Hannah turned her attention to the people of Calverton as they emerged from the buildings to observe the event of the army invading its own city. Three items struck her simultaneously. First, they were all thin. She saw no fat bakers or cooks, not even a paunch on an innkeeper. Second, their eyes were dull. Their expressions held no hope. Lastly, she noticed that as she rode past, that they joined the procession as if they were part of the army—and perhaps they were. A fierce growl filled the background as they expressed their anger after talking to soldiers.
She said to the general, “The old walled city is small. Where are the warehouses?”
“We never expected the palace to have to withstand a siege, so they are scattered throughout the city.”
“What food is stored inside the walls? Animals?”
He shook his head, “None. As I said, everything is outside. Over time, each King or Queen expanded the living areas and built new apartments for royalty and servants. Where the stables once stood, there is a ballroom. There is no room for more inside.”
She rode on. “Have you noticed our army has doubled in size?”
The general turned. His face paled.
They turned onto the wide cobblestone boulevard that approached the main city gates. They stood open. A dozen palace guards raced into sight and began closing the one on the left, but it wouldn’t move. Obviously, most of them didn’t know how to work the mechanism, but more were running to help.
The general stood in his saddle. “Archers, let a volley fly at will.”
An officer repeated the order and the hiss of arrows flying overhead sounded, dozens and more. The palace guards scattered, all but two who had taken arrows, one to his head, and another to his chest. The general said, “Easier to stop them now before the gates are closed, don’t you think?”
“I do,” Hannah said.
Palace guards appeared on the ramparts, most holding a single ceremonial spear, but a few with bows they struggled to string. The general muttered, “Pathetic.”
Hannah said, “General, I have a favor to ask.”
“Name it.”
“I want you to defer to Brice. He is my knight, my protector. For the upcoming confrontation, I’d like you to treat him as your superior. He protects the heir to a kingdom, and the rank may impress your King or those guards.”
The general turned to an aide and spoke a few words. The aide ran back into the ranks and reappeared carrying a golden handled sword. The general handed it to Brice. “Wear this. The gold and jewels will impress and give you stature, but please try to return it. The sword is a family heirloom.”
“Sir, I cannot,” Brice said.
“Nonsense. It was made for special occasions, and I think this may be one.”
Brice strapped it on and sat taller.
When they were in range of arrows, Hannah pulled up and faced the fifty confused archers standing on the wall. Half of them still struggled to string their bows. Others had arrows ready but looked awkward and not used to the weapons.
Hannah held her arms wide, fingers pointing to either side to draw an imaginary line. She called, “Archers to the front. Line up beside me.”
A scuffle of feet told her she needn’t bother looking as two hundred men suddenly stood, strung out in a loose line at her sides. When they were still, she called for them to ready an arrow. Her eyes never left the palace guards. One had already broken ranks and ran.
She called out to those guards who remained, “On my order, the archers will advance until they are in range. These men train with bows every day and have faced the enemy in war, and after the first volley, half of you will be dead, but we will still advance. After the second wave, all of you will be dead. You have one chance to lay down your weapons, get out of my sight, and live.”
A few of them fled. The rest looked from one to the other, and about a dozen acted ready to stay and fight for their King. She called to the army, “Advance and fire at will.”
With their first steps, the rest of the palace guards disappeared without a single arrow flying. She didn’t blame them. They were trained to protect royalty at close quarters, prevent assassins from reaching the King, and to maintain order in a palace. They were also for show, their fancy uniforms created to impress royalty.
But they were not trained soldiers. Fifty palace guards against two hundred expert archers and another thousand men behind them, plus a thousand angry townsmen, was nothing short of slaughter. Hannah was glad they chose not to fight but felt a wave of shame for them at the same time. They were so poorly trained they couldn’t even lock the front door to the King’s Palace.
Behind her, a roar of approval erupted. Hannah ignored it as she watched the windows of the towers inside the walls, the windows where a King might be watching. But she saw no sign of him. Only the few palace guards had shown themselves.
Brice said, “What now?”
“I guess we invite ourselves inside,” Hannah said.
“No,” Brice said. “It would only take one archer, or one well-thrown spear to kill you. I cannot allow you to go in there until it is safe.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
The general moved his horse between them. “Princess, if I may. Your knight, Sir Brice, is correct. Allow us to enter the palace and secure an audience with the King. I will act as your emissary if you allow me.”
Hannah hesitated. She trusted the two men at her side, but her emotions drove her to enter and face whatever lay in there. Good sense told her to remain outside. Reluctantly, she nodded.
The general motioned for his aide again. “Take the Princess to that inn over there,” he pointed. “Set a guard around it, fifty men or more.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hannah turned her horse and directed it to the building the general indicated. It was an inn, the battered red sign with a crude image of a wolf barely visible. The planters under the windows were empty of greenery or color. The bare boards of the walls shown through the old whitewash that now appeared almost brown with age. Weeds flourished where she flowers had once bloomed.
People lined the street, standing several deep. Again, she noticed most were skinny and listless, a sure sign of near starvation. Her anger grew cold. The detail from the army cleared a path for her, the sluggish movements of the crowd forcing her to ride slowly.
“Are you really a Princess?” a girl of ten asked.
Hannah pulled up her mount and leaned over the neck of the animal to answer, “Yes. I’m Princess Hannah from the kingdom of Wren. And you are?”
“Anna.”
“Well Anna, that sounds a lot like Hannah. Both are spelled the same frontward and backward. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Is there lots of food to eat where you come from?”
The question hung in the air. Eyes and ears of hundreds waited for her response. “Yes.”
“Can we have some?”
An innocent, childish question, but within it was the core of what everyone watching her wanted to know. Hannah sat up taller and stood in the stirrups. She addressed all of them. “She asks if Wren will share food with you. I promise to speak with King Edward about that as soon as he agrees to meet with me. Wren has food to spare, and you’re welcome to it.”
A few smiled or clapped, but it died out quickly. The little girl said, “Will you end the war?”
“I will try. I’m sure King Edward and I can work together to make things better.” She clucked the horse to move ahead, but her thoughts were on Anna. All the girl wanted were two items, the same as everyone else in the crowd.