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

“Crossbow!” someone shrieked.

The bolt struck Benedict in the shoulder. The force of it knocked him off his feet, and he went down into the dust, pain gouging his arm. There was a shuffle of men all around him, and he began to choke on the dust it wafted into the air. The knights grabbed him and dragged him away from the trebuchet, shouting for help. Bows twanged as arrows hailed down at the one who had fired on the king.

“Get a barber! Get the king’s barber! Hurry!”

Benedict was dragged back to his tent, and someone splashed water on his face. “My lord! How is it? Does it pain you greatly?”

The pain was bad but not terrible. And yet, as Gordon and another man lowered him onto his pallet, a strange tingle shot down his arm. His heart began to beat erratically.

“Where’s the barber?” someone shouted.

Benedict grabbed Gordon with his good hand and pulled him closer. “Bring . . . the chest . . . to me.”

“What chest? What do you mean, my lord?” Gordon asked, his voice thick with worry.

“The one on the table,” Benedict said through clenched teeth. His whole left arm was numb. He felt agony unfurling within him. He’d been wounded before, but not like this. This was something else.

It was poison.

Gordon brought over the chest that contained the Wizr board.

“Open it,” the king gasped.

Gordon did, revealing the board. Benedict had looked at it earlier that day. The poisoner piece had been in Pree. But now it was at Tatton Grange. Alix . . . the Occitanian king’s poisoner was there.

“He’s here, my lord! The barber is here!”

By the time Benedict sat up, the pain was excruciating. His tongue tingled in his mouth. He reached into the chest and moved the piece representing Ransom, dragging it to Tatton Grange.

“Close the lid,” he gasped to Sir Gordon.

“My lord, lay back,” said the barber worriedly. “I need to pull the crossbow bolt out.”

Benedict ignored him. Looking into Gordon’s eyes, he said while suppressing a groan, “Take it to Lord Ransom. Guard it with your life, Gordon. Do not fail me.”

Sir Gordon blinked and nodded. “I shall do as you command, my lord. I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you weren’t wearing your hauberk. It’s my fault.”

Benedict shook his head. There was a coppery taste in his mouth. “It’s my fault,” he said.

“I’ll get it out, my lord,” the barber insisted. “It will hurt, but we must get it out so the wound doesn’t fester.”

Benedict wanted to laugh.

“I’m already a dead man,” he muttered angrily.





AUTHOR’S NOTE

When I first pitched this series to my publisher, I said it needed to be four books long because Ransom would serve four different kings. As I’ve stated previously, many elements of Ransom’s character are based on a historical person who did many of the deeds described in this series. He reminded me so much of Owen Kiskaddon; and his feats of duty, loyalty, and bravery convinced me he must have been Fountain-blessed. His experience of getting wounded in the leg while standing alone against impossible odds wasn’t creative license in Knight’s Ransom. It really happened.

For this book, there wasn’t as much history to go on, so my imagination was able to run wild, especially in terms of Ransom’s connection to Constance of Brythonica, another historical figure, whom I mentioned very briefly in the previous Kingfountain series. For me, one of the most poignant scenes of this book is when Constance prayed for Ransom, despite her own heart aching. That scene was inspired by an early story written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, which has a similar scene that is so moving it made me cry. There is something compelling about one who, while suffering their own personal heartbreak, reaches out to comfort someone else. Constance embodied that trait, and I enjoyed writing her for that reason and also because she often reminded me of Sinia Montfort.

I really enjoyed developing Ransom and Claire’s relationship in this book. Their love story has been so fun to write. This is the first time I’ve woven family life into my stories without big time jumps, and it has brought back memories of when my kids were very little and all the mischief they’d get into. My wife and I donated some old dressers this week, and as we unloaded them at the donation center, my wife stopped to snap a picture because our son had scratched one of the drawers with stars and a smiley face the day I’d assembled them all those years ago. He’s now a senior in high school and about to graduate and (if he gets his wish) serve a mission for our church in Japan. Remembering that precocious moment brought a smile to our faces as we gave the dressers away.

While I was writing this series, some traumatic things happened in the lives of our family and friends. Nearly my entire family got COVID-19, and other events happened that broke our hearts. But as my new friend Morgan Gendel has said, and it’s something I’ve known in my author journey but not in the same words: a writer squeezes characters until you see how they really are as people.

That is why Ransom Barton isn’t just a character to me anymore. He’s real.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

So many people are involved in the process of writing and editing my books. I’m grateful to Adrienne, Angela, Wanda, Dan, and others who make my books as professional as possible. I also have a loyal cadre of first readers (Shannon, Robin, Sandi, Travis, and Sunil) who give me early feedback on the books to make them better. I especially want to thank Sunil for saving me from making a blunder in Hindi in this book. When he read Noemie’s dismissal of her servants, he warned me that Google Translate had failed me, and I’d inadvertently dropped a very bad word into my book. We had a good laugh, and he taught me how to say the same thing another way that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

When I hear from my fans, it always means a lot, but sometimes a special thank-you note comes out of the blue. Or in this case, out of the smoke. This one came from Laura, who sent me an email that really touched me. Many of you know about the terrible wildfires that ravaged California last summer. Several of my friends were impacted by this tragedy. Well, Laura sent me a note saying that she was surrounded by forest fires. In some twist of fate, she’d read the spin-off Covenant of Muirwood series and my Kingfountain books before learning about the original Legends of Muirwood series. She bought the audiobooks but didn’t start listening to them until last summer when the fires came. She found some comfort in these lines: “Have you ever seen a forest burn, child?” “I have not.” “There is nothing left but char and ash. Everything left behind is soulless and void. There is nothing living—or at least that is how it seems. But from the ashes and from the char, new seeds sprout and grow. The forest renews itself. It takes time, but it happens. There is both good and evil in this world. If we did not intervene here, the grapes would all turn wild. They would all become sour, you see. The Blight is merely a culling. A chance for a rebirth.”

I’d written these lines years before, but in that moment, they were especially meaningful to Laura during the pandemic, fires, and a hurricane that bore her name.

All I can say is that sometimes words come to us in exactly the moment we need them most. And she was gracious enough to send me a picture she took, a few weeks later, of the beloved monastery at St. Mary’s knoll, which was part of the inspiration behind Muirwood Abbey. She hikes one of my favorite parks regularly and sees the view all the time.

Thanks, Laura. Hopefully, 2021 has been a better year for you and for us all!