As they approached the others, Lord Rakestraw nodded to both of them to lead the way, and they moved to the head of the group. Their pace was slowed by the flood of those trying to reach Chessy, but by midmorning the tidewaters of commerce had ebbed, and they were able to increase their pace significantly. Ransom knew the road to Pree very well, and while they wouldn’t be stopping in the city, it was the most direct way to get to the Vexin.
At midday they halted to eat and to rest the horses, but they were soon riding again. Ransom could hear the war horses behind them, the pounding of the hooves urging him and William to ride ever faster to keep ahead of the queen. He sensed she was setting the pace deliberately, pushing the beasts past their normal limits. But her steed handled it effortlessly, clearly accustomed to the punishing pace. They passed Pree from the north, but it was too far away to see, and crossed the river on a bridge leading north to Mainz. Ransom used his Occitanian to banter with the bridge keepers, who wore the black of the prince’s guard.
They rode past Mainz before sunset, skirting the city completely. The road they took was little used, and there was no one to remark on their presence save a few peasants working the land. After dark, they settled in a grove of trees and didn’t make a fire. Lord Dyron sat on a fallen log and drank from his leather flask, then wiped his mouth on his arm.
“We’ve made good time today, lads,” he said in his gruff voice. “How far to Auxaunce, Your Highness?”
“The village of Usson is not far from here,” she said. “We’ll be at Auxaunce after midday tomorrow.”
“Are we in your duchy, Your Highness?” asked Sir William.
“We are in its southern borders, yes. But it is still not safe. The lords of DeVaux Valley are the ones causing trouble, and their lands are just to the west.”
Rakestraw turned to Ransom. “Her Majesty didn’t take a ship because of the recent trouble with Atabyrion. There are pirates watching the coasts, and any sizable armada would have been seen and questioned. The tournament in Chessy provided us with a good opportunity to slip through by land.”
An owl hooted in the night, making many of the knights flinch and look in its direction. Ransom had hunted and camped too many times to take notice of it, and the queen didn’t react either. When it became too dark to see, they all slept in their cloaks in a circle around the queen. The men took turns as guards during the night.
When it was Ransom’s and William’s turn to stand guard, they walked away from the camp, patrolling the perimeter, only hearing the noises of the night.
“Do you like serving Lord Dyron?” Ransom asked.
“Aye. He’s a good man. He’s dedicated to the king. I’ve never heard him complain about him at all.”
“Do you think King Devon will make him the Duke of Westmarch to reward his loyalty?”
Sir William sniffed. “I doubt it. The king has too many sons. Unlike your father, he plans to bestow each of them with something. I think he’ll give Westmarch to his eldest, Prince Devon. Benedict will get the Vexin. Goff will become the Duke of Brythonica. The youngest, Jon-Landon, is too young to rule, but something will be done for him.”
“Where is the crown prince now?”
“Dundrennan,” came the answer. “Duke Wigant’s household. Having him up there has helped with the Atabyrion skirmishes, I think. They’re more hesitant to make trouble. And even though Benedict is fourteen, he’s a warrior already. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s ruling the Vexin within the year. After his mother tames it first.” He chuckled softly. “He pleaded to come with us, or so they said. But the king wouldn’t risk his wife and his son on such a perilous journey.”
“Perilous?” Ransom asked. “The only people we’ve seen are peasants and bridge keepers. Were they expecting bandits patrolling the roads?”
“No. DeVaux is the risk. Men like him cause grief no matter who rules. The Vexin is far enough away from Kingfountain that he gets away with a lot because it takes so long for news to reach the court. This conflict has been brewing for a number of years. The fact that the king has sent his wife to put them in line says his patience is at an end.”
They were quiet for a while before Ransom asked, “Do you miss . . . Gervase? The old king?”
Sir William was silent for a moment, staring up at the stars as if lost in thought. “Of course I do, Ransom,” he said at last. “He was a good man. But . . . he wasn’t a good king. All the time he wore the hollow crown, he feared losing it. Feared he had taken it dishonorably. His nobles could sense his fear, and they caused trouble because of it. I would rather wear a helmet than a crown. It’s a terrible burden. Devon Argentine wears it well. It’s his by right, as his mother’s heir. She was the one who was chosen to rule. I think, in the end, Gervase regretted snatching it like he did. We can’t undo the past, though. Can we?”