The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [86]
“Who do they need to be protected from?”
The Craftsman shrugged.
“Raiht,” Artwair said. “Better we should leave a small mounted force here. Perhaps that would suit you, Earl.”
“Whatever pleases Her Majesty pleases me,” the earl said, “but I would prefer to ride with the attack. I think that my archers might have been practically invented for this situation.”
“He has a point,” Leafton said. “We’ve archers in the light cavalry, but they and the Sefry generally dismount to fire. We could use archers experienced at actually shooting from horseback.”
Artwair nodded and sent a probing look at Anne.
“Yes, come along with us, Cape Chavel,” she said. “It ought to be fun.”
Preparations went quickly, and before midday they were riding. Anne was surrounded by her twelve Mamres-gifted Craftsmen and her Sefry guard in their broad-brimmed hats and scarves. Ahead of her was the vanguard, Kenwulf’s heavy horse, fifty knights, each with twenty handpicked riders. The light horse and Sefry rode on the right wing, and the earl’s men on her left.
Two bells later they were trotting down the hills. Anne had a brief view of the camp, and her scalp started to tingle. Had they been noticed yet? The ground must be starting to tremble from so many hooves.
They breasted a wide ridge, and there was nothing but a few hundred kingsyards between them and the enemy.
The Hansans were boiling like ants whose hill had just been kicked, trying to make formations, but as of yet she didn’t see a single pike hedge, although a rickety-looking shield wall was forming.
“Give the order to charge,” she told Leafton.
He nodded, lifted his cornet, and sounded it. The heavy horse in front of her formed a line five deep and two hundred wide, massed together so closely that an apple thrown among them wouldn’t find its way to the ground. They began the advance slowly but soon began to gather speed.
The air was already thick with the arrows of her men, and she felt a savage joy as they swept down from the ridge, her guard forming a wall around her.
Joy mingled with the now familiar sick rage of Cer as she reached out toward the Hansans, feeling the wet insides of them. As if with her hands, she softly squeezed.
And as the heavy horse shocked into them, she heard the vast sob of their despair. Some who had lifted their pikes dropped them.
The vanguard tore through the half-formed Hansan lines, and the light horse spread to encircle them. But to her chagrin, the knights around her were drawing to a halt.
“What’s this?” she said.
“We’re to keep you safe, Majesty,” Leafton said. “The duke’s orders. No need for you to be down in there where a stray arrow or lance might find you.”
“Artwair is my general,” she replied. “His orders weigh less than mine. Resume the charge, or by the saints, I’ll go down without you.”
“Majesty—”
“Your only possible response, Captain Leafton, is ‘Yes, Majesty.’”
“Yes, Majesty,” he sighed. Then, in a louder voice: “Resume charge.”
They struck what remained of the right flank, but there was little resistance to speak of. In moments the army of Hansa broke and ran, with her knights cutting them down from behind. Anne saw that some of their cavalry had managed to form up and were trying to help cover their fleeing comrades, without much success.
And so she found herself in the center of the camp, the dead and dying spread around her. She felt something swelling inside her, a terrible glee, and realized the woman was there, alive in the power that Anne was funneling through her.
You see? You see what real strength is? And this is only the beginning.
“Good,” Anne said, exhilarated.
“Something’s wrong,” Leafton said.
“How so?”
“This doesn’t look like five thousand men, not even half of that.”
Wait… The arilac sounded suddenly uncertain, something Anne never had sensed from her before.
“What is it?”
The Hellrune! The Hellrune saw this, too! He’s a step ahead of you! Anne, flee!
Anne turned to Leafton, but he already had an arrow in his eye, and shafts were falling