“At dinner.” Pascal was already half out of his clothes, movements quick and nervous. “I can hardly wait, Matthew! A year and more, but at last I shall see her again!”
“Yes, at last.” Matt just hoped the boy decided it had all been worth the trip. “Your Majesty must not go!” The gray-bearded doctor trembled with agitation. “I have cast the runes, I have gazed within a pool tinted with a drop of your blood-and there can be no doubt! I have seen the babe that grows inside you! You are with child and must not risk the baby’s life by going on campaign!”
“I shall take no risks that I can avoid,” Alisande said with total determination, “but ride I must, or the child may have no father!”
The doctor’s face sank into a tragic mask. “At least ride in a litter,” he pleaded. “What! A warrior going forth to battle in a litter? Who would respect it?”
“I have heard of wounded kings who directed their battles from horse litters,” the doctor insisted. “I am not wounded!”
“No, but you will be if you do not take care. At the very least, Majesty, ride sidesaddle!”
Alisande tried to glare at the doctor, but she couldn’t keep it up with someone who was honestly concerned for her welfare. She dropped her gaze. “Very well, learned doctor-I shall ride sidesaddle. Until battle.”
“Do not ride in battle,” the old man pleaded. “What are generals for?”
Alisande looked up, eyes sparking. “Should not queens be generals, too?”
“Aye, Majesty-if they are not mothers.”
“I will not be a mother yet,” Alisande muttered, eyes downcast-but she put on her armor with a heavy heart. Then she took it off again. It no longer fit around the middle. When she was finally attired, her ladies sighed and ushered her out the door, shaking their heads but knowing it was useless to protest. As they came out into the courtyard, a shout went up and all the men stood straighter, all eyes locked on their queen, in her hood and coat of light mail, covered by the tabard with her arms emblazoned on it, and her battle coronet on her head. She stood a moment, looking out at them, feeling the old pride stir within her. Then she turned to the groom, who was holding the stirrup of her charger. She nodded and mounted, and her troops broke into another shout. She waved to them, acknowledging their tribute, and called out, “Men, the Lord Wizard may be in peril, for he rides south to learn what mischief brews in the kingdom of Latruria! We ride to be near if he learns tales of woe! It may be war, or it may be peace-but we dare not wait for the Latrurians to decide!”
Another mighty shout went up-then a grizzled sergeant began the surging chant of a war song. The queen smiled and joined in. But as the last chord sounded, the Lady Constance came riding up on a palfrey, herself clad in light mail, with a surcoat emblazoned with the arms of her family. Queen Alisande stared, astounded. “Milady! What means this?”
“If you are determined to ride when you should not, Majesty, then I must ride with you,” Lady Constance informed her. “Do not try to dissuade me! I shall ride with you, whether you will or no-for you must have at least one lady with you, to care for you at such a time!”
Alisande nearly ordered her back into the castle, but she froze with the words of command on her tongue, remembering that receiving loyalty had its prices, and accepting service when it is offered was one of those. She intended to be a leader, not a tyrant, and if she inspired her people to work for her, she had to accept their devotion. So she swallowed the words and let the smile that was straining inside her grow out. “You should not endanger yourself, milady, nor expose yourself to such rigors.”
“If you will, Majesty, I will!”
“And right glad I shall be of your company,” Alisande said, her eyes shining. “Come, let us ride!”
So she rode out to battle with Lady Constance beside her: she rode out wearing a gown, which she had never done before, with only a light coat of mail over it, and only her battle coronet atop her golden hair. There was a habergeon of heavy ring mail tied behind her saddle, though, with her helmet atop it. She rode sidesaddle, which she had never done before-but she did ride, head lifted high and proud, blond hair blowing like a banner, and her knights and footmen shouted with joy at the sight, then broke into an old marching song as they followed her. Out beneath the portcullis they rode, over the drawbridge and down the winding road to the plain, the troops marching behind them. Off they went, with the soldiers chanting a marching song, out across the valley floor-but an hour later, as they came up to the crest of the hills that surrounded the plain, she saw a lone rider in full plate armor silhouetted against the sky, sitting his charger and waiting for them. Her heart quickened with hope, and as they came up level with him, the face became clear, but the armor stayed black, and she saw that it was indeed he! “Sir Guy de Toutarien! You are well met indeed!”
“As are you, Majesty.” Sir Guy inclined his head as a courtesy between equals, not any token of subjection. “But why have you not come to visit your spouse?”
“We have said our good-byes already.” Sir Guy fell in beside her, and the army shouted with joy. Sir Guy turned to grin and wave, acknowledging their acclaim, then turned back and went on. “I would not trouble her heart again when I must be gone in an hour’s time. What of your spouse, your Majesty?”
“Why else would I ride south?” Alisande said with irony. Then her face creased with anxiety. “But tell me, Sir Guy-the messenger brought some talk of the Witch Doctor, Saul…”
Sir Guy contrived a look of sympathy. “I found him, Majesty, and spoke with him. The Lady Angelique is well, and they have indeed married, but there is as yet no sign of children.”
Well, Alisande thought, at least she wasn’t coming in last. That is good news, Sir Guy-but will he come to aid us in search of Lord Matthew?“
Sir Guy sighed. “Alas, I fear he will not. He persists in his claim that he is not overly fond of other folk-”
“Which the Lady Angelique stands to deny, if not to ameliorate,” Alisande said crisply. “What does he, that he will not come?”
“What he terms ‘research,’ though why he should search again where he has presumably already searched, I cannot tell.”
“Indeed! And what is it he searches for?”
“Ah! That, at least, I can say,” Sir Guy replied. “He still pursues his old goal.”
“What! Still seeking a magic that may work without drawing on either Good or Evil, God or Satan?”
“As earnestly as ever,” Sir Guy said, rather embarrassed for his friend. “He is absorbed in his studies and says that he does not wish to interrupt them unless ‘tis a matter of dire emergency.”
“Why, this case is just such an emergency!”
“Matthew is not yet in peril of his life, Majesty.” Sir Guy drew something out of his armor, dangling at the end of a chain. It was a ball about an inch across, perforated with tiny holes. “However, the wizard Saul gave me this talisman.”
Alisande frowned, peering closely at the bauble. “It is singularly unremarkable, though its silver polish is pretty enough. What use is it?”
“It is a talisman he has made, that we may call upon him if Matthew is truly imperiled.”
Alisande eyed the little ball warily. “How will it do that? Surely it cannot ring-it is a dumb bell!”