Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

He dreamed that he and Lady Claire were walking together at the tournament camp at Chessy. They were laughing joyfully—the kind of laughter only possible for the unburdened. He could see the streaks of crimson in her hair, illuminated by the dazzling torchlight. He wanted to touch her hair. Would he dare do so, even if he knew it was a dream?

He smelled flowers. Did dreams have such strong smells? His eyes blinked awake, and he realized the smell was hovering over him. A hand jostled his shoulder.

The princess’s voice whispered to him through his half sleep. “Wake up, Sir Ransom. The king summons you.”

He twisted, finding Noemie bending over him, her hand on his shoulder. She was dressed in a riding gown besmirched with soot, but her hair was braided and tethered back, a narrow gold band across her brow. She’d never come into his tent before.

The grogginess he felt left him instantly, and he sat up quickly.

“You could have sent a page,” he said, rising fast.

She gave him a mocking smile, but it was nothing like the kind that Claire gave. This one was more predatory.

“There were none, and you were nearby. It’s no trouble. We must all do our part. Come quickly.”

She rose and went to the tent door. He could only tell that it was still daylight, not how long he’d been asleep. Her presence in his tent unnerved him, but he tried to shake it off as he hastened to put on his armor. He’d finished the lower half when a page arrived and helped him finish it. He thanked the lad, strapped on his sword, and went to join the other knights inside the king’s tent. When he entered, several of the others gave him the knightly salute.

“Ah, he’s here!” said Devon. “Captain Stafford has finished the tunnel and filled it with brush. The tunnel is supported by log beams along its length. When we set fire to it, the whole thing will collapse and, if our luck holds, so will the eastern corner of the wall. That means we can attack through the rubble and gain the castle before they make it inside the inner keep, which will be harder to breach. We’ve made a show of getting ready to use the battering ram tonight, and from what we’ve seen, they’ve gathered all of their men to defend against it.”

“They won’t know what’s hit them,” said Sir Robert Tregoss with a smirk. “My lord, I beg the privilege of leading the attack on the breach!”

“No, Sir Robert. I’ve chosen another to lead it.” He looked at Ransom. “I want you to do it. Bring me the castle.”

Robert’s face flushed with animosity, but he didn’t say anything else. Some of the knights scowled as they noticed Robert’s reaction. The majority looked at Ransom with approval.

“By your leave, then,” said Ransom. He looked at Robert. “I want you at my side.”

“By the Fountain, let’s finish this!” Robert said, smiling at the unexpected rapprochement.

They ate food, had something to drink, and prepared to assault the castle walls. Torches were handed out to the few men who were preparing to launch a battering ram against the castle gate. Darkness combined with the smoke, and after the sun set, Ransom gathered the knights who would join him in the charge into the breach. He picked fifty of Issoudun’s men, thinking that more would only make it harder.

They waited in the dark by the rear of the castle, wearing cloaks to conceal any glint from their armor. When his men were in place, and darkness had fallen, the order was given to Captain Stafford to light the fire. With so much smoke, the additional output wasn’t readily observable.

“I hope this works,” Robert grunted in the darkness, crouching near Ransom as they waited.

Soon they could all hear the crackling noises of burning twigs and branches. The noise grew louder and louder, and they felt heat coming from the ground. Even more smoke began to drift up, blowing in the direction of the wind.

When the cave-in happened, they all felt it. The ground thumped and shook like a drunken man. The sound of cracking stone rent the air, and part of the wall sagged and then burst like a broken jar. The eastern tower didn’t fall, as planned, but the wall to the left of their position did, bringing up a plume of chalky stone dust that mixed with the smoke. Shouts of alarm sounded from the tower, a lone warrior crying out in panic.

“Into the breach!” Ransom ordered, unsheathing his bastard sword. “Dex aie!” He led the way, with Sir Robert at his heels. Their knights swarmed over the broken bits of rubble, hurrying to get inside before the defenders could arrive. Within, he saw a dead man’s arm poking from beneath a huge collapsed section of the wall.

The cries of alarm carried, traveling from one person to the next, and suddenly, the knights of Arlect rushed to defend the breach. Ransom felt the surge of energy inside him, felt the rushing sound in his ears. He blocked the first one and banged his pommel on the man’s helmet, knocking him down in one blow. Sir Robert screamed in rage and cut down a man to Ransom’s left. The other knights joined the fight and drove deeper in.

Howls of dismay came from the ranks of the defending knights. They’d been caught completely unprepared. Ransom’s knights pushed in, and he saw the rampart leading up to the keep. He barreled past two knights, disarming them both with quick, jabbing thrusts, and then placed himself before the rampart steps, blocking the retreat into the keep.

“To the stairs! To the stairs!” shouted Sir Robert before he was suddenly knocked down.

A knight in battered armor stood over him, bringing up his sword to skewer the man, but Ransom charged the attacker and deflected the blow.