At last, he had found his true home. And he never wanted to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Gwendolyn stood on the upper ramparts of the castle, Steffen by her side, watching for Kendrick, looking for any sign of him on the horizon. All around her, her men were busy preparing the final defenses, a group beside her groaning as they pushed yet another iron cauldron filled with boiling tar into place. Archers took up positions, hundreds of them, kneeling all about the walls, bows and arrows at the ready. Beside them sat dozens of attendants, young boys holding torches ready to be lit.
On the lower ramparts, hundreds more men took up positions with long spears; amidst these were dozens more with slings.
Down below, in the inner court, amassing behind the gates, were hundreds more soldiers, bearing swords and shields and every weapon imaginable. Her army grew with each passing moment, and Silesia was beginning to feel impenetrable. Gwen was feeling optimistic.
But she looked out again over the horizon, and reminded herself of what was coming. She had heard stories of Andronicus her entire life, and she knew that while Silesia had lasted a thousand years, this time would be different. She closed her eyes and prayed that she be given the strength to at least put up a noble defense. Whatever should come, whether they should all live or die, she just wanted to go down with honor.
Gwen opened her eyes and looked back at the horizon, and began to pace again. She was a nervous wreck, and having Kendrick out there didn’t help. She could not imagine having to shut the gates on her brother. It was too painful to even contemplate.
"Watching the horizon won't make him come any faster," Steffen said, standing beside her.
She looked over, grateful, as always, for Steffen's presence. He had become her backbone throughout all of this, always at her side, always looking out for her, always there to offer a good word of advice or comfort. He was wise beyond his appearance, and she was viewing him more and more as a sounding board. He was also the one she could trust most, who had saved her life already twice; she was growing comfortable sharing with him even her most private thoughts.
"I don't think I could do it,” she said to him, quietly. “Seal the gates with Kendrick out there.”
"You will have to," he said. "That is what it means to be Queen. To put country before family. Your brother is but one; your people are thousands."
As she continued to pace, Gwendolyn knew that he was right. She just prayed she would not have to be put in that position.
A trumpet sounded, and Gwen spun, staring back down at the road, wondering whose approach they were heralding. Her heart beat faster as she hoped to see Kendrick riding towards the place.
But her heart fell as she saw a small caravan and realized it was not him. It was a horse and carriage, coming from the road from King's Court. She was surprised: someone had made it out of there alive.
She was anxious to have the news. She took off down the twisting stone staircase until she reached the dusty inner court of Silesia. Steffen cleared a path for her between the soldiers, and she hurried down the middle as the inner gate was slowly opened.
The carriage came up to the entrance and pulled to a stop.
Several soldiers approached and opened the door, and Gwendolyn was shocked as she saw who came out.
There, standing before her, was a woman she was sure she would never see again.
Her mother. The former Queen.
And beside her, her devoted servant, Hafold.
Gwendolyn’s mother stared back at her, one queen to another, and Gwendolyn felt torn with a myriad of emotions. She went from being shocked to see her, to relief that she was alive, to sadness and compassion for her state of health, to anger from all the old memories. She also felt a sudden defiance: if her mother had arrived here to try to tell her how to rule, she would hear none of it.
Most of all, she was bewildered. How was her mother, who was so sick, standing? And how had she escaped from King’s Court?
"Mother," Gwendolyn said.
Her mother stared back, expressionless.
"Gwendolyn," she said, matter of factly. "I find myself in the odd and unfortunate position of having to ask my daughter to allow me into her court. Since the destruction of King’s Court, of the one place I called home, I find myself homeless. A great army follows on my tail, and if you shut me out from your gates, I will die out there. However you may feel about me, surely that would not be a way to honor your father.”
The crowd of soldiers around them grew quiet, and Gwendolyn felt them all watching the exchange between them. She took a deep breath, swirling with mixed emotions.
"I am not vindictive, mother,” Gwendolyn said. “Unlike you. I would never throw you to the mercy of the Empire, regardless of the sort of mother you have been. Of course, you shall be welcome within our gates."
Her mother stared back, still expressionless, and gave her the slightest nod.
"How did you recover?" Gwendolyn asked. "Last I saw you, you were unable to speak, or to move.”
"I discovered she had been the victim of poisoning," Hafold said. "By her son, the King.”
A gasp spread through the crowd, most of all from Gwendolyn. Despite the depth of Gareth’s treachery, she had never imagined this. She shook her head involuntarily.
"Then we shall put you into the hands of Illepra, our healer who is here with us, and she will give you whatever help you need for a permanent recovery. I welcome you here, mother.”
Her mother nodded, but stood where she was.
"I hear you are queen now," her mother said.
Gwendolyn nodded back, guarded, unsure where she was going with this.
"It is what your father wanted. I fought it. But now, finally, I see that it was a wise decision. Perhaps his only wise decision.”
With that, her mother turned and walked past her, followed by Hafold, too proud to stop and say anything else.
Gwendolyn, knowing how proud her mother was, knowing that she’d never had a kind word for her, knew how hard it was for her to say something like that. She was touched. She wondered, for the millionth time, why she and her mother could not have been closer.
The carriage door opened yet again, and Gwendolyn turned and was surprised to see Aberthol exit the other side, walking slowly with his cane, the soldiers helping him.
He turned and walked with his distinctive gait towards Gwendolyn, smiling warmly as he approached.
She took several steps towards him, and gave him a hug. It warmed her heart to see her old teacher and her father’s advisor again; it was, in some ways, like having a piece of her father there.