Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(56)

“After the coronation, you will live wherever your master goes,” said the chamberlain. “You will travel with the king or do the errands he bids you.”

“Which king?” Ransom asked.

Sir Iain gave him a sidelong look. “The younger, of course. Naturally. And he will go on doing the work his father the king bids him.”

“So there will be two kings ruling Kingfountain? The father is not giving up his authority?”

Sir Iain chortled. “Why would he?”

“Not any of it? What will his son be king of, may I ask?”

Sir Iain looked at Ransom’s tunic critically and nodded. “It fits well. To answer your question bluntly, Sir Ransom, he will be a king of ceremonies. Royal events, greeting visitors and dignitaries.”

“How is he a king, then?” Ransom asked, feeling a growing unease at this news. Would the son chafe in such a role? A title with no power was not much of a title at all.

“He is a king in waiting,” said Sir Iain. “There is no doubt that he will rule his father’s vast holdings. No argument over succession. The lad has been trained in war, wisdom, and the faith. His young wife is one of the daughters of King Lewis of Occitania. What more could a man ask for? This is the way of court, Sir Ransom. It is not your place to second-guess His Majesty’s will.”

Ransom heard a little clicking noise, and the wall nearby swung open, revealing Queen Emiloh. Her sudden arrival startled Ransom, especially her use of a concealed door.

“Your Highness!” he said in alarm, preparing to drop to his knee, but she forestalled him with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Please, Ransom, save such demonstrations for the great hall.”

“My lady,” Sir Iain said with a sigh, “it’s not fit for the queen to make use of the escape tunnels.”

“I appreciate your advice, Sir Iain, but a queen may do whatever she wishes. And I wish to speak privately with this young knight.”

Sir Iain sighed again, more openly this time. “Which is my command to withdraw. My lady, I feel it is my duty to advise you this is highly improper. Please lock the door after I exit. There are enough rumors wagging through this castle as it is.”

“I will, Sir Iain. Come back to my chamber to discuss the coronation.”

“As you command,” he replied, without even bowing, and went to the door. After he was gone, Queen Emiloh bolted it.

Ransom’s insides twisted. He felt the pressure of the moment, of being in an unexpected private audience with the queen. Her look was serious, even worried, and she stood by the door a moment, bowing her head, her brow furrowed. At last she turned and looked at him.

“My husband’s displays of pride and candor take some getting used to.” He judged by her look of concern that she didn’t like them. “You are new to the Argentine court, Ransom. It is different from how it was under King Gervase’s rule, from what I’ve been told. You would know better on that score.” She dipped her head to him, as if acknowledging his superior first-hand knowledge. He felt humbled by her manners, and the tight coil in his stomach began to loosen. “I came here merely to offer my counsel, if you’ll have it.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Please. Call me Emi as the knights who serve me do. How I tire of such formalities.” She gave him a gracious smile. “But let me be candid with you, Ransom. I have brought you here to serve my son. Of course, I had to arrange it so that my husband thought it was his idea. He has forgotten that everything we’ve achieved has been done together. His memories of the past have become shaded by pride, I fear. He believes in his heart that he did it all alone. Sadly, that is a failing of most men. And one, I’m afraid, my son will fall victim to as well.” Her lips pursed, and from the way her fingers worried at each other, he could tell anxious thoughts nagged at her.

“The king asked me to keep your son alive,” Ransom said. “I believe the word he used was ‘feckless.’”

“‘Reckless’ might have been less insulting. Devon, my son, has always been impulsive, daring . . . adventure-seeking. When he trained in Dundrennan, he snuck away from the castle with the other squires, roaming the town during the night and causing mischief. Drinking to the point of excess and being unfit for duty the following morning. When he returned here, he showed some decorum . . . for a few days. But now he roams the city, only this one is much bigger and . . . not everyone is grateful that an Argentine rules. There have been some altercations.”

Ransom let out his breath. “He needs a protector.”

Queen Emiloh looked him in the eye. “He needs an example, Ransom.” She stepped closer to him, then reached out and took his hand in both of hers. “I fear Duke Wigant’s son has not been a wholesome influence on him.”

“Is Sir James here?” Ransom asked, dreading her answer.

“Yes, but only for the coronation. And then I’ve made sure that he’ll be returning to Dundrennan to learn how to be a proper duke. It would not be fitting for a duke’s son to be part of the king’s mesnie.” She squeezed his hand. “It is my hope that your influence on him will help guide him. We forbade Duke Wigant from knighting our son in Dundrennan. Devon feels the stigma keenly. But his errant ways have not qualified him for the honor of knighthood. You earned your rank the eve of your first battle. I think he will look up to you, will come to admire you. Your influence will help mold his character.” Her fingers dug almost painfully into his hands. This was a mother’s plea of desperation. “Be loyal to him, Ransom. That should supersede any loyalty you feel to his parents. I chose you because you did not abandon me in my hour of need. Nor did you abandon Lord Rakestraw after his murder. And you did not abandon King Gervase either.” Her voice softened in tone. “I remember you as a boy. I was too preoccupied then with my own brood of children to take pity on your situation. But I felt a desire to help you if I could. I regret that I did not. I was too drowned in politics and trying to outmaneuver my own husband to secure his throne.”