Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

Devon shook his head. “It’s too muddy.”

That was true. The road was a churning mess of filth, and the mud gripped his boots with every step. His men had also dismounted and were caring for their weary horses, feeding them the remainder of the provender they’d brought. Ransom gazed at the tent camp on the south side of the town, which was lower down from their position. It was a gradual slope, but at least it was in their favor. There would be no tents, no pavilions for Ransom and his men to rest in, save what they conquered for themselves. He could see smoke rising from the Occitanian camp as well as from the town chimneys. Where had they found wood dry enough to burn other than by pillaging the townsfolk of their winter stores?

Simon approached him with Hans Dragan in tow. The man’s crossbow was slung across his shoulder. Dawson had taken some knights to scout the area. Dearley glanced at the newcomer and then came up to the prince and spoke to him in kindly tones.

“I managed to spear myself a pheasant with a bolt,” said Hans Dragan with a smirk as he bowed to Ransom. “Made a little fire to cook it on a spit too. It’s been a quiet day. What took you all so long?”

“Enough of the boasting,” Simon scolded. “Tell him the news.”

Ransom lifted his eyebrows, his weariness deep as his bones. “You caught another one for me?”

Dragan chuckled. “I should have, my lord. I should have. Beg your pardon. But I think I can get your army into the city.”

Ransom narrowed his gaze. “The gates are defended.”

“All but one,” said Dragan.

“Hear him out,” Simon urged. “He’s been studying it all day.”

“Go on,” Ransom said.

Other than Dearley and the prince, the others weren’t close enough to hear. One weary knight had laid his blanket down on the mud and fallen asleep on it already.

“The western gate’s full of rubble,” said Dragan. “I think we can clear it. It is right nigh the keep. Estian’s men have totally ignored it.”

Ransom squinted. “If we march there, they’ll see us. They could get men up on the wall and shoot down on us while we moved the stones.”

“Aye, I know!” said Dragan excitedly. “That’s why we send some brave lads to attack the north gate. Make ’em think that’s our goal. We’ll leave some lads behind to clear the debris. I don’t think it will take as long as all that. Once it’s open, you reverse and come in through the west gate and attack the knights laying siege to the keep.”

Simon grinned. “Estian will see that we’re attacking the north with the bulk of our army, but it’ll be a feint. If we get through the gate, we’ll send in some foot soldiers with pikes. Draw their forces that way to keep them from guessing our true aim.”

Ransom looked from Simon to Hans Dragan. He felt a surge of possibility well up inside him, a rush of confidence and gratitude.

“Do you think Lady Deborah did that on purpose? Made the rubble seem like an obstacle?”

Simon nodded vigorously. “Maybe she was hoping we’d figure it out in time.”

If they could lure Estian’s forces into defending the north gate, then a few select men could heave away the stones. It would be hard work, and his men were exhausted. But it was the kind of advantage he desperately needed. One that could even the odds a little. The fighting would not be quite so badly stacked against them if they were within the town walls—there would be no bottleneck, and they would be able to use the various buildings strategically. And if Ransom managed to get to Estian, to challenge him, perhaps they could end the battle then and there.

It was a chance. A thin one. But it was better than facing the Black King’s army head-on.

Ransom looked to Dearley. “What do you think? If we could get to Estian before he realizes what’s really going on . . . we could end the battle more swiftly.”

Dearley handed a strip of dried beef to the prince from his own food pouch. His smile revealed his answer faster than his words. “I think it’s bloody brilliant.”





Devon and Willem dragged their sisters outside for a brief adventure. The boys wanted to see the barrow mounds, but they are too distant. I need to stay at Connaught so I can find out what happens. Another new moon is coming, which means another journey to Atha Kleah. The pumpkins in the garden are as fat as hogs right now, and it reminds me of the young men who will soon use them for sword practice. My sons included. I must distract my thoughts. I must think of anything but what I fear. I’ve heard nothing. And that is the most dreadful thing of all.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

The autumn harvest





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Into the Breach


After returning from examining the defenses himself, Ransom summoned his leaders together in the rain and dark. There were no stars overhead, just the relentless clouds and constant rain. Flames from the town and enemy camp caused strange ghostlike glows in the low-hanging clouds, offering sufficient ambient light. The young prince sat on his horse, drenched but brave, and listened to the men discuss strategy for the coming battle. Dearley, Dawson, Simon, and Faulkes were gathered around Ransom. They were all weary, but the urgency of the moment had settled on them, and each was willing to brave the hazards ahead.

“There are only a few ways to breach a gate,” Ransom said, looking from man to man and then up at the prince. “We can either go over it or through it.”

“Making ladders will take too long,” said Faulkes.

“Then we need to use battering rams,” Dawson said. “There’s a stand of ash trees northwest of town.”

“Thick ones?” Simon asked.

Dawson affirmed. “We’ll need two or three to take them down, and a hundred men to move them.”

“They will rain down arrows as soon as you get close to the walls,” Faulkes said.

“Armor will protect us,” Dawson said, giving him a provoking look.

Ransom held up his hand. “Faulkes is right. Although we’re attacking the north gate as a distraction, it is another way into the castle if our first plan fails. They need to believe we’re serious.”

Dearley spoke up. “Then the Gaultic archers should go with them. They can shoot at anyone peering over the walls.”

“Good suggestion,” Ransom said. “Simon, I want you to oversee clearing the rubble from the west gate. Use your Espion and hand-pick men who are strong and quiet.”

“Of course,” Simon said. “We don’t have to clear the entire gate. Just enough to get horses through.”

“I’ve a suggestion,” Faulkes said. “When we cut down the ash trees, save the larger branches. We can use them to lever the stones.”

Simon gave Faulkes a surprised look. “I hadn’t thought of that. That will help our men move the bigger ones.”

Faulkes’s smile showed he was pleased by the compliment.

“You’ve run many sieges, Faulkes. I’m glad you’re here,” Ransom told him.

“May I lead the battering rams, my lord?” Dawson volunteered.

“Yes,” Ransom said. “You can have two hundred men. Just make them sound like more. Bellow and rage and yell threats at the defenders. Make a ruckus the whole town can hear. The foot soldiers will stand by, watching the walls in a line, as if ready to attack.”

“And the rest of the knights?” Dearley asked.

“They’ll be with me, farther back. When Simon gives the signal, we’ll ride through the west gate and attack from the inside.”

“We must hurry,” Simon said. “They have men with torches on the walls, watching for us. Once dawn comes, we won’t be able to hide what we’re doing at the west gate.”

“I know,” Ransom agreed. “Faulkes—you lead the archers.”

“They’re Gaultic,” he said angrily. “They hate me. My wife hates me,” he added under his breath.