Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

“Naturally I would prefer to speak of it after my own tongue.” Lewis smiled warmly. “The border wars have done so much damage between our realms. Let us end the fighting once and for all. My son, Estian, will be king after me, and you will rule Ceredigion. You have brothers enough, Devon, but can you find room in your heart for one more? I have two daughters and one son, a blessing from the Fountain in my old age. I want to see peace between our people, but you know it cannot be while your father rules.”

Ransom closed his eyes with dread, feeling powerless to stop the scene from unfolding—which was when he felt a hand descend on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found Prince Estian was the one there.

“May I have a word with you, Sir Ransom?” he asked.

He could think of no pretext to refuse, and so he nodded and let Prince Estian lead him away from the conversation that he desperately wanted to hear. He saw Princess Noemie’s hazel eyes fix on him, a look of alarm spreading across her face as she watched her brother escort him across the hall. She was sitting amongst other ladies of court, not within earshot of her husband’s conversation.

“There has been some talk going about the palace,” Estian said, his eyes probing. “Rumors.”

“That is typical at a royal palace, I should say,” Ransom replied evenly.

“True. Might we speak in Occitanian? You are comfortable in that language, I understand?”

“I am.”

“Good,” he said in Occitanian. “I am concerned sometimes that I may use the wrong word, and I don’t want to be misunderstood.”

Ransom swallowed as Estian turned and faced him. The princess rose from her seat, her eyes fixed on the two of them. Her hand squeezed the arm of her chair. She was too far to hear their conversation.

“I’m afraid that the rumors may be exaggerated,” Estian said.

“And what rumors are these?” Ransom asked, wanting to end the conversation quickly, fearing he was about to be challenged by the other knight. Only a coward would refuse.

“That I intend to challenge you to a test of prowess. Everyone is talking about you right now, Sir Ransom. There are some ugly individuals, I would say, who may even be wagering on the outcome. The knights of your company, for example, spread such rumors. There have even been a few brawls between our men. I would like to put the rumors to rest.”

Ransom felt like he was about to step in a huge mound of stinking manure. He said nothing, just looked at Prince Estian with a neutral expression, trying to tamp down the frenzied feelings inside him.

“I did not intend to challenge you, Sir Ransom. Now is not the time to test each other’s skill. You came here with your king to fetch my sister. I am certain that someday we will cross lances or swords on a tournament field. But not soon, I hope.” He patted Ransom on the shoulder. “Is it your intention to challenge me? If so, be done with it. This is your chance.”

Ransom felt a surge of relief. “I came with a duty to fulfill. I do not seek a fight, nor will I turn away from one.”

“I thought as much,” said Estian with a handsome smile. He clapped Ransom again. “Let the rumors die, then. You have my word as a knight.”

“You have mine as well,” said Ransom. They saluted each other, thumping a thumb against their breasts.

Estian walked away from him, joining a group of men who were chatting amongst themselves. Ransom regarded Noemie and saw a look of relief on her face. She sighed and gave him a smile, a sincere one possibly. So, she had come to him earlier because she worried about her brother’s reputation. How pointless the rumors and the worry had been.

When Ransom turned to go back to Devon and King Lewis, he saw Simon hurrying toward him, a flustered, worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Ransom asked when they were close together. Ransom looked over Simon’s shoulder, seeing the deep conversation still in progress.

“I overheard something,” said Simon in a low voice, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think the two drunken lords realized I know enough Occitanian to be dangerous.” His eyes flashed with concern. “They’re preparing to invade.”

Ransom narrowed his eyes. “Who?” he asked softly.

“Westmarch,” Simon said with agitation. “They’ve been preparing all winter.”

“The Elder King is at Tatton Grange as we speak,” Ransom said.

“I know,” said Simon urgently. “They know it too.”





The seas were not calm on the way back to Connaught castle, but they were nothing compared with the ill feelings in my heart. The castellan was surprised that Da had not come. They were expecting us together. During our winter’s absence, several issues of concern arose, and many of my people are on their way to the keep to air their grievances. I am the lady of the castle now, and it is my judgment they will receive. I should be excited for this opportunity to act in my future role. Yet doubts continue to whisper in my ear. I know Ransom is in Pree. Will I feel safe until he makes it back to Kingfountain? I think I was too harsh with him when last we met, and I regret my tone. Can he help being ignorant of how to please a woman? Or should his very ignorance strengthen my regard for him?

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle, the Fair Isle





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Oath of Rebellion

Captain Issoudun’s face pinched at the news. “Have you shared this with the king?”

Ransom shook his head. “He’s surrounded by Occitanians at the moment. But I shall tell him as soon as he returns to his chambers. I came to you, Captain, to begin preparing the knights for a hasty departure. Be ready to ride. How many men are fit for a battle, do you think?”

“All of them,” said Issoudun stiffly. “I assure you, Sir Ransom, they can be ready to leave at once should the order be given. But let it be given by the king.”

Issoudun was one of Queen Emiloh’s knights and had been selected to lead the host because of his experience during the wars with King Gervase. He was twice Ransom’s age and not a man of pleasant humors, but he was a capable and trustworthy soldier.