealing it as a marked-up map of the city.
“Maia, access to the city is controlled by twelve gates,” he said in a somber but unhurried tone, his thick finger quickly identifying each of them. His tone was as even and measured as if he were explaining a favorite quote from his tome, rather than the approach of an enormous army. “Ludgate is the closest to the palace, as you see. Most of the citizens have moved inside the walls, but a third or a quarter of them will probably choose to remain o
utside and ride out the storm of uncertainty.”
“Attempting to guard twelve positions will divide our defenders too much,” Maia said.
Jon Tayt sniffed. “I was getting to that,” he explained. “You are right, Maia, we cannot guard all twelve gates at once. The Aldermast—I mean, the chancellor—told me about the armory within the city. We have been rounding up able-bodied men to stand watch at the gates. They are dressed in the royal uniforms and carrying spears, but though they look like an army, they are about as disciplined as a litter of hungry pups. They will run at the first sign of trouble, by Cheshu, but they are stationed at these other gates to make it seem as if we are heavily fortified.”
“How much did you have to pay them?” she asked.
Richard waved away the question. “They are brave enough to stand there, but little more. No amount of coin is worth their lives. I agree with Jon Tayt . . . they will flee rather than fight for you.”
“Which brings us to Ludgate. What makes you so certain they will strike there?”
“I am no longer the Aldermaston of Muirwood, my dear,” Richard said. “But I respect that position and sought counsel from my superior. I asked Aldermaston Wyrich which gate Schuyler’s army would attack first.”
Jon Tayt grinned wickedly. “It is cheating, in a way,” he admitted gruffly. “But knowing where they will strike allows us to shore up this position with the majority of the city watch there.” He laid his fat finger on the point. “My lady, Ludgate is also a prison. This is where your father and his ilk imprisoned those who could not afford his taxes and those who refused to sign his acts. The nobles were sent to Pent Tower of course, but not the commoners or the merchants.” His wicked grin broadened.
“With your permission,” Richard said, “I would like to offer clemency to those still imprisoned in Ludgate. There are easily several hundred men in there. Most of them have no love of Kord Schuyler. They may even be willing to fight for you. It is not much, but it will help if they agree. I was hoping that you could come to Ludgate and pardon the prisoners at dawn. If you gave a speech, even a short one, to the city watch who will defend us and the ealdermen, it would rally their spirits.”
It did not escape Maia that they were putting all their trust in the intuition of Aldermaston Wyrich, a man who had visited the city of Comoros only once, for her coronation. If Schuyler attacked any other gate, the defenses would crumble. Adhering to this defense required her to pour all her trust and confidence into the Medium.
“We will be ready at dawn,” Maia said firmly.
The sound of Maia’s stallion clopping on the cobblestones brought eager eyes to every window down Fleet Street. She wore her full regalia, including the gown she had worn on her coronation and her filigree crown. The reins were decorated with sashes of color, and the saddle skirts matched her own. Captain Carew and his knights rode behind her, leading a procession of soldiers toward Ludgate. The dawn air was spiked with cold, and she tried to quell the urge to tremble. She had to appear strong and formidable to her people. They needed to believe their queen would defend them. Her father may not have been loved, but he was a soldier, and no one had questioned his ability to fight or to lead a battle. She knew she would have to prove herself.
Her stallion snorted as it climbed the gentle incline toward Ludgate. The gatehouse was three levels high with a wide arch and portcullis in the middle bottom level. Two smaller arches festooned either side, each containing an iron postern door. The gate was wide enough to permit a vast flow of traffic, which would normally start streaming in and out of the city when the gates opened at dawn. But the gate remained shut this morn. The second and third levels had square windows, barred, which clearly belonged to the prison Jon Tayt had described to her. She could see faces behind the bars. The second two levels had some stone pillars set into them, holding up a stone façade. A cupola crowned the top of Ludgate, and she could see members of the watch gathered along the top of the wall, holding spears and flags bearing the royal colors of Comoros.
As she approached the gatehouse, she sensed something familiar about it. It took her a moment to realize that there were Leerings set throughout the pillars and the stone façade. As she approached, she felt them, almost as if they were reaching out to her. Her heart began to pound with excitement, and she felt a small smile creep across her mouth.
And what purpose do you have? She asked them in her mind as each one revealed itself to her.
The Leerings were part of the city defenses, she realized. The city had been rebuilt when her ancestors returned from Assinica to reclaim it, so these Leerings were not as ancient, but they still served a purpose. A thrill shot through her as the Leerings whispered to her. They had not been used before to defend the city because of the weakness of Comoros’s mastons. Their purpose was to repel attackers, to cast a sense of foreboding and fear upon any force attempting to attack the gate, similar to the Leerings defending the abbey doors or the one guarding the passageway leading to the castle. She suspected that each of the other gates were protected by similar Leerings—Leerings she could activate.
She nearly burst with excitement and hope. Here was another way in which the Medium would defend them. As she rode up to the edge of Ludgate, she caught sight of Jon Tayt, Richard, and the mayor, who were clustered with the leaders of the city watch and the ealdermen. She could see the puffs of steam coming from their mouths in the cold morning air. The soldiers stared at her—no, gawked at her—their eyes growing wide with either fear or respect. She had looked at herself in the mirror before leaving her chambers. Suzenne had woven her hair into an elegant yet fierce style that made her appear more regal.
Trying to subdue her nervousness, she leaned forward in the saddle and lifted her voice to address her city’s protectors. She had been grasping for the correct words to say since Jon Tayt left the castle a few hours earlier. In an instant, her thoughts were suddenly clear. It felt as if the Medium were guiding her mouth.
“At my coronation, I was given this ring.” She raised her hand, almost as if she were making the maston sign, and let the sunlight play off her glittering coronation ring. “I am now wedded to the realm. This ring has never left my finger since that day, and it never will. I am the trueborn daughter of King Brannon and Queen Catrin.” She lowered her arm and leaned forward, her hands resting on the saddle horn. “And you are my people. I do earnestly and tenderly love you, as a mother loves her children. I will not abandon you, as I was abandoned. I will not punish you, as I was punished. I will defend you, even if only a few will stand with me. I will give my last drop of blood to preserve your lives.” She swallowed down a swell of emotion as she stared down at them. Some of the men had tears in their eyes, and everywhere she looked there were expressions of fierce determination. “My father imprisoned those who did not obey his unjust laws. Let the prison doors be opened this morning. Some of you have committed crimes for which you ought to be punished. Some of you are here because you could not deny your conscience. Today, I pardon you all. You have a new chance at life. A new chance to serve your kingdom and your queen, to defend your realm from injustice. On my word, I promise to pardon you this day. Come and stand tall in defense of your queen. I am your servant, and you are my family.”
She felt tears moisten her eyes, but they did not fall. A cheer went up from Ludgate. The lord mayor was staring at her, she noticed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He gave the order and the watch began to open the prison doors.
There was an audible sigh from the crowd as men began filing through the inner doors of the gates. Men dressed in ragged clothes, some showing purple disfigurations from recent beatings. Some bore scars from torture. Her heart clenched with pain as she watched them file out . . . some barefoot, some with tattered shoes. Richard and Jon Tayt awaited them with chests full of clothes: tunics, boots, liveries with her colors. Some of the ragged men had long beards and hair, their faces tight and drawn with suffering. Some were bone thin and weary and had trouble even w
alking. Some were proud and defiant. One thing united them . . . and they came to her in droves.
Captain Carew brought up his soldiers to shield Maia, but she waved his men aside and allowed the former prisoners to approach her. Men shuffled toward her to give her some form of salute, whether a nod or a humble bow. There were even a few women who had chosen to suffer in prison with their husbands rather than be parted from them. Some kissed their own hands and then gestured toward her, as if they were too ashamed and rough to kiss her coronation ring. Her heart welled with compassion for these suffering people. The numbers kept pouring forth, dazzling to behold.
One man in the crowd particularly caught her gaze. She recognized him from her coronation day. The knight named Hove who had challenged her right to rule. She noticed him because he was replacing his black-and-white tunic with a royal one. It made her smile. It made her hope.
Suddenly, a shout sounded from outside the crowd, and a rider came charging down the far side of Fleet Street, moving toward the portcullis. He was shouting as he rode at breakneck speed. He dismounted when he reached the gate and the lord mayor met him on the city side of the gate.
“The army is behind me,” the rider panted. “Schuyler’s army. They are marching toward Ludgate this instant!” His eyes flew to Maia, still mounted on her horse, then to the crowd behind the gate. He did a double take when he realized the numbers of their force had perhaps doubled. “By the Blood, where did all these come from?”
Jon Tayt and Richard pushed through the crowd to reach Maia’s side. “Get back to the palace,” the hunter growled. “The fighting is about to start. You will get word on what happens here. Go.”
Maia looked down at him and shook her head. “No, Jon Tayt. I must stay.” She leaned down in the saddle so that they both could hear her. “There are Leerings on the walls. They are part of the city defenses. They will help repel Schuyler’s army.” She reached down and clasped Richard’s shoulder. “Send Suzenne, Jayn, and all the mastons you can find to the city’s gates. Have them start summoning the Leerings to protect us. I will invoke these.”
