David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

Some distance away Antikas Karios and Kebra were sitting beside the sleeping figure of Nogusta. The black man’s wounds were healing, but his continuing weakness was a source of concern.

As Axiana finished her meal the tall, slim, armoured figure of Banelion entered the temple, followed by two soldiers carrying a wooden chest. The White Wolf approached the queen and bowed low. ‘I am pleased to see you safe, your highness,’ he said. ‘My tent is yours, and I took the liberty of bringing some spare clothes for you.’ Gesturing the men forward he had the chest placed on the dais before her, and opened. The first item she saw was a dress of sky blue satin. ‘I do not have an eye for fashion, your highness,’ said Banelion, ‘but I borrowed these from a noble lady in Marain. It is a small town, and there was little to choose from.’

‘It was kind of you, sir, and I thank you.’ Ulmenetha appeared alongside her, taking the sleeping baby from the queen’s arms. Axiana reached out and stroked the

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dress. It was wonderfully soft. Then she noticed – against the clean pure satin – how dirty her hands were. For the first time in days she felt embarrassment.

‘There is an antechamber just beyond where the tent is placed,’ said Banelion. ‘There is a spring there. Some of my men have prepared a fire, and warmed some water. When you are ready you and your maidservant can refresh yourselves. I brought a small amount of scented oil with me to perfume the water.’

Before Axiana could reply another soldier entered, carrying a rough made crib, and a small, woven mattress. Setting it beside the queen he placed the mattress within it. ‘Best I could do in the time, my lady,’ he said, with a bow. Ulmenetha placed the babe within it. The child settled contentedly on the mattress, his sleep undisturbed.

The unexpected kindness left Axiana close to tears. She smiled at the soldier. ‘You are most kind.’ The man blushed and backed away.

The White Wolf gazed down at the babe, a far-away look in his eye. Then he straightened. ‘There are some clothes for an infant at the bottom of the chest,’ he said.

‘You seem to have thought of everything,’ said Axiana. ‘I am most grateful. But tell me, how is it that you are here in our hour of need? We are a long way from the sea.’

He glanced at Ulmenetha. ‘First Kalizkan appeared to me in a dream, then this lady came. She told me of your peril, and the threat to your son. She asked me to bring my men to this city. I did so willingly. And, if it is humanly possible I shall take you on to Drenan.’

Axiana sat quietly for a moment, gathering her thoughts. For the last few days she had been like a straw in the wind, swept along without the benefit of choice. Her life as a queen had meant less than nothing in the

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wilderness, and she had given birth to her child while kneeling in the mud like a peasant. But, here and now, was the moment of decision. Was she still a queen? Would her son live to find his destiny. She looked into the pale eyes of the White Wolf and saw the strength there, the iron will that had carried Skanda to a score of victories. ‘And if I do not wish to go to Drenan?’ she said, at last.

‘Drenan would be safest,’ he said.

‘You swore an oath to Skanda. Do you accept his son as his rightful heir?’

‘I do, lady.’

‘Then I ask you again, as the mother to the king, what if I do not wish to go to Drenan?’

She knew this was difficult for him. Continued war between the two nations was more than likely. If Axiana remained in Ventria the Drenai would almost certainly declare independence. If she went to Drenan the Ventrians would find another emperor. At least with her and the child in Drenan the Drenai would have legitimate cause to reinvade Ventria. She held to his iron gaze without flinching. He smiled. ‘If not Drenan,’ he said, ‘then I will escort you to wherever you wish to travel. You are not my hostage, your highness, nor my prisoner. I am your servant, and will do whatever you bid.’