“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 outside 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.”