Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (22 page)

And so it
was that Bianca, Princess of Toldas, led several hundred rebels into the Toldan
mountains, with the sun on her back and bright tears standing in her eyes.

Robin was
trying to reassure Bianca.

“It is a
small place, no more than ten families. There is nothing to fear.”

“I’m not
afraid they’ll hurt me.” Her irritation was clear. “I am afraid they won’t
listen to me.”

“Our wagons
have been rolling into their village all day. I am sure they will at least be
curious enough to listen.”

“Great,” she
grumbled, “they can laugh me out of town after they’ve heard what I have to
say.”

“This is
silly, Bianca.”

“I know
that, Robin. But I’m nervous. Just leave me alone.”

Robin pulled
gently on his reins, allowing Bianca to ride ahead. Once she was ahead of his
horse and couldn’t possibly see him, he let a grin spread across his face. She
had been fearless in Regal’s council hall, but now that she had to address a
few villagers her nerves were getting the best of her.

Robin wasn’t
worried. But he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at her.

They rode
that way up the tiny mountain road, until the village came into view. Then
Robin pulled back up to Bianca’s side. Their wagons had been trickling in ahead
of them, but Bianca rode at the head of all the actual fighting men, and they
could only move up the road four abreast. He didn’t want her cut off from all
her protectors, just in case he happened to be wrong.

Something
was off. The village was oddly quiet, with no children running about or chores
being done in the yards. Robin was on guard, wondering at it, until they came
in sight of the village green.

He had been
right; there were, perhaps, ten families in the village. And every single
member of every single family was standing on the green, waiting to greet their
princess.

He glanced
sideways at Bianca’s face. Her eyes were soft and full of wonder, and slowly a
joyous smile spread across her face. The villagers murmured in welcome as she
slid down from her horse, and then gathered around her. Bianca moved among
them, clasping hands, exchanging smiles, learning the names of those brave
enough to speak up. One little girl shyly offered up her small arms, and Bianca
knelt down in the dirt, heedless of the fine fabric of her skirts, and gathered
the little girl close for a hug.

When she
stood, she looked around. The green held several large stones, set up for
mounting, and Bianca clambered up on one so that all those assembled could see
her face.

“I thank you
for the welcome.” The crowd murmured back, nodding their heads in response. “As
you surely know, I am Bianca, daughter of Brannon, and I have returned to
Toldas to offer the people a choice.” She took a deep breath. “My father has
brought nothing but ruin to this kingdom. He has impoverished our farmers and
workers to gild his own palace. He has terrorized and imprisoned those who
spoke against him. And now he is poised on the brink of war with our neighbor
to the south, because his thirst for power has not been satisfied with ruling
Toldas.” She shook her head, and smiled at the villagers. “I am young—just a
girl, really—and I do not have an army at my back. All I have are these.”

She turned,
and let her shawl slip down her shoulders. The scars from Brannon’s beatings
were clearly visible, and the villagers gasped. Bianca let them take a long
look, and then turned back.

“These are
my constant reminders of what a man with too much power, and no restraint, may
do to those weaker than he. They are my constant goad, driving me to protect
others from the tyranny of my father. And they are the symbol of my promise to
you. That I will give my blood, my body, and my life in service to the people
of this land, if you will have me as your queen.”

She waited.
Robin watched her, standing serenely before the crowd, and for once in his life
he could see the currents almost as well as the Dame. For a few seconds, the
future was crystal clear.

One by one,
the villagers knelt before Bianca in the age-old gesture of fealty, one hand
over their hearts, the other fisted against the ground. Above their heads,
Robin’s eyes met Bianca’s, in a look that was full of triumph.

His whisper
didn’t carry, but somehow, he thought she heard it.

“All hail
the queen.”

***

Bianca was
tired. Everyone could see it, but there was little they could do to help. In
every village it was the same. She greeted them, spoke to them, and then
accepted their fealty. She would stay up late into the night, allowing individuals
to speak with her in private, sharing their concerns and their hopes. Some
spoke to her of how they wished the laws might be in her new government. Some
spoke about the taxes. But some made heart-wrenching pleas that she might find
some lost member of their family—some brother, some child, some wife—and send
them home from whatever prison Brannon had cast them in. She got less and less
sleep, and sometimes, after speaking with one of her new subjects, her eyes
would be red with tears. But always they had to push on in the morning, to head
for the next town, the next village. There was no time to rest, and no time to
wait. Little by little, they were gaining supporters, people of Toldas who
packed some few belongings and joined them in their march across the kingdom.

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.

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 her. 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.