He still wasn’t sure what that meant—could a good man need violence?—but it made the principles of Virtus even more important to him. If he adhered to them, if he did what he was supposed to do and found a respectable lord to serve, someone whose judgment he could trust, surely he could use his abilities for good. Or so he told himself.
“I’m glad I found you,” she said, disturbing the awkward silence that had settled between them. “Before Sir Anselm complains about me too much, I’ll show you to my father’s tent. I’d like to give you something when we get there.”
A thrill of surprise shot through him at her words. “A gift? You didn’t even know I would be here.”
“So? Does it hurt to be prepared?” she said. “This way.”
They left the main thoroughfare and began wandering around the various encampments where knights were gathered around fires, drinking Occitanian wine and boasting about the exploits they’d not yet accomplished.
“Where is your tent?” she asked him.
“It’s behind Scarbrow Armory,” he said.
“The blacksmith, of course. At least I’ll know where to find you when I send for you.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He would love to serve Lord Richard Archer, Duke of Glosstyr. Especially if it meant being near Claire. His motivation to do well at the tournament intensified.
“Are you staying at the edge of Chessy, then?” Ransom asked, recognizing that they were nearly to the border of the Bois de Meridienne.
“Yes, near the woods. We were invited as guests of the Duchess of Brythonica.”
Ransom spotted pennants with the Raven on them and headed in that direction. They were allowed in without question, and Claire walked with purpose toward the larger tent. He heard laughter and chatter in the language of the realm, and one of the voices sounded familiar.
Claire stopped abruptly. “Oh, of all the wormy vipers . . .” she muttered darkly.
He followed her gaze to the tent, where he saw James Wigant standing near some horses, looking at Ransom with all the coldness of a winter’s dawn.
I believe there might be some ill blood between Sir James Wigant and Sir Ransom Barton.
—Claire de Murrow
Chessy Field, Kingdom of Occitania
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Constable’s Secret
Ransom’s mood soured at the sight of his old companion lingering outside Claire’s pavilion. Seeing the familiar face, the narrowed contemptuous eyes, brought back a rush of old feelings that he had worked hard to suppress. Yes, Claire knew him too, but she didn’t seem overly fond of him. That, at least, was a partial relief.
As they approached the tent together, James managed to regain some control of his expression and offered a gallant bow to Glosstyr’s daughter.
“A pleasant evening, Lady Claire. I’d hoped to see you before taking the field.”
“And why is that, Sir James?” Claire responded with cold courtesy. “Were you hoping I’d bestow a favor on you?”
Ransom’s heart bristled at the mention. A lady’s favor was a token of some sort, something to be worn during the tournament as a mark of preference.
“I would never presume such intimacy.” His eyes shifted to her companion. “Hello, Ransom. Boon companions reunited at last.”
Ransom felt his hand clenching into a fist of its own accord. He was grateful to be wearing his hauberk, wondering if the viper might strike. “Good evening, my lord,” he replied curtly.
“‘My lord’？ Why the formality?” He came forward, assuming a new guise, that of an old friend. “We were the closest friends while in service to Lord Kinghorn. No one could best Ransom in the training yard.”
“Or by the stables,” Ransom added, feeling anger ripple beneath his calm exterior.
James took the reminder in stride. “Or that,” he conceded. He stood in front of them now, his eyes going back to Claire’s. His gloved hand brushed her elbow. “Might I see you later?”
She looked down at his hand, her brow furrowing with annoyance. “I think not, Sir James.” She tightened her grip on Ransom’s arm and moved closer to him. “Where are you camped? If I wish to see you, I will send for you.”
He smiled and inclined his head slightly. “I’m staying at an inn down the road. The Oxnard. I’ll have time to spare before the tournament starts in two days.”
Ransom knew it. Although he’d done well these last years, he couldn’t have afforded to stay there.