Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

“He’s big enough!” said the prince with a laugh as he released his hold on Ransom’s shoulders.

“It’s my honor to serve you,” Ransom said.

“Oh no, it is my honor to have you in my service,” said the prince. “What do you make of him, James? You were friends once.”

Ransom kept his expression guarded, but in his mind he heard James disavowing him. I’ve waited for this day, he’d said. To see you fail.

“I’ve always been more than a little jealous of him,” said James, putting his arm around the young king. “He was better than all of us. He’s a tad boring, though. I always had to persuade him to go carousing. I wonder if that’s changed?” His look was challenging.

“Has it?” the king asked, a grin threatening to burst through.

Ransom felt tempted to punch James in the stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t be wise. He’d clearly formed a powerful connection with the young Argentine.

“Sir James’s desire to go carousing certainly hasn’t changed,” Ransom said, giving him a bold look. “In fact, we were out together the night the Brugians invaded. It surprised us to see all of Lord Kinghorn’s knights in town, buying things to prepare for war instead of sausages and wine.” He smiled and nodded to James. “We were among the first to know. And Sir James was the first among us to be knighted.”

“Oh, I like him already!” said Devon. “He tells stories! Is it true, Ransom, that you’ve fought in the tournament circuit at Chessy?”

“I have.”

“I’ve so wanted to bring my knights there. Is it true that the Black Prince competes in events?”

“He does on occasion.”

“Yes!” said the prince eagerly. “You will have to train us, Ransom. All of us, except for James. The poor sod has to go back to Dundrennan. I pity you, truly. Come spring, we will ride to Pree to fetch my wife, and we will stop by Chessy. Oh, how I’ve wanted to go!” His eyes were lit with genuine enthusiasm and determination. Ransom wondered if he’d even considered that his father was deliberately provoking the King of Occitania by having his son crowned without his wife.

A look of anger brooded in James’s eyes. He’d never liked for anyone to do anything interesting or challenging without him. “Perhaps I could convince my father to let me go,” he said.

“Both of us have to persuade our fathers, if we can,” said Devon. “At least I have an excuse to go. Oh, what honor we will win! But first, introductions are in order. Sir James, you already know. Poor man can’t help how ugly he is, but what can be done about it? Here is Sir Alain of Yvescourt, a town in Westmarch.”

Sir Alain nodded to Ransom, who nodded back.

“This is Sir Talbot from the Vexin, my mother’s lands. Here is Sir Robert Tregoss of Stowe. He’s a beggar on a horse, I tell you! I don’t know anyone who can ride or joust better than Tregoss. A fair warning, his destrier will take a bite out of you if you get too close.” Sir Talbot had light brown hair, down to his shoulders, and a close-cropped beard, and Sir Robert was dark in hair, eye, and beard. “And finally, here is our good friend Sir Simon of Holmberg. He keeps my purse, pays for our food and drink, distributes our largesse for such worthy deeds as drinking copious amounts of wine, and is the man who begs coins from father’s steward when we run out! Sir Simon! Hail to thee!” Sir Simon was the shortest of the group, but he had a friendly smile and a goatee that was similar in style to his prince’s, only it was fuller since he was older.

“Shall we go out again tonight?” James asked, clapping Robert on the back. “The coronation isn’t for two more days. I’m sure we can sleep it off by then. If you’re too tired after your journey, Ransom, you can wait for us here.”

Ransom knew it would take time to win trust among these fellows. But it was clear to him that they took their moods from the Younger King and especially from Sir James. He had no intention of leaving them.

“Do you have a favorite place to go?” Ransom asked, looking at the king, signaling his willingness.

“I suggest the Broken Table,” said Sir James. “Remember that brute of a man who likes to start fights?” He glanced at Ransom. “I wonder how our new knight of fellowship would hold up against someone like him?”

A sour feeling rippled through Ransom’s stomach.





He has been chosen to serve the Younger King. Why did this surprise me? But I confess that it did. I thought perhaps he would serve the Vexin queen, as some call her, since she paid his ransom. But word has spread through the palace. Gossip does fly on quicksilver hooves. I tried to find Ransom today, but he was being moved from place to place, never still for more than a moment. I might not see him until the coronation itself, and even then, will I have the chance to greet him? I don’t know.

My maid from the palace, her name is Genevote, such a pretty name, informed me that Ransom joined Prince Devon for supper. Sir James was also in attendance, along with the rest of the prince’s knights. That particular news made me determined not to go. How awkward that would have been. He’s written five letters . . . or was it six? They’re all full of courtly nonsense. I haven’t responded to any of them, nor will I. I wish I could get a message to Ransom. The wind is cold tonight. I’m restless. I must be patient, but it is so hard. Genevote is asking what I’m writing, so I should hide this book. I wouldn’t want her to read it.

—Claire de Murrow

Kingfountain Palace

Eventide





CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Anvil’s Thrum