Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

“Your king was too cowardly to come himself,” said Estian flatly. “You are here to negotiate on his behalf. He’s authorized you to make this decision. Here are my terms. You are not to interfere if he breaks the truce and attacks anything west of Westmarch. I must insist upon this measure to protect Brythonica, which I have made an independent duchy. If your king attempts to lay claim to the duchess’s land, you will not join him. How does this compromise you?”

Perhaps he would have been swayed had he not felt Alix’s invading influence pushing him to accept. The argument was not without merit, but it felt dishonest and unreasonable for Estian to change the terms at the last moment. They were on the verge of peace, one that would last for years. Why threaten that?

“If you truly want peace, why change the terms?” Ransom challenged.

“We all want peace, Lord Ransom. Even you. Your knights are exhausted. Your children are without a father. The mercenaries haven’t been paid. There is no honor in your king. But I know you, Lord Ransom. I know that honor binds you. If you swear not to get involved, I will trust you to remain true to your word.”

He felt the overpowering urge to drop to his knee before Estian, but he knew where the feelings came from and refused to submit to them.

One of his knights, the youngest, went down on one knee. The sound of it rattled Ransom and drew his attention. He looked back and saw Dearley and Dawson were both conflicted. They looked from Ransom to Estian as if their souls were torn by a vicious inner conflict.

“I will accept the previous terms that you offered,” Ransom said, turning back to Estian. He glared at Alix once more. A small smile tilted her mouth.

“Unacceptable,” Estian said. “You would risk years more war for this? Don’t be stubborn, Ransom. Kneel. End this.”

“I will not,” Ransom said, shaking his head. He took a step backward and felt Alix’s grip lessen. Guilt and anguish collided inside him. The war would not halt after all, and they would all remain in its grip. Yet he felt sure he’d done the right thing. In his heart, he knew Jon-Landon would never have forgiven him if he’d knelt before Estian and accepted the new terms. The king would have seen it as a sign of disloyalty.

“Come now,” Estian said soothingly. “Be reasonable. Do you want so much blood on your hands? Not even the mighty waterfall at Kingfountain would be able to wash them clean after this.”

“If there is any blood spilled,” Ransom answered curtly, “it will be your fault. You’ve reneged on your promise. I’ll not stain my honor to kneel before you. Prepare to defend your realm.”

Estian looked neither surprised nor disappointed. Indeed, there was a cunning light in his eyes that suggested he’d expected, perhaps even invited, this very outcome. “We shall see. Be gone. Your safe conduct is revoked after sunset.”

Ransom glared at him. “It takes longer than a day to travel so far.” Especially since the horses all needed rest after being driven so hard.

“Then you’d best hurry,” Estian said with contempt.

Ransom shot Alix a withering look and then turned to face his knights. The one who had knelt came back to his feet, his face red with shame. At his nod, they stormed out of the tent as one. The other knights looked at them in consternation, no doubt sensing a shift in mood.

“We ride. Now!” barked Dearley.

Ransom heard Alix’s voice back in the tent. As he gripped the saddle and prepared to mount, he tried to listen to what was being said but couldn’t make out the words.

He did hear Estian exclaim, “Are you sure?”

There was no way to understand what it meant. Ransom pulled himself up and turned Dappled around. The looks from the Occitanian knights had noticeably altered. They were grim, expectant, as if they’d known all along they’d be giving chase.

“That was . . . that was ominous,” Dearley said after mounting and riding closer to Ransom.

A sickening feeling had crept into Ransom’s stomach. Estian hadn’t wanted a truce after all. Why else would he have changed the terms in such a way that Ransom’s loyalty would prevent him from agreeing?

“Let’s get out of here,” Ransom said to his knights. “Ride hard. We have until sunset before they come after us. If even that long.”





I wonder if King Estian thinks my eyes are only painted on? I’ve called on Lord Tenthor to prepare to defend the coast, but he’s fallen ill with gout. He has no sons, more the pity. Lord Toole suggested letting Lord Gambon have a try, which I’ve agreed to. I want to send more knights to Glosstyr to help in case they are needed, but I must also be prepared to defend the Fair Isle from a possible attack. I think Auxaunce is already under siege. My heart trembles for Emiloh. If anything were to happen to her, I would never forgive myself for not doing more.

The schemes of men and lords. They nearly make me angry enough to eat the cat.

—Claire de Murrow, “Duchess” of Legault

Fortress at Atha Kleah





CHAPTER SIX


The King’s Battle

There was more than one road leading away from Occitania. Ransom chose the shortest path, to the crossroads of Brythonica. He sent scouts ahead to look for enemy soldiers blocking the way. He also sent a separate group of knights to Beestone castle to warn the king the peace treaty had failed. All the while, he worried that knights on fresh horses would appear on the horizon behind them.

But when a rider finally did approach them, it was from the road ahead of them, not behind.

The scouts encountered Sir Galveson, one of Claire’s personal guards, and swiftly escorted him to Ransom. He was haggard from several days of travel, but he greeted Ransom and Dearley with a knightly salute.

“My lord,” he said in his Gaultic accent, “I bear greetings and warnings from your wife.”

They’d stopped in the middle of the road, allowing the knights to rest their mounts a bit. The three drew tightly together so that their words could not pass easily to the others.

“What news?” Ransom asked him worriedly. “Is Claire safe?”

“She is, my lord. But we fear for the queen dowager. Genevese ships bound for the Vexin were turned aside by Estian’s fleet. They brought their story to Atha Kleah. Lady Claire sent ships to bring relief to the Vexin, but they were outnumbered and turned back. Smoke was seen coming from Auxaunce.”

Ransom glanced at Dearley, who shook his head in anger. “That explains the so-called peace.”

“You didn’t trust those miscreant Occitanians did you?” asked Sir Galveson.

“Almost,” Ransom said. “They lured us to Chessy with promises of peace.” If he had accepted, it would have compelled him not to defend the Vexin. Except Estian had known he would not accept, hence the threat about chasing them. It had compelled them to seek out the shortest route—to Brythonica—rather than the one that would have led them to the Vexin. “In the end, Estian changed the terms. We left him in Chessy yesterday.”

“No doubt he’s heading straight to the Vexin,” said Galveson.

Dearley let out an angry sigh. “We’ve been made fools,” he growled. “It will take days for our men to reach Beestone and warn the king.”

Galveson grinned. “You forget Her Ladyship, the most excellent queen of the Fair Isle. She sent one of our men to Beestone already with the news. The king’s army is already on the move. I passed it on my way here to tell you.”

“The king’s army?” Ransom asked. “Who leads it?”

“The king himself,” said Galveson. “Along with the duke of the North and Lord Kiskaddon. They were riding like men being whipped. There were thousands of mercenaries with them, all riding together.”

“How many?” Dearley asked.

“At least two thousand by my reckoning,” answered Galveson. “When they learned I was going after you, they bid me ride like the devil himself and kill my horse if I needed to. I’m glad I found you before I reached Pree.”

Ransom couldn’t help but beam with pride. His wife had saved the day, much like she had years before, when she’d shown up with reinforcements just in time to help him defend Glosstyr. “Sir Galveson, you arrived just when we needed you.”