Servants kept circling around Ransom like carrion birds, offering goblet after goblet of wine, all of which he refused. He paced throughout the decorated hall, weaving between the swirl of dancers moving to intricate music played by court musicians. Although he had no present feeling of danger, he feared he was missing something. Had the cloaked lady followed them perhaps?
He searched for glimpses of her in the hall, but the only people he recognized were from his group. The hour grew later and later, and some guests fell asleep in their chairs.
After making another circuit around the hall, Ransom noticed that King Lewis was sitting closely with Devon, speaking in a low voice. The boisterousness of the earlier hours had waned. Ransom approached the two monarchs discreetly, straining to hear their conversation. When he was close enough, the words became audible to him.
“He does not treat you with trust and respect,” said Lewis, a distinguished man with graying hair. He had a kindly hand on Devon’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture. “Already you feel like my son, Devon. I wish you had been allowed to spend time at my court. Instead, he sent you to the icy wastes of Dundrennan. We are not the enemies you’ve thought us to be. Surely you realize that now.”
Ransom felt a strong tug of warning. He didn’t look at the two rulers, instead letting his gaze wander across the hall while he listened to their talk. This was just what the Elder King had feared.
“I love your daughter,” Devon said. “Noemie is a treasure, truly. I want her to be able to come back here, to see you again. So that you might know your grandchildren.”
“Of course! Do I not wish it as well? I promised her to you in order to heal the ancient breach between our kingdoms.”
“Father thinks you put DeVaux up to his schemes,” said Devon. “To sow discord in the Vexin.”
Ransom felt a powerful need to interrupt the conversation, to pull Devon aside and encourage him to use discretion, but he knew it was impossible. He could only listen.
“Men like DeVaux are naturally greedy, my son. And so was your grandfather. He used the civil war to increase his lands and doubled the size of La Marche.”
“You mean Westmarch?”
“Naturally I would prefer to speak of it after my own tongue.” Lewis smiled warmly. “The border wars have done so much damage between our realms. Let us end the fighting once and for all. My son, Estian, will be king after me, and you will rule Ceredigion. You have brothers enough, Devon, but can you find room in your heart for one more? I have two daughters and one son, a blessing from the Fountain in my old age. I want to see peace between our people, but you know it cannot be while your father rules.”
Ransom closed his eyes with dread, feeling powerless to stop the scene from unfolding—which was when he felt a hand descend on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found Prince Estian was the one there.
“May I have a word with you, Sir Ransom?” he asked.
He could think of no pretext to refuse, and so he nodded and let Prince Estian lead him away from the conversation that he desperately wanted to hear. He saw Princess Noemie’s hazel eyes fix on him, a look of alarm spreading across her face as she watched her brother escort him across the hall. She was sitting amongst other ladies of court, not within earshot of her husband’s conversation.
“There has been some talk going about the palace,” Estian said, his eyes probing. “Rumors.”
“That is typical at a royal palace, I should say,” Ransom replied evenly.
“True. Might we speak in Occitanian? You are comfortable in that language, I understand?”
“I am.”
“Good,” he said in Occitanian. “I am concerned sometimes that I may use the wrong word, and I don’t want to be misunderstood.”
Ransom swallowed as Estian turned and faced him. The princess rose from her seat, her eyes fixed on the two of them. Her hand squeezed the arm of her chair. She was too far to hear their conversation.
“I’m afraid that the rumors may be exaggerated,” Estian said.
“And what rumors are these?” Ransom asked, wanting to end the conversation quickly, fearing he was about to be challenged by the other knight. Only a coward would refuse.
“That I intend to challenge you to a test of prowess. Everyone is talking about you right now, Sir Ransom. There are some ugly individuals, I would say, who may even be wagering on the outcome. The knights of your company, for example, spread such rumors. There have even been a few brawls between our men. I would like to put the rumors to rest.”