Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,12

city, imagining Emiloh riding swiftly up the rampart following the attack by DeVaux’s men. Confined in the tower at Kingfountain, she had not visited her ancient homeland in years, and if her husband had his way, she never would. A steep price to pay.

The guards allowed them through the gates, and after all the men had gathered in the courtyard of the fortress, Ransom dismounted. His armor was still scuffed from his long journey, but his cloak was new. He rested his hand on the pommel of his bastard sword, which swung in the new scabbard strapped at his hips, and gazed up at the massive portcullis behind them. His thoughts were still fanciful after seeing that hedgerow, and it reminded him of the fangs of a mythical dragon. The courier had met them on the road and advised them that Benedict was indeed awaiting them.

Ransom gazed around at the men-at-arms gathered in the courtyard, wearing the badge of Duke Benedict, that of a rearing golden lion on a field of red. However, there were also several men wearing the Fleur-de-Lis, a symbol marking the ruling house of Occitania. He was surprised, and not pleasantly, to see it displayed so prominently.

As he approached the castle, he was met by a uniformed servant with an aged face, puffy hat, and tunic striped in gold and red. “Sir Ransom, this is an unexpected honor. My name is Jex. The duke is expecting your arrival. Come with me if you please.”

Ransom had instructed Sir Nigel to be ready for action in case Duke Benedict became angered by the visit. Half the men he’d brought were to remain behind in the courtyard, eyes alert for any signal of treachery. The other half were to come with him.

As they walked inside, side by side, Jex said in a lower voice, “Have you any word of our lady, Sir Ransom? How fares the queen in her captivity?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Ransom answered.

“Very well,” the man said, although his features drooped. “We often hear rumors that she’s been poisoned. Not many have seen her.”

“Idle rumors,” Ransom said. But the words made him flinch, for they reminded him once again of the golden-haired poisoner, Emiloh’s daughter. He wanted to ask Jex what he knew, but he didn’t know whether the man could be trusted. So he remained silent until they reached the great hall.

Inside, Benedict was pacing. He’d only grown larger since their last meeting. He was almost as tall as Ransom now. Almost. And he had long golden hair and a red-flecked beard that he’d grown out, counter to the Occitanian preference for clean-shaven men. He looked like a warrior of Ceredigion as he paced like the restless lion on his emblem.

Upon seeing them, Benedict stopped his pacing.

“My lord duke,” Jex said, “the embassy has arrived from Kingfountain.” He bowed gracefully and doffed his puffy hat, revealing little stubs of hair on his bald head.

“I can see that,” said Benedict, giving Ransom a wary look.

Ransom met his gaze. He felt his senses reach out, like water seeking lower ground, and envelope Benedict. The Fountain magic within him knew the younger man in just a moment. Yes, he was strong and hardened by years of conflict. He was gifted with weapons but preferred battle axes to swords, which allowed him to use his great strength to cut down his enemies. His health was in its prime, showing no signs of injury or impairment. Except for one—he was reckless and impatient. He always had been. In a long contest, his strength would flag, and he’d make costly mistakes. The knowledge that seeped into Ransom ensured he would win a fight with the duke.

That he should know such things seemed lopsided, unfair. But there was no denying he did know them, and if he had to use them to his advantage, he would.

“Have you come with a message for me?” Benedict asked with a cool aloofness.

“I have, my lord,” Ransom said. He felt the reassuring weight of his hauberk. He felt the dignity of his office. And he felt the king’s trust, which filled him with purpose. With power.

Benedict gave him a mocking look, a partial sneer on his lips. “Don’t leave me waiting. What’s the message from the old man?”

“It’s a reminder and a warning, Bennett. Your father gave you the Vexin. He can take it away.”

The duke was not amused, nor did he seem troubled by the threat. “I can see why he sent you to deliver such