Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(71)

“You have mine as well,” said Ransom. They saluted each other, thumping a thumb against their breasts.

Estian walked away from him, joining a group of men who were chatting amongst themselves. Ransom regarded Noemie and saw a look of relief on her face. She sighed and gave him a smile, a sincere one possibly. So, she had come to him earlier because she worried about her brother’s reputation. How pointless the rumors and the worry had been.

When Ransom turned to go back to Devon and King Lewis, he saw Simon hurrying toward him, a flustered, worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Ransom asked when they were close together. Ransom looked over Simon’s shoulder, seeing the deep conversation still in progress.

“I overheard something,” said Simon in a low voice, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think the two drunken lords realized I know enough Occitanian to be dangerous.” His eyes flashed with concern. “They’re preparing to invade.”

Ransom narrowed his eyes. “Who?” he asked softly.

“Westmarch,” Simon said with agitation. “They’ve been preparing all winter.”

“The Elder King is at Tatton Grange as we speak,” Ransom said.

“I know,” said Simon urgently. “They know it too.”





The seas were not calm on the way back to Connaught castle, but they were nothing compared with the ill feelings in my heart. The castellan was surprised that Da had not come. They were expecting us together. During our winter’s absence, several issues of concern arose, and many of my people are on their way to the keep to air their grievances. I am the lady of the castle now, and it is my judgment they will receive. I should be excited for this opportunity to act in my future role. Yet doubts continue to whisper in my ear. I know Ransom is in Pree. Will I feel safe until he makes it back to Kingfountain? I think I was too harsh with him when last we met, and I regret my tone. Can he help being ignorant of how to please a woman? Or should his very ignorance strengthen my regard for him?

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle, the Fair Isle





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Oath of Rebellion

Captain Issoudun’s face pinched at the news. “Have you shared this with the king?”

Ransom shook his head. “He’s surrounded by Occitanians at the moment. But I shall tell him as soon as he returns to his chambers. I came to you, Captain, to begin preparing the knights for a hasty departure. Be ready to ride. How many men are fit for a battle, do you think?”

“All of them,” said Issoudun stiffly. “I assure you, Sir Ransom, they can be ready to leave at once should the order be given. But let it be given by the king.”

Issoudun was one of Queen Emiloh’s knights and had been selected to lead the host because of his experience during the wars with King Gervase. He was twice Ransom’s age and not a man of pleasant humors, but he was a capable and trustworthy soldier.

“Naturally,” said Ransom in an undertone. “Be ready.”

“We are more ready than you think,” said Issoudun before turning and approaching some of his men. Ransom left them to confer and plan, and went back to the great hall. Night had fallen over the palace, and the torches cast shadows along the walls as servants continued to supply food and drink for the feast. King Lewis was seated alone, sipping from a jeweled goblet. Devon was gone and so was the princess. Indeed, many of the revelers were departing due to the lateness of the hour.

Ransom had not been gone that long, but it had taken some time to find Captain Issoudun. He didn’t see any of Devon’s mesnie remaining, which meant the king and his wife had likely returned to the turret room. Ransom hurried out of the hall, only to be intercepted by the Black Prince.

“You seem troubled, Sir Ransom. Is anything amiss?”

There was a suspicious air about the prince now, and Ransom bridled the urge to knock him down.

“Nothing that concerns you, my lord,” he replied quickly, trying to move past him.

“Can I have a moment of your time?”

“Tomorrow, perhaps. I must attend to my king.”

Prince Estian smiled graciously and gestured for him to proceed. “By all means.” But there was a strange look in his eye as he said it. Ransom didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like it.

He took the stairs two at a time, hoping he’d overtake Devon and Noemie or at least some of the knights, but he didn’t. The entire way up the darkened stairwell, he listened, trying to hear the echo of steps on stone. Because of the few torches hanging from sconces, it would be the perfect place for someone to ambush him. Ransom drew his dagger and plunged ahead, open to every sound, every shadow. He dreaded sensing the presence of the hooded lady in such a place, and his worry and the steep incline soon caused sweat to streak down his ribs and his breath to come in hard puffs.

He reached the upper floor without incident and went into the room. The knights of the mesnie slept in the sitting area, some on couches, others on pallets that had been provided. The royal bed had long velvet curtains surrounding it for added privacy.

Devon was talking with Sir Robert near the couch, his tunic open. His sword belt hung across the back of a chair. He turned when Ransom entered.

“What in blazes is the matter with you?” Devon asked in concern, seeing the way Ransom was panting, the dagger still clutched in his hand.