Lelldorin’s eyes clouded. “Unenthusiastic for the most part, your Majesty,” he replied. “I’m afraid there’s suspicion that this might all be some Mimbrate plot.”
“That’s absurd,” Ce’Nedra declared.
Lelldorin shrugged. “It’s the way my countrymen think. And those who don’t think it’s a plot are looking at the idea that all the Mimbrate knights might join a crusade against the East. That raises certain hopes in some quarters.”
Mandorallen sighed. “The same sentiments exist in some parts of Mimbre,” he said. “We are a woefully divided kingdom, and old hatreds and suspicions die hard.”
Ce’Nedra felt a sudden wave of consternation. She had not counted on this. King Rhodar had made it plain that he absolutely had to have the Arends, and now the idiotic hatred and suspicion between Mimbre and Asturia seemed about to bring the entire plan crashing down around her ears. Helplessly she turned to Polgara.
The sorceress, however, seemed undisturbed by the news that the Arends were reluctant to join the campaign. “Tell me, Lelldorin,” she said calmly, “could you gather some of your less suspicious friends in one place – some secure place where they won’t be afraid we might want to ambush them?”
“What have you got in mind, Polgara?” King Rhodar asked, his eyes puzzled.
“Someone’s going to have to talk to them,” Polgara replied. “Someone rather special, I think.” She turned back to Lelldorin. “I don’t think we’ll want a large crowd – not at first, anyway. Forty or fifty ought to be enough – and no one too violently opposed to our cause.”
“I’ll gather them at once, Lady Polgara,” Lelldorin declared, impulsively leaping to his feet.
“It’s rather late, Lelldorin,” she pointed out, glancing at the sun hovering low over the horizon.
“The sooner I start, the sooner I can gather them,” Lelldorin said fervently. “If friendship and the ties of blood have any sway at all, I will not fail.” He bowed deeply to Ce’Nedra. “Your Majesty,” he said by way of farewell and ran to where his horse was tethered.
Ariana sighed as she looked after the departing young enthusiast.
“Is he always like that?” Ce’Nedra asked her curiously.
The Mimbrate girl nodded. “Always,” she admitted. “Thought and deed are simultaneous with him. He hath no understanding of the meaning of the word reflection, I fear. It doth add to his charm, but it is sometimes disconcerting, I must admit.”
“I can imagine,” Ce’Nedra agreed.
Later, when the princess and Polgara were alone in their tent, Ce’Nedra turned a puzzled look upon Garion’s Aunt. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Not we, Ce’Nedra – you. You’re going to have to talk to them.”
“I’m not very good at speaking in public, Lady Polgara,” Ce’Nedra confessed, her mouth going dry. “Crowds frighten me, and I get all tongue-tied.”
“You’ll get over it, dear,” Polgara assured her. She looked at the princess with a slightly amused expression. “You’re the one who wanted to lead an army, remember? Did you really think that all you were going to have to do was put on your armor, jump into the saddle and shout ‘follow me’ and then the whole world would fall in behind you?”
“Well-”
“You spent all that time studying history and missed the one thing all great leaders have had in common? You must have been very inattentive, Ce’Nedra.”
Ce’Nedra stared at her with slowly dawning horror.
“It doesn’t take that much to raise an army, dear. You don’t have to be brilliant; you don’t have to be a warrior; your cause doesn’t even have to be great and noble. All you have to do is be eloquent.”
“I can’t do that, Lady Polgara.”
“You should have thought of that before, Ce’Nedra. It’s too late to go back now. Rhodar will command the army and see to it that all the details are taken care of, but you’re the one who’ll have to make them want to follow you.”
“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to say to them,” Ce’Nedra protested.
“It’ll come to you, dear. You do believe in what we’re doing, don’t you?”
“Of course, but ”
“You decided to do this, Ce’Nedra. You decided it all by yourself. And as long as you’ve come this far, you might as well go all the way.”
“Please, Lady Polgara,” Ce’Nedra begged. “Speaking in public makes me sick at my stomach. I’ll throw up.”
“That happens now and then,” Polgara observed calmly. “Just try not to do it in front of everybody.”
Three days later, the princess, Polgara, and the Alorn Kings journeyed to the ruined city of Vo Astur deep in the silences of the Arendish forest. Ce’Nedra rode through the sunny woods in a state hovering on the verge of panic. In spite of all her arguments, Polgara had remained adamant. Tears had not budged her; even hysterics had failed. The princess was morbidly convinced that, even if she were to die, Polgara would prop her up in front of the waiting throng and make her go through the agony of addressing them. Feeling absolutely helpless, she rode to meet her fate.
Like Vo Wacune, Vo Astur had been laid waste during the dark centuries of the Arendish civil war. Its tumbled stones were green with moss and they lay in the shade of vast trees that seemed to mourn the honor, pride, and sorrow of Asturia. Lelldorin was waiting, and with him were perhaps fifty richly dressed young noblemen, their eyes filled with curiosity faintly tinged with suspicion.
“It’s as many as I could bring together in a short time, Lady Polgara,” Lelldorin apologized after they had dismounted. “There are others in the region, but they’re convinced that our campaign is some kind of Mimbrate treachery.”
“These will do nicely, Lelldorin,” Polgara replied. “They’ll spread the word about what happens here.” She looked around at the mossy, sun-dappled ruins. “I think that spot over there will be fine.” She pointed at a broken bit of one of the walls. “Come with me, Ce’Nedra.”
The princess, dressed in her armor, hung her helmet and shield on the saddle of the white horse King Cho-Hag had brought for her from Algaria and led the patient animal as she tremblingly followed the sorceress.
“We want them to be able to see you as well as hear you,” Polgara instructed, “so climb up on that piece of wall and speak from there. The spot where you’ll be standing is in the shade now, but the sun’s moving around so that it will be fully on you as you finish your speech. I think that will be a nice touch.”
Ce’Nedra quailed as she saw how far the sun had to go. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said in a quivering little voice.
“Maybe later, Ce’Nedra. You don’t have time just now.” Polgara turned to Lelldorin. “I think you can introduce her Majesty now,” she told him.
Lelldorin stepped up onto the wall and held up his hand for silence. “Countrymen,” he announced in a loud voice, “last Erastide an event took place which shook our world to its foundations. For a thousand years and more we have awaited that moment. My countrymen, the Rivan King has returned!”
The throng stirred at his announcement, and an excited buzz rippled through it.
Lelldorin, always extravagant, warmed to his subject. He told them of the flaming sword that had announced Garion’s true identity and of the oaths of fealty sworn to Belgarion of Riva by the Alorn Kings. Ce’Nedra, almost fainting with nervousness, scarcely heard him. She tried to run over her speech in her mind, but it all kept getting jumbled. Then, in near panic, she heard him say, “Countrymen, I present to you her Imperial Highness, Princess Ce’Nedra – the Rivan Queen.” And all eyes turned expectantly to her.
Trembling in every limb, she mounted the broken wall and looked at the faces before her. All her preparations, all the rehearsed phrases, evaporated from her mind, and she stood, white-faced and shaking, without the faintest idea of how to begin. The silence was dreadful.
As chance had it, one of the young Asturians in the very front had tasted perhaps more wine that morning than was good for him. “I think her Majesty has forgotten her speech,” he snickered loudly to one of his companions.
Ce’Nedra’s reaction was instantaneous. “And I think the gentleman has forgotten his manners,” she flared, not even stopping to think. Incivility infuriated her.
“I don’t think I’m going to listen to this,” the tipsy young man declared in a tone filled with exaggerated boredom. “It’s just a waste of time. I’m not a Rivan and neither are any of the rest of you. What could a foreign queen possibly say that would be of any interest to Asturian patriots?” And he started to turn away.
“Is the patriotic Asturian gentleman so wine-soaked that he’s forgotten that there’s more to the world than this forest?” Ce’Nedra retorted hotly. “Or perhaps he’s so unschooled that he doesn’t know what’s happening out there.” She leveled a threatening finger at him. “Hear me, patriot,” she said in a ringing voice. “You may think that I’m just here to make some pretty little speech, but what I’ve come to say to you is the most important thing you’ll ever hear. You can listen, or you can turn your back and walk away-and a year from now when there is no Asturia and when your homes are smoking in ruins and the Grolims are herding your families to the altar of Torak with its fire and its bloody knives, you can look back on this day and curse yourself for not listening.”