Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

“The king would be willing to accept your oath of homage at Chessy instead. You may bring whatever size host you desire. If you are agreeable, if you accept the terms, then I can communicate this to him immediately.”

“I have my king’s permission,” Ransom said. “I don’t need to return to Beestone to seek it.”

“I trusted that you wouldn’t have sent word you were coming otherwise. Am I to hope for a positive outcome, then? The decision seems to hang on you.”

Ransom turned away from the window and began to pace. “The decision hangs on whether or not I can trust Estian.”

Lord Montfort held up his hands. “He’s giving you your castle back. I’ve told you that his dukes don’t want to fight anymore. Peace benefits us all. And perhaps, over time, we can negotiate a more lasting truce.”

“How so?” Ransom asked, turning to face him.

“Jon-Landon has a daughter. Drew will need a wife. They are cousins, true, but that has not stopped such alliances in the past.” He held up his hands. “My point is that we might find new ways to bargain. Our generation has seen enough of war.”

Ransom stepped closer to him. He dropped his voice low so that only Montfort could hear it. “Constance has a special talent. Sometimes she knows the future.”

Montfort nodded with a knowing smile. Responding in a similarly hushed voice, he said, “I know of the stones, my lord. She’s the one who told me that I would be the one negotiating with you.”

“Has she seen Drew’s future?” Ransom whispered.

Montfort shook his head. “She only looks in the stones if the Fountain bids her do so. You know this because she has told you.”

Ransom knew that Montfort could not have known about the seering stones unless Constance had told him. And she wouldn’t have told him unless she trusted him.

Ransom wanted to say yes. He listened to the surge of feelings in his heart, his ears attuned for a reprimand or warning from the Fountain, but he heard nothing.

“Does Estian truly want Drew to be king?”

Montfort sighed. “Estian only wants himself to be king, but he’s wise enough to realize he cannot conquer Ceredigion by war. Not with you standing in his way.”

Ransom sighed. That much was true. “So he wants me out of the way?”

“No. A truce is what he wants. He knows there is nothing he could offer that would make you switch sides. Especially not a castle. So no, Lord Ransom, this is no attempt at bribery, no underhanded ruse. What he wants is time to plan his next move, and he’s willing to make concessions to get it. Shake my hand and say we have an accord.” He extended his hand to Ransom, who stared at it. “As you see, I hold no sword or dagger in it.”

No warning came. There were a good many reasons to distrust Estian. But if the Occitanian king reneged on the deal, they would be no worse off than they were now. Indeed, they would have gained a castle from it.

He took the man’s hand.

“I will come to Chessy and see for myself,” Ransom said. “But if Estian is as good as your promises, then I accept the truce in the name of my king.”

Lord Montfort sighed with relief.

“This is tremendous news,” Dearley said, rising from the sofa he’d been sitting on, watching the exchange with obvious excitement.

“May we rest here for the night?” Ransom asked, still gripping Montfort’s hand.

“Of course. You are protected under the rights of hospitality. And so are your men.” They broke the clasp.

Montfort pitched his voice low once again. “Constance said you would say yes. She also bid me give you this.” He reached into his tunic and withdrew a sealed note, one with the raven sigil stamped into the wax.

Ransom opened it and turned away from Lord Montfort.

Dear Ransom,

You will see my son before I do. Tell him that his mother loves him and thinks of him every day. Guyaume is my husband now. He is loyal and true. I’ve come to trust him as I have trusted you. Please give him the ring you received from Lord Terencourt. That is one last secret I must share with him. The Fountain bids it, and I have seen a vision that he will need it.

With charity,

Constance





The ships I sent to the Vexin never made it there. Estian’s fleet was moored along the coast, making it impossible to reach them. The sailors saw smoke coming from the direction of Auxaunce. My ships returned, and here they’ll stay to defend our coasts from attack.

Word came from Ransom of a peace treaty that Estian wants. He’s offering Josselin castle as a token of good faith, but there is no good faith in Estian Vertus. The treaty is a ruse, a ploy. I sent Sir Galveson to find Ransom and Sir Trebet to warn the king.

Little Sibyl asked if her papa was going to be all right. I don’t know. I fear he’s blind to what’s really going on.

—Claire de Murrow, “Duchess” of Legault

(the surge of war)





CHAPTER FIVE


Face-to-Face


The countryside of Occitania stretched beautifully before him, full of lush, rolling hills and stands of aspen. As they moved farther from the border, there were fewer signs of the ravages of war. Ransom led his men at a strong pace, and he kept his senses on alert for warnings that they were headed into an ambush. The scouts continued to report that the land ahead was tranquil. They had encountered a few Occitanian knights patrolling the road to Pree, but Ransom’s presence was expected, and they were greeted with civility despite the long-standing hostility between the two kingdoms.

The ring’s absence was more noticeable than he’d expected. For so many years he’d worn it in secret, prepared to be summoned to the Grove should the need arise, although its summons hadn’t come since before Jon-Landon was made king. The Occitanians, once so intent on stealing the treasure in the grove, had put a halt to their efforts, perhaps because Drew had been taken and Constance had married one of Estian’s men. He’d given the ring to Montfort, who had departed back to Brythonica per his king’s orders instead of joining him on the journey to Chessy.

Ransom knew the road well and marveled at all the new farmsteads that had been built. As they drew near Chessy, located along the road to Pree and adjacent to the Bois de Meridienne, a royal wood used for war games and hunting, his heart panged with memories of his younger days. He recalled walking with Claire through the maze of tents and pavilions when he was nothing but a lowly knight. He missed her deeply. He missed his children. Now, standing on the cusp of possibly ending this war, if only for a few years, he was filled with a fiery surge of longing for his family. He wished to go home. To sit by a hearth and stroke Claire’s hair. To listen to the stories of his children and to share his own with them.

Still, the thought of kneeling before Estian and swearing fealty to him for Josselin castle made his stomach churn. It did not require the same depth of loyalty as making Estian his liege lord, but it still meant something, and he had to wonder whether he was making a mistake.

There were only a few Occitanian knights milling about. No tournament was in progress—or at least, Estian had canceled it so the two sides could meet without fanfare. Open fields with tall grass spread out around the encampment and a patch of denser woods could be seen on the farther side. Ransom reached out with his Fountain magic.

And he sensed Lady Alix immediately.

She was Fountain-blessed too, and they’d always had the ability to know when the other was close. Her presence put him on his guard once more, and he frowned as they rode through the main thoroughfare.

One of the tents had been there back in his tournament days. It was adorned with black and white stripes and contained Occitanian confections, his favorite being penuche. He turned to Dearley as they rode.

“Have one of the knights buy some penuche from that tent,” he said, gesturing to the one. “I want to take some back to Claire.”

“Of course,” Dearley answered and pulled back slightly to give the order.

A formidable knight on a massive destrier met them partway down the road. He wore the badge of the Fleur-de-Lis.