Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(39)

They rode past Mainz before sunset, skirting the city completely. The road they took was little used, and there was no one to remark on their presence save a few peasants working the land. After dark, they settled in a grove of trees and didn’t make a fire. Lord Dyron sat on a fallen log and drank from his leather flask, then wiped his mouth on his arm.

“We’ve made good time today, lads,” he said in his gruff voice. “How far to Auxaunce, Your Highness?”

“The village of Usson is not far from here,” she said. “We’ll be at Auxaunce after midday tomorrow.”

“Are we in your duchy, Your Highness?” asked Sir William.

“We are in its southern borders, yes. But it is still not safe. The lords of DeVaux Valley are the ones causing trouble, and their lands are just to the west.”

Rakestraw turned to Ransom. “Her Majesty didn’t take a ship because of the recent trouble with Atabyrion. There are pirates watching the coasts, and any sizable armada would have been seen and questioned. The tournament in Chessy provided us with a good opportunity to slip through by land.”

An owl hooted in the night, making many of the knights flinch and look in its direction. Ransom had hunted and camped too many times to take notice of it, and the queen didn’t react either. When it became too dark to see, they all slept in their cloaks in a circle around the queen. The men took turns as guards during the night.

When it was Ransom’s and William’s turn to stand guard, they walked away from the camp, patrolling the perimeter, only hearing the noises of the night.

“Do you like serving Lord Dyron?” Ransom asked.

“Aye. He’s a good man. He’s dedicated to the king. I’ve never heard him complain about him at all.”

“Do you think King Devon will make him the Duke of Westmarch to reward his loyalty?”

Sir William sniffed. “I doubt it. The king has too many sons. Unlike your father, he plans to bestow each of them with something. I think he’ll give Westmarch to his eldest, Prince Devon. Benedict will get the Vexin. Goff will become the Duke of Brythonica. The youngest, Jon-Landon, is too young to rule, but something will be done for him.”

“Where is the crown prince now?”

“Dundrennan,” came the answer. “Duke Wigant’s household. Having him up there has helped with the Atabyrion skirmishes, I think. They’re more hesitant to make trouble. And even though Benedict is fourteen, he’s a warrior already. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s ruling the Vexin within the year. After his mother tames it first.” He chuckled softly. “He pleaded to come with us, or so they said. But the king wouldn’t risk his wife and his son on such a perilous journey.”

“Perilous?” Ransom asked. “The only people we’ve seen are peasants and bridge keepers. Were they expecting bandits patrolling the roads?”

“No. DeVaux is the risk. Men like him cause grief no matter who rules. The Vexin is far enough away from Kingfountain that he gets away with a lot because it takes so long for news to reach the court. This conflict has been brewing for a number of years. The fact that the king has sent his wife to put them in line says his patience is at an end.”

They were quiet for a while before Ransom asked, “Do you miss . . . Gervase? The old king?”

Sir William was silent for a moment, staring up at the stars as if lost in thought. “Of course I do, Ransom,” he said at last. “He was a good man. But . . . he wasn’t a good king. All the time he wore the hollow crown, he feared losing it. Feared he had taken it dishonorably. His nobles could sense his fear, and they caused trouble because of it. I would rather wear a helmet than a crown. It’s a terrible burden. Devon Argentine wears it well. It’s his by right, as his mother’s heir. She was the one who was chosen to rule. I think, in the end, Gervase regretted snatching it like he did. We can’t undo the past, though. Can we?”

“No,” Ransom agreed. But while everything Sir William said made sense, he still remembered the way the old king had saved his life. He’d had compassion for a little boy, even though he’d known that very compassion would condemn him.

Perhaps he had not been a good king, but he’d been a good man. In some ways that was more important.



They awoke before dawn and prepared provender for the horses while putting together their gear for the last part of the journey. The tournament had started back in Chessy, and Ransom couldn’t help thinking about it as they passed through the village of Usson. Would Claire miss him? Would his friend the blacksmith worry what had become of him?

They did not stop, even though some of the townsfolk came out to observe the knights passing through. The looks from the villagers were wary and distrustful. Men held pitchforks or spades, wielding them like weapons in case the knights attacked.

After leaving Usson behind, the queen insisted that they hurry. Ransom knew they were getting closer to Auxaunce because of the sculpted farms they passed on the roads. Hedges along the road had been groomed to pen in sheep and farm animals. Some had openings or gates, leading to farmsteads in the distance. Plump sheep grazed within those boundaries. They passed various fruit orchards and vineyards, and Ransom was gazing at some ripening apricots in a nearby grove when he heard Lord Rakestraw’s bellowed command to halt.

Ransom pulled back on the reins and did so. When he turned, his stomach lurched. Riders were coming up from behind them, the sun glinting off their armor and the metal tips of their lances. There were too many to count, at least fifty or so, and judging from their speed, their horses were fresher by far. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up.