Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

“I don’t understand.”

“No, of course you do not. I must put it bluntly. Young men react very differently when they are called to lift arms against their enemies. Some become greensick and vomit. Some become fearful and never want to fight again. It is not easy on a man’s soul to take a life. You killed in the king’s name, as you were ordered to do. But I fear you enjoyed it too much. You had no regard for your own safety. You were reckless, Ransom. And what happened to you at the barn is a manifestation of that recklessness. You could have been killed.” He frowned again, shaking his head. “As a result, you lost your horse. Your armor is ruined and can only be fixed at great expense. You don’t have the money to do this. You took no hostages, and therefore will earn no ransoms, even though your nickname should have reminded you to consider it. In short, lad, you are a liability. I took you in because your mother is my kinswoman. I paid for the cost of your armor, your food. The cost to repair your armor, to purchase another horse must come from somewhere. It is not right or proper that I, your liege lord, should incur those expenses again.”

Ransom’s eyes widened with surprise during the speech. He’d set out to earn honors for Lord Kinghorn, to do him proud, but he had shamed his master by putting him in this situation.

“You’re not a boy anymore, Marshall. But a man. You’ve proven it during this campaign. I would be honored to have you in my service someday, for I believe you will learn from this.”

“Some . . . day?” Ransom croaked out.

He’d hoped that day might arrive now.

“Aye. I must start training new knights to ride in service of the king. I’ve lost several men during this action, and some of your fellows will earn positions in my mesnie. I offered one to Sir James, but he was too proud to accept and has decided to take his winnings back to Dundrennan with him. Now that the duke has claimed Dundrennan as his own, they have need of more knights to fortify the North. I could save you from this calamity, Marshall. I could pay for your mistakes out of my own coffers. But in doing so, I would dishonor you and myself. A knight must bring to his lord more than the costs of his employ. If I took you on, it would not be prudent. Yet still, even now, I hesitate. I want to help you. Something in me whispers that I should not. It’s the voice, lad. And I swore an oath to obey it, even when it pains me to do so.”

Ransom was so crestfallen he feared he might start crying. But he refused to do so in front of Lord Kinghorn. “I see,” he whispered thickly.

“No. I don’t think that you do. Some wisdom only comes when we’ve looked back on it after a good while. I wish you the best in your future, Marshall. If you can rectify your situation and desire to come back to Averanche, you are welcome. For now, I will ask that you not return with us.”

The blow struck Ransom’s heart painfully. Feelings of resentment and worry battled inside him like two furious knights.

“How am I to leave, my lord?” he asked. “My horse is dead.”

“One of the knights gave me a palfrey as a gift out of his winnings. I will give it to you, although you cannot ride him into battle. It is not suitable as a warhorse. You have skills and abilities, Marshall, that would be valuable. Perhaps your mother will furnish the funds you need. I don’t imagine your brother will.”

“He won’t,” Ransom replied darkly.

“The palfrey is stabled with the mayor of Menonval. You may seek him there. My advice is to find a blacksmith willing to repair your armor. Maybe you can work for him for a season to pay for the cost. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“I’m sorry to be a burden on you, my lord,” Ransom said.

Lord Kinghorn shook his head. “You have courage, son. I’m sure it will all work out in the end.”

Ransom nodded and left the tent, feeling ashamed of himself. His insides twisted with agony, regret, and the humiliation of his situation. When he stepped outside, he saw Sir James standing there, not hiding that he had listened in keenly.

“Walk with me a moment,” James said, nodding his head for Ransom to follow.

He did, and the two companions walked away from the tent. A little spark of hope lit within Ransom’s heart. James Wigant was the son of a duke. He’d proven a reliable companion, and while they were very different in temperament, they’d come to respect each other.

Were they friends finally? He wanted to hope, but something about the situation worried him.

“You heard what happened?” Ransom asked him.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed that for all the world.”

Ransom looked at him, the spark of hope sputtering.

James gave him another sidelong look. “You want to ask to come with me. Where else would you go? Back to the Heath? My father is wealthy, and we need good knights in the North. Ask me, Ransom. Do you trust me to say yes?”

Something in his words, or perhaps it was the keen look in his eyes, made Ransom hesitate. He did not wish to serve someone like James Wigant, but he was desperate. And Lord Kinghorn’s brusque dismissal still chafed his wounded heart.

“Can I go with you?” Ransom asked.

“Not for all the treasure in the Deep Fathoms,” James replied. He paused, giving Ransom a withering look. “I’ve waited for this day. To see you fail. Oh, how I’ve waited for it! Do you have any idea how many penniless knights there are in this world? Well, at least you know how to kill. You can always kill yourself.”

And with that, James walked away with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.