Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

Ransom saw a wave snaking toward them. The tide was coming in faster. “Do you want to head to town?”

“You want me to stop talking about Lady Claire!” James said, his eyes flashing with excitement and mirth.

“No, the tide’s coming in.”

“You’re jealous. Admit it.”

“Why would I be jealous of a stewed prune like you?”

“Because you’re an eel skin.”

They traded barbs the rest of the way to town, each insult more outrageous than the last, intended to make the other snicker and break countenance. When they arrived at the market, Ransom put his hand on James’s shoulder.

“Look,” he said.

“What? The mayor’s daughter is bathing after all?” James said, then let out another laugh.

“No. Look. The knights from the castle are all here. There’s Sir Gordon, Sir Beckett, Sir Jude.”

James blinked in confusion and looked around in surprise. Yes, the knights had all gathered in the market with full purses. Some were looking at swords, others at saddles. The noise of the market was rowdy with so many customers at once. Normally, it was a much more sedate affair. James looked at Ransom in surprise, and they both approached one of the knights.

“What is it, a holiday?” James asked Sir Jude.

The knight gave him a serious look. “You don’t know? Where have you lads been?”

“We were walking on the beach,” Ransom said.

Sir Jude’s gray eyes were firm and without humor. “A rider from Kingfountain just arrived. Brugia has attacked our southern shores. We’re leaving in the morning, lads.”

“Where?” James asked, his eyes brightening with eagerness.

Sir Jude frowned at the duke’s son. “War isn’t a tournament, boy. The Brugians landed at the cove at Folkestone, in Westmarch, near the border with Occitania. They’ve invaded our kingdom.” His cheek twitched with anger. “We’re going to kill the dirty sots.”



Gemmell wore a plate guarding the flank of his nose, and a chain skirt had been spread across his withers. While the pages cinched the straps on the chain mail, Ransom inspected the shoes himself to make sure there were no rocks or loose nails. Finding one, he called over the blacksmith, who arrived with a little pin hammer and fixed it.

The knights had already left before dawn, and it was up to Captain Baldwin to prepare the young men like Ransom. The weight of the armor didn’t seem to bother Baldwin, and the chain hood covering his head and neck gave him a menacing look. He had a sword strapped to his waist and a mace on his other hip.

“No, no!” Baldwin shouted at a page. “Pull harder on the strap! We don’t want Jack Wigant falling off his courser before we reach the edge of town! I’ve taught you better than this. Fix it!”

Ransom looked at James’s courser, which was a much finer horse than Gemmell. But then again, all his things were finer.

As James approached in his finely crafted armor, he grinned at Ransom. “Finally. We get to use what we’ve learned. I’d be more nervous if we were facing Occitanian knights, but Brugians aren’t to be trifled with either. Are you nervous?”

“Shouldn’t we all be?” Ransom replied, trying to get some moisture into his mouth.

“With your skill? I wouldn’t be worried. I’ll try not to stay in your shadow. I want to wet my sword on this campaign. Think of it, Ransom! We could be knights when this is done!”

“It could be a trick,” Ransom said. “A feint. Folkestone is near the border. What if Brugia and Occitania have formed a secret alliance? We could be riding into a trap.”

“This is where your skill with a bastard sword doesn’t help you at all,” James said. “Brugia and Occitania are mortal enemies. Besides, Occitania won’t dare attack us because the duchy of Vexin would be poised to strike at Pree. The queen will protect her husband’s interests. Trust me, this is just the Brugians’ attempt at a land grab. Folkestone used to be one of their ports, long ago. They lost it. They want it back so they can harass Occitania more. They think Devon is too distracted at Kingfountain to protect his borders. They’ll learn the hard way he fights for what is his.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” Ransom said. He itched beneath his armor, but there was no way to scratch it, so he endured the discomfort.

“As I said, politics is my domain.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m a Wigant. By Our Lady, I’ve been waiting for this!”

Ransom thought it strange that the young man should blaspheme the Lady when they were all in dire need of her blessing.

“Jack! Ransom!” Baldwin bellowed. “Stop being cuttlefish! Mount your maggoty horses already!”





A messenger arrived from the court of Kingfountain. Da must leave and return to Glosstyr at once. There’s been a skirmish in Westmarch, and King Devon is summoning his vassals and preparing to repulse the Brugian invaders. There is no Duke of Westmarch still, for the king holds that title himself and hasn’t yet invested it in one of his four sons. There’s talk that his eldest, his namesake, will get it, and that the next youngest brother will inherit his mother’s duchy in the Vexin. But they are young lads and still training to be knights themselves. They’re not ready for war.

Da is concerned about leaving me at Connaught castle, but I’ve told him it will be better if I stay to defend it while he’s gone. I’d love it if some half-mad Gaultic noble tried to siege us. Maybe that’s one of the reasons Da doesn’t want me to stay. So I won’t provoke a fight. I wouldn’t do that, obviously—I’m no fool eejit. But I won’t run from one either. It will take time for him to summon men in Glosstyr.

Meanwhile, King Devon is sending his faithful knights in Westmarch into battle. Ransom is probably one of them. I haven’t seen him in five years, yet I still remember him. I hope he doesn’t do anything headstrong or barmy. War is a deadly game. Even the best players are caught unawares. Don’t be an eejit, Ransom Barton. But I wonder if you can help yourself.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle, Kingdom of Legault





CHAPTER SIX