“Aye. Would you be willing to leave this dusty tent town and go riding to a better place?”
Ransom felt a smile twitch on his mouth. “I would, my lord.”
“Good. Because we’re leaving at dawn.” He rose and spoke, his voice very low, “Your Majesty, it looks like he’ll be coming with us.”
Ransom’s heart felt the shock of the announcement as he hurried to his feet. From the shadows came the outline of a person, and he again smelled the flowery scent.
His eyes bulged, and Ransom dropped quickly to his knee before the Queen of Ceredigion.
My maid said Sir James had come to bring me a gift, but he refused to leave it with her because of its value. Why would he do this? Does he fear I don’t trust her? Or is he seeking, like the courtiers do at the court of Pree, to heighten my anticipation by suspense? If he thinks I can be bought, he’s acting the maggot. I listened to the worrying news the lord constable brought from Kingfountain. The queen’s land, the duchy of Vexin, has been under revolt. King Devon and Queen Emiloh continue to be plagued by small fires of rebellion throughout their realm. Lord Rakestraw said the king could not attend the tournament because he was too concerned about what would happen in his absence. Why does no one attack Occitania? It seems to me the root of these ills is festering beneath the court of the Wise King. Perhaps all the payments and rewards he disperses to knights from other realms is just a subtle form of bribery.
I am grateful, though, that I discovered Sir Ransom by chance today. He is not the boy I remember from Kingfountain. How handsome he has become. Quiet too. I think he cares for me. He kept looking at me, although I sensed something different in his gaze. I love the color of his eyes. Not quite brown, yet not green either. They reflect his moods. When Da suggested I find someone to marry while at this tournament, I think he meant Sir James or another duke’s son. It may take some time for him to accept that the decision is truly mine.
—Claire de Murrow
Chessy Field, Kingdom of Occitania
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Queen’s Protectors
Ransom had seen Queen Emiloh years ago, when she first came to Kingfountain, but the memory had dimmed over time. Still, he recognized the slope of her nose and the slight curve at its tip, her gold hair that hung in a thousand tiny ringlets, and her strong gait—indicative of a woman who was used to the saddle. He knew she fancied falconry and took pleasure in the hunt, riding great distances with her husband. She was unusually tall as well, of a height with Lord Rakestraw and almost as tall as Ransom.
“Rise, Marshall,” she said.
“Y-Your Majesty,” he stuttered, unable to conceive that this was happening. She wore a cream-colored gown embroidered with flowers and fleurs-de-lis, with slit sleeves and a golden trim. Her husband’s standard, the Silver Rose, was emblazed on the bodice but partly concealed beneath the cloak she wore over the gown.
“I’m grateful my presence comes as a surprise,” she said, flashing him a smile. She looked too young to have borne so many sons, but then her children were all younger than him.
“We’ve taken great pains to ensure it,” said Lord Rakestraw. He gave Ransom a sharp look. “I’ve not even told the Duke of Glosstyr, and he sits on the king’s council. That means, lad, that you’d best keep this secret to yourself.”
“Of course,” Ransom said. “Why are you here?”
“Because the tournament provided a good opportunity for me to travel in disguise,” she answered. “I’m returning to the duchy of Vexin to bring some of our squabbling nobles to heel. They, of course, will be here at Chessy. When they return to their castles after the tournament, they will find that I’m already at the fortress of Auxaunce, ready to call them to account for their disobedience. The king is preoccupied with rumors of other discontent. Many of our lords have caused trouble these last few years. It seems half the nobility isn’t content unless they are fighting each other over a castle or grain mill. So he sent me to quell this one myself, since the duchy in question is my own.”
Ransom stared at her, surprised at her candor. “The king must trust you a great deal, my lady,” he said with respect.
She smiled at the comment. “Lord Rakestraw and I believe no one will take notice of a small force of knights riding to the Vexin. While I speak Occitanian fluently, I am also recognizable. We were hoping to find a young knight we could trust on this mission. An Occitanian knight, we thought, who could help throw any hounds off our scent. Your knowledge of the language makes you an even better choice. This means you will not be participating in the tournament, Marshall. But you will be well rewarded.”