Book 4, Chapter 37: A Good Wife For You

Scouts had returned. Their army was amassing on a large, fallow field. Wisely, I thought to myself, best not to trample the crops. In response, we were marching there, about to break into formation upon sight of them.

As we crested a little hill, they were yet a fair way off from us, disorganized but doing their best to form up. Their phalanx trailed long behind the field next to their cavalry. A river of men and horses marching, their boots black with mud and no clouds of dust, for the ground was wet. Both lines held their spears high, glinting in the morning sun. Not as long as our sarissa or lances, I was pleased to note, perhaps a third shorter or more.

Well past them, far off in the background, I could just make out the castle, little trails of smoke rising off its chimneys. It made for a remarkable sight, a massive army marching in the plains before a distant castle. A larger army than ours, larger than I expected from the last time I’d seen the Barclay troops, nearly twice our size and spreading out to show their numbers off. Maybe I should have accepted marriage.

Brundle, in his plate mail and on his black horse next to mine, said, “Looks like scouts have alerted them to our presence.”

“They don’t seem ready, yet.” I wore my own armor and, perhaps unwisely, chose the ceremonial one I’d worn in the cathedral. Mirror polish and shining brightly, an armored girl, steel breasts and all, instantly identifiable as the princess. Yup, vain and unwise, that’s me. Perhaps I’d succumbed to this body’s girlish nature, but I wanted to awe the Barclay soldiers, if that were possible, for them to witness a sight never seen, this white and mirrored armor out of a fairy tale, out of legend.

“They’re already forming up, so they’re as ready as we are.”

“We’re marching in order, though, right? I mean, in formation. They seem more disorganized.”

“And they have more companies.” He squinted, even leaning forward on his horse, “Looks like the church’s army as well as the Barclay forces. They’re marching separately.”

Looking longer, trying to figure out what he meant, it became clear that the lines weren’t one of cavalry and infantry. The left line had infantry at its head, cavalry in the back, and the right was reverse of this. Two separate armies converging to the field. “Ah. I see it now. Are we outnumbered? Badly?”

“Outnumbered, yes.” Brundle sat up straight, black hair shining, flashed me a smile, “We’ll be putting these new weapons to the test, it seems.”

As they reached the field, they began dividing into regiments. From this hilltop, watching, anxiety hit. There were so many of them! My body wanted to run, train, exercise, use the little princess’s room, hide. I wasn’t forcing this battle, I didn’t want this. I grabbed the reins tighter, clenched my hands, and I twitched a little atop my horse. Tried to find the comfort in my saddle I had just a moment ago.

“Damn. I don’t know, Brundle. Attack?”

“Let’s form up and advance. Once they see us coming, they’ll want to parley.”

“Parley? That’s seriously a word?” I’d only ever heard it in shows. Pirate movies, mainly.

Brundle looked at me like I asked where the ground was. His incredulity oddly calmed my nerves. “Given their superior numbers, they’ll demand your concession. Perhaps your acquiescence to marriage. Whatever you decide, we’ll follow.”

“Well,” Morry said, looking fierce and daunting in his darkened full plate, his horse doing that thing horses do, stomping the grass twice with its front leg, “we’re not here for a wedding celebration.”

My hands tightened on the reins, Cloud stamped around as if she was nervous, too. “No, we are not.” I left the ‘but . . .’ unsaid, sitting in my mind, pestering me.

Their army began to spread out across the field below, taking so much space, I wondered how we’d defeat it, even with our new weapons. Looking back at my own, still mostly single file, but breaking into formations, it looked so small by comparison. They’d surround us easily. Compared to our 50 000 and change, they must have over 70 000.

They were massing for us downslope to our little hill, but left us well enough plains to maneuver, about halfway through the field. Roughly half their army wore blue and black tabards, the other half black and yellow. “Those,” Brundle said, pointing at the blue guys on the left, “are the church’s army. I fear your gold has been spent.”

“It seems really large, their army.”

“It is, but our infantry has been training with the sarissa the entire winter. And easily beating regular pikes each time. Trust our weapons as our soldiers do.”

“Enough to win, you think?”

“I think yes. We shall see how your crossbow ranks hold up. I have some reservations about them. And the new cavalry.”

The new cavalry being Morry’s regiment, a thousand men in full plate armor with long, heavy cavalry lances, back-up spears and greatswords. Faceplate open and calm, Morry said, “We’re all as prepared as is possible for what’s coming.”

“Is that a white flag, are they surrendering?”

“That’s the parley signal.”

I wanted to shout, ‘Where I come from that’s the surrender flag!’ but forced calm into my voice and went with, “Gentlemen, let’s go have a nice chat then, shall we?” Part of being the princess, it seemed, was pretending to be calm in terrifying situations. Well, that annoying voice in the back of my head said, the men are calm. Eager, even. At least, Morry seemed to be.

Brundle gave the order to march into the valley. Unlike their army, each of our divisions was ready, marching as we would fight. Gun was with the phalanx, sarissa high into the sky, Rand with his cavalry, new lances at the ready, Maitlan had his men taking the left flank, rhinos at the back, and Morry’s Companion Cavalry nearest us. Sunlight gleamed against their armor, metal men atop their metal mounts, the horses outfitted in scale-mail armor, the men’s long lances straight up. If our winter of training was accurate, the Barclay force was in for a terrible surprise. If otherwise, well, my kingdom would be short lived.

***

Morry, Brundle, I, and a few of the Companions rode out to meet them halfway. Clumps of mud kicked off the horse’s hooves but the ground wasn’t soft enough to cause us any issues.

“Princess Cayce,” yelled out the archbishop, the ambassador who’d come to my castle to bark at and threaten me, at my own coronation to issue demands. Atop his horse, holding some stave with a ringed symbol at the top, metal sphere in the center, and a ridiculously tall white and purple hat. Anger on his face.

To his right, a boy in his teenage years in fine chainmail, short yellow surcoat across his shoulders and chest, resting his helmet on his lap. Likely, the Barclay duke. First time I’d seen him in person. Red hair tipped with white, like Sapphire, freckles. Kind of cute, honestly. Large body and tall, but still a teenager. I looked for, but didn’t find, Saph and hoped she wasn’t here. I didn’t want her hurt, either by seeing the war or being in it.

I lifted my visor, wondering if they were at all awed by our full plate armor. “Duke Barclay, I presume?”

The elderly priest continued, “We offer you the chance to surrender. Your forces will not be harmed. You will marry Duke Barclay in a fortnight, and he will be your king.”

I asked the boy directly, “You think I would make a good wife to you?”

That surprised him. He looked over to the bishop.

“Listen to His Excellency,” said one of the priests accompanying him, “it is the only way to keep the kingdom intact. You will soon have your castle back, and a worthy husband to be your king.”

“I will marry no boy. And you will not advise me, priest.” I addressed the boy. “As for you, Duke Barclay, this is your chance to save your soldier’s lives. Surrender and I will keep you on as duke. Also, I’d like the return of my gold.” Even though it was clearly spent, no harm in asking.

“Do you not see the size of our army?” The priest held his hands out, “Yours isn’t quite half ours.”

Ignoring the priest and looking into the duke’s eyes, I said, “Look, I don’t want to kill you or have you killed. I like your sister. Just stop listening to these filthy priests and their unholy order.”

“Your blasphemous words will not go unnoticed, no matter that you are the princess!” shouted the same priest, pointing at me. The archbishop raised his hand to silence the man. Probably the kindest thing he’d ever done for me.

The boy duke finally spoke, “Princess Cayce, I implore you not to follow through with this attack. We outnumber you greatly and it will be your downfall.”

He rode over to me. Morry and the companions shifted their steeds, readying themselves. I gave a quick shake of my head, curious to hear the boy out. Beside my horse now, he said in a low voice so that no one but us could hear it, “Let us walk together, alone.” With that, he got off his horse, handing the reins to one of my mounted cavalry.

I nodded at the cavalry man’s questioning look, dismounted and held my reins up to Morry so he wouldn’t do anything rash, but he merely raised his eyebrows. The boy and I walked off together.

“Your Highness,” he started and paused as if weighing his words, “my lady, let me first thank you for returning my father’s body to us. It was most kind of you, allowing Sapphire to escort our father home and gracious of you to allow us to retain the duchy.”

Nodding, I said, “Of course. It is my hope that after this day you shall yet retain the duchy, but I need you to swear an oath.”

“Sapphire told me that she helped you against my father by providing you your brother’s armor and weapons.”

“And against the dowager’s plans.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I believe it was the dowager, and not your father, who orchestrated the betrayal. It was she who forbade me from leaving the tent that day to witness my brother’s downfall. Saph brought me my late twin’s armor and weapons, and I was able to sneak out to the battle. Unfortunately, I was not able to affect the outcome.”

He looked back at the parley group. “Do you have evidence to support your case against the dowager?”

“Just my recounting of events.”

“Then the best I can offer is an apology on behalf of my family. My traitorous father is to blame for your loss.”

“It’s long in the past and nothing to worry about now. Not with our two armies facing each other and those blood thirsty priests wanting a fight.” Also, and this had its benefits if you’re goal was to be heartless, the previous king wasn’t really my father. It was easy to forgive the loss of someone I never met to prevent the losses of men I knew.

“My lady,” he stopped and faced me, then knelt in the soft soil on one knee. “You are, by Sapphire’s accounts, a good woman. Let us marry and save the kingdom. We will return the rule of law to these lands.”

A collective gasp was audible from those gathered back at the parley sight. They couldn’t tell if he was offering me his oath or proposing.

My heart fluttered. Not for marriage prospects, but the chance to prevent the enormity of war. Men would die on my choice, and he’d forced me to make it. I took his gauntleted hand in mine, looked into his green eyes. Then, closed my own.

“I . . . No. The answer is no.” He was sincere and kind and I was shocked by this. I didn’t want the battle, the deaths to be on my hands. Yet I couldn’t give him myself.

“I will be a good husband for you. I will treat, ever treat you with respect and honor for all of my days. And I will take no concubines.”

“That’s, ah, very generous of you. Acknowledge me as the rightful ruler, make oaths, give me your soldiers as my bannerman and quit this battlefield and we can engage in discussion . . .” I tried to stop an involuntary shudder, “regarding courtship.”

“Give me your hand, my lady, and we will prevent needless deaths of your men. And unify the kingdom and drive out the Ketzles.”

“Listen, I don’t want this war any more than you do. Surrender to me, take the oath your father gave to mine, and . . . I will accept you as,” I had troubles saying it, “a suitor. The suitor, for I will take no others. We’ll spend time together, get to know each other. But I won’t marry you at sword point and under threat of insurrection.”

“My lady, I cannot do these things. For you have murdered a priest. Only marriage to a king will protect you from the church.”

“I acted in self-defense and morally. He was-”

“I don’t condone his actions. Yet, yours weren’t befitting a ruler. With a king guiding you, I believe you would be even tempered.”

“I’d kill him again in a heartbeat.” I took his hands and pulled, “Ok, stand up. Listen, you name yourself a duke and not a king. Your lands are part of my kingdom.”

“And you are a princess and not a queen in the eyes of the law.”

“What a difference one year makes in the life of a princess.” I turned my gaze on the horizon, “You aren’t going to surrender then?”

“My lady, I cannot. I can only accept your surrender and acquiescence to marriage, to make me king.”

I looked into his youthful green eyes but couldn’t bring myself to give him a cute smile. “We’re about to have men fight and die for us because of pride.”

“You are refusing marriage for pride.”

“No, I am refusing a forced marriage. As my bannerman, you are betraying the kingdom.”

“My lady, we outnumber you greatly. There is no chance you can win. And once you have lost, I will be king but without your noble presence as queen.”

“If I may offer a suggestion?”

“Certainly.”

“Do not ride at the head of your troops. Mine are well practiced.”

“I will lead my men into battle.”

“Then, I hope you do not die in this engagement, my lord. Truly.” I turned away from him and returned to my horse.

***

Back behind our lines, Morry looked at me, red scar running from ear to chin, grim face as ever. Out of his chest plate, he pulled the necklace of the little girl holding the umbrella, diamonds brilliant in the shining sun, to rest it on the armor. “Time for the Parasol Patrol.” Then he closed his visor, wheeled his horse around and rode over to join his cavalry on the right flank.

“Huh.”

“What’s that?” asked Brundle.

“Morry. He just, sometimes, well he never ceases to surprise me.” And brought a smile to my face as I watched him ride into position.

Metal sounds from my armor as I looked back at the large army. Their troop leaders were shouting and pointing, like ours, getting positions ready, last orders heard. But something caught my attention. Ravens. The inky black birds were descending in a large ring around the battlefield, on the ground, squawking their hellos to each other. Then lining up, shoulder to shoulder. It looked for all the world like they were staring at me.

“I swear, Brundle, those birds followed me here.” I looked around for foxes but didn’t see any. Wondered what they were up to, where my little gnome warriors were and whether all these different species chatted with each other, organized themselves and their stalking of my person. They did, however, make me feel safer, more calm, for reasons I couldn’t explain.

“Crows and ravens. They know a battle means food for them.”

“Damn.” I refocused. “What’s the fastest way we can end this?”

“If we could knock out their holy men, that would give our mages free reign. But I don’t think it can be done easily.” Unlike our mages, who were standing by themselves off on a hill to our right, the priests were behind the frontline on their left flank, protected by cavalry, then peltasts and skirmishers.

“We could send the Companions at them.” The heavy cavalry, heaviest on this world. They could probably ride through any enemy formation. Or so I hoped.

“Their cavalry outnumbers them five to one. They’d intercede before the Companions could get there and bog them down. No doubt ours would best them, but it would take time. I would like to try something different.”

“General Brundle, I trust your judgement. Lead as you wish.”

“Thank you, my princess.”

He ordered our soldiers to advance. We held in reserve Maitlan’s three thousand cavalry and two thousand sarissa infantry on our left and the war rhinos on the right. Our phalanx, outnumbered, advanced. Skirmishers and peltasts to the right and left of them, Rand’s cavalry outside of these, further left, giving Rand space to maneuver. The crossbow regiment, a thousand men strong, on the right side out in front of the rhinos, opposite the priests. We couldn’t predict how those bolts would work against their defensive magic. The Companion Cavalry behind them, to their right, holding back a bit. This would be the world’s first full cavalry charge and Brundle wanted to see how the battle went before committing them.

“Shit!”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, sorry, I just forgot to give Maitlan his necklace. I’ll be right back.” It wasn’t like Brundle needed me to strategize. I was more of an observer, there so the general could tell me what was going on.

Double checking Cloud’s packs, I found the box, took it, and jogged over to Maitlan. He was closest to us of his regiment so to best hear Brundle’s orders. Visor up, he caught me out of the corner of his eye, then directed his horse my way.

“Hey,” I said, looking up, “I forgot to give you this.” I held the box up and passed it to him.

Opening it, he reached in, pulling out the little girl and umbrella, holding it. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s made of perseidian iron, to stop magical attacks. The jeweler thought it was for women, I think.”

“It’s for me?”

“Yes, for you. To protect you.”

He passed the box back to my hands, necklace in his other one. “To protect me?”

“Yes, against magic. It’s the same iron I wear.”

“It looks like it’s made for girls.”

“I just said that. Yeah, the jeweler, I don’t know what happened there. Some kind of miscommunication. Can you just ignore that? It stops magic from hurting you.”

“Are you teasing me or something, Cayce?”

“No. Look, I gave one each to Gun and Rand and Brundle. Morry’s wearing his, too! I just forgot to give you it the other day.”

“And?”

“And? And what?”

“Are you going to apologize for that day?”

“Me, apologize? You wouldn’t leave me be! Maitlan,” hands on my hips, “I was pretty clear. What part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you understand?”

He held up the necklace, sparkling in the sunlight, twinkling as it spun. “I’ll accept this as an apology, then.”

“Take it any way you want!” I ‘pfft’ loudly and turned around, heading back to Brundle, but wisdom got the better of me and I glanced over my shoulder, shouting, “And be careful and don’t get yourself killed today!” or I wouldn’t have anyone to yell at later.

“Thank you, my lady. We will win this day in your honor.”

Oh my god, I thought to myself. He was a would-be Lancelot, wanting to woo the women and incite their desires. What I really needed was an Arthur. Impotent and wise in his old age for all his losses, with emphasis on the former.

The box I was carrying, I held it up to examine it, its silver lines yet untarnished, its gold bright yellow in the daylight, the almost pretty ropes tied to each side. I tossed it over my shoulder. Good riddance.