“But given the history of the disputed land, it is more likely that the Naudron King has sent a probe to test our mettle. Hence, we will take half the Castleward-a band of fifty-and make for Arnsburg now, in the dark, in secret, so that any spies lurking nearby will not know that we are gone. We will leave by the small western sally port, for as you know, it is guised to look as part of the wall, and debouches into a swale that will hide us. And by the time dawn breaks, we will be well beyond their sight.
“Those who remain on ward will simply pull double duty till the muster arrives, and until that occurs, hostile eyes will merely see what appears to be a normal keep awaiting the return of its King.
“For those of us who set forth to engage the one hundred Naudron, we will be outnumbered two to one, yet we will not be outmanned. We will rely upon surprise and cunning to carry the day when we do fall upon them, and should that fail, then we will depend upon our prowess to defeat them. At the worst, we can do as Cunning Harold did when he met the Kathians: strike and flee, harrying them till reinforcements come to aid us.
“Concerning these reinforcements, Arlan, I rely upon you to ride with us until the River Grey, then you are to fare north to Easton, mustering warriors there to come and strengthen our arms. Know you the way? Well and good. Bring them straightaway to Arnsburg; we will leave Vanadurin sign upon our track should we be warring in a cut-and-run fashion.
“Mayhap each of you think this a reckless plan, for until the Easton relief comes, fifty engage one hundred; yet again I remind you: Fortune favors the bold.
“Are there any questions?” Elgo fell silent, and all in the room looked upon him with pride, for until this moment he had been but a lad of not quite sixteen summers, a Prince to be sure, but still a lad. Yet now they saw him through new eyes, and they beheld a Man.
“What do you mean I can’t go?” Elyn was furious. “I’ve trained all my life for this, and now that you desperately need a Warrior Maid, you tell me I must remain behind!”
Ruric turned, guilt in his eyes. The Armsmaster and the Princess were alone in the council chamber. “Ah me, lass, ye know that I cannot risk both o’ Aranor’s seed in but a single battle.”
“Then let me ride to Easton and call forth the muster,” Elyn pled. “That way Arlan can remain with you, lending his skill to the force.”
“Lass, lass, we know not what Bogar may ha’e lying in wait out upon the plains,” responded Ruric. “For all we know, ’tis a great ambush into which we sally forth in ignorance. Princess, ye must stay behind.”
“Why?” Elyn’s eyes flashed. “Because I’m a girl?”
“Girl Hèl! Ye be a better fighter than nearly any that goes wi’ me!” roared Ruric, slamming a clenched fist into his palm. Then his mood softened. “Nay, lass, ’tis as I say. Both o’ Aranor’s heirs cannot be risked on such a mission. One must stay behind.”
“That could be Elgo as well as me,” shot back Elyn.
“Ah nay, Princess, for ’tis his plan we set forth to do, and it be his right.” Ruric swept up his saber, glancing at the candlemark. “I held ye behind to tell ye my decision, out o’ the hearing o’ the others, for I knew it would not set well wi’ ye. Abide by it, lass, for yer sire would ha’e it so.” Ruric turned and strode from the hall, setting forth to join the others.
Bitterly, Elyn watched him go.
Later that night the Princess sat before the throne, looking at the coat of arms hanging above it-white horse rampant upon a green field-cursing the state of her birth. Had she not been Aranor’s child, she would have sallied forth with the others when they silently filed out into the night. But her station kept her from it. Were she not a Princess, then she would have gone. But on the other hand, were she not a Princess, then she more than likely would not be a Warrior Maid. Somewhat of a dilemma, she ruefully admitted.
Yet wait! Elgo went on the mission. What if he were the only heir-would he still have gone, risking death, leaving the Crown bereft of a future King? Elyn had no doubt as to the answer to her question: Of course he would do so, heir or not. And if the Realm should lose a successor, then so be it. Hence, if engaging the foe is more important than preserving the Line, then why am I not with them? Rach! Why did I not think of this when Ruric held me back?
And as the Princess pondered what she should have said, and what she should have done, weariness at last overcame her and she finally took to her quarters.
The next morn, wan and desolate, Elyn picked at her food. Dressed in her leathers, she sat at meal with three young Ladies of her age-Kyla, Darcy, and Elise-all of whom talked of the Men going off to engage the Naudron, and all of whom commiserated with Elyn, railing at the cavalier treatment she had suffered, though none of the three Ladies understood precisely just why the Princess would want to go.
The mood became even more glum when they were joined by Mala, her severe countenance serving only to add to the misery.
“Well, I just don’t think it was fair,” exclaimed Darcy, continuing the conversation. “After all, why would Ruric keep you back?”
“I agree,” chimed in Elise. “After what you said about heirs engaging the foe, Darcy’s right, it just doesn’t make sense.”
Imperiously, Mala tapped her spoon against her glass. When she had their attention: “Ladies, it is precisely because of the need for heirs to the Throne that War Commander Ruric did what was right.” Mala’s tone brooked no disagreement.
“Meaning?” Elyn was in no mood to listen to another of Mala’s lectures, yet she could not forgo questioning her spinster aunt’s statement.
“Meaning that the Line must be preserved.” Mala spoke as to a child. “Should Elgo fall in battle-or at any time prior to producing offspring-then the heir will come from your womb, Niece.”
“What you say mayhap will come true in the end, Aunt,” responded Elyn, “yet I think that I must have a heartmate ere I can bear a child.”
“Perhaps that will come sooner than you expect, dear Elyn,” replied Mala.
“And just what do you mean by that?” Now Elyn’s voice took on a cold tone, for her aunt’s assertions were leading somewhere, somewhere perhaps that Elyn did not want to go, yet she needed to understand just what Mala was driving at.
The spinster’s face took on a knowing look, and she glanced at Elise, Darcy, and Kyla. These three made a move as if to rise, for they fully realized that they were not part of this conversation, nor were they wanted by Mala; but at a gesture from Elyn, they settled back to the edge of their chairs. “Very well, my dear, if you would have everyone know, it’s just this: You are nearly sixteen, the marrying age. Aranor has gone to Aven on a trade mission, and Randall, the Aven King, has not one, but two sons who have recently both lost their wives to the fever. Indeed, they are each somewhat older than your tender age; I think the youngest, Haddon, is some twenty-two years your senior, yet both he or his elder brother, Corbin, would make a suitable match for you.”
Elyn was livid. “Are you saying that my sire has gone to Aven to fetch back someone to breed me to, someone old enough to be my father?”
“Well, he did not say it in so many words,” admitted Mala. “But a marriage, certainly, will be arranged for you soon-sooner than you expect, my dear, of that I have no doubt. And don’t be coarse, Elyn, it is not a breeding.”
“What else would you call it?” exploded Elyn. “By any other name it would be the same! You speak as if I am nought but a womb to seal alliances and produce heirs! But heed me: By Adon, I will not allow you or anyone to breed me as you would some mare, some sow. I am not chattel to be bought and sold! I am a warrior! And as such, it is my right, my right, as a Warrior Maid-as Warrior Maids have ever done-to select the one I marry, if he will have me. I will not be mated to someone not of my choosing.”