The Lost Kingdom of Bamarre

by Gail Carson Levine

  Lord Tove and Lady Klausine were everywhere—I knew them by his steed’s scarlet brocade caparison and by her horse’s aqua one—engaging knights in swordplay, turning spears, unhorsing cavalry, directing their forces here, there. King Canute stayed with his archers, at the southwest end of the battle.

  After we had watched for a few minutes, Lord Tove turned his horse. Its rump, his back, and his helmet disappeared into the mass of fighters.

  Willem and I exchanged a worried look.

  With Lord Tove gone, the Kyngoll rallied and advanced a few yards. Lady Klausine fought the tide, but unsuccessfully. I wondered if she was pretending to fight.

  Willem’s hand found mine. About an hour passed. The Kyngoll gained a yard or two more.

  The Lakti line parted to admit Lord Tove with a child riding his armored shoulders. He raised a gauntleted hand, and the Lakti around him stopped fighting. Lady Mother galloped close and reined in her horse.

  From here I couldn’t be sure, but—

  This could only be Drualt.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I RACED DOWN the tower stairs, leaped into the saddle, and whipped my horse to a gallop, Willem thundering after me.

  I thought, Lord Tove, don’t kill Drualt!

  My mind raced. He wouldn’t hesitate. He might kill a Bamarre child just for show or to strike terror into Kyngoll hearts, but he’d have a special reason for harming my brother.

  I’d do whatever he wanted.

  A few yards ahead were the backs of the Kyngoll spear soldiers, the infantry.

  Willem cried, “Make way!”

  An idea arrived, unfolded itself, though I didn’t have time to turn it inside out and examine it. It was terrible. It would likely be the end of me, but I had nothing else.

  The throng ahead of us parted. Fighting around Lord Tove had ceased. Sir Lerrin rode toward him from my right. My horse and Willem’s walked through to my former father, Lady Mother, and my beloved brother.

  Drualt’s face was merry. What was he laughing about now? Did he have a plan of his own? Don’t try it!

  When he saw me, he crowed, “Aunt Nadira, see how high up I am!” He was playing the innocent child, as he had in Gavrel when the soldiers led him away.

  Willem’s expression had dulled, although he held his shell hand to his ear. He was pretending, too.

  Lord Tove had raised his visor, and Lady Mother had raised hers, too, so I could see their faces.

  He wore his pleasant mask. “Look, darling, it’s Willem with the grandmother from Gavrel. We can tell Noll his son is alive.”

  Willem bowed in the saddle, and I performed an awkward curtsy.

  Sir Lerrin said, “Are you surrendering, Lord Tove, with this child as a peace offering?”

  He grinned. “I merely want to make an exchange. You’re collecting children. I’ll give you this one, if I can have the Bamarre grandmother. The child will be much safer with you.”

  The threat I expected. I wet my lips and remembered a Lakti saying against terror: Fear melts my sword.

  Sir Lerrin said, “A child for an old lady? I’m not sur—”

  “Begging your pardon, Your Lordship . . .”

  Lord Tove’s eyes snapped to my face. “Yes, Grandmother?”

  Lady Mother watched me, too. One armored hand found the other. She feared for me.

  “I’m old. We have a saying:

  “Life’s purse near empty,

  No need for safety.”

  “Begging your pardon again, you may do what you like to me, but you won’t get the information you seek, although I have it. Beg—”

  “Then I’ll kill the boy now.”

  No!

  But I’d expected him to say that, too. I held up a hand. “Begging your—”

  “Consider my pardon permanently granted.”

  “Beg— I have a proposal.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Yes?”

  “I challenge you to a match to—”

  “I? Against a grandmother?”

  Drualt laughed. He didn’t know that Lord Tove could best me in any kind of contest except a race, and this wouldn’t be one.

  I shrugged. “You’ll probably win.”

  Drualt cried, “Aunt Nadira will win!”

  Sir Lerrin said, “Grandmother Nadira, I can challenge Lord Tove in your place.”

  He’d do that? “Begging your pardon, Sir Lerrin, this must be between a Bamarre and a Lakti.”

  Lady Mother’s voice sounded strained. “What is the prize if my lord wins, and what if you succeed?”

  Bamarre-fashion, I thanked her for asking. “In the likely event that I lose and Lord Tove lets me live long enough to say, I’ll reveal your daughter’s location.” Which Lady Mother already knew. “When she’s captured, the heart will go out of the rebellion.” I hoped this wouldn’t be true.

  “Certainly, you may overcome me,” he said gallantly. “I’m not invincible. What will be the consequence if that happens?”

  “There are more for you than for me, beg— But, considering my chances, I hope you’ll accept them.”

  “Very likely.” He nodded affably.

  “Any Bamarre beings who want to cross the Eskern Pass may do so. The Beneficences will be lifted, and those Bamarre who remain here will have the same rights as the Lakti. King Canute and King Einar will share the throne as equals. The war with Kyngoll will cease, and all territory gained will be returned.”

  He nodded as I spoke, looking unconcerned.

  Lady Mother nodded, too. Her nod uplifted me.

  “Grandmother, Grandmother.” Lord Tove sighed, seemingly at the foolishness of the Bamarre. “You give me too much power. King Canute has to agree to these terms.”

  “By your le—”

  “You have my leave, my pardon, and all the permission I can offer. By your leave, you needn’t ask again.”

  “Then I’ll wait for the king’s agreement.”

  Sir Lerrin and Willem edged their mounts closer to me in a show of strength. Thank you, my friends.

  Lord Tove lifted Drualt off his shoulders and passed him to me. “Proof of good faith.”

  Drualt smelled like himself and like Mama’s pottage and garlic. His arms were warm around me. Then I gave him to a knight behind us, who, I was sure, would take him to the other children.

  Lord Tove walked his horse to King Canute, gesturing as he went to halt the fighting.

  Could Willem hear the drumming of my heart in his shell?

  We waited silently. Lord Tove and King Canute did not confer for long.

  My former father returned, but slowly, greeting this soldier and that one on his way. When he reached us, he said, “King Canute agrees. He has more confidence in me than I have in myself that he’ll never have to share his throne.”

  “But if he’s disappointed, he will share it?” Sir Lerrin asked. “And everything else? I’d like to be assured before I release Grandmother Nadira from my protection.”

  “You have his promise and mine.”

  Now I had to do it.

  Lord Tove turned to me. “What sort of contest?”

  “I leave that to you to decide. I prefer to choose the location.”

  His pleasant mask sharpened as he appraised me. What might an old woman excel at? Might he really be at risk?

  “I choose swordplay until first blood.” An unimaginative choice, but he was unparalleled at it.

  And he’d chosen not to fight to the death, though I was sure he planned to kill both Nadira and Perry.

  Never mind. I was hoping for surprise and luck.

  “What location?” he said.

  “Across the Eskerns.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  WAS THAT FEAR I saw in Lord Tove’s eyes, when they flicked to Lady Mother? Did he know the chapter in Lakti history when his ancestors had been cowards?

  “You expect me to grant one of the provisions of your victory before you win? The Bamarre aren’t allowed through the pass.”

&
nbsp; He was afraid! But he couldn’t change my choice! His Lakti custom forbade it.

  Sir Lerrin snorted.

  “Beg— We’ll be in your custody, and there—”

  Lady Mother broke in. “Tove, the rules of a match—”

  “I concede. It will be where you say, Grandmother.” His face brightened. “This has proven to be an interesting day. I long to embrace my daughter again.”

  That made my skin crawl.

  Then Sir Lerrin and Lord Tove, with King Canute’s approval, agreed on a truce until the contest ended. Heralds would be sent along the length of the border. Our Bamarre children would be safe—temporarily.

  We still had to name the people in our parties. Lord Tove named King Canute, Lady Mother, and Sir Noll. The last two had divided loyalties, but I thought I understood his thinking. Sir Noll would hope to get his son back, and Lord Tove believed Lady Mother wanted to find me as much as he did.

  I named Sir Lerrin and Willem.

  Lord Tove nodded. “My daughter’s deaf love. Who will be your third?”

  I didn’t know anyone else. “I’ll stop at two.”

  Lord Tove agreed to pause in Gavrel, which was along the way. “Certainly. You will want to bid farewell to your family.”

  It would be farewell only if I lost. He meant to frighten me.

  As I’d suspected, Drualt had been carried on a fast horse directly from Gavrel to the battle.

  He was in his usual good spirits. “I was going to close Lord Tove’s visor and block his air so he couldn’t breathe. Wouldn’t that have been funny?”

  I smiled weakly, glad he hadn’t had the chance to try it.

  His face sobered. “I don’t know where my friends are.” He meant the others from Gavrel. “I was going to take care of them.”

  “The Kyngoll will. You’re going home.”

  Sir Lerrin found armor for me. The breastplate and pauldrons were loose, but the faulds were tight, because Aunt Nadira had a plump belly. The smallest gauntlets were too big to be useful, so my hands would have to be bare.

  We left the next morning, all riding together—the Kyngoll, the Lakti, and Drualt and I. Sir Lerrin was accompanied by two of his knights and two archers, Lord Tove by three of each. Drualt shared my saddle, sitting between my legs, a squirmy passenger.

  By agreement, only the parties to the match would cross when we reached the Eskerns.

  As we rode, Lord Tove led his Lakti entourage in singing, meant, I was sure, to unnerve the rest of us.

  “Our might strikes fear in fighters

  When marching we draw nigh—

  Push past the meek resistance—

  Our enemy will die!”

  Since the words didn’t mention the Lakti, we Bamarre and Kyngoll travelers joined in, too. Only Willem was silent. He still feigned deafness, though I knew he kept the shell tucked into his cap close to his ear.

  At the end of the verse, in an effort to outdo one another, we all roared “will die!”

  The villages and towns of the kingdom lay along its roads. We reached the first sign of rebellion on our second day, a red haze on the horizon. Bamarre field-workers had set their masters’ farms ablaze, as we were told by a delegation of worried Lakti householders.

  If the fires were widespread, both the Lakti and the Bamarre were in for a hungry winter. Lord Tove whispered instructions to one of his knights, who rode back the way we’d come.

  Troops would have to be drawn away from the war if it resumed. Though I was happy for the Kyngoll, I feared for the rebels.

  The ride to Gavrel took four days. Rebellion had blown across the kingdom. We saw burning fields everywhere. In the lowlands, dams had been breached and farms flooded. The local Lakti met us at every town and village. Lord Tove always said aid was coming and rode on. King Canute never spoke at all.

  Lady Mother’s eye was often on me. I think she longed for a private conversation—and so did I—but opportunity didn’t favor us. Sir Noll gazed at his son as often as Lady Mother looked at me. I wished I could interpret the meaning of his glance, but his face remained neutral.

  Willem’s eyes often met mine. He couldn’t smile, because of his pretended gloom, but his glance was always soft. What other young man would continue to care for a girl in the shape of a crone?

  As we rode, King Canute practiced his archery, littering the landscape with dead birds. He rarely missed, but when he did, he keened in a brief, painful wail.

  When we stopped for the midday meal on our first day of travel, the king lowered his royal self next to me on the canvas that had been spread for us to sit on.

  I jumped up, curtsied, and remained standing, uncertain what to do.

  He gestured me down. “I like grandmothers,” he announced. “Mine was kind.”

  I said I was honored and sat.

  The king was often at my side, which seemed not to trouble Lord Tove. I decided he didn’t mind anything King Canute did, as long as he—Lord Tove—made policy.

  Too bad the king’s mind was weak. He seemed gentle when not on the battlefield. His real enmity was directed against birds.

  We reached Gavrel in the evening. Lord Tove and Lady Mother were met by the widow and the Ships, so Poppi had time to bring Prince Bruce to stay with another family. In our cottage, Poppi and Mama passed Drualt back and forth for embraces. I got almost my share as well, and a full allotment of hugs from Annet.

  Drualt announced straight out, “Aunt Nadira is going to fence against Lord Tove. It’s a contest.”

  They were horrified, even after I explained I’d proposed it only to save my brother. I described the agreement.

  Poppi squinted. “You hope the monsters will give you an advantage?”

  I nodded. “If we’re going to live there, why not win our freedom there?”

  “I’ll be your third.” Annet made a wry face. “I’m used to serving you.”

  She wouldn’t be argued out of it. She left us to tell Goodman Meerol, who was still recovering from his flogging.

  Mama asked Sir Lerrin if she, Poppi, and Drualt might ride the rest of the way to the Eskerns with us. Sir Lerrin applied to Lord Tove for his consent. Gracious again, Lord Tove agreed and commandeered two of Gavrel’s three horses for the purpose. Mama and Poppi shared a steed. Annet sat her own, uneasily. Drualt continued with me.

  Lady Mother’s eyes lingered as often on Mama as on me. I thought she was comparing methods of mothering.

  In another four days the Eskerns rose ahead. We camped in a valley watered by a brook, where the Lakti had their base for the soldiers who patrolled the pass. The magic boot hadn’t taken me this way. We would leave the horses here and continue on foot.

  The morning dawned hot. After a quick breakfast, we began to climb, just Lord Tove and I and our parties, each group with a donkey from the base. Drualt begged to come, too, but Mama and Poppi wisely wouldn’t hear of it.

  The beasts, sure-footed and accustomed to these mountains, carried Lord Tove’s and my armor, weapons for us all, flasks of water, and food in case we were delayed returning. The narrow path was steep. Sometimes we had to clamber onto waist-high rocks. I helped Annet when she flagged, serving her for once.

  “Darling,” Lord Tove said to Lady Mother, “the grandmother is a prodigy of strength.”

  “Exceptional,” she agreed.

  The morning was half over when, flushed and sweaty, we reached the pass, a notch in a cliff wall. The ten soldiers stationed on the rock shelf before the opening jumped to attention when they saw King Canute and Lord Tove.

  We spent little time with them, all of us drawn to the crossing. The others blocked my view, so I looked up and saw only sky—no dragons or gryphons.

  I wondered if specters could hide them from sight while we were still on this side.

  Lord Tove entered the gap first and shouted, “The Lakti return!”

  King Canute followed, then Lady Mother, who gestured for me to follow her. She meant to shield me! A lump rose in my throat. />
  I reached for Annet.

  Each from the other drawing strength,

  Two sisters of Bamarre, hand in hand,

  Rising toward their longed-for land.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  THE GAP ENDED in a ledge barely wide enough to walk along—if indeed it was. Might a specter create the appearance of stone where really there was only air? Annet and I tested each step before we put weight down. Willem and Sir Lerrin, just behind us, were doing the same when I looked back to make sure. Lord Tove noticed and told Lady Mother to follow our example. Only King Canute strode with confidence, holding his bow with an arrow already nocked.

  When my view wasn’t blocked by a boulder or by Lady Mother’s back, I saw low hills below, arid and rocky, unlike the pleasant valley I’d entered on my first visit.

  At the bottom, which we reached in early afternoon, the ground was uneven and broken. Tufts of grass grew between stones—some pebbles, some small boulders. Footwork was as important as anything else in fencing. I’d have to be careful not to turn an ankle.

  “Give me a sword!” Laughing, Drualt popped out from behind a boulder. “No one heard me behind you! I was as quiet as a cloud.”

  He laughed through the scolding that Annet and I doled out. “Begging your pardon,” he said, “I want to kill a monster.”

  Sir Lerrin smiled. “Plucky. I can give you a short sword.” He went to our donkey’s saddlebags.

  An alarm bell rang in my mind. Was this my brother or a specter?

  He seemed himself, jumping with excitement. He would follow us if he could, but could he really have gotten away from Mama and Poppi?

  “Please don’t, Sir Lerrin,” Annet said. “He isn’t old—”

  “I am! Begging your pardon, I am too old enough.”

  I announced, “He may not really be my great-nephew.”

  It seemed to take a few moments for this Drualt to understand. “She thinks I’m a specter!” Laughing, he cried, “Woooo-woooo. I’m a specter!”

  Exactly what the real Drualt would say.

  “How will we tell?” Annet asked.

  It would take hours to climb back and find out if there was another Drualt at the base with our parents.