Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,10

notifying the steward of the change?”

“That would be appreciated,” answered Simon. “The king also wishes to give his new ally another ward, an heiress. Who is available?”

Ransom’s stomach became queasy again.

“Lady Buttifer’s daughter is six years old.” Master Hawkes smiled and shook his head. “Probably too young.”

“I think someone closer in age would be better,” Simon said. He glanced at Ransom. “You don’t have to marry the girl. It’s just an . . . option. When I joined the king’s council, I was given wardship of a young lady named Charlaine, Lord Nicholes’s daughter. We became fond of each other and . . . well, now she’s my wife.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” Ransom said. “Congratulations.”

Simon shrugged and beamed. “We are very different, but I’ve never been happier. If you take in someone who’s too young, you become like a father to them. You know what it’s like since that’s how you came to Kingfountain. If the person you take in is a woman, and she’s older . . . well, the expectation is that you’ll marry her. If you want to.”

The queasiness in Ransom’s stomach only increased. He looked over at Master Hawkes, who had a shrewd look in his eye. “The king will expect you to take a wife, Sir Ransom,” he said. “Posterity is power. I am a grandfather. The older I get, the more I understand that truth.” His eyes narrowed a little. “I should think he’d be a decent match for Lady de Murrow.”

Simon snorted. “So does he, unfortunately. The king still wants her for Jon-Landon.”

Master Hawkes sighed. “That isn’t a good match, but there’s no convincing the king when his mind is made up. There are four other ladies under the king’s wardship right now. I think perhaps . . . Lady Elodie.”

“Of Namur? Isn’t she twelve?”

Master Hawkes frowned as if he wanted to contest that, but rather than speak out of hand, he rose from the desk and walked to a shelf behind him. He withdrew a large leather-bound book and brought it back to the desk, then quickly opened it and riffled through pages.

“Lady Elodie of Namur, heiress of Lord Kenford of Namur, was born . . . ah, that would make her fifteen years old.” He tapped the page and gave Ransom an assessing look. “A possible match. Namur brings in three thousand livres a year. Coupled with Josselin castle, you’d do very well for yourself.”

“Her income would go to you while she’s your ward,” said Simon, looking more and more interested. “And you still have your castle at Gison and your manor in Brythonica.”

“Impressive,” said Master Hawkes. “Sir Ransom, you have a strong start in life. Not many knights your age have done half so well.” He rubbed his mouth again. “You were the one Queen Emiloh ransomed, were you not? Ah yes, I remember that well. Five thousand livres she paid for you.”

A heavy sum to pay for a single knight’s ransom.

Thinking of it put him in mind of Emiloh’s daughter, the poisoner who’d brought him a loaf of moldy bread filled with bandages when he was Lord DeVaux’s prisoner. He’d only survived because of her, but she’d later reopened that very wound with a poisoned dagger and a crossbow.

He still had her dagger.

“And I am grateful that she did,” Ransom said, realizing they’d both fallen silent during his reverie. “I owe her still.”

Master Hawkes arched his brows. “Well, you’ll be in a better position to repay her, although what good it would do her in that tower, I don’t know. The income you get from these wardships is yours, but you must continue to pay the servants who maintain your properties and pay for any needed repairs—unless you decide to neglect what has been given to you. Many young lords squander their new income.”

“I’m not worried about Ransom,” said Simon. “He’s prudent, like a true knight should be. So what do you think, my friend? Lady Elodie is one of the choices. What about the others, Master Hawkes?”

“The other two are also young children, eight and ten. Posterity is power. I’d advise you to take Lady Elodie. If you’d prefer an older rich heiress, there are some ladies who have already had husbands.”

Ransom blanched, but he was only being asked to accept a ward at this point. He didn’t have to marry her. Perhaps he could still convince the king to allow him to court Claire, or he could prove himself useful enough to earn that right.