Robin was worried. By the eighth town Bianca was drooping in her saddle as she rode. That night, as she sat in the inn listening to the stories, he beckoned one of the farmers aside. It was easy to come to an agreement. Both of them shook hands at the end, thoroughly satisfied with their bargain.
When Bianca found out about it, the next morning, she was not satisfied.
“You took his draft horse?!”
“I traded for it, Bianca. That is not the same.”
“What did you trade for it?”
“Enough gold to buy three more horses, if he wishes.”
“And the cart? Even if he has gold, he won’t be able to have another one made until—”
“Late summer.” Robin broke in. “Which will be in plenty of time to bring in the harvest.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “And now that you have his horse and cart, what do you plan to do with them?”
“I plan to drive them, of course.”
“Hauling what?”
“You, your majesty.”
She fought him, of course. She didn’t want the folk who were rallying to her cause to see her as a weak and fainting child. It was the farmer himself, bringing the final items Robin had traded for, who persuaded her to reconsider. His hearty belly laugh cut through her objections.
“We don’t expect ye ta be tough, yer majesty! When yer royalty, alls we want is fer ye ta be kind, and just. Besides,” he chucked her under the chin. “Yer a wee mite of a thing, if ye don’t mind me saying. Save yer strength fer what’s important.” With that he tossed his load into the back of the wagon and left.
“And what else have you bargained from him?” Bianca asked, still a bit sullen.
Robin jumped up and untied the cloth bundle, so it fell open. “Blankets.”
“Blankets?” Bianca couldn’t help the plaintive interest in her voice.
“And a few pillows.”
“Pillows?” The word came out as a sigh of longing. “Oh my.”
That day, and many other days to follow, Bianca slept in the wagon while Robin carefully guided it over mountain roads. The rest was good for her, and Robin was glad she had it. She needed her strength.
The mountain folk had welcomed them with open arms. By and large they had borne the worst brunt of Brannon’s wrath, and were more than eager to dispose of him. The plains were different. This was where the wealthy lived, the families of privilege, and they had done well under Brannon’s rule. More than one rich man had managed to acquire vast tracts of land, when the poor owners had been forced to sell in order to pay their taxes.
When Bianca came down out of the mountains leading her rag-taggle band of refugees and mountain followers, they headed for Scistern. It was a moderately large town, home to a brisk trade between the goods produced in the mountains and those grown on the plains. Due to their trade-grown wealth, the town had certain amenities that others did not. They had a public hall, where meetings and dances were held. They had a permanent marketplace built off the town square. And they had a low stone wall that encircled the town, marking the boundaries of their land.
It wasn’t much of a wall. Knee high, and only a few hand spans deep. It was more of a symbol than anything. But when Bianca’s wagon came down the road and found the opening in the wall blocked by the town council, the symbol was abundantly clear.
She wasn’t welcome in Scistern.
Chapter 28
Bianca’s followers were making camp, building their fires and pitching their tents in a ring outside the low wall.
Bianca herself was standing in the road, arguing with the council’s elders, who remained planted in the wall’s opening.
“I just want to speak with the townsfolk. That’s all. Will you not let me address them?”
“No, my lady.” The old grey beard who seemed to be in charge was most adamant. “We will not have you stirring up the town.”
“Her majesty is not rabble-rousing,” Bianca heard Robin say from over her shoulder. “She is offering the people a choice. Would you deny your people the right to listen, and decide for themselves?”
“That’s what they have me for,” Greybeard grumped back. “I make their decisions, and I’ve decided that this isn’t a good idea.”
Robin took a deep breath, but Bianca held up her hand to forestall him. “Very well.” She tried to keep the defeat she was feeling out of her voice. “We shall camp here tonight, and in the morning we’ll be on our way.”
The old man started to object, but another man—his son, by the looks of him—put a hand on his shoulder and began whispering urgently. Possibly counseling reason. More likely explaining that, given the size of Bianca’s following, they would have a hard time forcing them into leaving.
Bianca left the council whispering to one another, and walked slowly back to the wagon that held her blankets.
“Why did you stop me?” She could tell Robin wasn’t angry, merely curious. “For all we know there are others in the town who disagree with their elder.”
“I will not be like my father.” She hauled herself up over the backboard, and settled down on her favorite pillow. “I will not force my way into their town, nor browbeat them into compliance. They must choose to follow me of their own free will, or it will mean nothing.”
Robin stretched out on the wagon seat, turning himself slightly so they could continue to talk. “What of those that might choose to follow, but are not being given the option?”
Bianca sighed. She knew this was the right decision, but still…
“I don’t know, Robin. I don’t know if I can reach them.”
***
Later, in the deepest part of the night, Bianca was roused from a sound slumber by a commotion at the wall.
She lifted her head to see several torches held aloft by members of the council, and a young woman standing among them, shouting and stamping her feet. Bianca rubbed the sleep from her eyes and hoisted up her skirt so she could exit the wagon with all haste. Robin was already alert by the time her feet hit the ground, and they walked towards the villagers together.
They weren’t the only ones who had taken notice of the fight at the wall. The mountain folk were sticking their heads from their tents, curious as to what was happening, and lights were going on in the small houses of the town. Anders came loping from the direction of his tent, and without a word took up position on Bianca’s left, mirroring Robin on the right. Bianca was vaguely aware of the two men nodding at one another, but her attention was focused on the girl at the wall.
She was younger than Bianca had thought at first. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, just coming into herself as a woman. She was beautiful as well, with golden hair that shimmered even in the torchlight, and large eyes that would have been luminous but for the tears that filled them. Her clothing was well made and nicely embroidered, and clearly marked her as being well bred, but her composure was gone.
“…don’t believe me! None of you believe me! But I am not staying here to be used as a bribe! I am going with the Queen, and you can’t stop me!”
“She isn’t a queen, you little fool!” one of the men was shouting back. “She’s the king’s bastard daughter, and she’s going to get hanged, along with everyone who follows her!”
“Better to be hanged with her than to be offered up like a hog with an apple in my mouth! Tell me, Uncle, will the king pay you when he takes me away?”
A sharp clap split the air, as the man’s hand connected with the girl’s cheek.
“Enough.” Bianca’s voice cracked like a whip, and the people before her froze, like actors in a tableau. After a stunned moment, the girl dropped into a curtsey, one hand pressed to her flaming cheek, while the man turned to glare at her.
Bianca ignored him, and focused instead on the girl.
“What’s your name, Miss?”
“Shanen, your majesty.”
“Come here, Shanen.”
The girl rose and took a few steps, but her uncle moved to stop he
r. Robin and Anders, moving almost as one, both stepped forward. A small movement, but full of menace. The man dropped his hand and let his niece move unhindered, but the rage in his eyes burned brighter.
When Shanen stood before her, Bianca reached out and took the girl’s hand. “Now, tell me, what happened with Brannon?”
The girl dropped her eyes, shy now that she was no longer yelling. “No one believes me.”
Bianca spoke gently. “I believe you.”
Shanen looked up, and her eyes were filled with hope. “Truly?”
“Truly. Now, tell me.”
It came out in a rush of words. Brannon had come in the fall to sample her uncle’s wine, and had spotted the girl working behind the counter. Then he’d just waited to get her alone.
“He kept touching me. Just my hand, or my face, but he wouldn’t stop. And I tried to move away from him, but he followed me.” Shanen bit her lip. “He pinched my cheek, and told me I wasn’t quite ripe yet, but he’d be back in a year or two, and then he’d pluck me right off the tree.” Tears came back to her eyes, but she rubbed them ferociously, and scowled at her uncle. “I’m not staying here to be plucked.” She turned back to look at Bianca, a sudden worry on her face. “Am I?”
“Of course not.” Bianca gave the girl a reassuring smile, and squeezed her hand. Then she faced the man who was glowering at her. “Shanen is coming with me.”
“You can’t do that!” He stayed rooted where he was, well aware of the threat exuding from Anders and Robin, but he jutted his chin forth belligerently. “She’s my ward, and I say where she goes.”
“I’m making her a ward of the crown.” Bianca spoke lightly. “And I say she comes with me.” While the man sputtered in indignation, Bianca cast her eyes over those of her followers who were watching the incident. After a moment she pointed to one older, kindly-faced woman. “Shanen, that’s Mother Marlplot. Go with her, and let her settle you down for the evening.”
The girl obeyed, and once she was safely nestled in the arms of Mother Marlplot and her enormous brood, Bianca turned back to the uncle, and took a few more paces forward.
“I am taking your niece, and I will take all the other girls I find that live in fear of my father’s return.” Her gaze ranged out over the village elders. “I will take the boys who do not wish to spend their lives to fill Brannon’s coffers, and the fathers who have to sell their land and livestock to pay the taxes. I will take the mothers, and the aunts, and the uncles, who will not stand by and see their children treated like mud beneath the king’s boots. I will take them all, every last one of them, who would rather live in a kingdom that is known to be just. And you may cower behind your tiny stone wall and watch me do it.”
As she turned on her heel and stalked back to the wagon she kept her shoulders straight, unbowed by the terrible weight of doubt that assailed her.
And if tears ran down her face, those villagers standing in the torchlight would never know.
Chapter 29
Robin stood outside Bianca’s tent and listened to her rapid footfalls. She was still pacing. She had been pacing ever since he had brought the tent to her and set it up. He’d been glad to offer Bianca better shelter than her wagon, but he thought she was going to use it to rest. Not worry.
The journey had been going poorly ever since they’d reached the plains. Three times they had come to a town, and three times they had been refused admittance. Only Scistern had a wall, but the rest made their lack of welcome abundantly clear—closing their shops, retreating into their houses, and shuttering their windows.
Bianca was near panic. The mountain folk were unwavering in their support, but they were only a part of the kingdom’s people. She needed the plains. She needed the farmlands. She didn’t care if the nobles followed her, but it was becoming clear that where the nobles went the monied classes followed, and the farmers and laborers found it hard to go against the source of their livelihood.
Robin caught sight of Anders heading towards them, and scratched gently on the tent flap.
“Bianca? Prince Anders is here.”
“He can come in.” She sounded distracted, but she’d given her permission, and Robin had no reason to bar his entrance. Instead he held the flap aside and waved the prince in, avoiding the need for any sort of discourse.
Of course, that didn’t stop him from having to listen to their conversation.
“How are they?” Bianca asked the question almost before the flap fell, giving Robin an insight into what she had been worrying over this time.
“Tolerably well. We found them a spare tent, and Mother Marlplot has agreed to keep an eye on them for a few days, to make sure they settle comfortably among us.”
Despite the towns refusing them entrance, a number of people had caught up to them after they moved on. Like the girl Shanen, they had each suffered at the hands of the king, but their protests had been ignored by their fellows. The most recent addition to their number was an entire family of farmers who had lost their land to the tax collector.
It was such a small number of people, though, compared to all the rest who refused to listen.
“Bianca.” Anders spoke over the sound of her footfalls. “Can I fetch you something to eat?” He paused, and Robin could picture Bianca shaking her head. “Not even something to drink? Some wine, perhaps, to calm your nerves?” Again, a pause, and then a sigh from Anders. “You cannot focus on others, with the clamorings of your own hunger and thirst clouding your mind.” He spoke softly, cajoling her. “Let me fetch you something, and then we can talk over what is worrying you.”
This time the pause was long. Robin found himself torn. On the one hand, he wished for Bianca to rest and eat. On the other, he detested the idea of Anders taking care of her.
Finally Bianca spoke. “Very well.”
The tent flap moved back, and Anders stuck his head out, a satisfied smile on his face, but it faded when he saw Fain, Vivienne, and Felix bearing down on Bianca’s tent, loaded with wine skins, bread, and cheeses.
“Nevermind. It appears someone else has beaten me to it.”
Robin couldn’t help his broad grin, as he held the tent flap back for the others, and then followed them in. Bianca had finally seated herself on a small camp stool, presumably out of deference to the fact that she could not pace with the tent so crowded. Robin snagged a wine skin from Felix and held it out to her, before settling down on his heels next to the door flap.
Anders looked around. “I didn’t realize I’d been summoned to a meeting.”
“What?” Bianca seemed startled, but it didn’t take her long to recognize the issue. “I’m sorry Anders, my message must not have been clear. I feel in need of council, and I thought we might be more productive together, than apart.” She smiled at him in apology, and he nodded graciously, taking a hunk of bread from Fain.
“Which of our innumerable problems are we discussing at the moment?” Vivienne smiled brightly at her cousin.
“We need to figure out our options.” Bianca nibbled a piece of cheese thoughtfully. “If the plains people will not hear us, then the revolution is over before it has truly begun. What can we do?”
“War is still an option.” Felix was pouring himself a small cup of wine from the skin Bianca had abandoned. “With the mountain folk on your side, you hold that area firmly. It changes the balance of power entirely if Brannon cannot hold a secure passage into Albion because his own people are hostile to him. With Albion’s financial support, and the military backing you would gain from a political alliance, you could win.”
Bianca sighed. “And leave this area of the kingdom war-torn for years. I know it’s possible, but I think an outright war should be our last option.”
Vivienne cocked her head. “I hate to admit it, but you could probably negotiate, at this point. Brannon isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t take Albion without a secure passage through the mountains. You could hammer out a treaty, carving a new kingdom out of the mountain range, and l
eaving him on the throne of a smaller, less powerful Toldas.”
Bianca gave up all pretense of eating or drinking, and wrapped her hands around her knees. “If we do that,” she said quietly, “we abandon all the girls like Shanen. All the boys like Billy Notter. All the people who have come to us in the night, after their towns have barred the way.”
“But you give them a place to run.” Fain crouched down before Bianca, and put his large hands over hers. “Don’t underestimate the hope people take, just knowing that someone is out there who cares, and who will take them in. If you could hold the mountains, you could open the borders on your side, taking in anyone who wished to leave Toldas.”
“That could be dangerous,” Anders spoke. “Brannon’s bound to object to his people leaving, and he’s already proven himself less than honorable. Your fleeing farmers could be spies or assassins in disguise.”
“As long as Brannon is alive, Bianca will need to watch for spies and assassins.” Robin looked around at the others in the tent. “Whatever she decides to do, it will be dangerous for her.”
A solemn silence settled on them all. Fain took the wine skin from Felix and drained it dry, then looked at Bianca. “You don’t have to decide yet, little sister, but think about it. Once we reach Laberdeen we’ll need to know what our next step is.”
“Why Laberdeen?” Felix asked.
“Baines will be meeting us there. He’s been talking about Bianca in small hamlets and towns. He might have some folks with him.”
“So, Laberdeen, and then I have to decide?” Bianca spoke as though she was asking everyone, but Robin felt her eyes on him.
He nodded. “After Laberdeen.”
Chapter 30
Laberdeen was an actual city, on the eastern edge of the Toldan mountain range. They had no walls, but a large wooden sign swung gently on its post, marking the outermost boundary of the city. Beyond the sign was a winding road leading to the first of Laberdeen’s outlying homes. Bianca had stopped her troop outside the city’s borders, asking them to pitch camp there. She didn’t know if the people of Laberdeen supported her, and she didn’t want to influence them for the worse by leading a horde of people into their city.
Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss Page 20