Retribution

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Four palace guards ran onto the patio, out of breath, with drawn weapons. Hannah recognized one of them from her earlier trip to the throne room. He said, “It’s her, alright.”

They surrounded Hannah in a circle of protection before either she or Brice could move. The guard she recognized hissed in her ear, “There’s an uprising in the palace.”

“Take me to the King.”

“He’s in his bedchambers, but he ordered you taken there.” Even as the words left his mouth, he took the lead. Two guards fell in behind Brice, who followed Hannah, and the others, now five in all, moved in front with their weapons ready.

They didn’t move fast, but they moved steadily, keeping the loose formation intact. All were prepared to fight, and Hannah decided the King’s private chambers were nearby. A guard fell, an arrow in his chest. Another arrow struck the head of a guard.

They surged ahead at full speed, their feet pounding on the stone floor. Hannah hadn’t even seen the archers and wondered if the arrows had been enchanted. Her anger grew with each footfall. Both of those arrows were probably aimed at her. If not, they flew because of her or Princess Elenore. Two women fighting over power.

They turned the corner and ran into five swordsmen, all wearing black bands on their upper arms. One of them attacked and lost his sword as a palace guard nearly cut off his arm. As the loyal guards fought the attackers back, Hannah reached down and grabbed the fallen weapon. Brice was suddenly at her side. She felt better. Complete.

Moments later, all of the attackers sprawled on the floor either dead or wounded. The group continued moving as a unit down the hall, reaching a large, heavy door that may have been hanging in the original King’s Palace over five hundred years earlier. Black iron bands held the thick boards against each other, and two horizontal bands had rivets as large as Hannah’s thumb. The older guard identified himself to whoever was inside.

An arrow shot from behind her struck Hannah high on her shoulder, and she spun around in response to the pain. Eight or nine men wearing black bands ran out of a nearby door, shouting, screaming, and waving swords. But one with a triumphant face lingered behind, a bow in his hand. She recognized him instantly. Jam. Her old enemy.

He stood and gloated at his success in putting an arrow in her. His evil grin told her he was responsible for both the attack and the arrow in her left shoulder.

However, her right shoulder was fine, and already her hand reached for the new throwing knife nestled between her shoulder blades. Her fingers touched it, then grasped the hilt as she’d done so hundreds of thousands of times. Every day. Day after day. Never thinking about it anymore. Her mind took in the distance, her arm didn’t hesitate. The knife flew. Jam never saw it coming.

A look of surprise covered his face, followed by shock as his head fell forward to stare at the hilt of the knife protruding from his chest. His hand let go of the bow, and he reached for the knife. He pulled it out, and red blood poured out in a flood.

Meanwhile, her protectors had already defeated the other attackers. More palace guards poured from the open door to the King’s bedchamber and ushered them inside.

A physician stood beside a massive bed, but when he saw the arrow in Hannah’s shoulder, he ran to her aid. Working together, he and Brice placed her on a couch, and the physician pulled out the arrow. It had struck high up, in the outer portion of her shoulder, where the bone was hard and thick. Soon, four physicians were examining a wound she didn’t think required a bandage.

While lying face down in her new blue dress, she heard someone say, “After she was shot she pulled out a knife and threw it?”

“Never flinched or hesitated,” another voice responded.

“Where’s Brice?” she moaned.

“Right here,” he answered. “I want you to know you ruined the new dress I picked out for you.”

“I killed Jam.”

“He deserved it,” he said roughly.

She tugged free from the probing hands and rolled over. She saw Brice standing between her and the door, as she expected. “Jam. He was here with Elenore. I heard there’s an uprising or some such.”

“Fighting all over the palace, from what I hear,” Brice said. “But that can wait.”

“Wait?”

He pointed to the bed. Off to one side lay a man so shriveled and tiny she hadn’t noticed him. Pillows propped his head up, and he smiled.

“Uncle?”

“I knew you would come home to wear the crown.”

“I never wanted to be Queen.” She stood and made her way to his side. He was old in body, but his eyes were young and fierce. He reached out to her. She took the bony hand in hers.

He said to a guard, “Make them be quiet. All of them.”

The room hushed. His eyes searched those in attendance, and he pointed to a scribe sitting on a three-legged stool with his ink and pen near the paper over his knees. He said, “You there, list the names of everyone in this room. Record what I’m about to say and make six copies. Deliver them to the vaults.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I am too old to rule Wren in the manner it deserves, so I abdicate my crown and authority as of this morning at sunrise, including any aspect of the throne. The next in the Royal Line of Succession is Princess Hannah. Long live the Queen.”

The voices in the room repeated the last phrase over and over, but she wasn’t listening to them. She heard the sounds of fighting in the hallways. Fists banged on the door. Then the butts of weapons, and voices demanded entry.

They were not friendly.

His voice trembled and his hands shook as one of the physicians asked, “Sire, what should we do?”

“You should ask your Queen, not an old fool like me.”

Several people turned to her. She turned to Brice. “Ideas?”

“One.” He reached into his purse and withdrew several packets Hannah knew contained spells developed by Sara and Maude. He wore a maniacal grin that, despite the circumstances, made him appear he was enjoying himself.

“Which ones did you bring?”

He selected one. “The forget-spell in powder form. Not as convenient as the grapes, but more concentrated.”

“Do it,” she ordered.

Brice walked to the thick oak door and knelt at the base where it hung above the stone floor with enough space to pass his fingers under. He sprinkled part of the powder along the base of the door, while every eye in the room watched intently, wondering at his strange actions. The banging had gotten louder, and more fists and weapons were trying to get inside.

Brice inhaled and then blew as hard as he could, almost a sneeze. The fine powder dissipated. He repeated the action. The pounding diminished and then stopped. They heard boots running down the hallway away from the door.

Brice turned to the guards. “Draw your weapons.” Then he threw the door open. Four men lay curled and cooing like babies to themselves on the floor, their weapons nearby and ignored. After inhaling the dust, they’d be that way until morning.

One guard said, “I think the others got scared and ran off.”

Hannah felt the blood from her wound running down her back again, and increasing pain made her wince and her knees weak. She looked at Brice, “Take charge. Rally the loyalists, those without black armbands. Take these men with you.”

Another palace guard rushed in and looked around wild-eyed. Brice said, “What is it?”

The guard looked to another, who nodded for him to make his report. “We’ve just received word that an army is marching on us. It’s only two days away.”

Brice said calmly, “What army?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are they wearing blue and white uniforms?”

The guard hesitated, then said in a rush, “I don’t know, but Princess Hannah is with them!”

Brice smiled in relief. Hannah also understood. It could have been another army, one led by Princess Elenore, but was not. He said, “They are here to help the loyalists. Pass the word of their arrival to fuel the rumors. Say there are five hundred battle-tested warriors and they will arrive by morning.”

The guard didn’t move, but another said as he went to the door, “I understand. I’ll do it.”

Hannah muttered, “Let the rumors do our work. Some of those in revolt are going to change side when they hear of this.”

A soft voice called, “Hannah.”

She motioned for the nearest guard to help her stand. She shuffled to the side of the bed where the old King eyed her. “I didn’t realize you are wounded.” He looked at the guard. “Take her around to the other side of my bed and put her in it. Physicians, where are you?”

Two old men leaped to his side.

“Not me, damn you. See to my niece, your Queen.”

They rushed around the massive bed and helped her climb in, dress bloody and the wound bleeding freely. They forced her to roll onto her stomach, cut back the top of her dress, and one sprinkled powder on the wound while the other placed a bandage. They forced her to swallow a liquid, and then she slept.

When she woke, it was still daylight, but she felt weak and hungry. Brice sat in a chair nearby. “How’s the battle going?” she asked.

“It’s over.”

“So soon?”

“You’ve slept two full days. How are you feeling?”

“Muddy,” she managed to say. “And thirsty.”

A physician poured a little water into her mouth.

Brice asked, “Muddy?”

The physician answered for her, “She is groggy from the medication. Her mind will clear quickly, now that she’s awake. Her wound is healing well, and other than a small scar she will be fine.”

Hannah eyed the ceiling and then looked around the room. She was in a different bed, in another room. “My uncle?”

“He is doing as well as can be expected. He’s asking about you, too,” Brice said.

“I want to see him.”

Brice said, “Maybe later today. For now, there is other news.”

“Tell me.”

“The palace revolt has ended. Those who didn’t flee are in custody in your dungeon. We don’t know what to do with them, so we’ll wait for your instruction.”

“Elenore?” Hannah asked, more concerned with what one woman might do than all the others combined.

“Escaped. She and most of her supporters fled the palace. They took the King’s Road to Eagle’s Nest, and the rumors say they are heading to Calverton where King Edward owes her favors, and where she has hidden her fortune.”

Hannah couldn’t help smiling. “She hasn’t heard the King of Peermont is exiled and a Queen of my choosing sits on the throne, one who knows I will help end her war with Ansel?”

Brice chuckled. “She also doesn’t know word was passed to the general and the Peermont troops, and that his army turned around. They are in pursuit of Princess Elenore, and if they don’t catch up with her on Eagle’s Nest Pass, they will arrive in Calverton no more than two days after Elenore. She’s caught in the middle of a trap, and we don’t think she has any idea what’s coming.”

Hannah fell back to sleep with a smile on her lips.

She woke in darkness, with only a single candle providing light, but Brice was again in the same chair. Nobody else was in the small room. “Where am I?”

Brice started, woke instantly, and said, “This is the bedroom for the King’s manservant. Through that door is where the King sleeps.”

Despite the hour, Hannah was awake and her mind clear. She said, “There are things to do.”

“Tell me,” Brice said, sitting up.

“Send word to Maude and Sara. Also, send word to the Earl’s Castle. No, send two of my Palace Guards, and locate Cleanup. Bring my new stable manager to me, we have so much to talk about. And a seamstress or three. I need a gown made for the morning, the day after tomorrow.”

“What happens then?”

“I will stand on the King’s Balcony and face my people at noon. I’m sure they need to see me as much as I need to see them.”

“What else?”

“I need to see the highest-ranking officer in my army, and I need him today. He will take all but a small reserve company to Peermont over the Eagle’s Nest Pass and offer his services to Queen Elizabeth unless we get word of Tranter’s peace treaty with Ansel first.”

“I’ll say one thing, you’re not wasting time.”

“And I need an ambassador to travel down the river at best speed, and make his way, with a military escort, to Ansel, where he will find Tranter. If he cannot find him, the ambassador will notify their King that Wren has joined forces with Peermont and if a treaty is not signed immediately, our combined forces will invade Ansel before the snows fall.”

“You thought of all that while sleeping?” Brice said, as he stood and moved to the door. “Ansel had better sign the treaty. A weapons salesman named Marcus has offered to supply all the weapons we need to win a war. He’s here in the palace and waiting for you to offer him a fine dinner. His words, not mine. Anything else, my Queen?”

“Yes. When I’m on the balcony, I want you to be there at my side, and you need to dress nicely.”

“The people want to see you, not me.”

“Oh, I think they’ll enjoy seeing their new Queen confer knighthood on the man who saved the kingdom.”

“You don’t have to do that, Hannah.”

“And when you get all that taken care of, have someone notify me when the King is awake. He and I have much to discuss.”

With his hand on the latch, Brice said, “Anything else?”

“You know there will be. Actually, there is. I need a new Treeman. I’m getting out of practice, and I also need a new throwing knife.”

“Long live the Queen.”