Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

Ransom came off his bed and grabbed his fallen sword, then strapped the scabbard around his waist.

“Your timing . . .” he said to Guivret, shaking his head.

“What shall we do with these blackguards?” Guivret aimed the point of his sword at Bodkin’s back.

“Take them to the dungeon, under guard. And get a barber to remove his new tail.”

The Espion were ushered from the room, Bodkin moaning as two of his men helped him move. There was blood on the floor, but not a copious amount. The vial lay there as well, its contents leaking out. Ransom took it and stared at it a moment.

The Espion who had held the crossbow on him was still there, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Thank you,” Ransom told the man.

“Thank Cecily as well,” he said. “When Bodkin was in a hurry to leave Averanche, she suspected treachery. I warned some of your knights about the plan.”

Guivret nodded to him. “For that, we are grateful.” He turned back to Ransom. “What are you going to do with Bodkin? You could execute him, you know.”

“I’m going to bring him back to Averanche to face the king’s justice,” Ransom said. “It won’t be a comfortable ride, but he’ll manage the pain somehow.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt,” Guivret promised. “A great deal.”

Ransom examined the vial again. “Where did he get this, I wonder?”

The Espion who had saved him shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s been in contact with Pisan to make arrangements for Cecily to go there. Twenty thousand livres. A hefty sum.”

Perhaps they’d given the concoction to him as a boon, a message of goodwill. Or had he gotten it from Alix?

He sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep the rest of the night.”

“Come to the great hall,” Guivret said. “Rest among those who are loyal to you.”

Ransom agreed and rolled up the parchment and put it back in the tube. He went back to the great hall with the others, relieved that he’d managed not to be poisoned . . . or worse. There was still a fire in the hearth, and he took a chair by it with Guivret and his new Espion friend.

“What’s your name?” Ransom asked.

“Hans Dragan,” said the fellow.

Something about that name sounded familiar. He felt a strange connection to the man without quite understanding why. Then again, he’d become accustomed to such things. He’d felt this way before, especially in the palace cistern, where he’d seen a flash of a boy and a girl. It had felt like he was being given a glimpse of another life. Another possibility. But the meaning of it eluded him.

They sat by the fire, talking in low voices so as not to disturb the sleep of the knights, but a howl of pain pierced the quiet. Guivret raised his eyebrows. “The barber must have pulled out that quarrel just now.”

“It was barbed,” said Hans.

Some of the sleeping knights lifted their heads from their pallets, looking around the great hall in confusion, and Ransom found himself chuckling.



They reached Averanche after two more days, a slower journey than normal because of the prisoners. Bodkin and the Espion who had attacked him traveled in irons, surrounded by knights at all times. By the time they arrived, Bodkin was weak from pain and blood loss and looked feverish. They left the lesser Espion in the courtyard under guards, while Ransom, Guivret, and Hans Dragan took Bodkin to see the king. There was no attempt to bribe or threaten them. The Espion master was completely miserable, his eyes haunted by what he knew must be coming.

They were told the king and queen were waiting for them in the solar, and so they made their way up the stairs. Bodkin whimpered as he went. Ransom saw the queen and the prince first, standing close to each other. The king was pacing nervously. When he saw Bodkin in chains, his brow furrowed with worry.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded of Ransom.

“He attempted to stop you from achieving peace with your dukes,” Ransom said, unslinging the leather tube and extending it to the king. “I arrived at Beestone two days ago, and he ambushed me in the middle of the night and tried to poison me. He’d been skulking beneath the castle.”

Jon-Landon’s eyes shot wide, and he regarded Bodkin with a look of betrayal.

“As I understand the situation,” Ransom continued, “he had tried persuading you to leave the kingdom. To seek refuge in Callait with your treasure.”

The king scowled. “That plan was supposed to be secret. He tried to poison you?”

Ransom removed the vial from his pocket and showed it to the king. The queen studied it too, then glowered at Bodkin.

“He planned to destroy the charter, my lord,” Ransom said. “The one that will ensure peace with your dukes.”

“But at what cost?” the king asked.

“Open it,” said his wife eagerly.

He twisted open the cap and took the rolled parchment over to the table. After spreading it out, he and his queen pored over the tiny writing. Ransom looked at Bodkin and saw defeat on his face. He hadn’t even tried to speak in his own defense.

The prince, Devon, came to the table and joined his parents. “What does it say, Maman?”

She told him to wait for her to finish. Ransom watched Jon-Landon’s expression as he came to the end of the document. It held a mixture of disappointment and relief. He shook his head in wonderment.

“This charter . . .” he said with a pause. “It binds me.”

Ransom said nothing, but he gave the king a hard look.

“This would apply to all the nobles of the realm?” Queen Léa said. She didn’t look entirely pleased by the prospect. “Even those who did not rebel. My father?”

“Yes, including him,” Ransom said.

“My father would never have agreed to something like this,” Jon-Landon said with bitterness.

“You’re right. And he lost the hollow crown and died.”

Léa took Jon-Landon’s hand and squeezed it. “You have no choice.”

That was an encouraging sign. Ransom dared to hope.

Jon-Landon rubbed his eyebrow, which had started twitching. “This decision affects not only me. It will bind our son. It will bind future kings.”

“It will,” Ransom said.

“But at least you will still be king,” Léa said coaxingly. “I don’t like Lord Kiskaddon either. It will be insufferable to bear his gloating, but we risk losing everything if we refuse.”

“He’s not gloating,” Ransom said to pacify her. “The Occitanians have attacked Kingfountain by sea. I believe they will strike you here, my lord. You must decide and then live with the consequences. Just as your brothers have. Just as your father did.”

“Kingfountain is under attack?” Jon-Landon asked worriedly.

That he didn’t know meant he’d lost control of his own Espion.

“Yes, but Duke Kiskaddon is defending it. There are armed mobs in the city, rioting in your name. If you end this, we can defend the city together. I’ve brought two hundred knights with me from Beestone to bring you safely away.”

“I am safe enough here,” Jon-Landon said.

Ransom shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. If Estian is coming with his whole army, we do not have enough men to defend Averanche by land and sea. I advise to flee north, to Glosstyr.”

Léa gazed at her husband imploringly. “Please. Heed him. He has done what you asked. The people will rally if they know Lord Ransom stands by you.”

The king scowled, but the desperate situation was compelling him to act wisely. “I will go to Glosstyr. I’m loath to give up another castle to the Occitanians.” He took Léa’s hand in his own and squeezed it, and for a moment Ransom believed he still cared for her, despite his bad faith. “Especially this one. There are memories here that I don’t want Estian to steal.”

Léa smiled at him and kissed his mouth. “He cannot steal those, my love.”

“We should go, then, without delay.” The king glared at Bodkin. “Thank you for bringing reinforcements. I’ve heard nothing in days about the state of Occitania’s armies. Now I know why.”

The Espion master’s shoulders slumped.