“They did,” Duval says. “They were able to intercept our scouts so that the army’s arrival caught us by surprise.”
“Just as I arrived in Rennes this morning, the French troops showed up in front of the city gate. I was one of the last they let through, and the gates were shut and bolted behind me.”
“And so it is official, then,” Duval mutters. “We are besieged.”
“With no help is on the way,” Chalon adds. Duval looks as if he wishes to kick him.
Slowly, the duchess turns to me. Her dark eyes are haunted and in them I can see that she has turned over and over my suggestion. Winning the heart of the king of France is the only way to wrest some victory from defeat and save her people. “I think I would like you all to hear what Lady Annith has to say.”
There is a moment of stunned silence and the councilors exchange surprised glances, as if they are trying to remember who Lady Annith is.
The duchess continues. “We have one last option, one that Annith brought to my attention only a short while ago. It is . . . far-fetched, to put it mildly, and I do not know if it can be done, but I would have her tell you, so we may at least discuss it. Lady Annith?”
I take a deep breath and tell the Privy Council of the last of Arduinna’s arrows that I possess and what I believe we may use it for. I direct most of my tale to Ismae and Duval, for they will be the easiest to convince.
As I had presumed, the rest of the council is skeptical of the plan. The bishop in particular looks both scornful and indignant. “But she has already married the Holy Roman emperor,” he protests.
“By proxy,” Duval points out.
Father Effram places a hand on the bishop’s arm, reining in his protests. “And it is not uncommon for the pope to grant annulments when the need for political expediency is great.”
“That is true,” the bishop reluctantly concedes.
Montauban and Captain Dunois are more polite in expressing their doubts over the plan. It is only Duval who seems truly heartened. He has learned of the old gods through Ismae, so he understands their power more than the most. Only then, when I know I have his support, do I allow myself to look at the abbess. Her gaze is fixed on me, her rage etched in grim lines on either side of her mouth. If it were not for the presence of the council, I am certain she would fly across the table and strike me.
In the end, all on the council agree that it is worth trying, although the only reason the abbess does so is so that her lone objection will not be noted.
The rest of the council meeting turns into a planning session, for it is no small thing to work one’s way into the heart of fifteen thousand French troops, locate their king, then shoot him with an arrow. Not to mention get back out again.
“She cannot go on foot.” Duval gives a firm shake of his head. “It could take her days to walk through the encampment, allowing them far too much time to detect her. But more importantly, she would have no means of escape, for once the king has been hit, his guard will swarm her like flies.”
“It is not impossible,” Ismae points out with a glance in Sybella’s direction. “She could easily post as a laundress or camp follower and go unnoticed.”
“Not and make her way through thousands of French soldiers.”
“Sybella did it.”
“Briefly, and only to collect information. And while the army was just arriving and in disarray.”
“We are trained to stealth and cunning.” Ismae’s voice holds a note of gentle reproach. “You do Annith a disservice by not trusting in her abilities.”
Duval turns to me. “My apologies, Lady Annith, for it is not you I do not trust, but the fifteen thousand French soldiers. With that many men, there is just too great a chance you would be noticed, and your disguise will afford you little protection if you draw enough soldiers’ interest.”
“Sybella and I could go with her.”
Duval snorts. “So you can gut every soldier who propositions you and leave a trail of dead bodies in your wake? I do not think that will help her go unnoticed.”
Beast clears his throat—somewhat delicately, given his size. “Must it be her that shoots the arrow?”
Duval glances at me in question. My hand slowly drifts up to the back of my neck, my fingers seeking out the small mark that I have never seen. “Yes,” I say. “It must.”
“Why not one of the Arduinnites?” The abbess’s voice is pitched high, shrill even.
I turn and look at her coldly. “To what purpose? I can ride as well as they can, shoot as accurately as any of them. What do we gain by asking them?”
“Your life,” Duval says gently.
I know he means well, that he has only my safety in mind, so I work to keep my voice level. “I am done sending others out to risk their lives while I sit safely behind. I will do this.” Besides, of all the great dreams I once had, of serving the gods, of making some contribution, this is now the only way I can do that.
“Very well. So Annith going by foot is out, as is sending others. No, Ismae.” Duval puts his hand up to forestall further argument. “The trick will be getting mounted riders through the encampment. Even a small group would be immediately noticed.”
“What if we just sent a full mounted guard and punched through the camp like a battering ram, clearing her a path to the king?” Beast says, and Sybella looks as if she will stride across the room and clout his thick head. “If we sent enough men, there should be some left to get her safely back.”
“Except,” Captain Dunois points out, “how will you get any mounted men out of this city without their being noticed? For once they are seen, the French archers will pick them off. Or send a matching force to fight them.”
We all grow silent, for that is indeed the biggest problem. Getting enough of a force—getting anyone—out undetected.
Duval sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. “Well, this will not be decided tonight. Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“Aye.” Captain Dunois’s voice is heavy with disgust. His face is nearly gray with fatigue, and my heart goes out to him. “There is a problem with the mercenaries.”
“What now?” Duval says in disbelief. “Dare I hope that they are killing one another?”
“No, but their numbers have dwindled all the same. It is the French, my lord. They have been in contact with the mercenaries.”
“How? All the entrances to the city are well guarded.”