Queen of Rebels

by Karim Soliman

  Seriously, Antram was so exhausting today. "It is a risky plan indeed." Frankil nodded. "Still, I believe it is worth a try."

  "And I can't believe you are going to march to a certain death for nothing."

  "I'm not forcing anybody to do anything. You can both go and catch up with the caravan while I handle this." Frankil turned to Ben. "As for you, lock your gate well and keep your eyes open. A great horde may pass close to your village, so I strongly recommend you all stay out of their way until they reach wherever they are heading to."

  Ben smiled gratefully. "It was a great honor to meet true warriors like you. I wish you all could fight on our side like you did before."

  "One day, perhaps, young man. But not here." Frankil allowed a smile.

  "Hey, Ben," Ziyad called out. "You be a good lad and let us replenish our food and water before we set out for Subrel. We will just get our supplies and be on our way."

  Frankil did not wish to push the lad, who took it upon himself to protect his village after Masolon left them. He is trying to do the right thing for his people; a task even too hard for men older than him. The captain hoped Ben might change his mind though. Going back to the villages on the peripheral road would be a waste of time, effort, and nerve.

  Ben thought for a while before he finally decided, "Very well. But, please, make it quick."

  Relieved, Frankil heaved a sigh. "We will not let you down. You are doing great, by the way."

  Ben seemed flattered as he walked ahead of them to the gate. "Someone find Edd and Ted quickly," he commanded the archer at the wall. "Let's get this done without any trouble."

  Frankil turned to Ziyad. "So, you are coming with me."

  "We are coming." Ziyad nodded toward Antram.

  Antram's stern look did not falter. "I didn't say I would come."

  "You always protest, but you eventually comply," Ziyad teased him, nudging his horse onward toward the gate. Frankil would do the same if it were not for Antram's reluctance. The bald fellow held the reins of his horse without making any move forward.

  "Not today. This time you ride without me, brothers." Antram's lips clenched to a firm line as he wheeled his horse. Like Ziyad, Frankil did not have a slight doubt that Antram would join them at the end. Sadly enough, the dark-skinned, burly horseman rode away from the village, away from his brothers, until the Ramosi thick woods swallowed him.

  42. RONA

  It was midnight, and yet no tolling bells or warning cries. Since she went to her bedchamber, she had kept the window open so that she could hear the watchmen when they announced that the castle was under attack. No, the truce was not over yet, but only a fool would take the Fox's word for granted.

  On the contrary, her new general had more faith in Di Galio than her. "I don't trust him either, Your Grace. I just understand the way he thinks." Darrison had justified to her in their private session. "He will wait for sunrise, not because he is a man of his word, but because he wants to win this war without suffering more losses in his host."

  Most of the soldiers in the courtyard were awake though; she could hear their clamor from the open window. Did Darrison change his mind and start to feel uncertain about Di Galio after all? He should have listened to her from the beginning.

  "Di Galio mentioned something about Byzont villages and Rusakian prisoners during my father's reign," Rona had said to Darrison after listening to his concerns about appointing Masolon a commander in the Bermanian army. "Is there any resemblance between them and the scourge of the Antrams?"

  The senior lord had seemed hesitant about sharing the truth with her. "To many people, King Charlwood was not an idealist, and I see no shame in that. He was a true leader, who would always do the right thing even if the majority did not like it. 'If everybody is able to see the greater good as I do, then anybody can rule this kingdom,' he used to tell me."

  "Killing innocent people is the work of tyrants."

  "After your hair turns gray, you will understand that terms like justice and tyranny are nothing but hollow words, the meanings of which depend on how and when you use them. Those innocent people of the Byzont villages ambushed dozens of our soldiers patrolling our borders. As for the Rusakian prisoners, well, they deserved to be executed for the Bermanians they slaughtered. Keeping those bastards alive for one day was a mercy they never deserved."

  She should not have paid heed to Di Galio's nonsense about her father in the first place, she reflected as she sat on her bed. Whatever King Charlwood had done, she was who she was.

  Unable to fall asleep, she put on a woolen cloak and went out on the balcony facing the courtyard. Her army was mustered there indeed, save for the Skandivians Darrison insisted on resting before the major fight occurred. "It's a waste exhausting those warriors in a night watch, especially when we are sure our enemy is not attacking tonight," Darrison had said. Obviously, he did not dare to wake them up or even order their new commander to do so.

  Wait. Her troops were not just assembling in the court; they were marching. Yes, she knew what she was watching: her troops, split into two main battalions, were exiting the fort through the two gaps flanking the gate. He is not taking my army to raid Di Galio's camp. We agreed to wait, she thought, finding it hard to believe that Darrison would make such a reckless move. Masolon might do that if he was in charge. Anybody perhaps. But Darrison? That old man was too wise to do something foolish like that.

  Dumbfounded, she kept watching her soldiers stomping over the field outside Subrel. She had a faint hope that they were not doing what they seemed to be doing, and finally Darrison, or whoever led them, would order them to turn around and head back to the castle. But none of that was going to happen; she realized when the last soldier of the horde stalked away from the wall of the fort.

  "STOP!" Rona bellowed, but what was she doing? Those soldiers would not hear her from such a distance.

  Without changing her outfit, she hurried down the stairs. The guard at the vestibule reached for the pommel of his sword when he saw her coming. "Find me a horse!" she demanded, the guard scurrying to the door ahead of her. "A horse!" Rona did not stop running after she exited through the door. "Somebody bring me a damned horse!"

  One of the few remaining knights dragged his warhorse toward her. She sprinted toward him and swung up onto the saddle. “Go! Go!” She dug her heels into the flanks of the charger, and galloped past the broken wall, ignoring all the cries calling for her to stop. She could hear the thudding horse hooves behind her, but she did not look back as she urged her charger to gallop faster.

  "Halt! Halt!" Rona yelled as she approached her leaving troops. "Where do you think you are going?"

  Most of the footmen paid heed to the horsemen following Rona rather than Rona herself. When a few footmen stopped and reached for their weapons, Rona waved her mounted guards away. Tightening her grip on the reins, she squeezed with her legs to outpace the soldiers at the rearguard. “Darrison! Jonson! Edmond! Somebody talk to me!” she bellowed as she reached the battalion of knights.

  “Keep moving,” came the order from the vanguard in the voice of her senior lord, Darrison. Donning his armor, he wheeled his horse and approached her. “Your Grace,” he impassively said, pressing his lips together. “I know this is hard to explain, but believe me you will understand later.”

  “Understand what? The fact that you ignored the plan I approved as your queen. Among all my lords, I never imagined you would show me such disrespect."

  "I never meant to disrespect you, Your Grace. All I want to do is—"

  "I'm not going to discuss anything with you before you call these men back to the castle," she put in. "Stop this raid now. And later I may try to understand what you really meant by this—"

  "This is not a raid, Your Grace."

  Rona took a few moments to grasp what she heard. Because if that was not a raid, what on earth was it? Damn it! The matter was worse than she thought. Way worse than just launching a raid without her permission.


  "Are you betraying me?" She gaped at her most trustworthy lord.

  "Believe me, Your Grace, I'm protecting you. Unfortunately, you're too young to see what I can see."

  He was betraying her indeed. Darrison, her father's loyal servant. The man who owed his lordship to her grandfather. That scum dared to simply deliver her to the murderers of her family. "I know what I see, Darrison: a coward taking away my army from me to save his arse."

  "A coward? I served your father before you were born, child," he said, not so warmly. "I fought many battles with him and for him—"

  "And that gives you an excuse to betray his daughter?"

  "I'm saving the life of his reckless daughter," Darrison snapped. "You were heading into a certain defeat, Rona, but you would never listen. This is the only way to stop you from killing yourself."

  "Don't you dare use me as an excuse. Admit that you have been pissing in your breeches since you heard the news of Di Galio's reinforcements."

  "You should have taken that news more seriously, especially when you learned that those reinforcements were led by Foubert. The veteran lord has spent half his life mounting his horse, wielding his sword in battles against the Rusakians. So, bearing in mind that Daval, Shield of the South, has not joined Di Galio's army yet, you could easily realize where this war is eventually heading to."

  "The war is not over yet." She gnashed her teeth.

  "You are right. But a competent leader should have the vision to see the end before it comes. You had a splendid chance to walk away and fight later when you are ready, but you were too stubborn to even consider the option. You came to us to discuss whether we should attack or defend, and of course, none of your lords, including me, presented a third opinion. I'm quite sure Jonson would prefer discussing terms to choosing between attack and defense, but knowing that arguing with you is futile, he would not tell you the truth that you will not like. I said nothing either, but at least I took an action to stop this mess."

  "You think you can force me to surrender?"

  "That would be a decent way to return the favor to the men who chose to stay with you. If you don't care about your life because you are too brave, spare theirs. Making martyrs of them and yourself will not avenge your family or bring back your father's throne."

  "The same manipulative approaches of Di Galio," Rona spat out. "At least, he is loyal to his master."

  "What is loyalty if it is not doing the right thing for the one you serve?" Darrison glanced at the deserting troops, holding the reins of his horse. "After you spend enough time in this world, you will realize that I was loyal to you, even more than Jonson who didn't try to stop you from harming yourself."

  She was listening to Di Galio. The Fox and her former cowardly vassal were two facets of the same coin.

  Darrison was wheeling his horse when he said, "Don't you worry about yielding to Di Galio. I have insisted that your life must be spared."

  "What else did you insist on? Fiefs for you and your sons?"

  He did not reply as he returned to his horsemen and rode with them away from her. He was robbing her of her army right under her nose, yet her bewildered brain could not help her figure out a way to stop him. She was in pain. Treachery really hurt. Helplessness was even more painful though.

  Pulling the reins of her horse, Rona turned her charger and headed back to the castle, a band of horsemen waiting for her at the broken wall. When she came closer, she saw Jonson, Norwell, and Payton among the knights.

  "You knew of this?" she asked them.

  "Only when he was already leaving the castle. We thought at the beginning that he had summoned the army to launch a raid on Di Galio's camp."

  "How many men do we have now?"

  "Barely fifty men."

  "And thirty archers," Payton added. "We still have the Skandivians too."

  So, in addition to the group of bowmen and mercenaries, the Jonsons were the only noble house remaining with her. A house that was only great when it came to the number of its noble members. Half of those fifty men Jonson mentioned were his relatives, she presumed.

  That would be a decent way to return the favor to the men who chose to stay with you.

  "Why didn't you leave with them?" Rona asked Jonson. "Don't you think that I should have discussed terms with Di Galio?"

  Jonson and his nephew exchanged a quick look. "Perhaps you should have, Your Grace," the bald lord admitted. "However, my opinion doesn't matter after we have concluded the meeting with a plan we have agreed to stick to."

  Rona could not believe she had harbored doubts about Jonson at the beginning. Seriously, knowing who she should trust was an impossible task.

  "And you, Payton?" She turned to the young commander. "You have a long life ahead to pursue your ambitions."

  "A long life as a coward?" Payton furrowed his brow. "No, I can't live with that, Your Grace."

  Fools, she wanted to tell them. Perhaps she should return the favor as Darrison had told her.

  Masolon appeared up at the gap on the back of a black horse. "I sleep one night, and all this happens?"

  It was quite the wrong time for Masolon's silly sense of humor. "Are you sure you know what happened?" Rona asked him curtly.

  "He told me everything." Masolon nodded toward the last man she expected to see here after her most senior lord had abandoned her. Edmond, the blond captain who used to serve Darrison, slowly came forward on horseback. Was that another trick of her former veteran lord?

  "Your master has left, Edmond." With all her doubts about him, Rona found herself speaking harshly. "What are you up to now?"

  "As far as I remember from our last meeting, I'm still the General's Deputy," said Edmond. "I will only abandon my post if you order me to."

  Was he taking her for a naïve gullible girl? "Is your post more important than your loyalty to Darrison?"

  "While I'm not sure what you mean by my loyalty, Your Grace, I can assure you that I served Lord Darrison well while I used to report to him, and I did the same to General Gramus too. Whatever you call this, I hope it's enough for you."

  It would be more than enough if he was not lying, she thought.

  "What are you going to do, Rona? I mean Your Grace," Masolon said. "We have like a thousand men fit to fight against how many? Twelve thousands?"

  "Seventeen," Jonson corrected. "Darrison's troops will be joining Di Galio's host."

  "Almost twenty-seven with Foubert's arrival." Rona bit her lower lip, realizing how desperate her situation was. Despite the bravery of these men still standing by her, she could see that hint of desperation in their eyes. They were dead men, and they knew it.

  "May I offer my advice, Your Grace?" Jonson hesitantly asked.

  Rona gave him an inviting gesture.

  "Subrel is not a fort we can defend any longer," he said. "Not with these broken walls. Not with these troops. I say we fall back north to Kalhom, and call for more Skandivian warriors to join us to defend the city. We hold our ground there while we seek new allies. From Daval's delay in sending his troops, I believe that the South could be a good place to start."

  His plan was not bad at all. Actually, the best she could hear in this desperate situation. Yet she had one problem with this plan. "Di Galio's cavalry will easily catch us on our way back."

  "Perhaps if we avoid the main road and use the woods to cover our moves. . ." Jonson suggestion did not seem to appeal to anybody.

  "Unless Di Galio is a fool, and I do not really think he is, he will guess where we are going once he enters the castle and finds it empty," Masolon pointed out. "He will not need to search the woods for us. He will simply send his cavalry ahead of us and wait for our arrival at the gates of Kalhom. At least, that is what I would do if I were him."

  Rona could not disagree. "What should we do then?"

  They were all silent. Obviously nobody had a better suggestion so far.

  "We must find a way to keep Di Galio busy for a while," Masolon mused. "We need to make him
believe that we still hold Subrel while the main strength of our small army makes a stride toward Kalhom ahead of his forces."

  "Do you suggest that some of us stay behind to cover our escape?" Norwell asked, everybody staring at Masolon.

  "Not so many." Masolon glanced at Payton. "All we need is one or two of our best archers."

  43. MASOLON

  The courtyard bustled with activity at such a late hour as soldiers, squires, and even maidservants were putting the wounded men onto the carts Rona had demanded. Masolon had no doubt why she had done so. However, she should start moving soon to catch up with the Skandivians who had already exited from the postern gate, Edmond leading them north through the woods away from Di Galio's camp.

  Payton came to Masolon, three quivers and a bow slung across his back. "Shouldn't we start moving? We have a long walk into the woods."

  Masolon glimpsed the two squires approaching him, each carrying a full bag. "I was waiting for them."

  Payton gazed at the two lads as they helped Masolon strap the two bags to his back, where a full quiver was hanging already. "What are these?"

  "Flax oil." Masolon straightened his back, feeling the weight of the bags and the quiver on it.

  "Too much load to move with."

  "If this works, then I will have to carry these bags only one way."

  "You could have taken more quivers. Trading arrows for fire could be a dangerous business, my friend."

  Masolon chuckled. "I expect you will only kill ninety men with your safe business, then."

  "I will easily kill more if you allow my squire to accompany me to carry more quivers."

  "No. The less we are the harder it will be for Di Galio's men to find us."

  Payton leaned toward him, lowering his voice. "Someone wants to bid you farewell."

  Masolon saw Rona when he glanced over his shoulder. Payton greeted his queen before he took his leave, heading outside the fort that would soon be abandoned.