Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(17)

“Is that part of your ambition as well?” Ransom teased.

“I don’t want to be a king. Well . . . I’ll take that back. I wouldn’t mind being King of Legault. Sadly, Father says the women in that kingdom can choose who they marry and only their heirs become kings, not by marriage. What a strange notion. Our fathers should be allowed to settle the matter as has always been done. Alliances are a powerful tool.”

Ransom kept his expression uninterested and gave a little shrug. Inside he was seething.

“Have you met Lady Claire? You used to live at the palace. Didn’t she?”

“We were both children,” Ransom said, trying to conceal his growing discomfort.

“So you have met her. It’s a wonder you’ve never mentioned it before.”

Like I would ever share my heart with you, Ransom thought. Indeed, he’d gone to great pains to avoid any such discussion in the past, which was the very reason James did not know. Eager to steer the conversation to safer waters, he said, “Do you think your father might not have other plans for you? Atabyrion has always been a threat. You might be asked to marry one of those savages.”

“Of course, that’s another option. But the King of Atabyrion’s savage daughter is more of an age with your younger sister. I . . . I’m not interested, although it does happen. No, I think the Fair Isle sounds more to my taste. I wish I could have helped my father’s knights subdue those disloyal rogues. I could have met her then. Father said her hair is a peevish color, but I probably wouldn’t mind that too much . . . considering the gain in wealth and prestige.”

Ransom saw a wave snaking toward them. The tide was coming in faster. “Do you want to head to town?”

“You want me to stop talking about Lady Claire!” James said, his eyes flashing with excitement and mirth.

“No, the tide’s coming in.”

“You’re jealous. Admit it.”

“Why would I be jealous of a stewed prune like you?”

“Because you’re an eel skin.”

They traded barbs the rest of the way to town, each insult more outrageous than the last, intended to make the other snicker and break countenance. When they arrived at the market, Ransom put his hand on James’s shoulder.

“Look,” he said.

“What? The mayor’s daughter is bathing after all?” James said, then let out another laugh.

“No. Look. The knights from the castle are all here. There’s Sir Gordon, Sir Beckett, Sir Jude.”

James blinked in confusion and looked around in surprise. Yes, the knights had all gathered in the market with full purses. Some were looking at swords, others at saddles. The noise of the market was rowdy with so many customers at once. Normally, it was a much more sedate affair. James looked at Ransom in surprise, and they both approached one of the knights.

“What is it, a holiday?” James asked Sir Jude.

The knight gave him a serious look. “You don’t know? Where have you lads been?”

“We were walking on the beach,” Ransom said.

Sir Jude’s gray eyes were firm and without humor. “A rider from Kingfountain just arrived. Brugia has attacked our southern shores. We’re leaving in the morning, lads.”

“Where?” James asked, his eyes brightening with eagerness.

Sir Jude frowned at the duke’s son. “War isn’t a tournament, boy. The Brugians landed at the cove at Folkestone, in Westmarch, near the border with Occitania. They’ve invaded our kingdom.” His cheek twitched with anger. “We’re going to kill the dirty sots.”



Gemmell wore a plate guarding the flank of his nose, and a chain skirt had been spread across his withers. While the pages cinched the straps on the chain mail, Ransom inspected the shoes himself to make sure there were no rocks or loose nails. Finding one, he called over the blacksmith, who arrived with a little pin hammer and fixed it.

The knights had already left before dawn, and it was up to Captain Baldwin to prepare the young men like Ransom. The weight of the armor didn’t seem to bother Baldwin, and the chain hood covering his head and neck gave him a menacing look. He had a sword strapped to his waist and a mace on his other hip.

“No, no!” Baldwin shouted at a page. “Pull harder on the strap! We don’t want Jack Wigant falling off his courser before we reach the edge of town! I’ve taught you better than this. Fix it!”

Ransom looked at James’s courser, which was a much finer horse than Gemmell. But then again, all his things were finer.

As James approached in his finely crafted armor, he grinned at Ransom. “Finally. We get to use what we’ve learned. I’d be more nervous if we were facing Occitanian knights, but Brugians aren’t to be trifled with either. Are you nervous?”

“Shouldn’t we all be?” Ransom replied, trying to get some moisture into his mouth.

“With your skill? I wouldn’t be worried. I’ll try not to stay in your shadow. I want to wet my sword on this campaign. Think of it, Ransom! We could be knights when this is done!”

“It could be a trick,” Ransom said. “A feint. Folkestone is near the border. What if Brugia and Occitania have formed a secret alliance? We could be riding into a trap.”

“This is where your skill with a bastard sword doesn’t help you at all,” James said. “Brugia and Occitania are mortal enemies. Besides, Occitania won’t dare attack us because the duchy of Vexin would be poised to strike at Pree. The queen will protect her husband’s interests. Trust me, this is just the Brugians’ attempt at a land grab. Folkestone used to be one of their ports, long ago. They lost it. They want it back so they can harass Occitania more. They think Devon is too distracted at Kingfountain to protect his borders. They’ll learn the hard way he fights for what is his.”