Page 71 of Arise the Queen
Baugh, too, glanced at his wife and Freydis smirked. Thereafter, there was a long, unbearable moment of silence, and then he stood, his eyes shining. “You speak well of the girl,” he said, and then he turned to Gwendolyn. “And you… I know whatthat is you hold.” He took a menacing step towards Gwendolyn, then another, every thud of his boots against the stone floor making Gwendolyn’s heart beat faster and faster, until he stopped in front of her and reached out his hand. “May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the sword.
Gwendolyn hesitated only a moment before handing the sword to him. Its flames extinguished the instant he took it, and he held it with both hands, lifting it up to study its length, then moving it experimentally through the air, studying its weight and balance in his hands.
Eventually, satisfied with his inspection, his gaze shifted from the sword in his hand to Gwendolyn’s face, no trace of malice or judgment in his eyes, only curiosity and perhaps a newfound admiration. “So it seems… your mother spoke true,” he said. “Art a changeling.” And then he handed the sword back to Gwendolyn before turning away and the moment she held it, it flared to life again.
Baugh gave her a single backward glance on the way back to his seat, and a knot of apprehension twisted in Gwendolyn’s belly as he turned to face her again. But this time, though he did not smile, his words made her knees weak with relief.
“I do not deny you. If the gods have chosen my granddaughter, who am I to oppose her? Indeed, I will lend you my sword to put down that cankered mongrel who pisses on our lands!”
At his declaration, his warriors raised horns in celebration. “Skål!” they shouted, and their voices reverberated from the high beams.
Gwendolyn peered down at her mother. “What does that mean?”
“A toast,” she said, smiling, her relief shining in her eyes. “My kin are descended of the Northmen who live to the east. And you, my dear, have inherited your father’s lunacy. I’d notin a thousand years have dared call myself a queen in Baugh’s presence, but you…” She shook her head with a look of marvel.
Málik leaned behind Gwendolyn to whisper to her mother. “I would say your daughter is stupid… or… the bravest soul I’ve ever known.” And when he lifted his gaze to Gwendolyn, his eyes shone with love and admiration. “I will call her brave.”
“Hear, hear!” whispered her mother, lifting a cup.
Her grandmother’s voice, too, lifted in praise. “May the gods continue to favor us!” she declared. And, with that, the celebration resumed with vigor, and Gwendolyn stood only a moment longer, with the sword still burning in her hand, uncertain what to do with it now…
Lay it down?
That would seem feeble, no?
When the musicians struck up a chord, and a few from the lower tables rose to dance, Gwendolyn quietly returned the sword to its cloth, wrapping it gently and pushing it aside to finish her meal…
34
Intending to seek Freydis, Gwendolyn strode with purpose from her grandfather’s war room, her steps measured, her mouth drawn with concern.
So it appeared, every good-turn bore its equal in bad fortune. She’d won Baugh’s favor, but no sooner had she done so when they were presented with news that did not bode well. Evidently, Locrinus had not been idle. Nor had he, as Gwendolyn had once hoped, failed to prepare his stronghold for the winter. He’d planted crops early, harvested early, and now his men were hustling to reinforce his fortress walls. Having also taken lessons from Trevena and Loegria, he was using the nearby river to moat his hill fort, and the land itself to aid him in his defenses—a fact that Caradoc had sorely underestimated.
Gwendolyn still did not know whether he had conscripted Brigantes, but, emboldened by his brother’s affiliation with Baugh, he was sending emissaries into the north to see who could be won to his side. A skiff arrived from one of Baugh’s camps on the mainland, carrying two of Locrinus’ scouts, who were intercepted en route to Skerrabra—perhaps in search of Albanactus. Though, of course, Albanactus was not in Skerrabra,and considering Gwendolyn’s presence in the village, neither did he present himself along with his captives. But clearly, he valued his new position with Baugh more than he did his own brother because it was “Alba’s” warriors who’d seized those scouts, dispatching them by boat to Skerrabra. Baugh then placed both into a cell, but not before “persuading” them to speak. Either they were lying, or she’d have a far greater challenge in defeating Loc.
She encountered Bryn along with his mother near the lady’s solar, and, seeing Gwendolyn’s face, he gave Lady Ruan a peck upon the cheek, excusing himself, then drawing Gwendolyn aside, leaving his mother to return to her work.
“What is it? I know that look,” pressed Bryn.
“Baugh has two prisoners in agaol—Loc’s men.”
“Here?”
“Yes, Bryn, of course. Where else? Albanactus’ men discovered them poking about and sent them to Baugh.”
His brow furrowed. “But that is fortuitous, no?”
“Yes,” Gwendolyn agreed. “But the news from Plowonida is not so good. We have no inkling yet of Loc’s true numbers, but we know he has strengthened his position and he’ll not be so easy to oust. I fear that with his greater advantage, he will only need to wait us out. The fenlands will not be easy for us to lay siege to, and if he is content enough to remain behind those walls, we’ll hold little advantage.”
“It doesn’t matter how well he has positioned himself. He cannot garrison ten thousand behind his walls.”
“How can you be sure? He only had to rebuild. Caradoc did all the work for him, carting in stones.”
Bryn lifted a brow. “You did not see Plowonida before Loc took it. I did. There is a reason Caradoc hid in the fens.”
Gwendolyn nodded. This made sense, and already Bryn was earning his keep as mester. She exhaled a breath she did not realize she’d held.
“Will Baugh keep those men imprisoned?”
