The War of Queens

Chapter 44

Ishmael

 “So if not quantity,” Ishmael said, raising his voice a little, “then we must win on quality, am I right?”

 It was obvious that Jamie disapproved from the way he spoke“I suppose, but how do you suggest we do that?”

 A faint memory entered Ishmael’s mind, something he had read, a historical source that told about a powerful army… “I think I read something, once. Let me see what I can do,” he said before leaving his tent.

 The Holy Book was open on a table in his own tent from when he last read it. He sat down by it and flitted through the pages until he reached the section of the book written by a historian by the name of Flavio. His works described an ancient period more than thousand years in the past, but his teachings were of great importance in the monastery where Ishmael had lived before. However, these texts had not been part of the studies. It was only curiosity that led him to these pages, made golden and crisp by the years.

 Flavio had been a greater artist than writer. The pages were filled with intricate illustrations of whatever marvel he found himself fascinated by, and the texts held detailed instructions as to how they worked. That made it easier for Ishmael to point out the exact page where Flavio began writing about war.

 The Atterois had been a people that existed around his time. They were mentioned only a few times, but were always attributed with great fighting skills. They had demolished several of the ancient cities of the east. In Flavio’s illustrations, they were drawn as faceless men wearing armor on their chest, but with their legs bare. The formation, however, was the most interesting.

 According to the text, when in battle, they would line up in forty or so lines, each too close for the enemy to wrench inside, but wide enough for a man to pass through. The man at the front of each line fought the charging enemies until the commander blew his whistle. At the sound of the whistle, the man in the front would step back into the line to rest while the solder behind him would take over the fighting.

 The memories returned to him as he read. He had found this particular text one day in jarl Roynar’s mountains. It was after the feast in the mountains and he felt sick. The memory in turn reminded him of Thyrdís. On the night of the feast, his mind had been weakened and she had forced herself into his heart. He now felt the crushing consequences of that.

 For a moment, he let go of the book and his eyes fell closed. He could still remember the way she had looked that night, hooded in shadows by the bonfire. The fire made her face glow and her eyes sparkle.

 Will you pray for me?

 He flinched. The voice that his mind had created sounded so real.

 The doors to his tent were pushed aside and Angelique entered. She was wearing a loose dress and red curls that dripped with water.

 “Can I come in?” she asked.

 He nodded. “Of course.”

 She looked at the book. “You were reading?” When he nodded, she leaned over and skimmed the page. “The paintings are beautiful.”

 “Read it,” he told her.

 She looked at him. “Why?”

 “It’s fascinating,” he said simply.

 For a moment, she held his gaze. Then she said, in a steady, calm voice, “I can’t read.”

 It took a second for the words to register. He blinked. “You can’t…?”

 “Read,” she finished for him. “No. I used to read a little, what my mother taught me, but my father was illiterate. I taught Elizabeth what I knew and she learned from Junus. But I’ve forgotten most of it.”

 He regarded her for a moment. In the time he had spent with her he had learned that she seemed so strong whenever she spoke of the things that made her feel the weakest. She seemed strong in that moment.

 “Would you like me to teach you?” he asked.

 “You would?”

 He nodded. “If you want me to.”

 She hesitated. “I’d like that.” Awkwardly, she stood back and wetted her lips. “Were you praying when I entered?”

 He shook his head. “I was just thinking.”

 “You just looked so concentrated,” she explained. “Ishmael, I… I wanted to apologize. I know I have not been kind to you, and I also know that Elizabeth would not have made it this far without your support. You deserve better.”

 He smiled. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lied.

 She shrugged, a protective gesture. “I’ve made fun of you, your religion.” She crawled back into the chair. In that moment, she looked as innocent as her sister. “Tell me, what do you pray for? Victory?”

 I pray for her, he thought. “That too,” he said instead. “I pray for your sister, for my family at home, for the ashmen that we met. I pray for you, too.”

 She seemed surprised. “Me?”

 He nodded. “I don’t dislike you, Angelique.”

 They fell into a silence that stretched on. It was not an uncomfortable silence - it was more as though they both lost track of time and simply sat there for some time.

 A servant entered. “Lady Angelique, Lady Caterina calls for war council,” he said.

 Angelique thanked him and stood up. “Duty calls,” she joked before leaving his tent. After short time, he grabbed his Holy Book left the tent as well.

 The plain of grass that the camp was set on was a labyrinth of tents, but Caterina’s was placed a little away from the rest, alongside Elizabeth’s and Asha’s. Just as he caught sight of Elizabeth, sitting down by the table with the rest of the councillors, a hand grabbed his shoulder and stopped him from walking any further. 

 “Where are you going?” Jamie’s voice asked.

 Ishmael turned around. “I have some suggestions for Elizabeth…”

 “She’s in council,” Jamie told him, as if that fact was not obvious.

 “It’s important,” he continued.

 Jamie frowned and glanced at the book in his hands. “Do you expect something in that book to be of importance?”

 Ishmael sighed in exasperation, but he knew that Jamie would not let him interrupt this war council unless he had good reason to. So he opened to book on the right page, showed Jamie the illustrations and rushed through his explanation.

 To his surprise, Jamie was completely silent once his speech was over. When he finally spoke, his voice was a little breathless. “You found that in your Holy Book?”

 Ishmael nodded.

 “Well,” Jamie began, “you should better hurry.”

 Ishmael walked across the grass, his steps faster now than before. The first he heard was the Shadow speaking. It was obvious what they were discussion.

 “…find a way to put our men to better use if we hope to win. The numbers are against us, but if…”

 Ishmael stepped forwards, tightening his grip on the Holy Book. “I know a way.”