(Forgive the brevity of this week's installment; the busyness of the season is catching up with me. Nevertheless, we're approaching the climax of the story, with just a few installments left to go!)
A cascade of drumbeats broke out
over the plains, pounding out the rhythms of the Prince’s return. All across
the fields of Arrens they could be heard, from every corner where the
supporters of the royal house had pitched their tents. And in the center of
those fields stood the great city itself: the walls of Arrens, shining amber in
the morning light, and the tall, gleaming citadel at its center. The thick
lumber of the doors and drawbridges stood tight against the walls, drawn up and
fastened. Along the ramparts, in the spaces between the stone battlements, were
the bristling forms of the Steward’s army: thousands of spears, javelins, and
arrows, sharpened and ready for the fight.
Prince Halbrinnon regarded the city
with a quiet gaze. Joe didn’t think he looked much like the leader of an army
in that moment. He looked like a mother, tense with the danger of seeing one’s
child on the verge of a heartbreaking mistake. His eyes showed the soft strain
of compassion and disappointment, backed by the fire of a love that seemed to
hold everything together.
“What do we do now?” asked Sim,
looking up at the Prince. They had all walked together to the edge of the
encampment of his supporters, and from that vantage-point the leaders of the
army were all looking out toward the city.
“Now,” said Sir Mack, “we lay a
siege around the city and starve the Steward’s men into submission.”
Prince Halbrinnon shook his head. “Those
men are my men, too,” he said. “And those people in there, my people. I did not
come to starve them, but to set them free.”
“It wouldn’t work anyway,” said Sir
Kobi, as the captain of the guard tugged thoughtfully at his chin. “We’d need
an army at least twice this size to mount an effective siege. We have a lot of
men, it’s true, but Arrens is perhaps the largest city in the world. If we
tried to encircle it, we’d be strung out too widely, and the Steward’s men
could break through at almost any point.”
“To say nothing of the fact that the
vast majority of your supporters here appear to have fled the city with no
armor, no weapons at all,” added Captain Drave. “It would be a stretch to call
it an army, save for the troops you brought across the sea yourself, my lord.”
“Truth be told,” Kobi continued, “the
Steward has the stronger hand here. He has the fortress, and he has the larger
army. If he knows that we’re lacking in weapons, he’d be well advised to drop
one of those drawbridges and send his cavalry out after us.”
Prince Halbrinnon was silent through
the end of this discussion on tactics, his eyes still fixed on the city walls.
Then he motioned toward it with a nod of his head.
“Perhaps your prediction has come
true, my friend. The Shepherd Gate is opening.”