(For how long?)
CHAPTER THREE
The Threat of War
Josselin castle was protected on the west by the Orme River. Thick woods gathered around it, except on the north side, where a hamlet of about thirty buildings had been built outside the castle walls. It was larger than the Heath, with tall round spires bedecked with conical roofs in a row. As Ransom and his knights came down the road, it seemed as if the towers were bunched close together, but when they drew near, their perspective changed, and he saw they were spaced evenly on a narrow wall. The hamlet smelled of sheep, and there were many chandler shops making candles from the tallow.
The walls of Josselin were uniformly gray, although moss grew on the lower third of the walls, and the slate shingles on the turrets had a blue tint. The river was placid, lined with pink-flowered plants, and there were many fishing boats in it. The windows were all high up on the higher floors, showing the castle had been designed to be a fortress of defense.
The peasants of the hamlet watched with curiosity as his troop of knights arrived, but no one approached or welcomed them. The main door of the castle was constructed of thick oak bound in iron, and it lay open to their approach. A servant wearing a comely tunic and a thick velvet hat stood fidgeting at the doorway.
He bowed as Ransom drew near. “Greetings, my lord,” said the servant. “I am the steward of Josselin castle. My name is Westin.” He doffed the velvet cap, revealing a shock of hair the color of carrots. “Greetings to you. Are you Sir Ransom? I was told you were coming. A letter from the palace arrived for you.”
“I am. Good day to you.” Ransom gave him a nod and a kindly smile. He took the proffered letter, his heart soaring at the sight of the fine handwriting. A woman’s hand had written it. Although he’d hoped, he hadn’t dared to expect a reply so soon.
The steward bunched the cap in his hands and nodded vigorously. “If you’d come this way, my lord.” He walked ahead, and Ransom entered, the noise of clopping hooves drowning out other sounds. The fortress walls enclosed a private garden, which was being groomed by a half-dozen servants who glanced up from their work to study their new master.
Ransom dismounted and gazed at the castle. It was a fine building, well maintained and with a pretty view of the gardens. The roofline of the manor portion had steeply sloped gabled windows. He caught a glimpse of someone standing at the window, looking down at the courtyard, but the curtain closed as soon as he noticed. He wondered if that was one of his wards.
“Make sure our horses are taken care of and fed. We’ll be riding back to Kingfountain on the morrow.”
“As you command, my lord,” said Westin nervously. He gave instructions to the groomsmen and then signaled for Ransom to follow him into the main portion of the castle. It was Occitanian in design, reminding him of the structures in Pree.
“Where are you from?” Ransom asked the steward as they walked together.
“Legault, originally. But I was raised in Brythonica and then came to oversee this castle several years ago. It’s my first time as a steward.”
He still had a nervous look about him, and it occurred to Ransom that the man feared he would be replaced. Clapping him on the back, Ransom said, “I’m sure you have done a capable job. I’m new to this property. I was only just given it. I don’t plan on making changes unless they are needed. If you serve me well, you will retain your post.”
A smile brightened Westin’s mouth. “I intend to serve you well, my lord. Your two wards are here. Would you like to meet them?”
“I would. But I’d like to get out of this armor first and read this letter.”
“I’d be honored to help you, my lord.”
It was a strange and unique experience being the lord of such a fine castle. The fortress of Gison was much smaller and had no hamlet, and in truth, Ransom had spent little time there before leaving for the East Kingdoms. The master chambers were lavish, and the huge bed made him momentarily stare in surprise. The windows overlooked the gardens on one side and the river on the other. With Westin’s help, he removed the suit of armor, and the steward hung the pieces on the waiting armor rack. He studied the tables, dressers, and the single chair, and thought the space too enormous for himself alone.
Of course, it is not meant for you alone. The king expects you to take a wife. He eyed the letter he’d put on the table.
“Are you hungry, my lord? I could have the cook bring something for you.”
Ransom shook his head no. “Feed my men first. If there is anything left, I’ll pick at that. I’d like to see John and Elodie soon. Give me a few minutes to read this.”
“They are awaiting you in the sitting room. I’ll bring you to them after I’ve seen that your men are fed.”
“Thank you, Westin. You’re doing very well.”
After his steward was gone, he broke the seal on Claire’s letter and quickly devoured it.
My dear friend,
Thank you for telling me of your arrangement with the king. I’m eager to hear about your journey to the East Kingdoms. Don’t be stingy with details, now! I’ve nothing but time to read. Maybe your words will help me visit the vast deserts and strange customs in that foreign place. In return, perhaps I can tell you more about my homeland. Of the barrow mounds and hunting lodges in Legault and the tales of the Aos Sí. I’m grateful that you still consider me your friend, and you may rest assured that I shall always consider you my friend. So much has changed. Some memories should best be forgotten. But I will always remember the little boy at the palace, Gervase’s favorite. Remember the tree we got stuck in? The one in the garden? It always makes me laugh to think of it. Now you serve another king. He has good qualities that are constantly disguised by his many terrible ones. Emiloh wishes to add her regards. She and I have become very close. But it is good to have someone to write to. It is good to be able to write to you. Hopefully, the king will allow us to speak in person one day and not just through words scrawled on a page. I should like that very much.
She’d signed her name with a flourish that made him smile. Hadn’t he seen her sign letters to her family like that when they were younger?
Westin returned shortly afterward, and Ransom followed him down a long corridor to the sitting room, his mind still on Claire, his heart aching to read her words again. He knew he would read them over and over.
When they reached the room, Westin rapped softly on the open door, and they entered the space. Two young people stood waiting for them, their nerves showing as surely as Westin’s had.
Ransom appraised them both, wondering what was going through their minds. What did they know about him? What rumors or stories had they heard?
The young man, John Dearley, was tall and rather spare in his frame. He had unruly brown tresses, serious eyes, and he looked pale with concern as he gazed at Ransom. Although the sword belted to his waist indicated he was not without battle training, he had all the insecurity and bravado of a youth trying to appear a man.
The girl, Elodie, was slightly younger. She was lovely, with golden hair that hung in ringlets, but the fidgeting of her hands suggested she was ill at ease. She couldn’t even meet Ransom’s gaze.
The two of them looked like birds trapped together in a cage. Ransom wondered if he’d appeared the same way to Lord Kinghorn when he’d first arrived at Averanche to begin his training as a knight. They both seemed to be waiting for him to speak first.