Book 3, Chapter 21: Earl Discussion

“Have you decided on a suitor?” asked Maitlan, sitting forward, pushing his dark hair back. His eyes darted downward, then back up at my face.

“No, but you’ll be the first to know when I do.” Despite being uncomfortable with a boy staring at my body, I forced a smile. Oddly, he smiled back, making me wonder if I somehow misled him with that statement. Maybe the smile. Maybe both.

“That topic isn’t a concern for this meeting,” said Earl Hafthon, arms folded.

“Oh, I think it is,” said Maitlan. “When Princess Cayce marries, her husband will be leading the war council.”

Hafthon narrowed his eyes at the boy. It was the first time I liked the stocky man.

I spoke a little louder, to Maitlan, “It’s not going to happen, my lord. You can stop imagining things.”  Then, turned my attention to the others, my generals, majors and the earls. My new bannermen. “The matter at hand is twofold. Come spring, I intend to march on Castle Barclay. Hopefully we can work things out when our army arrives, without fighting.”

“Can’t see that happening,” said Hafthon.

I continued, “Regardless, the Laemacian ambassador has threatened to go to war with us if I don’t marry their emperor. I’m not about to marry that man, so they may follow through with their threat. Therefore, these are the questions. First, should we attack Laemacia first?” Sharp intakes of breath, “And second, if we head straight to Castle Barclay, how many troops can be readied here, in case the Laemacians attack?”

Hafthon, again, took the lead, “It would be unwise to attack Laemacia. They have the larger numbers and would have the advantage of defense. And many, many more war rhinos than we have.”

I pressed, “How many soldiers can we muster if we go all out?”

“Your Highness, it’s not a good idea. We’d be leaving ourselves vulnerable to the Barclays and the Ketzles.”

“How many?”

“Perhaps a hundred to a hundred and twenty thousand. And they have war rhinos, multiple times more than they gifted you. They are not easy to fight.”

He was likely right then. Until I could show that our weaponry was superior. “Alright, no attacking the Laemacians first.”

Not a few of the men let out breaths they were holding in. I wondered if they thought I was a crazed ruler. I wondered if I was becoming one.

“I’d personally like to retake Castle Yohstone at the earliest,” said Maitlan. “And doing so would cut off the Ketzillian forces from attacking here.”

Brundle spoke up, “The benefit from moving to the Barclay lands first is that, should they simply offer you their oaths, we can requisition some of their soldiers to form another division of our army. It would then be larger than what the Ketzillians likely have at Dernamouth, and nearly large enough to oppose a Laemacian attack. Conversely, were it to come to war, and were we to win, the remaining Barclay soldiers would become conscripts for our army.”

The Barclay Duchy was south and east of here. Dernamouth was almost directly south, but on the west side of the river and Yohstone’s lands were north of that, almost directly to our west from here, the Bechalle castle. Brundle was proposing a circuit that effectively protected our eastern rear. It was sound advice, yet I worried about adding the Barclay troops to ours directly after we conquered them. Assuming we could.

I had to ask, “Is that a good idea? Wouldn’t they be upset at our troops?”

“They may be more upset at their leaders, especially once their betrayal becomes clear. Additionally, if we ignore them, they may be building their forces for an attack on the kingdom. From their position, your own castle is within reach.”

A castle I’d never been to. But one that was, everyone had said, a strong point from which to attack the Ketzillians. It seemed this world was entirely about warfare. “I will have to consider these two suggestions. Yet I want to get one thing clear: if we move our forces to attack, how many defensive troops will we be leaving behind in case of Laemacian attack?”

Hafthon spoke up while the other earls looked down, “Roughly sixty thousand soldiers in defense. It’s just enough to hold for reinforcements from you for a few weeks. Though, we’d have to prepare defensive fortifications and hope they don’t bring too many mages.”

“It’s always the mages.” I said, “Any updates on the state of weapons?”

Brundle began, “We’ve moved practice to the outer courtyard, near the outer wall and we’re ready for you and the Laemacian ambassador’s tour anytime now. The new buildings are being put up but won’t be ready for a few weeks. In the meantime, we’re integrating some of the bannermen’s soldiers.”

The quiet Earl Crygmore nodded. He sat tall in his chair with one hand resting on his face, the other supporting his arm. He had barely said two words to me since I met the man.

Carlisele spoke up, “I have to say, I am impressed with how effective the sarissa is proving. But, and I hate to be the one to say this, we cannot hold against a Laemacian attack.”

I sat forward, crossing my arms, trying not to glare.

Morry spoke up, “Are you suggesting we do not retake the kingdom but hole up here?”

“I’m suggesting that perhaps Princess Cayce should reconsider her decision to not marry the Laemacian Emperor.”

Heat rose up along my neck, and I fought the urge to stand and yell at him. Closed my eyes, counted to five, opened, they were all staring at me. “Earl Carlisele, you want me to marry the usurper of my ancestral lands to prevent his forces from marching on us?” I don’t know why I said it that way and I did not begin pulling jewelry off. But I wanted to.

“You’d get the lands back by marrying him. And your children would rule them.”

“What? Do you work for him now?”

He pushed on the rests of his chair and stood up, “You’re accusing me of being a traitor!”

I stood up, too, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Morry tense, “No, Carlisele, I’m accusing you of idiocy! I won’t marry him just to protect your weak lands from Laemacian troops.”

“I won’t be spoken to in this manner!”

“What manner would you like to be spoken to?”

Hafthon rose, palms to each of us, pressing up and down in the air to get us back in our seats, “Alright, alright, calm down. The Princess isn’t accusing you of being a traitor. But stop suggesting she become the Laemacian Empress. It’s a terrible idea. Our people would be overrun with immigrants. Our lands threatened.” He directed his attention to me, “And Princess, those kinds of quips may best be left out of military discussions.”

Earl Carlisele’s gaze dropped from me to the table, then to Hafthon. He nodded and sat down.

I blinked a few times, inwardly trying to focus and calm down, paused, then said, “I see your point and thank you, my lord, for your wise words.” Pushing the bottom of my dress forward, I sat back down. “So, our best course of action is heading for Castle Barclay, then Dernamouth, then Castle Yohstone and back here?”

“I don’t believe we’ve concluded that,” said Maitlan, for the first time I’d known him, taking the initiative. “My castle is much closer than the Barclay one. We could take it and return-”

“-that would be foolish, my lord,” said Brundle, “for we’d have to leave a sizeable garrison there to protect it from recapture. It would be better to take Castle Barclay, increase the size of our army with their soldiers, then retake Dernamouth and Castle Yohstone. From that point, we could either attack further into Ketzle to decrease the size of their military or return here to head off potential Laemacian attacks.”

Hafthon, Gun and Rand nodded in agreement, Carlisele fumed, Morry looked as grim as ever. Crygmore did his best to go unnoticed. “Alright, let’s leave these as our tentative plans. If information changes or we have to react to serious threats, we’ll change the plan. Until then, this is what we’re doing.” I stood, “Thank you gentlemen. That concludes our meeting.”

The earls and generals began to shuffle off. Gun gave me a smile as he stood and a nod, then left. I smiled back. Then spoke up, “Earl Hafthon, if you have a moment?”

“What is it you’d like, my lady?”

“I wanted to offer you a trade. I’m meeting with the Bechalle Archbishop, Earl Crygmore and Earl Carlisele later this week to discuss my coronation. They want to announce me as crown princess.”

“Yes, and as it should be, given your age and all.”

“I disagree. It’s a coronation, not a reaffirmation. I want to be crowned queen.”

He sat back, crossed his arms. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Sets a bad precedent, does it?”

“I worry for a kingdom led by a little girl. Your councils already bother me. We don’t need you in them.”

“You don’t? It seems to me that none of you are able to make decisions on your own. Sure, you have lots of ideas, but that’s about all.”

“If I weren’t here, you’d run off and kill our soldiers against a superior army.”

I was getting tired of these accusations and narrowed my eyes, “You’re suggesting I marry that damned usurper, too?”

“Do you really think of those lands as yours?”

I blinked. “No. Never been there, don’t care about them.”

“Then why did you bring up attacking them in the council meeting?”

“If they’re going to attack us, I think we should consider all options, including beating them to the punch.”

“A good defense is sometimes a fast offense.”

“Indeed.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Earl Hafthon, that was none of what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to recommend that I be crowned queen and in return I’ll grant you the duchy and exalt you to the position of duke.” Sorry, Tread. I’d really wanted to give it to you. But it made more sense to have the guy with the army invested in protecting these lands.

“I think, my lady,” he stood and pushed his chair in, “that you’ll need to grant me the duchy regardless of whether you’re coronated queen. And that’s all I’m willing to discuss on the topic. Good day.” He turned and left, leaving me staring anger into his back.

***

Glaring at the door, I stood there, hands together. Kind of fuming. Kind of puzzled. What motivated such a man? I decided I wouldn’t give him the duchy. It’d be smarter to, sure, but it seemed to me that giving it to a man unwilling to compromise and unwilling to accept my full rule, was potentially detrimental to me. Or, some annoying part of my mature brain said, I was just being petty and bitter.

The door opened and Gun walked in. My frustration turned to puzzlement. “Gun? Is there something we missed in the council?”

He walked over, his dark hair and beard trimmed neatly, looking full of vigor and youth, wearing gentleman’s clothes he had to have been wearing during the meeting, but only caught my attention now. Brown vest atop a deep green, nearly black shirt, black leggings to firm, oiled leather boots.

He took my hand, “Your Highness, if I may, I would like to steal a moment of your time,” and, bowing, he touched his lips to my skin, soft, warm and gentle.

Hairs raised on my arm, and I pulled my hand back lightly, but he held firm. “I can give you, I have, uh, a moment.” As he rose from his kiss, I couldn’t help but notice how red his lips were.

Still holding my hand, “You look stunning. Green suits you. Though I must confess, I prefer you in chainmail.” His eyes met mine and I noticed for the first time their chestnut color, a touch of a smile, hint of playfulness, around them.

“Ah, yes, well, that’s very kind of you to say. I prefer me in armor, too.” He stepped forward, I backed up, a little more, felt the wall against my back, his body close to mine. “These . . . dresses . . . don’t feel comfortable.” I resisted pulling my hand away, but wanted to, even more so as my body betrayed me, and goosebumps rose on my arm. “Gun . . . yes?”

“I would like to be counted among your suitors.”

His lips made the words, but the sounds didn’t have my full attention, “What was that?”

He put his left atop my hand, “My lady, I am an earl’s son. I’ve land, troops, and may one day inherit the earldom.” He moved closer, sliding his left hand up along my arm, to my bare shoulder. “Yet, I have greater desires.”

“I don’t . . . this, this is unexpected.”

“From that night after the battle at the Dernam River, I knew, just knew, I had to make the offer.”

I put my hand against his chest, to slow him down as much as anything. Hard against my palm, his heart beating quickly, our bodies were close. “I can’t, I’m not . . .”

“You were striking then. After winning us the battle.”

“Gun, I, that was everyone, even . . . listen,” I pulled my hand out from under his, then took his palm in mine. “These suitors, I have no intention of marrying them. It’s all to make alliances.”

“I’m closer in age to you. I want you to wear armor and lead the people, and I won’t confine you to womanly duties like the others. I will respect you as a soldier in all things public,” he moved his lips closer to my cheek, “and as a lady in all things private.”

My voice fell to just above a whisper, as his ear was so close, “I don’t know what to say.” I slipped both hands against his chest, pushing gently. “I can’t, give you an answer now. I can’t.”

We stood like that for a moment, my hands on his chest, our cheeks nearly touching, his hand on my shoulder, and then he backed up, giving us some space, “I understand, my lady.” Taking my hand in his, touching gently against his lips one more time, he slowly released it and withdrew.

I watched him go, then fell against the wall, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I should have rebuffed him strongly, instituted the chain of command, sent him packing. I didn’t. I rubbed at the goosebumps on my arm, felt hot instead of cold, shook my head. I pushed down my dress, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, tugged at the sleeves, pulled it up at my chest.

Going from anger to whatever that was. Gun, I guess. These damned teenage hormones! I decided to blame them. And these people. God, these people. They go from nothing at all to let’s open joint bank accounts and get a mortgage.

***

The guards weren’t by the door, but off to the side and down the hallway. They snapped to attention, lined up behind me. I mumbled something to them. They nodded, said the typical honorifics.

Morry was leaning against the stone wall, inspecting the blade of his short sword. He looked over, saying, “Princess, would you like to come with me to examine the new saddles you had commissioned?”

“Morry, I . . .” The dress still felt off, hanging too low and riding up my arms. I tugged at the shoulders, pulled it up the chest part again, pushed down on the hips.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just this damn dress doesn’t feel comfortable. You know I hate the things.”

“Chainmail suits you better.”

I gave him a stern look. “You were the one who suggested I bring the ladies in waiting back into my life. And take suitors. You knew that meant dresses! And now you’re saying I should wear armor?”

“Perhaps you should have several chainmail suits made?”

“Morry!” I pushed him in fake anger, but the action ended up pushing me away from his big body, “That’s . . . that’s not a bad idea. Then Brin wouldn’t have any choice in the matter. Anyways, lead on.” As we began walking, the guards fell in behind us. “Hey, what do you think about the Laemacian threats?”

“They’re tempting me to behead the ambassador.”

“Huh.” I wanted to put my arm in his, but somehow it didn’t seem the time. “That would, well, I’m not opposed to that idea. You think we’d have to return the war rhinos?”

“They do eat a lot. And shit a lot.”

“And their handlers will probably betray us if we try to use them in a war with the Laemacians.”

“They may. Perhaps you should offer them a better life here, something worth fighting for.”

“Yeah, I like that. We’ll send them morning tea in bed. Wine by the barrel!”

“Maybe I should become a war rhino handler.”

“You want morning tea in bed?”

“Sometimes I do, Princess. Sometimes I do.”

I looked up at the big, scary man and gave him the cutest smile I could muster, “Well, we’ll just have to make that happen.”

“Did Gun have private news about how the phalanx is progressing?”

I stopped in my tracks, stumbled as my mind caught up to my body, then caught up to him. He continued walking. “Sorry, errant cobblestone. Ah, Gun. He wanted to express his own thoughts on the, uhm, nature, I’m sorry, the business of the suitors.” Not quite a lie, probably a lie, but I really didn’t need Morry beating the crap out of Gun. And I was going to refuse Gun anyways. I was. I would. Soon.

“The suitors.”

“God, I wish I didn’t have any. Why couldn’t they just give me their oaths and piss off?”

He stopped. I stopped. The guards’ steel boots all rang out against the stone as they stopped. He faced me, his hard and grim gaze, “Because yours is the most desired hand in the kingdom, Princess.”

***

The artisans and carpenter laid out their saddles on the table. One was enormous, so large it seemed meant for an elephant and not a horse. A small elephant or maybe a large bear. Another was more or less a chair, almost a dining chair, with a high back and everything. It could not possibly be comfortable, were it affixed to a horse, and would probably cut off circulation to the rider’s legs, let alone what it would do to the poor horse.

The third came closest to what I wanted. Its seat sloped down, to allow a rider’s legs to sit naturally on the horse. The stirrups attached to the wooden frame itself, which was a great method to spread out the rider’s weight. But it was still too bulky. Bulky and high, it must have weighed close to forty pounds.

The artisans and the carpenter were seated, I was standing and inspecting their saddle attempts. Morry was over by the door. “Ok guys, these first two are . . . art projects, I guess. They don’t work at all.” I could tell they wanted to speak, but the nice thing about being a princess is that commoners don’t interrupt you. “This last one is close. The shape is good, but it’s too big and heavy. Can you make everything smaller?”

The artisan who designed it replied, “Yes, my lady.”

“I want it similar to this in shape, but much, much thinner. It’s going to be covered in leather and I want a handle here.” I pointed to the front part.

“Excuse me, my lady, may I, uh, suggest something?”

“Yes, please do.”

“Putting a, uhm, handle there might not, ah, work for the men.”

“The men?”

“Yes, the men. Soldiers.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Morry interjected, “He’s trying to say that it’ll smash a man’s balls.”

“Oh. Right.” I didn’t think that’s how saddles worked, but I guess if one had never seen a modern, Western saddle, that’s what you’d imagine would happen. “Alright, just shape it so that a person, a man, won’t fall out of the thing. It needs to support not only his weight, but the impact of war.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Morry walked over to me, facing the prototype saddle makers, “The princess thanks you for your time and efforts on these matters.”

Lots of honorifics and bowing and they left.

He looked at me, “He had a point, you know.”

“Yes, I see that now. The handle has to be above the seat. I’m sorry, I never really looked at that many saddles.” Modern saddles, anyways. I’d seen enough of these leather, four pegged ones now, but my image of the modern ones just came from movies. I wished I’d explored them in more detail now, but who would ever have predicted they’d wake up in premodern times?

“You’ve seen quite a few saddles.”

“Uh, the stablehands put them on and take them off for me.”

“Maybe we should include that in your exercises.”

“Speaking of which, I need to start training again soon. Now that I can move without my back bleeding all over.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Princess.”

“You have time to keep teaching me how to use weapons, even though you’re getting the Companion Cavalry together?”

“I’ll make time. It’ll be good to for the troops to see you keeping up your practice. In armor. They still call you the warrior princess.”

“Alright, let’s set that up. In the meantime, ugh, I have more suitors to meet.” I let my hand brush his arm before walking off, “I’ll catch you later.”