“You don’t need to convince me,” Ransom said. “It would give him a title. Allow him to inherit lands of his own. Start his own mesnie.”
“Then we should invite her to Connaught. Perhaps we could send him to fetch her? It’ll be her choice, of course. And his.”
“Thank you, Claire. With all the other requests, I’d assumed you’d want to match her with a Legaultan noble.”
Claire kissed the tip of his nose and stood again. “I have those letters I’d like to send to the boys.”
“Can I write them one, Mama?” Sibyl asked sweetly from her place by the Wizr table.
“Of course, darling. Who should we send to deliver them, Ransom?”
“I should go myself,” Ransom said, his heart tugging with longing to see his boys.
“You haven’t been summoned to court.”
“Do I need a summons to check on my children?” Ransom said.
“One will come,” Claire said. “I’m certain of it. It would be best to send someone else, but who?”
“Dearley, of course.”
She shook her head. “Elodie is pregnant. He shouldn’t leave her now.”
“The babe isn’t due for a long time still, surely. By boat it wouldn’t be a long journey.”
Claire wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“Dawson won’t do because you want to send him to fetch Tenthor’s niece.”
“I like Dawson,” Sibyl said, admiring one of the pieces shaped as a knight. “You should let me marry him.”
Claire grinned at her innocent words. “He’s a bit too old for you, darling.”
“I’ll grow up faster,” she said.
Ransom chuckled. “Simon, then. We’ll send someone to Glosstyr with the letters. Simon can deliver them to the boys and then come to us in Legault to tell us how he found them.”
Claire nodded. “A good choice.”
The sound of a horse riding up the cliff road caught their attention. Claire went to the window, and Ransom rose from the comfortable chair, his back groaning again. Sometimes he wished the scabbard healed the aches and pains of his age and rough life. Claire leaned out a little and then pulled back, giving him a worried look. When Ransom poked his head out, he saw their sheriff, Lord Toole, hastening to the gate, which was already open. The horse’s hooves clattered on the stones in the courtyard, and then Toole leaped from the saddle and began to hurry toward the castle.
Toole had served Claire faithfully since her return as queen—or “duchess” as Jon-Landon now called her—but why was he here now?
“Did you summon him?” Ransom asked her.
“No,” she responded.
“Here’s the lass,” said the maid, bringing Keeva to her.
“Take her and Sibyl to the nursery,” Claire ordered.
“I want to stay here. I like Lord Toole,” said Sibyl.
“Mind your mother,” said the maid in a scolding tone. Sibyl sighed and obeyed, leaving Ransom and Claire alone.
Her face was drawn.
Ransom had an uneasy feeling too, and it only swelled at the sound of boots thundering down the hall. The door opened, admitting Dearley and Lord Toole, who looked winded and agitated.
“News from Atha Kleah,” Dearley said, gesturing to the emissary.
“You’ve come in a great hurry,” Claire told Lord Toole.
“My lady,” he gasped.
Ransom fetched him a drink of cider, and he gratefully accepted it and gulped some down. “Thank you, Lord Ransom.” He looked at both of them in turn and then sighed. “I hardly know how to begin.”
“Tell us,” Claire pleaded.
Lord Toole set the cup down and started to pace. “A ship bearing the three lions arrived in Atha Kleah two days ago. It was Lord Faulkes from Kingfountain.”
Claire’s brow pinched in worry, and she looked quickly to Ransom.
“What did he want?” Ransom asked.
“The castle. He took control of it immediately. Had fifty knights with him, and before we knew what was going on, he’d taken the gatehouse in the name of the king.”
“Máthair milis,” Claire proclaimed under her breath.
“Your knights asked if they should fight, but I told them to stand down,” Toole said. “We were outnumbered, and the king’s men were already inside.”
Dearley gave Ransom a nervous glance, but there was fire behind it.
“He took control of the fortress of Atha Kleah?” Ransom asked. “To what purpose?”
“I asked Lord Faulkes that very question. His answer? That he is the king’s envoy in Legault now. Jon-Landon heard of Lord Tenthor’s death and has claimed wardship of Lord Tenthor’s niece, Orla, whom he’s now bestowed on Lord Faulkes.”
Claire’s mouth opened in shock and then rage. “That’s not his right!”
“I know, my lady,” Toole said. “Faulkes doesn’t care about your rights or our customs. He said Legault is a vassal land to Ceredigion, and that the king’s rights triumph.”
She looked at Ransom. “The nobles will be furious.”
“Some already are, but others see it as an opportunity to win favor with the man who wears the hollow crown,” Toole said seriously. He withdrew a letter from his belt and handed it to Ransom. “The king has summoned you to court.”
Ransom looked at the message as if it were a snake, but it bore the seal of the Elder King. There was no mistaking it. He took the message and broke the seal. Opening it, he read the formal writing, recognizing the master of the rolls’s unique style of penmanship.
Greetings,
King Jon-Landon Argentine issues this writ of summons to Lord Marshall Barton, heretofore known as Ransom Barton, to come to Kingfountain in ten days on peril of forfeiting his lands, titles, and the grace of His Royal Majesty. He will bring five thousand livres as scutage in lieu of service of his knights this year and remand said scutage to the king’s coffers at the royal palace in person. Signed in the presence of His Royal Majesty, King Jon-Landon Argentine.
Ransom silently passed the message to Claire, who sucked in her breath.
“What does he want?” Dearley asked somberly.
“Five thousand livres in scutage,” Claire said bitterly. “And he’s to bring it himself. This is a trick,” she added, slapping the message in her hand. “It is no coincidence that Ransom is being summoned just after Lord Faulkes took the fortress at Atha Kleah. Faulkes is here to invade Legault. On the king’s orders!”
That was exactly how it looked to Ransom as well. “If I defy him, he will claim the land anyway.”
“This is an injustice,” Claire said, her voice trembling with rage. “This is my land, my people!”
“If I may,” Lord Toole said. “The king is provoking another conflict. First, he demanded hostages from you. Now, he invades your lands. My lord, my lady, tread carefully. Respond to his summons, bring the scutage, but Lord Ransom must not leave Legault until you take hostages of your own.”
“What?” Claire demanded.
“Use his own stratagem against him,” Toole said. “You know the nobles of the Fair Isle as well as I do, my lady. Some will jump at this moment to switch sides, believing it will open new opportunities to them. With Lord Tenthor dead, you’ve lost one of your greatest defenders among the nobles. Others will see this as an opportunity to rise up and take a larger piece of the pie. They’ve only been waiting for a sign of weakness. Show them none. Demand hostages before Lord Ransom leaves, to ensure their loyalty.”