The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

“We’re not,” she said, hurrying to make more strips and tie them together. “I only want to make them think so. Go on with your tale. Genette tried to persuade Chatriyon to attack Pree. If I recall my history, she did attack. It failed.”

He nodded sadly. “Maybe it was an impossible task. Think of it, Ankarette. This city”—he gestured with his arms—“has sizable defenses. Lionn was one thing. But Pree is more secure, and it was full of enemy forces. Deford was no fool. I’m sure he wanted to ride out in battle against us, but he also knew the power of momentum in victory. After all, I’d given him that momentum years before. Deford, the cunning lion, sent a letter to Chatriyon requesting a halt to the violence. He promised to surrender the city of Pree in two weeks if they reached an agreement. Both Genette and I knew it was a trick, a stalling technique so he could fortify the city. Chatriyon was more inclined to consider it, even though it would slow our momentum. If he had listened to the Maid, if he had heeded her, it would have gone differently. Trust me, our army, although small, was courageous after such unlikely victories. They truly believed the Fountain was on our side. And they believed they could conquer Pree. So did Genette.”

“What happened?” Ankarette said. “Did it go wrong because of the box?”

Alensson was quiet for a moment before speaking. “I think so. It’s something I heard Genette say to the king, something she whispered urgently to him as she tried to convince him to reject Deford’s proposal. I was standing nearby, so I overheard it. She whispered to him that he would win the city because he held the chest,” he said. “Not because of some truce or negotiation with our enemies. I don’t know what that meant or what magic the box evoked. Chatriyon gave in to her . . . eventually. He told her that she would have a fortnight to conquer the city or he’d order her to withdraw.” He grimaced. “Most sieges last for months, Ankarette. But she was convinced she could do it in less than a fortnight. She did not see what I saw, even though he warned her. I don’t think he agreed out of any eagerness to conquer Pree. He intended to send her to her death. And if that failed, he could be sure it happened in his own way.”

Ankarette finished the makeshift rope made out of bedding. “Would that I could hear the rest of it now, but we must make ready to leave. Here is my plan. People are quick to believe what they see—and even quicker to jump to the wrong conclusion.” She went to the brazier and grabbed an iron poker, then fastened the makeshift rope to it. He followed her into the garderobe.

“We’re going down the toilet?” he asked, his cheek twitching with revulsion. “We’re going to jump into that cesspit?”

“No, we’re going to make them think that you did.” She set the iron poker across the garderobe seat and then flung the heap of cloth down into the darkness. “They’ll arrive and find your bed in tatters. The windows will all be bolted. A quick search will reveal the false trail, and every guard in the palace will be ordered to start searching the perimeter.”

“But we’ll still be in the room?” he asked quizzically.

Ankarette nodded. “When the servants are ordered to clean up the mess we’re about to make, I will render them unconscious and we’ll take their clothes. Everyone knows who you are, Duke Alensson, but one thing I’ve learned is that people don’t give you a second glance if you look like someone of lower birth. A shave, a haircut, and a different walk will make everyone look right past you as we escape.”

“And where are we going?” he asked her cautiously.

“I need to get back to my king and warn him what we’re up against,” Ankarette said. “And you are coming with me. King Lewis has been acting with a great deal of overconfidence. Like he can’t lose this fight. I’m beginning to suspect I know why.” She gave him a cunning smile. “Now, before we hide in the rafters, tell me about this chest. I want you to describe it to me in perfect detail. What did it look like?”

Alensson gave her a broad smile. “I like you, lass. And I am only too happy to leave this prison.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN

Defending Pree





Alensson watched as the soldiers yanked the trebuchet lever. The massive timbers groaned, pivoted sharply, and then hurled a bucket of debris toward the towering walls of Pree, only for the boulders to be pulverized against it.

“By the mast,” one of the soldiers said, shaking his head in disappointment. “It didn’t so much as soften her.”

“And why should it?” said another soldier. “The walls of Pree are eighty feet thick. It’s siege ladders again, lads.”

“Not for you,” Alensson said. “Load it again. Throw another and then another. It may crack the shell eventually.” It was only the first day of the siege. He hadn’t expected the walls to crumble on the first strike.

“Aye, my lord,” the soldier said, his armor coated with chalky dust and grime. “You heard the man. Fetch more rubble from yonder.”

Alensson remained to watch them obey his orders, then strode farther onto the battlefield, where the archers were sending volleys up against the walls.

He planted one knee, shielding his eyes from the sun, and gazed at the walls. “How goes the work? Do you have enough arrows?”

The archer had a gouge on his cheek and was missing some teeth. “It goes well enough, lord duke. I got a knight in the neck about an hour past and watched him tumble off the wall. That was a sight to see. How many do you reckon are defending Pree? A million?”

Alensson chuckled. “Not so many. I wonder how many inside would actually like us to win, eh?”

The archer grinned. “How far away is Deford’s army? Have you heard word, my lord?”

Alensson nodded. “He’s at Tatton Hall,” he answered. “I’d love to take a thousand men and go give him trouble right now, but we need every man here. He’s coming with reinforcements from Kingfountain. Latest word is they are three days away.”

The archer pursed his lips. “Cutting it awfully close this time,” he said. “If they join the city defenders before we break through . . .” He clucked his tongue. “But we’ve got the Maid with us. She’s worth ten thousand brutes of Kingfountain. I seen her banner up there against the walls. She’s got pluck, that lass. Fears nothing. I’m grateful the Fountain is on our side, my lord.”

“So am I,” Alensson said, clapping the man’s shoulder. The last he’d heard, Genette was in the command tent talking to the king. It was unusual having the king amidst the army for once, taking an active role in the decisions, however far his tent was from actual danger. But when Alensson looked up, he saw her white banner near the front walls, just as the archer had said. She was rallying the soldiers to fill the moat with bales of wood to create makeshift bridges that would allow them to reach the fortifications with the ladders. The archers and crossbowmen from the city were brutally picking the soldiers off, one by one. The dead were left on the field, many with multiple arrows protruding from them. Some were writhing, their screams ghosting over the battlefield.