beautiful woman stood in their stead. She was beautiful, but it was of a different source than Ivona’s, though equal. It was the beauty of power, rather than of gentleness; of fear, rather than of love; of demons, rather than of angels. Her hair hung down her back, perfectly white though she could have been no more than twenty. Her eyes were gray like the fogs that cover the forest coasts and glaring like the moon that comes down through them. Her features were similar to Celestine’s and Casandra’s, but written over with a different demeanor. She wore a black cape and an iron crown, plainly cast and adorned. To those with true power, its symbols are not necessary.
Behind her stood her entourage of two dozen soldiers, each armed with a double-sided battle ax. At her side, moreover, were seven men – to the left were the Fardy brothers and to the right was the Admiral, Osbert, Barnes, and one of his sailors.
“What is this?” the lady said through the silence that had come over the hall. “Another guest of honor?”
Gylain stood and called to her in his own commanding voice.
“Who are you, there, to enter this castle so brazenly?”
“The Queen of Saxony!”
Gylain stood silently, his face unmoved. He turned and glanced briefly at Ivona, then at Cybele, the queen. He reached his hand to his sword and opened his mouth to command his men.
Yet whatever his command was, it could not be heard, for it was preempted by a shout from the other side of the room. The brown Fardy – seeing the situation they were in – acted quickly.
“Charge!” he cried, “Gylain is upon us!” and he run straight toward Gylain, flourishing his sword wildly above his head.
Chapter 40
The moon shone down on the forest road, illuminating the shadows with its silvery garnish. It came down through the cracks in the canopy above, slicing its way through the darkness of the forest. Yet it was not silent in the dark – for the forest was a nocturnal beast. Owls and cicadas joined together in a lonely dirge, kept steady by the constant rut-tut tut-tut of galloping horses.
There were seven riders coming down the forest road in the greatest hurry. They rode two abreast, with the odd rider in front, leading the way. It was evident from his careful and dexterous riding that he was well acquainted with both the forest and the horses. He was dressed in a green frock – the clothes of a forest ranger – and his hair was cropped short. His face was that of an honest man: unlearned in letters, yet fully literate in the hearts of man. Behind Osbert rode the Admiral, the Fardys, Barnes, and the sailor, Forsmil.
“This world has never seen a more patient family than my own,” the brown Fardy said. “But I would venture to say that our patience is ill-shown with all this bustling hurry. Perhaps my kin would think of resting, that we may manifest our patience before the world?” He spoke in a slow and deliberate manner, as if he were out of breath.
“I will not allow my brother to humble himself below me, and to claim that I am more patient than him. The first will be last and the last will be first: I would not dare let you be above me here!” answered the blond Fardy, who rode beside him.
“Silence! There will be no stopping, for we must ride through the night,” Admiral Stuart said. “Above all, there will be no displays of patience by the Fardy brothers – we are in far too much of a hurry!”
“Listen,” Osbert interrupted, “I can hear horses approaching.”
They brought their horses to a stop and turned about, to see who was coming. As they did, a party of horseman came around the corner, led by a beautiful, white-haired woman. They came on at a gallop and stopped in front of the rebel party. William Stuart was the first to act.
“Welcome to Atilta, your majesty,” and he lowered his head in respect.
“Then Gylain has not forgotten my arrival,” she answered. “Why did you not meet me at the harbor?”
“We did not know you were landing in Thunder Bay, madam.”
“Of course not. We left for the Floatings, yet the captain caught sight of
“He did?” the Admiral asked. “I did not know the fearsome William Stuart was about.”
“William Stuart is not fearsome,” she snapped, “Though he is dead.”
“Your wisdom gives you courage,” the Admiral returned, his countenance an empty canvas. “Come, to the Castle Plantagenet – to our master Gylain.” William seemed to choke on these last words and the Queen of Saxony saw him. Yet she said nothing of it.
Instead, she said, “Let us go, then. You will ride at my side,” and she looked at the Admiral.
The rebels fell into the ranks of the queen’s entourage, with the Admiral at her side. Osbert gave him a raised eyebrow as the others looked away, asking what they would do.
“It is good,” William whispered in response, “For we gain entrance to the castle.”
Osbert returned to the ranks and the Admiral joined the queen.
“What is your rank?” the queen asked Admiral Stuart.
“I am a noble commoner – common by birth and noble by achievements. At present I am the Admiral of the Atiltian Navy, madam,” he replied.
“With a sailor’s pride,” she laughed, “But with plenty of reason. Atilta’s navy is renowned for its strength, both under the Kings and under Gylain.” She said this with a faint sparkle in her eyes, as if remembering the navy’s past was a pleasant exercise. Soon, she recovered her royal countenance.
“We do, and not only in the main squadron, madam. We have many – how will I say it – hidden vessels. I have but lately returned from abroad and there has been little time to reveal them,” the Admiral said, eying the queen affectionately, as a parent long separated but at last returned.
She was both quick witted and quick to emotion. It was a trait she had in common with the Admiral, though neither was quick to display that emotion.
“Always improving, but never getting better: the human condition. Perhaps your navy is the same?”
“No, my lady,” he answered, “I am finally returned, and things will soon be ship-shape. Indeed, I would venture to say that within the week we will be driving Gylain from this land.”
The queen looked at him closely – his tongue had betrayed him.
“What can you mean by that? A coup?” She raised her left eyebrow and tilted her head slightly in the same direction.
“A coup? Who would think of such a thing?” he looked about him in pretended wonder. “No, your highness, I had something entirely different in mind. Gylain only needs a stronger fleet to invade France. We will have that power in a few week’s time. The navy will drive Gylain from this land: driving him before the wind toward the coast of the newest acquisition of his empire.” He gave the queen the wink of a sailing man.
“Lyndon – the King of Hibernia, and Emperor of the Three Kingdoms – is on his way as well. The attack will soon be made ready. But I thought we first destroyed the rebels which plague both Atilta and England?”
“I have been away, as I have said. I do not know
“Ah, a man of duty. Or should I say a thing of duty, for duty comes before manhood. How long have you been gone, then?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Why would he send the head of his Navy away?” she asked.
“Important missions, my lady, important missions,” he answered with an air of great significance. “I would tell you here, except that these forests are filled with bandits and spies. Gylain will surely inform you, himself.”
“I see,” she answered gravely, and she shifted the conversation. “You left your family for fifteen years; you must be very zealous in the service of Gylain. I am surprised that you are not with them now. How does your wife feel of this? You are married, are you not?”
“A widower, madam,” and he lowered his head in grief.
“Was your wife a person of importance? Perhaps I have heard of her.”
“A person of importance?” the brown Fardy broke in, “Why, she was the Queen of—”
“—my heart, the queen of my heart,” the Admiral finished his sentence.
The queen smiled slightly and coldly, although beyond that her countenance was concealed behind itself. All this time they had been trotting briskly through the forest. The road was lit by the moonlight coming down from above, through the slender opening in the canopy. The dust that was kicked up by the horses was thrown into the air around them, struck by the moonlight and refracted and broken from its original silver into several different
