The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [19]
Aradal tried to meet her gaze and failed, but then something strengthened in him, and he lifted his head. “I will,” he replied.
“I will return in the morning with my chosen companions,” she said.
“No more than fifteen,” he said.
“That will be sufficient,” Muriele assured him.
On another day the Maog Voast plain might have seemed pretty, Neil reflected. Four months had passed since his wounding in the battle for the waerd. It was the fifteenth of Ponthmen, and summer was just coming into its own. The fields were glorious with the white spires of lady’s traces, yellow oxeyes, purple thrift, and a rainbow’s hoard of flowers he didn’t recognize. They mingled their sweet scents with that of wild rosemary, bee fennel, and something that reminded him of apple, although there were no trees in sight on the flat landscape. Still, the riding of a league was a long time for Neil to have the army of Hansa at his back, and he glanced behind often despite the lack of cover for an ambush. But that lack of cover went two ways, and Neil felt rather as a mouse might, wondering if a hawk was about to come out of the sun.
Muriele noticed.
“I don’t think they’ll attack us, Sir Neil,” she said.
“No,” Fail snapped. “Why should they when you’ll deliver yourself to them tomorrow?”
“The old law—”
“Even Aradal won’t vouch for its keeping,” the duke pointed out.
“Niece, you’ve just escaped one prison. Why must you hurry back into another? They’ll hold you hostage to better bargain with Anne. Lady Berrye, reason with her.”
Alis shrugged. “I serve at the pleasure of Queen Muriele,” she said. “I find her reasonable enough.”
“And don’t forget, we have hostages of our own,” Muriele added.
“Schalksweih?” Fail muttered. “How could I forget? It was I took him captive and his ship a prize. But against you…”
“He’s a favorite of Marcomir’s,” she said. “They have sued for his release.”
Fail looked heavenward, shaking his head.
“Why are you really doing this, dove?”
“What else should I do? Knit stockings while my daughter rides into battle? Arrange flowers as army after army arrays against us?”
“Why not, Majesty?” Neil interjected.
“Excuse me, Sir Neil?”
“Why not?” he repeated “The fleet of Hansa is inside our borders, and their land army is on the march. What can you say that will deter them? Sir Fail is right: You’ve suffered enough, milady.”
“How much I’ve suffered is not at issue,” Muriele countered. “And although I’m not flattered by your opinion of my political abilities, I see a chance to stop this war, and I will take it. I’ve discussed this with Anne. She will not yield one grain of our dirt if I am taken hostage.”
“She fought like a demon to retrieve you from Robert,” Fail pointed out. “Things have changed,” Muriele said.
Anne has changed, Neil reflected. Muriele was probably right in that: The empress would not be intimidated even by threats to her own mother.
He wondered where she was now: on the throne or off killing churchmen. The latter had become almost a sport to her.
“Well,” Fail said. “I’ll go.”
“One of our best sea commanders? It’s out of the question. You’re needed here, guarding our waves. Anyway, the strain of keeping your sword sheathed would split the vein on your forehead. You’re not much of a diplomat, Uncle.”
“And you are?”
She shrugged. “I’ve seen it done, and I have the station for it, even though I am a woman.” She paused. “Anne wants me to go, Uncle. One of her visions. She says there’s a chance.”
“Visions,” he snorted.
“She knew you were coming with the fleet,” Neil said. “She knew when. It’s why we knew we had to take down Thornrath so quickly.”
“Aye,” Fail muttered, chewing his lip. “Maybe her visions are true. But your own daughter, sending you to the viper’s den—it’s hard to fathom.”
“Majesty,” Neil said. “I know I’m not much use—”
“Oh, you’re going,” Muriele said. “Why do you think you’re here? If it were my decision, you would still be abed.”
Neil frowned. “You mean to say the empress wants me to go to Hansa?”
“She was