Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

When they reached the gates, he was surprised to find them open. It was unheard of for a castle to lower its guard in the presence of a strong force.

A man stood in the center of the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back. He wore a tunic with the Raven badge. His dark hair was cut short in the Occitanian fashion, and he had no beard—another sign of his origins. Ransom didn’t recognize him, but he did recognize the badge, which matched his own scabbard. It was the symbol of Brythonica. The man wore a chain hauberk beneath his tunic but no further armor. A bastard sword was strapped to his hip.

Ransom reined in before the gate, pausing to look up at the portcullis.

“I am the Duke of Glosstyr,” Ransom said. “Are you Estian’s emissary?”

“I am Lord Guyaume Montfort,” replied the man with a strong accent.

Ransom knew the name, although he’d never met the man. This was Constance’s second husband. He felt another subtle ripple from the Fountain as the man looked at him with what appeared to be genuine respect.

“I know you are a man of your word,” said Lord Montfort. “My wife assures me that you can be trusted. You’ve brought a sizable host with you, which I cannot allow inside the castle by order of my king. But you are permitted to bring a guard with you, and the castle gates will remain open during our negotiations. Is that agreeable to you, Lord Ransom?”

“How many defenders do you have at Josselin?”

Lord Montfort scratched his neck. “It would be unwise to tell you in case you decide to attack the castle by force.”

“Just as it would be unwise of me to bring in a small guard that could easily be overwhelmed,” Ransom countered. There was no belligerence on either side. He felt the knight was sizing him up, so he did the same, using his magic to test the man’s abilities. They were formidable. Montfort was a skilled warrior, but he was someone Ransom felt certain he could beat.

“That is true. Do I have your word that you will not provoke an attack?”

“Yes,” Ransom said sincerely.

Lord Montfort studied him again, his gray eyes serious and penetrating. “I hold you to it, then. I have only fifty guarding the castle right now. The rest have been withdrawn back to Pree on leave. My king anticipates that we will come to an agreement. I hope he is not mistaken.”

“I will bring two dozen with me, then,” said Ransom. “The rest will remain in the courtyard.”

“That is agreeable. Shall we discuss terms?”

Ransom nodded.

Lord Montfort bowed slightly and gestured for them to enter the castle peaceably. Ransom looked to Dearley to arrange the escort, and his first knight quickly chose twenty-four men to accompany them, fifty more to stand at the gate, and sent the rest off to buy food for the group.

That accomplished, Ransom rode Dappled beneath the portcullis and sighed when he saw the interior grounds had been mended in his absence. The gardens were thriving, and new bushes had been planted to replace those that had been trampled. Ransom had tried to reclaim Josselin multiple times over the years, but it had strong defenses and determined defenders.

They dismounted and followed Lord Montfort into the castle. Dearley had a look of wistfulness as they made their way through the halls, his mind probably steeped in memories of what this place had meant to him and Elodie. Ransom followed Lord Montfort to the solar, a room that had once been one of his favorite places in the castle. The furnishings had changed a little, but it still felt the same.

Lord Montfort walked to the large window overlooking the courtyard down below, and Ransom joined him, looking down at the scene with him. His knights were walking about freely enough, but there was clear tension between them and the castle defenders.

Dearley walked to one of the tables and lifted a figurine that stood there, examining it.

“Does Estian truly want peace?” Ransom asked.

“This war has been costly, my lord,” said Montfort. “Many of the dukes have been pressuring him for peace. And so have I.” His gray eyes narrowed with determination.

“I notice you do not call yourself a duke,” Ransom said.

Lord Montfort shook his head. “I am not. I’m the duchess’s consort, just as you are in Legault. From my understanding, your title comes from Glosstyr. We are similar in other ways as well.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We both seek to do the Fountain’s will,” said Montfort softly. “After marrying Lady Constance, I see the world through new eyes. The excesses of court offend me now. My lady misses her son. If we can achieve peace through this agreement, then Estian has promised to return him to us.”

Ransom turned and looked into the courtyard. Constance’s son, Drew, was a scion of the Argentine family, the son of Jon-Landon’s brother Goff. He was one of three surviving Argentine heirs, the others being Jon-Landon and the young prince. But the Fountain had whispered to Ransom that Devon, the young prince, was the one who would inherit the kingdom. He was the one the Occitanians would try to kill.

Distrust welled up inside him. Was Montfort, like Kiskaddon, trying to persuade him to make a different kind of deal?

“So your loyalties are conflicted,” Ransom said, still gazing out the window.

“As are yours, I believe,” Montfort said. “You serve a man unfit to wear the hollow crown. Jon-Landon is inept and mercurial. His efforts to seed spies in Pree is laughable. Do not trust anything his Espion says about our intentions. He’s being deliberately misled.”

“Because your king seeks to supplant him,” Ransom said. He turned his head and gazed into the man’s steel eyes.

“That’s not our purpose. Both boys are too young to rule Ceredigion, although I’ll not deny Drew is better equipped for the job. And with Constance advising him, you know the kingdom would be ruled justly.”

A throb of warning flashed in Ransom’s heart. “I will not betray my king.”

Montfort held up his hands. “I’m not asking you to, nor is it a requirement of this truce. As you know, Estian has promised to return this castle to you so long as you swear fealty to him in all manners related to Josselin. It is a token that his overture of peace is legitimate.”

“Then why should I trust you now?” Ransom asked. “After such a confession?”

“You should trust me because Constance trusts me. You were a child during the wars of succession. You were held hostage just as her son is being held prisoner. Four years of peace. Let us stop taking advantage of each other, stop fueling ill will among the nobility. Let us agree to stand down, sheathe our swords, and heal the land, lest the Deep Fathoms lose patience and destroy us both.”

“Four years?” Ransom asked. “I was told it was two.”

“Four years. Do you not wish to see your children while they are still young? I am soon to be a father myself,” he said emphatically. “Constance is with child. You and I want the same thing, Lord Ransom. We both want peace between our realms. Imagine if the four years could become longer. Much can change in four years.”

In four years his own sons would be of an age to start looking for where they could train. He’d considered sending one to Dundrennan, under Maeg’s care, the other perhaps to Lord Kiskaddon. So much time had been lost already. Their childhoods had been squandered because of the endless war.

“I have come here to broker peace between our realms,” Montfort said. “As you have too, if I’m not mistaken. There has been enough bloodshed, has there not?”

Ransom longed for what was being promised, but history bid him proceed with caution. He doubted Estian would keep his word.

“I will not go to Pree to attend to your king,” Ransom said, shaking his head. “Estian warned me that if I ever did, I would be executed.”

“If I recall, you did threaten to decapitate him,” said Montfort with a wry smile.

“It was deserved.”