Lady's Ransom (The First Argentines, #3)

Ransom frowned but said nothing.

“I’ve increased the watch on the decorative fountains throughout the palace,” the king continued. “Some of the servants confessed they have, at times, seen a noble lady wandering the halls. Based on where she was seen, I’ve stationed more guards at a particular fountain, which may be the source of her supernatural ability to travel here.” He inclined his head. “Father always wondered if he had a spy in our midst. I suspect it was her all along.”

“I’d come to that conclusion,” Ransom admitted.

“I’ve taken action based on the information you gave me. I hope that instills you with some confidence in my judgment. And also that I’ve chosen you to check my chancellor’s authority.”

“I’m grateful for the faith you have in me,” Ransom said.

“Then speak your mind. Do you feel it is wrong to go to Chandleer? I want to go. I’ve wanted it ever since I heard about your voyage. I hope my desire isn’t overruling my good sense.”

“I think the threat you learned of from Genevar is real. I trust your mother’s wisdom.”

“She learned of it shortly after arriving there. It could soon affect all of our lives, but it’ll hit the poor the hardest.” He paused, then added, “I agreed to marry the doge’s daughter. Do you know about how their rulers are chosen?”

“They have a council of forty who chooses the ruler from among the nobles,” Ransom said. He’d learned much about the Genevese from traveling with Kohler’s caravan.

“Indeed. But the appointment is for life or until impairment makes it impossible to rule. The doge is Domenic Orio. His daughter is Portia.” He shrugged and sighed. “At least you chose who you married, Ransom. But as I said, I trust my mother’s wisdom. I need a strong alliance to strengthen our position, and Mother said Portia will be wise and a suitable partner. She is going on this war with us.”

Ransom was taken aback. “Truly?”

Benedict shrugged. “Why should she not? My brother’s wife joined in the war when . . .”

His words trailed off at the mention of Noemie, Devon the Younger’s wife. There was still a scar of pain in Ransom’s heart from those days. Benedict caught his mistake, and he had the good grace to look away.

“I know the rumors weren’t true, Ransom,” he said softly. “It was that other knight, not you.”

But there were still people who believed Ransom had seduced his master’s wife. He had left Ceredigion to go to the oasis because of it. Strange how things from the past kept coming up again, as if the tide were bringing them back.

“That was long ago,” Ransom said. The man who had cuckolded the king, Sir Robert Tregoss, had already met his end on a bloody meadow. “I do congratulate you on your upcoming marriage. When do you expect to meet your bride?”

“Within a fortnight,” said the king. “You and Claire must come to the wedding.”

“I will extend your invitation to her myself,” Ransom said with a hopeful look.

The king gazed at him. “Missing her already? Like every other lovestruck fool I’ve known. I can say that now because I’ve not even met Portia yet. Devon changed after he was married. Maybe it will happen to me; I can’t be sure. I’d like to think that I won’t become sentimental.” He chuckled. “I trust you, Ransom, just as I trust Longmont and my mother. I do not trust my brother, Jon-Landon. That’s why I’m sending him to Atabyrion.” His gaze became more serious. “Am I wrong to distrust him?”

Ransom shook his head. “No, Bennett. He will use this war and your absence to his advantage.”

The king sniffed and nodded firmly. “Longmont has been a faithful servant to me for many years. He’s clever and always thinks the worst will happen. With men like DeVaux in the Vexin, the worst often does. I trust that you and Mother will not let the troubles of your own domains prevent you from keeping an eye on things in mine?”

“I have Simon of Holmberg serving me now in Glosstyr,” Ransom said. “I hope that doesn’t offend you . . . I know you dismissed him from the council.”

“Sir Simon is a good fellow and all,” said the king, “but he’s a knight who has learned politics. He’s not as capable as Damian Longmont. I’m sure the two of you will get along. He knows I favor you, and so he will seek your good graces. You’ll see.”

Ransom already had. And he didn’t like the way the chancellor had tried to insinuate himself.

“When may I return to Legault?” Ransom asked the king.

“Oh, not quite yet,” said the king with a grin. “We have maps to peruse, supplies to raise, and fish to catch and cure. You’ll be going home by way of Brythonica. I want you to tell my sister-in-law how much money she needs to donate to the cause. Then you may return to your wife. But you’re not to tell her the news until you see her. What you learned in council today must remain a secret for now. Guard it well.”

He made a dismissive nod, which was Ransom’s signal to leave. The trip to Brythonica was welcome—he was eager to talk to the duchess about his experience in the grove—yet he felt wearied by the burden of another secret. Ransom felt them wriggling inside his chest, squirming to get out.





Lord Toole is a worldly man, seasoned in years and experience. He’s rather gaunt, but his voice is strong, forceful, and he has an implacable sense of justice. I’m pleased with his appointment. He’s to immediately ride to Lord Tenthor in western Legault and demand the boor pay his due. It’s a strategic move, to be sure, for Tenthor is a disagreeable man with bad breath and a developed muscle of pride reminiscent of Devon Argentine. Ransom said we must choose the top dog, and so we did.

Lord Toole said that each lord should be responsible for bringing the tax to Atha Kleah in person. Such a strategy prevents them from hiring brigands to intercept Lord Toole’s tax collectors and steal the money back. He said that he’s seen such wily tricks before and may have played them himself during his younger years.

Starting with Tenthor and adjusting the method of affairs of collection will benefit us in the short term, but Toole advised me that new measures must always be employed to keep the lords of Legault guessing. “They look at tax evasion as a sort of game,” he said.

He also advised that Ransom be there in Atha Kleah when Tenthor arrives, for a show of strength might be necessary. I smiled and told him that his counsel was appreciated. But thanks to King Benedict, I may be unable to fulfill his wishes. Still no word from Kingfountain.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

(on commissioning the high sheriff of the Fair Isle)





CHAPTER SIX


The Tides of Ploemeur


Several days after the council meeting, Ransom left for Brythonica on a merchant vessel whose huge square sail was emblazoned with the Lion of Benedict. They stopped at the fortress of the Steene in Atabyrion to inform the king of Jon-Landon’s imminent arrival, but even though the hour grew late, Ransom refused the captain’s suggestion that they anchor in the Steene for the night. He didn’t want to further delay his return to Claire. He thought he’d never rest, but the swell and fall of the sea calmed his mind and coaxed him to sleep at last.

The next morning, he awoke to find the ship at anchor. The feeling of forward momentum was gone, and he wondered why no one had roused him. Getting to his feet, he marched out of his stateroom and up the stairs to the squawking of angry seabirds. His heart sank when he saw Ploemeur in the distance, the palace rising on a hill inside the cove.

The captain ambled up to him, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, my lord, but we were too late.” He pointed. “The tide is ebbing, and all of the ships are leaving Ploemeur. We’ll have to wait until they’re gone.” True to the captain’s word, Ransom saw dozens of ships leaving port, creating an enormous scene. He hadn’t considered the possibility of such a delay, but he should have—Brythonica was a strong trading duchy.