The Last Princess Page 14

  “That’s enough,” ordered another soldier. My breath caught at the sound of his voice. He spoke much more gently. “Now have you seen or heard any information concerning Eliza Windsor?”

  It was all I could do not to step out and look at Wesley. I wanted to see his face one last time in the daylight and ask him why he hadn’t told me the truth about who he was. Ask him why he had stood there on that roof next to his father when he could have been standing next to me.

  Polly pushed herself up. From where I watched, I saw the palms of her hands were bloodied and scraped from the fall.

  “If you can provide us with any tips that result in finding her, you will be compensated by Cornelius Hollister with money or food, whichever you prefer,” Wesley said.

  Polly nodded.

  “Was that a yes?” the first soldier asked sternly.

  “Yes,” Polly said quietly.

  “Yes, you know where the princess is?” the rider repeated. His horse moved and he yanked on the reins to still him. “Tell us! We haven’t got all day.”

  Polly’s hand shook nervously as she stammered, “Eliza Windsor, the Princess of England…”

  I sat up, about to push apart the branches and surrender myself.

  “… is buried next to her mother in the Royal Cemetery in London.”

  A shocked silence fell among the riders. The only sound was the restless jingle of the horses’ bridles as they shifted their weight.

  “She’s dead?” the soldier said, as though disappointed by the idea. “We wanted her alive. How do you know? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Polly murmured, looking down. “She died of infection from tetanus and fever. They found her body on the road to Balmoral. I guess she wanted to come here to die. My father is one of the men who helped carry her body to London for burial. He said she was all skin and bones, almost unrecognizable,” she finished, her voice low and sad.

  The horses pawed the ground anxiously, sending up dust from the road. I could hear the riders talking among themselves, but Wesley remained silent.

  “Well, no need to continue on this way, then,” he said finally, his tone flat. “We’ve already taken everything worthwhile from the castle, so let’s just head back to Division Eight for the Newcastle raid.”

  I heard the horses turning and the sound of hoofbeats receding in the distance, heading toward the Northern Road.

  “Polly!” I scrambled out of the branches and ran to throw my arms around her. “Thank you! That was so brave of you. You saved me.” I stared at the red mark across her face where the soldier had struck her. Her face was pale, and I could see she was shaken.

  We sat on the stone wall for a minute to gather ourselves. “That soldier, the one with the blond hair,” I began, absently running a finger over the thin scar on my arm, trying to make my voice sound casual. “Did he seem… upset, when you said I died?”

  Polly looked up at me strangely. “Eliza,” she said, speaking slowly, “he was here to capture you.”

  “Right.” I was surprised at the sudden stab of pain I felt. “Of course.” I stood up, walking back along the path to hide my sudden tears. I hated that just hearing his voice, knowing he was close by, could make me cry. After everything, I hated myself for still caring whether or not his feelings for me had been real.

  “Are you okay?” Polly asked, making her way toward me.

  I turned to her and nodded, blinking away my tears. “I don’t want to leave,” I said truthfully.

  Polly looked down. “I don’t want you to go either.”

  “I hate running away when there’s a chance my siblings are still alive, that they could be saved.”

  “I understand.” Polly nodded. “But you have to trust my father—you have to trust me—when we say we will do everything we can to save their lives. But first we have to save yours.”

  Just then we heard a noise behind us, coming from the woods. We ducked down behind the wall, squeezing each other’s hands as we waited, listening as heavy footsteps came closer and then stopped. There was a loud crunching sound, the sound of branches being ripped off.

  Slowly I inched upward, peering over the wall. Grazing at the trees by the side of the woods was a tall black-and-white horse.

  “Caligula!”

  I hurtled over the wall and ran toward her. As I ran my hands through her tangled mane I felt a single tear of joy slide down my cheek. Against all odds she had stayed nearby, as if waiting for me. Tonight I would not leave Balmoral alone. I would take her with me to Wales, and whatever came next.

  27

  AS POLLY AND I APPROACHED THE CASTLE ON CALIGULA, WE SAW a few hundred men and women standing outside. It was the troops Polly’s father had gathered together from the villages. Some held the blacksmith-made weapons Polly had described, while others clutched homemade bows and arrows and swords. They were dressed in their own clothes, a far cry from the uniforms with shining brass buttons worn by the New Guard. My heart sank as I saw how small their ranks were, and I pulled Caligula to a stop. The sky was darkening overhead and the air was damp with oncoming rain. This would be my last hour here.

  I thought of the long ride through the night to Wales. The roadways would be risky: There were bandits and Roamers and, worst of all, Hollister’s army. There was no guarantee we would even make it to Wales alive. But at least I had Caligula with me.

  Standing on the castle steps, raised above the crowd, stood General Wallace. He had aged rapidly since last year’s state dinner at Buckingham Palace. The fall of the government and the death of the king had clearly weighed heavily on him, turning his hair silver-gray and leaving dark shadows under his eyes.

  When he saw us coming, the general stepped forward to meet us. “Princess,” he said, bowing his head. “I am so sorry.”

  Clara appeared next to him, and I quickly slid off Caligula to hurry toward her. My heart raced in panic. “Sorry?” I asked, my voice breaking.

  Clara pulled me into a hug, her tears falling onto my hair and the back of my shirt. “They’ve just announced… It just came through on the radio…” She covered her face and bent over in choking sobs as George hurried to her, still holding a radio with one forlorn-looking, drooping antenna.

  “Cornelius Hollister has announced the execution of your brother and sister,” he said solemnly. “This Sunday morning.”

  “I can’t believe I lived to see this,” the general said quietly to himself. “The end of the house of Windsor.” A single tear escaped his eye. Everyone in the army was crying or shouting, waving their arms; everyone except me.

  I stood stock-still behind Caligula, who blocked me from the view of the crowd, staring at the radio in cold disbelief. Tears, screams—anything would have been better than standing here frozen, imagining my sister and baby brother with nooses around their necks, their bodies hanging limp against the London skyline while thousands looked on.

  Polly wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. “This is all my fault,” she cried. “I told them you were dead. I thought they would leave us alone, but now I’ve made everything worse….”

  “You were only trying to help. You didn’t know what would happen.” I held Polly’s shaking body, trying to comfort her.

  I continued to stare at the radio, listening as the broadcaster listed village after town after city after village that Hollister’s army had already conquered. Clara and George caught Polly’s eye and gestured for her to take me around the side of the castle. Clara held out a small bag of things she had packed for my journey: some warm clothes and a couple sandwiches for me and the general.

  “Eliza,” George was saying, “we are only doing this for your safety.”

  I nodded. “It’s almost dark,” Polly said through her tears.

  Clara put her hand on my shoulder. “They’ll have food and clothes for you there. Things are better in Wales.”

  I nodded, biting my lip. I looked up to see the general walking toward me, wearing his army uniform and leading his horse
. He carried two guns.

  “I’m so sorry,” he told me. “I was at all three of your christenings. Your father was a good man, Princess, and it was an honor to serve him.” He shook his head slowly, looking up at the darkening sky. “We should get going. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  I nodded again. I wanted to say something but my voice had died in my throat.

  Polly hugged me so hard I stumbled backward. Clara and George said their good-byes next, but I couldn’t look them in the eye. The two people I wanted to say good-bye to the most weren’t even there. By the time I reached Wales, they would be dead.

  I swung myself up onto Caligula. From her massive height, I could see out over the Resistance troops, who seemed to be disbanding. “What will they do now?” I said to the general.

  “Surrender. These people have young children and elderly parents to take care of. They don’t want to sacrifice their lives if there is no chance.” He looked at me sadly. “I’m so sorry it has come to this, Princess. Even in my wildest nightmares I would have never dreamed I’d live to see the day when England was taken over by a dictator.”

  I stared out at the disbanding army, the men and women crying, hugging each other good-bye. It was the last hope for England, and now it was over. I was watching the end before it had even truly begun. We were surrendering to Cornelius Hollister’s reign of terror.

  I held Caligula steady, blinking back tears. I understood their choice. Why should they risk their lives if I wasn’t risking mine? As much as they wanted a free England, they wanted to live even more. To spend their lives with the people they loved, their families. That was what I wanted most in the world. Still, there was a voice inside me that screamed, It isn’t over. Not yet.

  I looked down into the general’s tired eyes. “With all due respect, General, I cannot follow your orders. I’m not going to Wales. I’m staying, and I will fight, even if that means I’m the only one left.”

  Polly gasped. A slow line of worry spread across the general’s face.

  “Eliza, you have to go!” Clara protested. “It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t have to do anything!” I cried. I thought of Mary standing up to me in the Steel Tower, making the difficult decision when I was unable to. “My sister and brother are imprisoned, which makes me the acting royal. I don’t take orders from anyone. Now, you can join me in my fight, or you can surrender to Hollister.”

  Before anyone could utter another word, I tapped Caligula, cantering in the direction of the soldiers. I threw back my shoulders and looked out over the army, blocking their path as they started to disband. “Please! Wait! I know the risks are great but please, please, don’t give up now.”

  The crowd began to murmur quietly to each other as I approached. The whispers and mutterings crested rapidly.

  “It’s Eliza Windsor!” one of the women shouted out, pointing from the crowd.

  “The princess!”

  “She’s alive!”

  “I am alive,” I shouted, “and I won’t sit back and watch my beloved country be destroyed. If you’re willing to fight, then so am I!”

  I locked eyes with several people in the crowd: a mother with a young girl, a father with two boys. “I apologize to all the people of England who were starving in the streets while we had extra food in the palace. We should have invited you in; we should have shared every last morsel.” I swallowed, pausing as my eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, still staring up at me. “Please forgive my family. Please forgive me. I never knew what it was like to be hungry, to be homeless, to be alone, but I do now, and I will fight to make sure all of England’s citizens never have to go without food or shelter again.”

  The crowd was silent. My eyes jumped nervously from face to face. Now that I was no longer speaking I could feel the thrum of my heart.

  “I am still willing to fight against them,” one man shouted, an older farmer. “They burned down my house while my wife was asleep inside—she was killed.”

  More people joined in with tales of pillage and murder by Hollister’s army, until it seemed the whole crowd was shouting.

  “If the princess is going to join the troops,” the general said, riding over on horseback, “then so am I!”

  The army roared in appreciation as they picked up their weapons and held them high.

  “Our numbers may be small, our weapons may be old, but we have truth and goodness on our side,” I shouted. “The desire to live in a better world. Gather your weapons, those who want to join us, and meet back here at first light. Then we’re off to Newcastle!”

  28

  THE SKY AT DAWN WAS THE COLOR OF ASH. AS WE PREPARED FOR battle the soldiers said farewell to their loved ones. A weeping mother kissed her young daughter good-bye. An elderly father gave his old hunting knife to his teenage son.

  I was selfishly glad to see Eoghan, our former stable-master. His wife had died several years ago, leaving him with two young boys. It pained me to see him leave them in the care of their grandmother while he risked his life in battle, but I was grateful for every familiar face.

  A small figure on a russet mare cantered up to me.

  “What are you doing here, Polly?”

  “I’m coming with you,” she said.

  “Polly…”

  “It’s my country, too, Eliza. I want to fight.” She rode ahead to the frontline troops, where the strongest men were. I couldn’t hide my concern. She was so small, a wisp of a girl riding on her fragile mare. I took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. Please keep her safe, I prayed. Please keep them all safe.

  The cool morning air rushed toward us as we rode out into the darkness, headed for the city of Newcastle. The city had the largest number of active, working coal mines in the country, and was located on a strategic river port. Without it, the general explained, it would be much more difficult for Hollister to conquer the north.

  We knew that their numbers would be strong, but we had the element of surprise. They could not have foreseen how our army had grown, how many new recruits volunteered at dawn outside the castle gates, eager to join the fight. Still, as I looked back over my shoulder at the troops on horseback, I wished we had more men and women on our side.

  Caligula took the lead, the general right behind us. He had mapped out places along the way, villages with inns or wells where we could stop and refuel and let the horses drink. As fair as the weather had been during the day, the night was still cold, the temperature dropping quickly as the sun went down.

  I knew we would be outnumbered, but my faith lay in the general’s tactics. He was sending partisan troops up ahead to ambush the New Guard’s first line of defense, hoping to significantly weaken their forces before the battle at Newcastle.

  As we rode out of the tunnel underpass, nearing the town of Baddoch, we saw a band of horsemen in the road. I pulled tightly on Caligula’s reins as the army slowed down behind me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Eoghan, who had pulled up beside me.

  “I don’t know, but be prepared to fight.” He peered out into the darkness. All that was visible in the road ahead were the yellow flames from the horsemen’s lanterns.

  “Weapons ready,” the general called, and the air filled with the sounds of guns readying for fire, swords being unsheathed, and bows being nocked with arrows. I held my sword steady.

  My strength was in riding, but faced with a roadblock of men on horseback, I wasn’t sure what tactic to take. Should the troops be charging at them? Or did we take a more peaceful approach?

  Eoghan rode slowly on my left, his gun at the ready. “I’ve got you,” he said, turning to me.

  “I’ve got you too,” I said, though I was worried.

  As we approached the large group on horseback, I mentally prepared myself for the worst. “One first shot, one offensive move, and we charge,” the general said in a low voice.

  “Stay back,” Eoghan said, and I held down Caligula’s reins to let Eoghan and the ge
neral ride ahead toward the lights.

  “Who’s there?” the general called out, a hint of worry fraying the edges of his words.

  “We came to join the Resistance troops,” a figure said. I peered into the darkness and thought I made out a bearded man on a dark horse.

  “You’re here to join the Resistance?” the general repeated. “Are you armed?”

  “We gathered what we could,” the man said. “A few of us have guns. Mostly, we have bludgeons welded from metal and some lead pipes.”

  I rode to the front and took in the group of new recruits. “We are grateful for anything. Please, come join us.”

  A loud cheer went out from the troops as the new recruits marched forward, swelling our ranks. I pulled Caligula around, looking for Polly. I wanted to see the expression on her face. With the addition of the new volunteers the army had nearly doubled in size.

  She was caught in the middle of the swirl of people. Caligula parted them easily, and I pulled her forward with me, reaching over to hug her and feeling once again how small she was. Her ribs protruded through her shirt. I had the awful image of a sevil flying straight through to hit her, and wished I had some kind of armor for her.

  George rode up next to her. “Look at all this, Dad,” she said, a proud grin on her face. He smiled back weakly, clearly worried about having both Polly and me in combat.

  “Quiet, please,” the general announced. A hush fell over the troops. “Those of you without weapons or horses,” he continued, “can join the partisans, whose job is to distract and divide the enemy however they can. Your weapons will be anything you can come by—ropes, rocks, stolen sevils—but most of all, your brains. We appreciate every last one of you, but it is a dangerous role, and I want you to know the risks before you decide to join us. Unlike Hollister, we don’t force anyone into our army.”

  Another cheer went through the crowd as every last man and woman in the group came to join us.