Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(74)

As he said those words, he felt the ripples within him grow stronger. His pledge strengthened him somehow, just as it had before their journey to Pree. Devon’s hand touched and then squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Devon said huskily. “I know you mean it. And, as your liege lord, I swear to protect and defend you. And to reward you for your good service.”

Ransom looked up, meeting the Younger King’s eyes, which looked wet with tears.

“If you’re going to fight your father, my lord, you’d best do it as a knight.”

“Do you mean it, Ransom?” His eyes gleamed as he said it.

“I do. I was knighted before my first battle, my lord. I think you should be as well. King Lewis could do the honors.”

“No, Ransom. It will be you who cuffs me with your gauntlet. Only you. That will be my greatest scar and my deepest honor.” His smile was so broad, so thankful. He looked like a king.

It gave Ransom some measure of comfort. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that victory would not be easy.

It might not even be possible.





King Devon Primus (called Devon the Younger or just the Younger King) has come out in open rebellion against his father, Devon Ursus (whom they call the Elder King). I did not want to believe it at first when word arrived from some merchants, but Da has sent me notice that this was why he remained at Glosstyr Keep. There has already been fighting in the borderlands of Westmarch. Da is riding forth with his warriors, coming at the command of the Elder King. All is in turmoil. These few years of peace have passed like shadows. How many must die before this foolishness ends? Da has ordered me to secure Connaught and be wary of nobles who would take advantage of the unrest. It is wise counsel, for stupidity is unfortunately contagious.

What is Young Devon expecting? Will a lion give way to a cub? The fool. The ignorant fool. If he had brains, he’d be dangerous. He’ll learn the true nature of the powerful. Brainless badger.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

(not yet under siege)





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Siege of Arlect Castle

Smoke abounded. It stained the skin, tainted the water they drank, and gnawed at their armor and swords. The smell of it reminded Ransom of his boyhood, of the siege against his father’s castle. This time he wore armor, which had blackened with soot. The taste of ash was in his teeth. He wondered if he looked hard enough through the vapors, whether he’d find that lost boy, waiting to be hung for a crime not his own.

From the haze surrounding Arlect castle, he saw Captain Issoudun’s grimy face appear. The two met, and the captain gave him a knightly salute.

“Ho there, Sir Ransom. It’s nearly dawn. You think we’ll crack this castle today?”

“We’d better,” Ransom said, wiping his mouth. He hadn’t slept much in the last few days of war, but he felt alert and full of vigor. The fighting they’d experienced had strengthened him instead of draining him.

“I think we will,” said Issoudun.

“What gives you confidence?”

Issoudun put his hands on his hips. “They say there are only three ways to breach a castle, lad. You know them, I’m assuming?”

Ransom knew the theory, but this was the first test of it. Thankfully, men like Issoudun had had years of practice during the civil war.

“Surround it and cut off reinforcements,” he said. “Breach the walls with siege engines. Or dig a tunnel beneath one of the walls and then build a fire so strong it collapses the earth and breaks open part of the foundation.”

“Aye, but there be a fourth! Trickery. Never underestimate its usefulness. You trick the inhabitants into opening the gates. The lad’s father is a master of that. We’d best be wary.”

It was good to know. The defenders of the castle had retreated when attacked. Some had argued to the Younger King that he should pass by Arlect and drive deeper into Westmarch to encircle his father’s forces and keep them from retreating into Ceredigion. But Devon had won his first battle in the field outside the town of Spurring, and he wanted another victory to keep the momentum going. Leaving an armed castle behind would limit his ability to maneuver, especially since they didn’t know how many men had holed up inside it. Ransom had been one of those who had argued they should take the castle. But if the siege took too long, it would blunt their offensive, giving the Elder King more time to retaliate and gain allies.

War was indeed like a game of Wizr, an endless one.

“How is Captain Stafford doing with the tunneling?” Ransom asked. Without siege engines, one of their options had been removed, so Devon had decided to undermine one of the walls. Knights had already cut down a tree to make a battering ram, but that was a diversion, to make the besieged knights inside believe they were going to try to breach the gate by force. Meanwhile, sappers were digging beneath the corner wall of the castle. The smoke was there to hide their movement from those guarding it.

“I think he’ll be done today,” the captain responded. “If they figure out what we’re doing, they’ll bring archers to that wall, and it’ll slow us down. But all this smoke helps hide our intentions. I think we have the castellan plenty confused.”

“Who is it? Do you know him?”

“Sir Jude of Wentland.”