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

“I’ll write the letter myself,” said Simon. “If that is Estian’s target, we have plenty of time to get there first. I’ll also alert the castellan of Beestone. But there’s something we ought to consider.” He paused. “Estian knows we have the board. He knows we can see his movements.”

“Yes, and that should concern us,” said Emiloh. “We still don’t know the motives behind his actions. We have to discern them, just like in the game.” She looked at Ransom. “With Estian dividing his army, it is imperative that the Wizr stay here in Kingfountain. I will use Jon-Landon to control the board and move the pieces as needed. I need you to focus on defending the realm, Ransom. Let me maneuver the pieces.”

Ransom felt a tugging at his heart. As they stared at the board, his gaze was drawn to the piece representing Alix. So he saw it glide from Pree to the spot marking Ploemeur.

Ransom’s stomach dropped sharply in his gut. He stared at the pieces, one representing Lady Constance and the other representing Lady Alix. Dread quivered down his spine.

He had no way of warning his friend of what was about to happen.





Merchants fleeing Brythonica came to Atha Kleah with the news that King Estian has begun his invasion of Ceredigion. They also brought an unexpected report that the Duchess of Brythonica has declared neutrality in exchange for more sovereign rights. They say Brythonica will stand independent, its own kingdom once more, paying homage to neither side. The Occitanians are marching on the borderlands between the kingdoms, putting them directly in the path of Ransom’s land.

I care not.

—Claire de Murrow Atha Kleah

It begins





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


The Siege of Josselin Castle


A ship was sent from Kingfountain to warn the Duchess of Brythonica of Alix’s movements, and the queen dowager dispatched Ransom to face the brunt of Estian’s army while warnings were sent to Duke Rainor at Southport and Duke Ashel at East Stowe to defend against the forces coming against them. The garrison at Beestone would join Ransom’s force.

During the journey back to Josselin, Ransom wondered if Constance would summon him as she had in the past. He rode ahead of the army with just a handful of trusted knights in case it happened. But it didn’t, and he couldn’t understand why not. He hoped Constance had foreseen Alix’s arrival in Ploemeur through the seering stones, but there was no way of knowing for certain.

When he arrived at Josselin, he found the townsfolk hunkering down within the walls of the castle. A warning had been sent to Dearley to prepare for a siege, and Ransom was grateful to see the command had been taken seriously. The absence of carts and noisy sheep made it feel like a different place.

The inner bailey was crowded with animals and carts, and little tents had been put up in the gardens for families. Ransom observed the chaos of the scene and then dismounted when he saw his steward, Westin, approaching, crumpled hat in hand.

“These are sorry circumstances, my lord,” he said. “But we’re relieved to see you all the same.”

“It’s good to see you,” Ransom replied. “Have we enough room for the soldiers on their way?”

“We’ll make room. The shepherds moved the flocks out of town to prevent them from being seized by the Occitanian army. Their knights have been scouting and foraging already, making no attempt to disguise their movements. We’ve also warned families to depart before the siege happens. If they have loved ones elsewhere to stay with, now is the time to escape.”

“Good to hear. Where is Dearley?”

His answer arrived in person, wearing armor, and they greeted each other with a knightly salute followed by an embrace.

“I’m glad you came so quickly,” Dearley confessed.

“What news from your scouts?” Ransom asked.

“An army is headed this way, should be here on the morrow. I was worried you wouldn’t get here in time. We have the river as a defense, but after seeing what Estian did to the river at Dunmanis, it’s no protection at all. How many did you bring with you?”

“About three thousand, but more are coming from Beestone.”

“Thank the Lady,” Dearley sighed. “I sent Elodie back to her estate at Namur. Didn’t want her being here when the fighting started.”

Ransom smiled, but he couldn’t help thinking Claire wouldn’t have left in the face of battle—she’d have run straight into it. His heart constricted with pain at her indifference to his plight. He’d poured his heart out in his letters—his sorrow about the attack and their estrangement, his worry for her and his sons, his need for help in the coming war—and yet her replies had been perfunctory and stony. It was his war, she’d told him, and she had her own to wage. While they might share an enemy, they needn’t share a strategy.

“Let’s go inside the castle,” Dearley said, clapping him on the back. “I’m expecting scouts to return with a report. It’s still early in the afternoon. We have time before they arrive.”

Ransom followed him in. He wouldn’t remove his armor, not with the Occitanian force so near. As they walked through the castle, a strong feeling of protectiveness surged in his breast. If he remembered right, it had not been attacked since the days of King Gervase. The humble town was about to see the grim desolation of war once more.

The interior halls were crowded with soldiers and knights coming and going. Pallets were stretched along the halls, mostly empty, though a few had snoozing soldiers on them.

“How are the defenses?” Ransom asked.

“There are no weaknesses that I know of. We have buckets ready atop the walls to douse flames if they try to burn us out. Spears and hooks to repel scaling ladders. And every villager who can use a bow was pressed into service to defend the keep. Josselin will not be an easy target.”

“And Estian knows it,” Ransom said with a frown. “It might be a feint. He might come here and then pivot and strike elsewhere.” He thought again of the Wizr board. Estian knew they had it. Would he really allow his movements to be so easily interpreted?

The scouts returned within the hour, led by Sir Dawson, one of the knights in Ransom’s mesnie. The young man found them in the solar, and Ransom, who hadn’t seen him in several months, greeted him with a salute. Although he’d always liked Dawson, he didn’t feel as strong a connection with him as he did with some of the other men. There was something impetuous about Dawson, hotheaded almost.

“Lord Ransom, welcome back,” said Dawson with a broad smile.

“The day is waning, what have you seen?” Ransom asked.

“They’re coming in force. Five thousand by my estimation. They’re using the main road on the other side of the river, so there can be no doubt as to their target. They’re coming here. I can’t wait.”

“How far off are they?” Dearley asked in concern.

“If they don’t stop for the night, they’ll be here by midnight.” Dawson said it with no small amount of eagerness. He’d always been hungry for a fight.

“Which fords and bridges lie between here and there?” Ransom queried.

“There’s a ford to the north at Applewell, but we both know they don’t need bridges or fords to cross.”

“They do not,” Ransom agreed. “Any word from Brythonica?”

“No,” Dearley said, shaking his head. “Not even a whisper.”

Ransom curled his hand into a fist and turned to Dearley. “Prepare the night watch. We want to be ready when they arrive.”



The Occitanians did arrive at midnight, and they wasted no time in crossing the river. Ransom felt the magic at work, the familiar feeling slithering down his back. He rode Dappled to the front line of his men, along the shore, and thought he recognized Estian astride a coal-black destrier amidst the parted waters.