Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [129]
The future held either death or glory.
Brand had assembled his men for an announcement. “When it comes time for battle, every man needs a symbol to remind him of what he is fighting for and what he stands to lose.”
At Brand’s signal a banner was raised. “Here is our standard. This white dragon you all recognize as the symbol of Amelonia’s royal house and the true heir. Added to it now at the behest of the Princess Tressalara herself is this oak tree, symbol of the freedom to which every man and woman and child in this kingdom is heir.”
A cheer went up from the throng. Brand stilled them with a raised hand. Cador stepped into the torchlight, leading a figure costumed in a long white tunic with flowing sleeves. She held a glittering sun mask on a gilded rod before her face, such as noblewomen used on state occasions. A hush fell over the assembly. In the stillness that followed, a great white hawk speared down from the highest tree to perch on the white-garbed woman’s arm. A frisson of excitement went through the crowd.
Tressalara peered through her mask at the mass of rebels gathered in camp. The new banner, which she had designed and stitched herself during the past five days, stirred in the breeze. It gave her a strange thrill of pride, yet humbled her at the same time. She had baptized it with her own blood—and it had been worth every knot and curse and needle prick. Cador took the mask from Tressalara’s hand.
“Behold, men and woman of Amelonia! I bring you another symbol, a living one this time, hidden for safety in our midst for lo, these many weeks. Behold your princess, soon to be crowned your queen!”
Tressalara stepped forward into the glare of the torches. Not a one recognized the disheveled boy Trev in the elegant woman she had become. A murmur arose from the crowd, like the whispering of a mighty wind through the ancient forest. Singly and in groups, the assembled rebels sank to their knees in homage. Then the sound grew, a low, throaty rumble changing to a mighty roar.
“Long live our royal princess! Long live Tressalara! Life and victory to our noble queen!”
Brand swung up onto his horse. “To arms, then!”
As he rounded up his men, Cador readied to help Tressalara mount a fine black mare. Once she had thrown her dark-blue hooded cloak over her shoulders she would be almost invisible in the night. He stopped and drew his sword, then nicked his palm. “My life’s blood for you, lady. I swear it.”
His words chilled her. “I would rather that none of yours was spilled in any cause,” she replied shakily. “Guard yourself well, Cador.” My love.
He didn’t reply, only wiped his hand and prised out the dome of rock crystal set into his sword pommel. He removed the amulet inside. She saw that it was suspended from a fine chain. It caught the light with a flash of luminous fire that reminded Tressalara of the great Andun Crystal itself.
“Wear this for me,” he told her, “to bring me luck. And if I fall, return it to my father, Laird of Kildore.”
He slipped the chain over her head. The silver was warm from his touch. Despite the coolness between them, Tressalara felt protected and cherished by his action. “I will wear it proudly, Cador—and pray that my doing so will bring you through this night safely.”
There was nothing more to be said. They mounted and rode off through the darkening forest, splitting into various groups that would rendezvous nearer the castle. Tressalara’s band went with Cador. It seemed to her that the magic of the place followed them, for everywhere they went the way was smooth and safe.
By cutting through a secret path that Cador had set the men to clearing weeks before, they reached the wooded hills near the castle quickly. Too quickly for Tressalara. This was where three final groups would part ways.
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