Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

They were greeted at the palace by Prince Goff and his wife, Duchess Constance. They appeared to be quite well matched despite the fact that she was several years older than the prince, who was now in his seventeenth year. The young couple enthusiastically proclaimed that Constance was with child. A troubled look crossed Noemie’s face, but she was gracious in her response, even though her expression seemed to indicate that she was repressing great pain.

The Argentine siblings had always bantered with each other, but not today. Devon’s mood soured immediately, and they were shown to their accommodations within the palace. While their luggage was brought up from the baggage horses, Ransom caught sight of Devon on his knees, trying to comfort Noemie, who was sobbing. It was clear the prince’s news had upset both of them, likely because Noemie’s womb had not yet quickened. He quietly withdrew, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment.

He walked the palace grounds, admiring the decorations and the breezy air gusting in from the huge open windows. His senses reached out in yet another attempt to detect the presence of the cloaked lady, but he did not feel her. The palace had a restful feeling about it, a sense of harmony with the Fountain. They would be safe here.

One of the glass doors led to an opulent balcony, so he wandered out there to take in the view. He watched as the waves crashed onto the beaches far below, which adjoined the town at the base of the ridge. From the heights, he could see the sanctuary of Our Lady of Toussan. It was an impressive structure, with tall towers that gleamed in the sunlight. As he stared at it, he recalled Queen Emiloh’s admonition to go there. The sanctuary of St. Penryn was farther east, but it was invisible in the distance—although he did get a sight of Averanche.

Ransom was still standing there, soaking in the atmosphere and the salty air of the sea, when he was found by the chamberlain of the castle.

“Some of the knights of the mesnie are interested in visiting the town below,” the steward said, smiling. “Shopping for trinkets. Would you care to join them? I was sent to find you.”

“Is my master planning on staying here?” Ransom asked. He wanted to be sure that someone was guarding Devon at all times.

“He would like to stay with his wife at the palace, I believe. Are you interested in joining the others?”

Confident Devon would be safe and under guard—even more so because of the peaceful feeling he got from the palace—Ransom said, “I should like to see the sanctuary of Our Lady of Toussan.”

The steward beamed. “That is a commendable place to visit. If you’ll accompany the knights, I will send an extra servant to bring you to the sanctuary to pay your respects.”

“Thank you,” Ransom said. “I would be grateful. Is it the oldest sanctuary in Brythonica?”

“Oh yes,” said the man with enthusiasm. “It is quite remarkable. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Sir Ransom.”

“So do I,” he replied. Perhaps he’d also find a gift for Claire while he was here. He recalled the necklace she’d shown him years before. He’d like to get her another one—a token she could wear, much like the bracelet still on his wrist.



The sanctuary of Our Lady of Toussan was even more impressive up close when one stood beneath the tall arches and gazed up at the imposing spiked towers. Gurgling fountains surrounded the grounds, and Ransom enjoyed watching the visitors approach them with a coin or two. In approaching the sanctuary, he’d witnessed several children, some as young as two, kiss their coins before throwing them into the water with a shriek of delight.

He had to ascend a mountain of stairs to reach the sturdy doors to the inner sanctum, and his anticipation built with every step. Once he stepped inside, a worshipful silence engulfed him. Only whispers were spoken here. He felt a sense of solitude as he entered the space, the speckled stone more aged than that of Kingfountain, but it was a strangely comforting feeling. His runaway thoughts finally eased their grip. The sexton at the doors greeted him with a benevolent smile that Ransom acknowledged with a nod.

An oval-shaped pool of clear water sat at the exact center of the enormous hall with its black-and-white-tiled floor. Many knelt around it, he counted nearly a dozen, hands clasped and heads bowed. Some looked into the waters. Some looked up to the interlacing buttresses in the ceiling overhead. Brilliant, multicolored light sparkled in through stained-glass windows. At the apex of the hall stood an enormous statue dedicated to the Lady of the Fountain. A pair of young people stood in front of it, hands clasped, gazing adoringly up at it.

Ransom felt strange and a little out of place. Out of everyone kneeling around the main fountain, only one was a knight like himself. A few of the other visitors had taken note of his presence, but Ransom overcame his feeling of self-consciousness and knelt by the stone ridge of the pool. Something didn’t feel right, however, and he had the impulse to wander a bit more. Trusting in the sensation, he rose and started walking.

In his exploration, he found a small anteroom with a little stained fountain bubbling within it. It was a confined space, not at all as striking as the huge hall, and the stone of the fountain looked worn away from the constant pressure of the water. It smelled old and dank, but it felt better. No one else was in the anteroom, and so he entered it and walked around the fountain, watching the water burbling from the spout at the top and listening to the splashing noises it made as it fell.

The rim of the fountain was wide enough to form a bench seat, so he sat down on it, immediately feeling the cold through his clothes. A few coins lay at the tiled bottom, nearly black with stain. How long had they been sitting in the waters?