“I do,” said Jon-Landon with a graceful bow.
The chamber burst into applause at the proper moment as the king, scepter in hand, and queen turned and faced the gathered ranks of the nobility. A raucous cheer sounded from outside the sanctuary as the people discovered the news that the king had been crowned.
Ransom did not join in the cheers or applause. He stared at Jon-Landon’s triumphant face and felt a sickness in his bowels as he wondered which of the oaths just taken would not be broken.
The years since Jon-Landon assumed the crown have flowed by like a tumultuous river, destroying or damaging those in its path as well as those carried along in its current. I realize, having just read my last entry, that I haven’t written since the birth of our fourth child—a girl we named Keeva in memory of my maid who was murdered. There has been so much war and tumult these last years that I feel obliged to write some of the events down for fear that time and chaos will purge them from my mind. But I will not try to describe the hundred ways in which the king has made Ransom’s life—and our life together—more miserable. That, I shall never forget.
There is a Gaultic saying that perfectly captures Jon-Landon’s reign so far: “He who trusts no one is distrusted by all the world.” When he formed his council, he dismissed most of the people who had been loyal to his brother. He sent his mother back to the Vexin and replaced her with Lady Deborah of Thorngate castle. She had served the Elder King well. Lord Longmont, King Benedict’s former chancellor and the much-reviled lord protector, was exiled from the realm because of their previous rivalry. He wasn’t even allowed to return to the Vexin under pain of death.
The king retained Ransom, of course, but immediately showed his distrust by saying that Legault was not an independent kingdom but one of Ceredigion’s duchies. This was argued over a great deal, especially when Jon-Landon sought to reward some of his sycophants with lands that were part of the Fair Isle. Thankfully, the war with Occitania has prevented him from pressing this further, and he was persuaded, begrudgingly, to give up his claims. But it caused much resentment among the nobility here that he would attempt to use the hollow crown to claim authority and overlordship of our lands.
This was not his only blunder. His treatment of Ransom’s sister, Maeg, whom he threatened years ago, before she married James, was not an isolated act. Jon-Landon has done the same to other ladies, and we’ve even heard reports that he’s tried to seduce some of the wives of his nobles, including Lady Kiskaddon. Again, it feels like he is deliberately provoking his nobles to revolt so that he can depose them. His indiscretions have no doubt alienated his father-in-law as well. Whether the queen hears of these mischiefs, I cannot say.
One of the ways the king has tried to restore the treasury of the realm is through a practice called scutage. Every knight owes his lord a certain service each year for the king’s wars. Instead of sending troops to fulfill this commitment, a lord can pay a fine to the king, allowing him to hire mercenaries instead. Jon-Landon pays the mercenaries less than the amount he raises in scutage, so he profits off each payment. The treasury, which was practically emptied to pay Benedict’s ransom, has now been generating consistent revenue because of the war we relentlessly fight.
Before Benedict died, our position was promising, and it appeared we would be victorious against Occitania. No more. We have fought for years, and we are no closer to victory. Neither are they. Tatton Grange was reduced to rubble in the conflict, and there is no fortress to protect the farms and grains. Estian still claims the duchy as his own, but Jon-Landon will not halt his attempts to reclaim it. It seems he is determined to scorch the earth so that neither side will be able to use it. The king’s spies, ruled by a wretched man named Bodkin, are everywhere, and the king doesn’t even fully trust them. He’s created a system of codes so complicated and difficult to remember that not even the king himself understands it anymore. In other words, he’s a complete and utter eejit.
Ransom spends most of each year running to and fro throughout Ceredigion, fighting the battles the king has fomented with his own servants while trying to keep our enemies at bay. My husband refuses to pay scutage. But the mercenaries haven’t been paid by the king in months and threaten to become a scourge themselves. The latest news I have from my husband is that he’s going to Beestone castle, where the king’s council has gathered to hear the latest news of the war. I’m glad to be so far away, for if Jon-Landon tried to woo me, I would probably threaten his privates with a dagger.
—Claire de Murrow, “Duchess” of Legault
Atha Kleah
CHAPTER THREE
Oath of Fealty
There was a weariness in Ransom’s bones that went deeper than the exhaustion of relentless riding and skirmishes. Never had loyalty to a king cost him so much and paid so little. Still, he had persisted, shutting down the king’s constant attempts to incite him into rebellion. Each time he had to visit the king, his stomach seized with dread, and he felt this same weariness sap his strength and dull his wits.
Beestone castle had been fortified during the last several years and represented a stronger hold against Occitanian incursions. The castle was built on a promontory with a thriving town at its base. As Ransom rode Dappled into the boundaries, he saw mercenaries everywhere, some too drunk to walk straight. The lack of discipline was appalling.
Ransom slowed his destrier and looked to Dearley, who rode with him. The other man had started out as his ward, many years ago, but he was now Ransom’s most steadfast companion, and he and his wife, Lady Elodie, were dear friends to Ransom and Claire. In this king’s reign, Ransom had found it more important than ever to surround himself with people he trusted. He had also brought Sir Simon of Holmberg back to Glosstyr, where he oversaw the training of new knights. Ransom’s mesnie had grown over the years, and he no longer knew every man by name. But the cost of supporting so many had taken its toll. His expenses had risen substantially to outfit his host for constant, needless war, yet he received no new income from the king to compensate him for the additional costs. Other lords had given in to the demands to pay scutage, but not Ransom. He refused to resort to the practice, particularly since Simon had told him the king was profiting from it. It rankled Ransom to his core.
“If Estian attacked Beestone, he’d do a lot of damage right now,” Dearley said with resentment in his voice. “Do you want me to find their captain and rebuke him?”
“He’s probably drunk himself,” Ransom said. “Let’s get to the castle and see how things are going elsewhere.”
“Do you think the king will consider Estian’s offer of a two-year truce?”
“I don’t know,” Ransom answered. The thought of calling off hostilities was a welcome one. But Jon-Landon was too unpredictable for him to judge how the king would react to it.
“I hope he does,” Dearley said. “Estian has offered us Josselin castle as a sign of good faith. I should very much like to see it again.”
Given that it was Ransom’s castle, he suspected this was Estian’s attempt to give Ransom motivation to back the peace deal. They’d come so close to reclaiming it years ago, just before Jon-Landon had taken over as king, but the effort had failed without Ransom and his men.