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

He picked at the seal with his fingernail and then unfolded the paper, holding it to the light of the candle to read.

His heart sank and then began to pound with worry inside his chest.

Connaught was under siege.





It is over. The rebellion has been put down. All was not so certain yesterday, but another armed band appeared up the road. It was Lord Tenthor. He went to Lord Dougal in deceit, offering to join him in exchange for being given a position, but when the two met, Lord Tenthor seized upon Dougal and held a knife to his neck while Tenthor’s men scattered the others. Lord Tenthor then dragged Dougal behind his horse all the way up the hill to Connaught, where he turned him over to me for justice.

I asked Lord Tenthor why he did it. And he responded that he felt obligated because my husband had shown him clemency for his foolishness regarding the taxes. When he heard that Dougal had attacked, he came at once to our rescue. I thanked Lord Tenthor for his timely aid and promised rewards would soon follow, which he declined out of respect. I then asked him to seize Dougal’s lands and hold them in the queen’s name. He departed to fulfill my orders.

Lord Dougal was taken to the dungeon to await his condemnation. The knights who searched him found a strange stone in his pocket, which he violently protested surrendering. They brought it to me. It’s a curious thing, about the size of an egg, made of white jasper. He refused to say what it was, but Sir Guivret recognized it. He said the Duchess of Brythonica has one just like it. They are called seering stones. They scry things that are hidden or secret. He warned me never to use it. And yet, I will admit it fascinates me. This must be how Dougal knew that Ransom was gone.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

(costly victory)





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Raging Storms


A vicious storm had broken out the previous night, and Emiloh had refused Ransom’s request to set sail. The seas were raging, the journey too dangerous. He’d insisted on leaving come morning—if the storm had not passed, he and his knights would ride to Glosstyr on horseback—and she hadn’t objected. The storm looked in no hurry to pass, so he ordered the men to prepare for a long, wet ride, then sought out Emiloh. She was in the solar meeting with Longmont, the conversation tense by the looks on their faces.

“I’m preparing to go,” Ransom said as he joined them.

“It’s miserable out there,” Longmont objected. “Why not stay another day? There’s little you can do about the situation anyway.”

Emiloh shook her head. “Damian, please. He’s right to be anxious. So am I, but I’m equally concerned about you getting into a shipwreck. Don’t let your emotions rule your instincts, Ransom. Claire de Murrow will do what she can to fend off the attackers. Trust her.”

It took an effort to relax his grip, but he did. “Thank you,” he told her. “I’m hoping there will be more recent news when I reach Glosstyr.”

He was about to leave, but Emiloh forestalled him. “Can I beg another moment from you, Ransom?”

He sighed and nodded.

“The Espion brought a report during the night that the Duke of North Cumbria is heading this way with a host of knights. You know James as well as anyone. What do you make of it?”

Ransom turned to Longmont. “How close is he to Kingfountain?”

“He should be here by this evening,” said the justiciar. “You may encounter him on the road as you leave. I don’t think he’s foolish enough to attack.”

“I know your opinion,” said Emiloh patiently. “I’m seeking Ransom’s.”

He pursed his lips and looked at the queen dowager and then at Longmont. “I doubt Jon-Landon gave him any marching orders. It would take days for a message to get from East Stowe to Dundrennan then back. He might have realized that harboring your son without telling us could be viewed unfavorably.” Ransom shrugged. “I think he’s trying to protect his interests by making a show of strength.”

“Wigant is a fool, and the king doesn’t trust him,” Longmont said. “Loyalty binds him to Jon-Landon. Mark my words.”

“If you encounter him on the road,” Emiloh said, “see if you can determine his intentions. I’d rather not have another duke making accusations like Ashel did. If he doesn’t have a good reason for coming, send him back.”

“Agreed,” Longmont said, quick to assert his authority. “We’ll send word to you at Connaught as soon as we hear back from the king.”

“Thank you both,” Ransom said, bowing his head. “I’ll be off.”

“Be careful,” Emiloh told him, her eyes betraying her worry for him.

Ransom and his escort left Kingfountain amidst an unrelenting storm, water drenching them before they even cleared the city, and the hooves of their horses splashed in puddles on the cobblestones. The river and the falls had swollen, and the roar of the waterfall was deafening. Many of the townsfolk were keeping indoors, which was unusual for that time of day.

The rain slackened to an intermittent drizzle, but the road was a muddy mess, which slowed their progress considerably. After resting their mounts midday, they continued on the road toward Glosstyr. It was then they encountered James and his entourage on the road from the north. The duke of the North had about thirty knights with him, a sizeable force but not a menacing one. Ransom’s Fountain magic did not alert him to any danger.

James wore his decorative armor, more showy than functional, and his hair was slicked down with rain. A sullen look crossed his face when he recognized Ransom was there to face him.

“You just coming from the palace?” James asked him as their horses stopped just shy of each other.

“Aye,” Ransom answered. “Poor weather to be traveling in.” He nodded to the knights accompanying James. “Why so many? Is something wrong?”

“For protection,” answered James glumly.

“From what? These are the king’s roads.”

“Well, they used to be at any rate,” James said with resentment. “We’ve been hunting some bandits who attacked Blackpool. I sent twenty men north to search for them. They’ve hit two villages so far, robbing all of the villagers and threatening them with arrows. I’m going to the palace to warn Longmont that he needs to increase patrols.”

Ransom frowned. “Bandits?” He was surprised at James’s amiable conversation. No barbed insults or condescending jests. Something had changed since they’d last met, and he wasn’t sure what.

“These are strange times. The king is away, and folk are scared. One of the villagers I spoke to said the marauders spoke in a foreign tongue. Atabyrion, he thought. But they usually attack on the east, not the west. It’s strange. Be careful.”

It was one of the first conversations they’d had that didn’t involve slights and insults. “Thanks for the warning,” Ransom said. His brow furrowed. When he’d crossed from Legault, they’d been chased by brigands during the storm. Had they decided to hit the coast of Ceredigion instead? “What did these brigands look like?”

James thought a moment. “Like peasants, actually. Dressed in leathers and cloaks. They were using bows, not swords. Rogue knights wouldn’t do that, I should think.”

“Agreed,” Ransom said. “Might the brigands be Gaultic, not Atabyrion? They speak in a foreign tongue.”

James grinned. “Can’t keep those heathens in line, Ransom? I jest. I don’t know, to be honest. How is Lady Claire? Is she well?”

Ransom was not about to tell James about his own worries. “Well enough. Thanks again for the warning.”

“You’d do the same for me, I hope. Oh—since you’ve been to the palace. Have there been any rumors about Jon-Landon returning?”

Ransom nearly smiled at the attempt to fish for information. “Rumors? Like what?”

“So you don’t know?”

Ransom just gave him an expectant look and said nothing.

James scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Jon-Landon is back. He’s plotting to get Longmont thrown out. I think he’s with Ashel right now, seeking allies. Sounds like he doesn’t intend to leave Ceredigion. I was going to tell the queen dowager myself.”