Crusade - James Lowder [128]
Noting the look of concern on his daughter's face, the king asked, "Does that bother you?"
Alusair considered how to form her concern, how to put it into words.
Finally, she adopted the most direct approach; though rather blunt, it seemed the most accurate. "It seems like we're lying."
The reply didn't surprise Azoun. In fact, ever since he had allowed the rumors about the Tuigan and his "escape" from their camp to circulate, he'd been troubled by that same thought. After all, those rumors had been partly to blame for the disastrous cavalry charge in the last Tuigan encounter. Azoun had come to no conclusions, however, so he simply didn't know how to respond to Alusair's comment.
Father and daughter remained silent for a time. Alusair knew the king well enough to realize that he was wrestling with the problem, not ignoring it.
They'd spent many hours in Azoun's study in Cormyr embroiled in similar debates, and the pattern was always the same: in the course of a discussion, Alusair would pose a particularly challenging question. Rather than toss off a quick reply or dismiss the problem, the king would consider the issue, pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at a book or two.
The scenery around Alusair and Azoun now had little in common with that study. As they walked, they passed the groups of archers preparing palisades. Many of the soldiers were finished chopping points onto the poles, and some were even setting the eight- to ten-foot-long spikes into the ground.
Alusair had never been in a cavalry charge that had been forced to face that kind of defense, but she was certain that it must be terrifying to break against a line, only to find huge sharpened stakes braced in the ground, leveled at you or your mount. She shivered and dismissed the grisly thought.
After a time, in which Azoun distractedly returned the bows and greetings of his troops, the king and his daughter looked away from the line of palisades and moved back toward the Golden Way. The sun was beginning to sink in the west, and a few of the Alliance's commanders had already gathered in the road for their meeting.
"I don't lie when I encourage the troops, for I believe that they-that we can actually win," the king replied at last. He stopped and looked back at the soldiers toiling away, some setting spikes, others placing small barricades before the first rank. "I have my doubts, but it isn't my place to share those with the soldiers. They need a leader, not a doomsayer."
Alusair paused for a moment. "Farl told me about Lord Harcourt," she began. The pain that registered on the king's face at the mention of the cavalry charge made the princess regret bringing up the subject. "This isn't the time-" she added quickly.
"If not now, when?" the king replied, a bit too sharply. He spun around as swiftly as his wounded leg would allow and headed toward the meeting. "I don't know what to say about Harcourt and the nobles," he admitted as he trudged along.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have let the rumors about the Tuigan circulate,"
Alusair offered bluntly.
Alusair wasn't saying anything that Azoun's conscience hadn't suggested to him over and over already. When he told his daughter this, she nodded. Then it was her turn to be silent. For a moment, it seemed that the conversation would end there.
When he stepped onto the road, however, Azoun put his hand on his daughter's arm. "When you were in command of the army last night, how did you make your decisions?" he asked.
"I did what I thought was right."
Azoun nodded. The reply was exactly what he'd expected. "That was how I decided to let the rumors about my deeds in the Tuigan camp circulate. From the counsel I received, I concluded that the army would be far better off if I didn't dash their enthusiasm."
"Then you didn't take the most important counselor into consideration," the princess said. She pointed at the king's chest. "You didn't listen to your heart.
You didn't do what your conscience told you was the right thing to do."
Azoun