“Yes, Lord Ransom?” he asked, his eyes sharp and clear.
“I believe what you said.”
The deconeus nodded. “Some will always reject the warnings of the Fountain. You, on the other hand, do not. I recall your visit, you know. Sometimes my memory just needs a little jab.” He glanced at Ransom’s scabbard. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“I did,” Ransom confirmed.
The deconeus nodded. “And you’ve kept it secret, I see. Good. I feel impressed to say one thing more to you. One part of the legend, which I rarely share.” He reached out and put his hand on Ransom’s shoulder. “The prophecy of the Dreadful Deadman will be fulfilled here, in this very sanctuary. On a night during a great storm, the child will be born here.” His expression was one of fierce determination. “Your scabbard will also be here at that time. You are part of something greater than yourself, Lord Ransom. Many are called by the Fountain. But few choose to heed the call because the road is never easy.”
Ransom swallowed, feeling his knees tremble at the deconeus’s strange words. “I will do what I can.”
“There was a man, years ago, who drowned in the cove,” said the elderly man. “He and his son were looking for clams and had wandered too far along the cliffs before the tide came in. It came swiftly. They tried to swim, but the waves kept smashing them against the cliffs. They were both going to drown. But the father hoisted the lad up onto his shoulders and pressed himself against the cliffs. His son grabbed the higher rocks and hung there until the water covered his father’s head. The father drowned. The boy lived.”
Ransom’s heart clenched with dread. “That is a terrible story.”
“I was the boy,” said the deconeus. “And I have given my life to serve the Fountain since that day.” He patted Ransom on the cheek and walked away.
I was relieved when the cog came back to Connaught with a message from the captain and a note from Ransom. The storm prevented them from reaching Glosstyr, but they found shelter at St. Penryn along with some Genevese ships. The king is at Averanche, and Ransom should be there by now.
I’ve heard that Estian sent the Duke of Garrone to attack Southport by sea. No one has stood up to counter the invasion because the duke, Lord Faulkes, left Southport with his mercenaries and is waging war against North Cumbria at present. Surely Estian is using the Wizr board to see where we are most vulnerable. Lord Kiskaddon still holds the palace and East Stowe and has done nothing to stop the incursion. Perhaps he even welcomes it.
I hope Ransom can convince the king to treat with his nobles. If not, the kingdom of Ceredigion may be no more.
—Claire de Murrow
Connaught
(calmer seas)
CHAPTER TWENTY
The King’s Favor
This was the second time Ransom had gone to Averanche in search of Jon-Landon. The first time, the then prince had been hiding while attempting to mount an insurrection against his brother. Now he was a king seeking shelter from an insurrection against him.
Ransom saw the castle from afar, and it brought back other memories. This was where he and James had trained as knights under Lord Kinghorn. How strange that the man who’d been his enemy had become his kinsman, only for this fissure to come between them.
The deconeus of St. Penryn had dispatched a messenger to the king to inform him of Ransom’s arrival and ask if he wished to meet with him. The return reply came from one of Jon-Landon’s personal bodyguards, who told Ransom emphatically that he was most welcome, and the king would be gratified if he’d travel the short distance to Averanche to meet him in person. So Ransom had brought his entourage of knights back to Averanche with the king’s bodyguard.
His magic pulsed within him, slow and steady, as he closed the distance to the castle, his loyalty to the king the source of its strength.
When they arrived at the main gate, it was opened to greet them. The knights standing guard at the bulwark shouted down at them as they approached.
“It’s Lord Ransom! He’s here!”
“A cheer for Glosstyr! Dex aie!”
The knights above them flashed the knightly salute, which Ransom returned, feeling a flush come to his cheeks at the unexpected welcome. They rode beneath the portcullis, through the open gate, and into the courtyard. Eight sturdy, fortified wagons waited there. Each had huge wheels, rimmed with iron, and teams of horses were tethered within the courtyard.
“What’s this?” Ransom asked the bodyguard who had accompanied him.
The knight smiled. “It’s two hundred thousand livres, more or less. The royal treasury, all in one place. The king feared the castellan of Beestone might revolt, so he had the coins that were stored there sent over, in addition to the treasure he brought from the palace. If Estian knew it was here, we’d be in trouble. The greedy savage!”
Ransom was agog at the number of wagons, each with its own guard. Big, sturdy locks were fixed to the rear doors, intended to deflect an axe blade. Ransom and his knights dismounted, and they passed through the ranks of mercenaries already assembled in the courtyard. He saw encouraging nods and smiles from several of them and wondered how many had previously served under his command.
They were greeted at the inner doors by Lady Deborah of Thorngate castle. The diminutive woman’s hair was now more gray than nut brown, and her smile was welcoming and relieved.
“Lady Deborah,” he said, bowing to her. He turned to his knights. “Get some food and rest. Tend to the horses.”
His command was obeyed, and he stayed outside with Lady Deborah while the bodyguard who’d accompanied him entered the castle. “I’ll tell the king you’re here, Lord Ransom,” he called over his shoulder.
“You’re a long way from Thorngate,” Ransom said to Lady Deborah, smiling.
She shook her head. “With all the chaos happening in the North, I thought I would be of most use if I came here and tried to reason with the king. You couldn’t have come at a better time, Ransom.”
“What’s going on?” Ransom asked.
“I’ll let the king tell you his troubles. Do you have a plan? I’ve never seen the realm in such a precarious position. If we don’t act together, Ceredigion will fall to its enemies. I’m certain of it. Our nation will be no more.”
“I agree,” Ransom said. “Shall we go inside?”
“Yes. So many are staring at us. Come.”
They entered the castle and started walking down the main corridor. Servants bustled about, carrying chests in both directions. Baggage had been arranged in haphazard stacks, and they were attempting to organize the chaos.
“What are your intentions?” she asked him as they moved along.
“We cannot afford to squabble amongst ourselves when the kingdom is so vulnerable,” he replied. “I was going to offer to go to Lord Kiskaddon and negotiate a truce.”
“Impossible. He’d never relent.”
“He might if he feels there is reason to hope there will be no reprisals against him and that things will be different going forward. The king’s behavior has ruined trust among the nobles.”
“Such things are not repaired so easily. How can you mend trust once it’s broken?”