Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,124

to the end,” Dawson reiterated.

The young men arranged for a litter to be fastened to the horses, and Ransom carried the body, wrapped in a sheet, outside. As he rode to Fountainvault, he wondered if he’d ever see Kingfountain again . . . or Claire.

Benedict and his mesnie were waiting for them at the sanctuary, along with several lesser nobles who had gathered for the occasion. Marcus was among them. His friend Sir Simon had also come to pay his respects. He looked like he’d just arrived. His name had also been on the list.

Dawson and Guivret carried the litter with the king’s body into the sanctuary of Our Lady, where a table had been prepared to receive it. Benedict uncovered his father’s face and looked at it with tears in his eyes.

They performed the rites at midday. The deconeus of the sanctuary read the ceremonial words as they all waited along the shore of the river above the gentle shushing of the falls. Ransom felt bereft of his Fountain magic once again. His master lay dead. His future was as uncertain as a storm.

When the words were finished, Ransom looked at Benedict, who wore a rich velvet tunic despite the sweat glistening on his brow. It was a solemn occasion, and the new king showed a reserve and respect that was unusual. There was no gloating, no grin of victory. Indeed, Ransom could see Benedict was struggling with his emotions. He gave a curt nod to proceed.

The three on the right side of the boat were Ransom, Guivret, and Dawson. The three on the left were Sir Simon, Marcus, and Sir Thatcher, who had been captured by Benedict’s men but allowed the privilege to see his master into the river. They walked to the edge of the river and then tilted the staves so that the canoe slid down them and landed with a splash. The sluggish current was quite different from the river before the falls at Kingfountain. They watched the boat gently bob as it went to the edge before landing with another splash on the other side. They stood there in solemnity, watching the boat until it turned a bend in the river and vanished from sight.

Ransom smiled at Simon, and he saw the look of disappointment in his friend’s eyes. This wasn’t how either of them had hoped things might turn out. Simon came closer to speak with him, but suddenly Benedict was there between them, arms folded imperiously.

“Sir Ransom. Come ride with me. We shall go immediately.” He looked at Sir Simon. “You as well. There needs to be a witness.”

It was not a request. It was a king’s command.

Rumor wears a thousand masks. But what is the truth? Some say that King Estian will attack Kingfountain himself. Some say that Benedict beheaded his father at the end of the battle. There is no loyalty left to the Elder King. His reign has ended, whether or not he still lives. Some say he is in Glosstyr. Others say he went to Tatton Grange. All the while we wait for the new king to arrive and claim his dominion. The people of the city want the uncertainty to end. Sir James’s army is still laying siege, although he hasn’t done anything to try to breach the walls. So we wait, and wait, and wait until it is insufferable to breathe. Emiloh is hopeful this will be resolved soon, but there is still no word from her son. Time itself seems to hold its breath. And wait . . . wait . . . wait . . .

—Claire de Murrow

(in her new, larger prison)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The King’s Blindness

They rode in silence to a meadow north of Tatton Grange. Fat bumblebees droned as they flitted from plant to plant. A soothing wind came from the east, cooling the heat caused by the oppressive sun. Benedict led them to a copse of oak trees along a small stream, where they stopped so the animals could drink. Looking back, Ransom could see the grange in the distance. They’d left everyone behind them. It was just Ransom, Benedict, and Simon, pausing in the shade beneath the oaks.

Ransom’s insides twisted with worry. Was Benedict going to challenge him to a duel? Was that why he had asked for a witness? And yet, he’d chosen one of the Elder King’s servants rather than one of his own men from the Vexin. The situation was curious and strange, and Ransom leveled a look at