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

“Take me to him at once, or I will see that you are punished for defying me!”

Ransom coughed into his fist, drawing the notice of one of Longmont’s Espion.

“It is you who vill be punished if you persist!” said the guard. “Avay vit you! Begone!”

The Espion nudged his horse closer to Longmont and addressed him in an undertone.

“I don’t have time for this,” Longmont said, trying to wave the man away. “I demand to see Lord Gitz!”

Ransom shuddered at the offense being caused. The Brugians were a proud people, and they would not take it well to hear their lord’s name mispronounced.

“What is it?” Longmont thundered, railing on the Espion who was still trying to get his attention by pointing at Ransom.

Longmont followed his arm and then saw Ransom leaning against the gate. He went pale with dread.

Ransom approached. “These men are from Kingfountain,” he told the guard placatingly. “They were sent to prepare our lodgings but clearly got lost in the woods on the way. Damian, if you say another word, I’ll knock you off that horse.”

Longmont’s jaw slowly closed, and a flush of humiliation made his pale cheeks turn crimson. Some of the Espion snorted, earning daggered looks from Longmont as he dismounted.

Meekly, the king’s ex-justiciar approached Ransom. “Have you seen him?” he asked in a subdued tone.

Ransom nodded. “I’ll take you to him.”

“Have you already negotiated, then? When did you arrive?”

“Yesterday,” Ransom said. “We must have passed you without realizing it.”

“Some bandits tried to attack us,” Longmont said. “We had to ride for our lives into the woods and . . . were delayed. How did you know to come here, Lord Ransom?”

Putting his arm around the smaller man’s shoulder, Ransom answered, “I knew he was here before we came. You’ll be spending the winter here. It’s best you start getting used to it.”

“The winter?” Longmont stammered. “I don’t understand.”

“Gotz wants a hundred fifty thousand livres.”

“By the Lady’s legs, you can’t be serious?”

Ransom gave him a reproving look. “I’m very serious. I’ll explain as we walk. It will take us quite a while to gather that sum. Months, actually. I don’t see Benedict being released until the spring. He needs a companion, someone to keep him company. You.”

“Ah,” Longmont said, nodding. “I understand. The castle seems formidable. I’ve heard Lord Gotz is a very wealthy man.”

“He is.”

“Then the accommodations cannot be too uncomfortable. Very well. I will help as I can. You know I have the king’s greatest interest at heart.”

“You’ve certainly proven that,” Ransom said, trying not to sound too amused.



By the middle of the next day, Ransom had secured an official agreement with Lord Gotz for a ransom of one hundred fifty thousand livres. Gotz had sworn on his honor as a knight that he would accept no other offer, even if a greater one was offered. They had until the spring solstice to deliver the money to the Wartburg, upon which the king would be freed.

Ransom went to the king’s prison to deliver the news. When he arrived, he found Longmont lying on a straw pallet on the floor, looking uncomfortable and miserable, although he quickly got up. The king, who had been pacing the whole time, rushed up to Ransom.

“Did he accept?”

“He did, my lord. There was a last-ditch effort from the Occitanian ambassador to counter the offer, but Gotz was persuaded that ours would actually be paid. I’m sorry you will spend the winter here, my lord. But they were the best terms I could arrange.”

Benedict clapped Ransom on the back. “If my mother could endure so many years in captivity, then I can endure a Brugian winter. A hundred and fifty thousand. It’ll take all winter to gather that much.”

“I could help,” Longmont suggested. “If you let me return, I could secure additional loans . . . raise taxes?”

The king looked at his former justiciar with disappointment.

Ransom intervened. “You’re staying here to protect the king and look after his interests. Someone else might come. The poisoner, for example. Have your men at the ready in case anyone tries to harm the king. It’s important you stay here, Damian.”

“I agree,” offered the king. “You’ll do more good here.”

And less harm at home, Ransom thought, but he kept it to himself.

“And, if I heard the gossip correctly,” the king added, “Gotz has claimed the poisoner who used to work for Rotbart. That might dissuade Estian’s poisoner from meddling in person.”

“He admitted as much,” Ransom confirmed.

Benedict stepped to the window and gazed outside. “I see storm clouds coming on the horizon. You’d better hurry, though the storm may still overtake you. You need to get back to Kingfountain before the seas become too treacherous to cross. I pray to the Lady you’re not already too late.”

“I will cross,” Ransom promised. “Callait is a narrow gap. I’ll swim it if I have to.”

“No, not that,” laughed the king. “A rowboat at the least.”

The two men exchanged a look, and Ransom felt a strong surge of loyalty in his chest. “I’ll hold off Estian until you return, Bennett.”

“Do,” said the king. Then he gave Ransom a fierce embrace. “Tell my mother I’m grateful she defended me . . . and that I’m sorry I didn’t do more to get her released. I’m in her debt. I’m in all of your debt. You are the richest man in Ceredigion, Ransom. Your share of the burden weighs heavily on me.”

Ransom felt a stab of sympathy. He gripped the king’s shoulder. “Were it not for you, I wouldn’t have had any of that wealth to begin with. Or my love.”

Had Claire already returned to Legault? Would they have to spend the winter apart? He chafed inside to get moving.

“You could have killed me outside Dunmanis,” said the king. “I think I still owe you in the end. We will take back what we’ve lost. And believe me, Pree has plenty of gold. Estian will end up paying the ransom one way or another. Off with you.” He jostled Ransom with his elbow in a friendly manner.

Ransom left the tower and hastily crossed the courtyard. Cecily was waiting near the gate, already astride her horse. One of the knights sat on a horse next to her, holding the reins for Ransom’s mount. The other knight they’d brought would be staying to help protect Benedict, and Terric had already left to make sure their boat was still ready for them.

“Looks like it’s going to storm,” said Cecily, the wind blowing hair in her face as she gazed up at the sky.

“The real storm is coming,” said Ransom after he mounted his horse. “We’re not stopping until we reach Kingfountain.”

“Lead on, my lord,” said Cecily with a smile.





The storm will be here soon, and the last ship to Legault is ready to sail. The captain said if we leave now, we’ll have a better chance of arriving safely in Connaught than if we delay even one more day. The air is cold, and the wind has been scouring the streets. The gulls are thick in the sky, some unable to fly because the wind is pressing on them so hard. This is our last chance to depart. Still no word from Ransom or court.

If I leave now, I’ll lose contact with what is happening. I’ll also lose the chance of seeing Ransom for many months. I’m torn between what I want to do and what may be the wisest course. Part of me yearns for the seering stone and the answers it would bring, yet I’m grateful to be free of its hold over me. I remember the way Sir Dougal Purser ranted and raved at the end.

Instead, I must make my choice the way most of us do: blindly. If I go, my child will be born in my homeland, and I’ll be reunited with my sons. If I stay, perhaps there is some little good I could do. The Aos Sí must be mocking me right now. Either choice means stepping into the dark.

I’ve decided.

—Claire de Murrow

Glosstyr

The changing of the season





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


Friend or Foe