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

We watched the lads, after placing stumps to hold up the pumpkins, swing and cleave and otherwise decimate their orange foes. Cattle would be allowed to graze in the field afterward, for the milch cows consider pumpkin a delicious feast. The boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, many of them the sons of the noble houses of the Fair Isle. Not hostages, not like we were as children, but because their parents wish to gain favor with us by showing their trust in letting our knights train the lads.

As I watched them from horseback, I could not help but wonder if there is a son inside my own pumpkin belly. Strange feelings came over me, with Ransom seated on his ugly destrier, Dappled, next to me. Will the father train the son? Or will he be sent to serve in another household when he is barely more than a lad?

Or will this boy, if the Aos Sí grant it be so, be an archer and not a knight? I always ride with my bow and a quiver of arrows, and so I loosed a shaft across the meadow and struck one of the fattest pumpkins in the field. Many of the lads raised their swords and waved at us. At that moment, they felt like my sons, and my heart constricted as a mother’s. These lads will grow up and fight to defend Connaught. And some of them will die. It’s such a strange thing to think of. It made me wish Ransom weren’t leaving so soon.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

The pumpkin war





CHAPTER NINE


The Man Who Listed to Be a King

The storm smashed into their ship like so many hammer strokes in a blacksmith’s forge. The turbulent sea rocked and tormented the boat and the passengers. Lightning streaked across the northern skies. A spray hit Ransom in the face as the boat tilted ominously to one side. He gripped the rope tightly, teeth clenched, the taste of salt in his mouth.

The captain barked orders, his words drowned out by the loud rustling of the square sail and creaking timbers. Simon gripped the rail and vomited over the side of the ship. Ransom felt queasy too, but his stomach had more iron in it, and he endured the buffeting wind and erratic plunges from the boat to better end.

“Get belowdecks!” Ransom called to Simon.

His friend looked at him with misery on his face. “It feels even worse down there where I can’t see. Shouldn’t we be there by now?”

“We might be wrestling this storm half the night,” Ransom answered. Due to the change of season, it was getting dark earlier and earlier. They’d risked open sea to get to Glosstyr faster, but now they were in the teeth of the storm, and he regretted not turning south to Ploemeur. His promise to Claire had rendered that a less favorable option, but would the winds or the Fountain itself drag them there regardless?

A prickle of warning went down his back. At first he thought the Gradalis was summoning him again, but this felt more like the warnings he’d received from the Fountain in the past, the premonition of a threat he could not yet see.

Holding on to the rope, he left Simon to his misery and crossed the slick deck to where the captain managed the rudder. The crew fought against the sail to keep it steady.

The captain was leaning against the tiller with all his strength. He grinned like a maniac at Ransom as he approached. “Fine eve at sea, my lord!” he shouted, water droplets dripping from his beard.

A sudden pitch made Ransom sway, but he held on tight. “Is everything well?” he asked.

“Well? In a storm such as this? I’ve been in worse, my lord. The waves are rough, but we’ll ride them.”

Ransom looked behind the captain into the dark throes of the sea. And that’s when he saw the other boat closing in on them. And the throb in his heart told him this was the source of the warning he’d felt.

“We’re being followed,” he said.

The captain turned his neck in confusion, and when he saw the other ship, he spluttered an oath. “Gag me, a brigand ship! They’d be daft to try and take us in the middle of this nonsense, but brigands are too greedy by half. Curse the moon, they’re slicing through the waters like a knife!”

“What do we do?” Ransom demanded, wiping spume from his mouth. The salty taste of the sea sickened his stomach further.

“Hold the rudder, my lord. We need to prepare to fight them off.”

Ransom took the captain’s place, clenching his hands around the tiller and leaning his body weight against it. The captain scrambled ahead, calling out to the crew to prepare for action. As the brigand vessel came nearer, Ransom could see the braided hair and beards of the brigands in the fading light. There were a dozen or so, wearing leather armor, and some had the orange hair mostly found in Legault.

The captain returned to him and took his place. “My lads are fetching bows. That’s the kind of warfare we’ll have first, my lord. But it’ll be mighty hard hitting anything with the waves rocking us to and fro! They’ll jump aboard when they’re close or use ropes to swing across.” He looked at the scabbard strapped to Ransom’s waist. “You’ll be needin’ that.”

An arrow whistled past them, and the captain flinched.

“You’re makin’ a fine target, my lord! Get down!”

Ransom squatted near the captain, watching as the smaller vessel veered toward them down the side of a wave. More arrows began to pelt them, some sticking into the mast, others piercing the wooden side of the ship.

Lightning streaked across the sky overhead, illuminating the sea with a brightness that blinded.

“Oh, by the fells!” gasped the captain.

“What?” Ransom demanded.

“When the lightnin’ went overhead, I was looking at the ship. That’s Ryain Hood.”

“A friend of yours?” Ransom asked with black humor.

“No, my lord! He’s the worst of the brigands. I know him from the peasant hood he uses to disguise himself. The Genevese pay him an awful tribute so he won’t attack their ships. He mostly preys on lords, though. If I had to guess, he saw us come in from Glosstyr and followed us back out. He’s known for his skills with a bow.”

As he said the words, an arrow struck the tiller with a jolt.

Ransom unsheathed his sword, gripping the rope again to steady himself. He squatted low and held himself sideways, giving the archers less of a target.

Another streak of lightning gave him a clear view of the brigands bearing down on them. A hooded man with a longbow stood at the prow, his face cast in darkness except for his chin and the tip of his nose. He had an arrow aimed straight at Ransom. The bow flexed, and the captain cried out in warning.

Ransom leaned on instinct, and the arrow sailed past him, missing him by a hair. The waves leveled again. A spurt of Fountain magic shot down his arms and legs, filling him with courage and preparing him to do battle. He rose, holding on to the rope with one hand and his sword with the other. The hooded archer took aim again. Another lightning flash revealed how close the other boat had come.

With his eyes fixed on the brigand’s dark cowl, Ransom stared him down. An arrow would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill him. As long as he wore the scabbard, he couldn’t bleed.

The hooded brigand lowered his bow without loosing the arrow. The two ships went up the next wave together, one after the other. And then the archer waved his bow, and the brigands’ ship turned another way.

The captain grinned like a madman. “They broke! They’re not going to board us! Thank the Lady and all the Fountain’s blessings!”

Had the brigand chief recognized Ransom? But if so, why had he turned away? Taking him prisoner would have won the man untold wealth. Maybe his reputation for violence had garnered him some wary respect.

“Land! Captain! Land!”

Ransom and the captain turned together and saw the watch flames burning from the fortress of Glosstyr in the distance.



Even though they’d arrived late at Glosstyr, the sound of the birds and the smell of the sea roused Ransom at dawn. He went down to the training yard and was pleased to see the castle knights drilling. He worked up a sweat himself and then went to bathe and change clothes in his room, which felt lonely without his wife.

Breakfast was brought to him, and Simon arrived soon afterward. When Ransom offered to share the food, his friend waved off the suggestion.