They were all completely bewildered by the turn of events, but it was important not to let the shock of the moment rob them of good sense. At least they’d had a warning. If the Elder King’s army had come up from behind and caught them unaware, it would have been a disaster. Although their army would be weary and road-worn, perhaps Estian would be able to attack the Elder King’s forces from behind, and they could trap the army between them. It was a desperate situation, but it was still possible to win.
They rode for two leagues, passing villages along the way. No one came out, but as they passed, Ransom saw fearful faces peering at them from gaps in the windows.
They paused at the next village they found so their horses could rest and slake their thirst from the troughs in the village square. A soldier came bearing the news that they were being pursued. The king’s army was about a league behind them and riding fast.
“Clever old man,” Devon said with a grimace. “Ride on!”
Away they rode, knowing the Elder King’s knights were putting an equal amount of strain on their animals. They rode another league, and still there was no sign of Issoudun and his riders. Dread blossomed in Ransom’s chest as he realized the awful truth. Something must have happened to him, or Benedict was too far away to help them.
The answer came before dusk.
There was a bridge ahead, one made of stone. Four knights sat astride their chargers across its length. On the other side, a host of warriors had assembled, all mounted and waiting.
Ransom reined in, realizing instantly that it wasn’t Benedict’s army. Devon slowed and came up next to him, eyeing the armored warriors waiting silently for them. Ransom noticed that one of the knights on the bridge held up a standard, announcing the allegiance of the force.
These were the Duke of Glosstyr’s men.
Devon heaved for breath, his chest rising and falling quickly. “Richard Archer’s men,” he said, then he swallowed.
“And he’s waiting for us,” Ransom replied, looking at him. The Elder King’s army came hard on their heels. Although the Black Prince’s army might yet help them, they were now trapped between the two forces. “This means Bennett isn’t coming.”
“That’s what it looks like. This . . . this isn’t going the way I thought it would.”
Other knights rode up and halted. Horses nickered angrily at the sudden stop. Ransom looked back down the road the way they’d come. There seemed to be fewer men following them. He saw one knight on a destrier suddenly break ranks and flee into a field. He was joined by a few others.
Devon had seen it too. “They’re fleeing? Well, can I blame them? This is bad, isn’t it?”
Ransom breathed in through his nose and then let out the breath. “I think they’ve got us.”
“We could fight Archer, though? Couldn’t we?”
“He has three or four times as many men as we do. And they’re rested.”
Devon turned back, looking at the bridge. His expression darkened. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”
“Your father may forgive you,” Ransom said. He felt an unexpected tingle of relief. Part of him was grateful they’d been outmaneuvered. The prospect of the rebellion had never felt quite right for him, but he’d pledged his loyalty, and loyalty bound him.
“When I said that before, I didn’t think it was going to happen this way. This is awful. I don’t see how it happened. We had everything in our favor.”
“Such is the nature of war, my lord. Some will fight, but I think if you try and press it, men will die in vain.”
“Are you saying surrender?”
“I’m saying we can’t win this. But I’ll do as you command me, my lord. If you want to fight our way through the duke’s men, give the order.”
Devon turned at the hips, then looked back at their dwindling ranks. “I wish this were over already. You’re right. There’s really only one thing to do.” He licked his lips, and his shoulders slumped. He turned his head to look at Ransom. “Would you be so kind, Sir Ransom, as to ride ahead and surrender to the Duke of Glosstyr? If I’m going to lose, I’d rather it be to him than to my arrogant father.”
The tingle of relief turned into gall. The last person Ransom wanted to see at that moment was Claire’s father.
This isn’t a riot. It’s a revolt. The scouts have said they are approaching from the north, the west, and the south. I can see the line of torches from the tower. At least ten thousand are coming to siege Connaught castle. We had to raise the drawbridge after some fighters pretending to be peasants came in on a wagon and suddenly tried to ambush those guarding the gears. They were slain on the spot, but it showed our vulnerability.