Page 83 of The Queen's Huntsman
However, the steward would have been advised to leave the outer gates open, and he would be forced to do it, not simply because of the risk of fire, but also because merchants were as necessary to Trevena’s welfare as breath was to man.
As efficient as the city was, its greatest failing was its inability to support itself from within. Constructed directly on a stone isle, with no chance of cultivating gardens within, they could manage nothing more elaborate than the raised herb plots they’d constructed for the cooks. All things consumed therein must be imported, and yet, particularly during these early days of his occupation, Gwendolyn was willing to gamble that Locrinus would not allow ships into the harbor without knowing who and what came aboard.
Instead, as her father had, he would favor local merchants, not because he cared for their wellbeing, but because he could search them each as they arrived, allowing entrance into the city as required.
“It is confirmed. The port is closed,” Gwendolyn said.
She tapped a stick at the southernmost tower in her drawing. Altogether, there were five, four constructed near the barbican; but it was those towers nearest to the inner-city gates that would provide the city its heaviest defense.
“This one will be manned, but without foot traffic on those back steps, they’ll prefer to concentrate their defenses on the towers facing the barbican, particularly considering that Locrinus will have taken the best of his archers.”
However, even if he’d left a few archers, they would not compare to her father’s. Loegrian defenses were entirely based on hand-to-hand weapons, and the alloy they’d touted from the moment they’d landed on Pretania’s shores. But they would be prudent enough not to allow missiles into the barbican, and all new arrivals would be searched before crossing the bridge—a bridge easily defended by two good archers and an axe.
“There will be a search here,” Gwendolyn said, pointing to an X she’d marked on the map she’d drawn in the sand. “They’ll be looking for weapons primarily.”
Kelan stood with arms akimbo. “What if our men are refused entrance? What if the weapons are seized? I’d not have my sisters, or my bride come to harm.”
It warmed Gwendolyn’s heart to hear him include Ely in such concerns. “I have no family remaining,” she told him. “Ely is as close to any. I can assure you I’d not send my dearest of friends inside with only two guards were I not confident. Neither would Bryn.”
“My sister will know what to do,” assured Bryn, and then he winked, the gesture meant for Kelan. “Considering how she ensorcelled you, my friend, I’d worry more for Loc’s guards.”
Even against the glow of twilight, Gwendolyn detected Kelan’s blush. With the palm of his hand, his father shoved him from behind, teasing him without words.
“At any rate,” Bryn continued. “We’ve provided only short swords. The iron is old, and no longer military-grade. No one will question two modestly armed guards charged to defend a troop of dancers. Indeed, I would argue that were those dancers not assigned some manner of protection, it would raise more brows.”
“That is true,” Gwendolyn said. “Thedawnsiohas always been afforded protection during their travels. We’ve also dressed the guards accordingly.” By some stroke of good fortune, Caradoc’s daughters had considered theirdawnsioregalia as crucial as any life-saving supplies. They’d kept all their gowns, veils, slippers, and the guards’ uniforms. A cartload of scantily dressed women, accompanied by musicians, would appeal far more than those guards would raise concerns. Indeed, as far as Gwendolyn was concerned, the troop’s arrival would be, in some part, a measure of assurance that the people were prepared to accept Loc’s rule, perhaps even eager to return to life as normal. But if by some act of perfidy, the troop was forced to pass without the guards, the guards themselves were not essential to Gwendolyn’s plan—not directly. Only those dancers needed be in the barbican. Likewise, if their weapons were confiscated, it simply wouldn’t matter. By the time they would have been forced to draw weapons, the city would already be under siege. In the meantime, Bryn was right. Ely did know what to do, and each of those dancers were armed with ceremonial daggers. It was inconceivable that anyone would violate thedawnsiofor any reason, considering the institutions close affiliation with theAwenyddsandGwyddons,but if anyone dared, they would lose both eyes before becoming eunuchs, and Gwendolyn had sparred enough with those ladies to know that even Ely could deliver some damage. Caradoc’s daughters were hardly wilting flowers, but Ely had come a long way since the Feast of Blades. She was no longer a hapless child.
Regardless, Gwendolyn only meant to ensure all eyes remained on the most obvious point of entry. If there ended up being some little squabble, it wouldn’t hurt their cause, and she felt certain not even Loegrian soldiers would risk the wrath of the tribes by harming a troop of students.
“Once the bridge is crossed,” she continued. “They should be allowed to remain in the barbican overnight. That is why my father constructed it—to provide for the merchants so they wouldn’t have to cross that bridge morning and night.”
“What if they are not allowed to enter?” worried Caradoc.
“They will be,” assured Bryn. “What better way to mollify a pack of idle old men than to provide a good show?”
“Unless they grow drunk and stupid.” Caradoc crossed his arms. “Perhaps it’s the last thing they intend to allow?”
“That’s what our guards are for,” Gwendolyn reassured. “Little doubt their presence will draw some attention, but that, too, will serve our purpose. Those guards on the towers will keep all eyes peeled on the armed guards in their barbican.”
“You mean to say, whenever their greedy eyes are not on our women?” argued Kelan, scowling with arms now crossed.
“You could take their places?” Málik suggested, and this drew a bit of nervous laughter.
For the first time in days, when Gwendolyn met Málik’s gaze, he gave her a reluctant smile. It sent her pulses skittering, and her heart tripped an awkward beat.
Throughout this entire explanation, he’d stood silent, with arms crossed as well, and Gwendolyn sensed he knew there was more to her plan. But he said nothing, and his smile quickly reversed into a frown.
“Whatever happens, they won’t be alone for long,” Gwendolyn allowed, tearing her gaze away. “Once Bryn gives the signal, Ely will engage the musicians.”
“Sunset?” Caradoc affirmed, and Gwendolyn nodded.
“While we still have light, but not till the final moments. We’ll waste no time returning to the beach because the tide will turn quickly.”
“I do not swim,” interjected Kelan. This time, his worry was for himself.
“Can’t or won’t?” inquired Málik.
Kelan’s brow lifted. “Can’t,” he confessed.
