{"product_id":"the-ringed-castle-isbn-9780525565284","title":"The Ringed Castle","description":"Combining all the political intrigue of \u003ci\u003eGame of Thrones\u003c\/i\u003e with the sweeping romanticism of \u003ci\u003eOutlander\u003c\/i\u003e, Dorothy Dunnett’s legendary Lymond Chronicles have enthralled readers for decades and amassed legions of devoted fans. In the series’ fifth volume, Francis Crawford of Lymond exiles himself to the brutal Russia of Ivan the Terrible, only to find he can’t outrun others’ lethal ploys—or his own past.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Still reeling from the traumatic events of \u003ci\u003ePawn in Frankincense\u003c\/i\u003e, Lymond decides to flee from them, moving to Muscovy, where he becomes advisor and general to the half-mad tsar. He swiftly finds himself battling a Cossack prince and Crimean Tartars. Yet even as Lymond tries to navigate the machinations of a dangerous and unfamiliar royal court, unseen forces conspire to enlist this infinitely useful man in their own schemes. Lymond’s past is catching up to him, and inevitably it will compel him to return to face the family he’s forsaken, the woman he imprudently married, and the country that still owns him, body and soul.“Exciting, dangerous, fascinating.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Boston Globe\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Dunnett’s] hero. . .is as polished and perceptive as Lord Peter Wimsey and as resourceful as James Bond.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Vivid, engaging, densely plotted. . . . Dunnett is a master of suspense and misdirection.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A masterpiece of historical fiction.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“[Lymond] is arguably the perfect romantic hero.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Dorothy Dunnett is one of the greatest talespinners since Dumas . . . breathlessly exciting.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Cleveland Plain Dealer\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dunnett is a name to conjure with. Her work exemplifies the best the genre can offer.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Christian Science Monitor\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Ingenious and exceptional . . . its effect brilliant, its pace swift and colorful and its multi-linear plot spirited and absorbing.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Boston Herald\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Dunnett evokes the sixteenth century with an amazing richness of allusion and scholarship, while keeping a firm control on an intricately twisting narrative. She has another more unusual quality . . . an ability to check her imagination with irony, to mix high romance with wit.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Sunday Times \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e(London)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A very stylish blend of high romance and high camp. Her hero, the enigmatic Lymond, [is] Byron crossed with Lawrence of Arabia. . . . He moves in an aura of intrigue, hidden menace and sheer physical daring.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Times Literary Supplement \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e(London)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“With shrewd psychological insight and a rare gift of narrative and descriptive power, Dorothy Dunnett reveals the color, wit, lushness . . . and turbulent intensity of one of Europe’s greatest eras.”\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Raleigh News and Observer\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eDOROTHY DUNNETT was born in Dunfermline, Scotland. She is the author of the Francis Crawford of Lymond novels; the House of Niccolò novels; seven mysteries; \u003ci\u003eKing Hereafter\u003c\/i\u003e, an epic novel about Macbeth; and the text of \u003ci\u003eThe Scottish Highlands\u003c\/i\u003e, a book of photographs by David Paterson, on which she collaborated with her husband, Sir Alastair Dunnett. In 1992 she was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire for services to literature. Lady Dunnett died in 2001.Chapter I\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not to every young girl is it given to enter the harem of the Sultan of   Turkey and return to her homeland a virgin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The most prosaic schoolgirl in England,   Philippa Somerville arrived home from Stamboul in the summer, having travelled stoically   through Volos, Malta and Venice where she received, with mild distaste, the unexpected   bequest of a fortune. From Venice, she crossed Europe to Calais, and at Calais she   took ship for Tynemouth, whence she set off for her home in Flaw Valleys.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e With her   rode her henchman, guide and protector, a Scotsman called Abernethy. And on Archie   Abernethy's stout arm, complaining, was a two-year-old boy named Kuz?m.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sir Thomas   Wharton and his company came across them all just outside Newcastle, and since there   seemed to be a great many sumpter mules and a large number of hired soldiers guarding   them, he gave himself the trouble of investigating. The sight of the Somerville child,   returning after two years' absence on unexplained orgies abroad, was the reward of   exemplary vigilance. His companion, a fledgling nobleman from Northumberland, was   inclined to be more sentimental, but Sir Thomas quite rightly ignored him. Sir Thomas   halted Philippa dead in her tracks, and made her vivaciously welcome.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was a chaste   encounter, conducted with grim efficiency by Archie Abernethy, with Philippa brazenly   helping him. Yes, she remembered the Whartons, beside whom her late father had often   fought. And yes, she remembered Austin Grey, Marquis of Allendale, although from   a viewpoint four feet high, to a target not very much higher.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Allendale estates   were not far from Flaw Valleys. At twelve, this boy had been packed off to Padua   and was now returned, dark, engaging and fragile in a doublet clearly fashioned in   London. Peering from under her hood, Philippa favoured Austin Grey with a generous   smile and returned to the business of supporting the lies Archie Abernethy was telling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yes, they had just come back from Malta. Yes, Mistress Somerville had been travelling   abroad with a party, including her mother's friend, Crawford of Lymond. And that-indicating   the now sleeping Kuz?m-was Mr Crawford's motherless son, being taken home to his   grandmother in Scotland.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They looked at Mr Crawford's motherless son. 'Who's his   mother?' Sir Thomas said with blossoming interest. 'Don't tell me Lymond married   before he left Scotland. Too busy with other men's sisters.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Archie said, 'No. He   didna marry Kuz?m's mother. She's deid.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which was true. With a charming artlessness,   Philippa squashed Tom Wharton's further inquiries and, prattling, prepared to detach   herself. Austin Grey said, 'You aren't going home to Flaw Valleys?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For a moment,   staring at him, she thought of disaster. Her home was burnt down and Kate dead? The   Scots had come over the Border and levelled it? Kate had married again without telling   her? Philippa said, 'Yes. Why not?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And Austin Grey said quickly, 'It's all right.   Your mother is quite all right. She isn't there, that's all. She's gone to stay at   Midculter Castle in Scotland.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Which was how, wheeling about, the small but resolute   migration from Turkey abjured the delights of home and Flaw Valleys and turned up   six days later in Scotland.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Austin Grey, as it happened, reached Scotland before   them. Voluntary and kind-hearted harbinger, he took his horse over the Border and   traversing the hills of the Lowlands reached that part of Lanarkshire west where   the castle of Midculter stood. There he called on Sybilla, the Dowager Lady Culter,   and delivered to her certain papers at Philippa Somerville's behest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sybilla welcomed   him in. White-haired, blue-eyed and urbane, she was quite capable of dealing with   diffident young English noblemen and putting them instantly and disarmingly at their   ease. Only after he had settled in front of her beautiful fireplace with a cup of   her equally desirable wine in his hand did she glance at the packet he had given   her and say, 'But it is for Mistress Somerville of Flaw Valleys?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Austin Grey said,   'Yes. I thought she was here?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For an elderly lady, the blue eyes confronting him   were disconcertingly shrewd. 'Yes, she is,' Sybilla said. 'May I know who this is   from?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'I felt,' said Austin Grey, 'that you should break the news, Lady Culter.   Mistress Somerville's daughter is home. She is travelling north. She should be with   you in two or three days. The letters are from Philippa to her mother.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sybilla's   eyes had become very bright. Then, 'You've seen her, Lord Allendale?' she said gently.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Austin said, 'She is in good heart, and travelling well. Only slowly, because of   the baby.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lady Culter said nothing. She sat and looked at the young English messenger,   with her lips parted and her eyes rather wide, so that the white skin of her brow   was finely pleated. He hesitated and said, 'Your son's child. Mr Crawford's small   boy called Kuz?m.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'They found him,' Sybilla said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He said, carefully, 'I don't   know the story. But they have him quite safe, Lady Culter. If I may say so, he has   just your colouring.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'And my son?' Sybilla said finally.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'I gather . . . Perhaps   the letters will tell you,' said Austin Grey. 'I gather he is still overseas.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He   left soon after that. But not before a light, brown-haired woman entered, whom he   had seen all his youth about Hexham with her late husband Gideon Somerville, and   her one small unkempt daughter Philippa. Kate Somerville came forward to greet him   and was forestalled by her hostess the Dowager. 'Kate, he has letters from Philippa.   She's safe, and on her way here with the child.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But since women's tears, suppressed,   made him uncomfortable, Austin Grey left as soon as possible after that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e By the   time Philippa arrived at Midculter her mother and Kuz?m's grandmother between them   knew the contents of the letters and diaries by heart and still could not reconcile   them with the undersized fifteen-year-old who had left her uncle's home in London   two winters ago, to plant herself willy nilly in the unsuitable company of Lady Culter's   younger son Francis . . . Francis Crawford of Lymond, the hard-living leader of mercenaries   whose by-blow Kuz?m had been snatched and used in a game by his enemies. Until he   had caught up with and killed their leader, Graham Reid Malett.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was typical that,   in the wild hunt through far lands which followed, the main concern of Crawford of   Lymond had been to kill Malett, not necessarily to rescue the child. And typical   that, suspecting it, Philippa Somerville had stuck grimly to him, and biding her   time, had found the child and brought it back, too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was at the first reading   that Kate stopped and letting her hand fall, with the letter in it, said in tones   of failing belief, 'But she was in the harem!'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sybilla said calmly, 'It doesn't   matter. If she says she was untouched, she was untouched. And no one else need know   anything of it.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'In Flaw Valleys?' Kate said. 'They'll ask her about the pattern   on Suleiman's nightshirt. And I cannot believe that Francis was not fully capable   of extracting his own son without Philippa's help. She was probably an unqualified   nuisance.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sybilla turned over one or two pages. 'Certainly, she has remarkably   little to say in his favour.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kate said glumly, 'I don't suppose they were speaking   to one another. All she did was saddle him with two children to look after instead   of one. She says he sent her straight home from Volos, and I can't say I'm surprised.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Well, at least she went,' said Sybilla comfortably. 'It says here he sent her straight   home from Algiers as well, and she made Archie Abernethy turn back so that she could   continue her hunt for the little one. I think we owe a great deal to your Philippa.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Grey hairs,' Philippa's mother suggested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But it was Kate, daily tramping the   battlements, who first saw the long line of dust which announced her young daughter's   arrival. By the time Philippa's cort?ge arrived, they were all on the steps of Midculter:   Kate, Sybilla and Richard, Sybilla's other older, responsible son, with his wife   and young children beside him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There seemed to be a great many mules. Straining   her eyes as they turned in at the gates, Kate studied them vainly for Philippa. In   the lead was a small bearded man bearing a bundle, and beside him a stylish person   in a cloak and hood trimmed with lynx, at whom Kate cast a wistful glance, since   she could not imagine her having much time for her bedraggled Philippa. Then, looking   again at the smooth, polished face and the coils of intricately pleated shining brown   hair, she saw that it was her bedraggled Philippa. She walked forward, slowly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Philippa   reined in and looked down at her mother. Sitting like the Queen of Sheba, with her   face green with fright she said, 'Did you set my letters from Austin?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kate nodded.   Clearing her throat, she said, 'Kevin and Lucy were expecting a nose-veil and curly-toed   slippers.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her daughter's youthful brown eyes, losing their starkness, became visibly   pink round the edges. 'They're in my luggage,' Philippa said. 'With my prayer mat.   I thought you would show me the door. Perhaps. That is, one shouldn't think of other   people's babies before one's own mother. I knew you would stop me.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'I can't think   how,' Kate Somerville said. 'Gunpowder? It was more than Mr Crawford evidently could   do.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'There were a few unpleasantnesses,' Philippa said guardedly. She stared at   Kate, trying not to think of Mr Crawford's unpleasantnesses. Her nose, also, was   growing faintly pink.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'There are times,' Kate said conversationally, 'when one wonders   where that gentleman's habits came from. Are you going to come indoors on the horse,   or can I help you . . . ?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At which, giggling, Philippa Somerville slid, with her   eyes overflowing, into her mother's damp and convulsive embrace.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Presently, there   was the other meeting, with Lord Culter and his wife on the steps. Presently, too,   came her first encounter with Lord Culter's mother Sybilla. But before that the Dowager,   the soul of discretion, had wandered into the courtyard to speak to her old friend   Archie Abernethy. 'We are so glad to see you. David will look after your men. Won't   you give him your horse, and come inside with us? And----'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For the first time, with   courtesy, her gaze dropped to the rugwrapped pack in his arms. '. . . And this is   Khaireddin?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Archie looked down, swore, and then apologized. 'We had him all nice,'   he said. 'But he wanted to play Turks hiding in ambush. Kuz?m! It's your grannie!'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The bundle heaved, and Archie snapped, 'And you've made a right mess of your hair.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A feathering of silky fair hair shot up from the core of the rug, followed by a   round vermilion face with a belligerent blue stare. 'I want a short of Fippy's horse,'   the object said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Archie said peremptorily, 'You're not having a shot on anything;   we've stopped. You're there. You're at your grannie's home in Midculter. Here she   is, waiting.' And his attention drawn for the first time from the child Archie looked,   a little anxiously, at Lymond's mother, who had said nothing at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And as though   she felt his gaze, Sybilla raised her eyes from the silvery hair and blue eyes and   charming, overheated two-year-old face, and smiled at him, and then said to her grandson,   'Hullo. Is your name Kuz?m?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kuz?m, abandoning the Turks, stared at her critically.   Then he said, 'My rug's all crumply. Lift down me to walk?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e So Archie lowered him,   and she received the solid weight and placed him on his two feet and then, kneeling,   steadied him. 'Not Khaireddin?' she said to Archie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Kuz?m's his pet name. It means   Lambkin.' Dismounting, he held the child by the shoulders. 'Mr Crawford's all right,   my lady. Ye'll not expect him home yet: he's not a man for mentioning plans. But   the bairn will make you good company.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The bairn, tugging himself free, set off   at a trot towards Philippa. Following slowly, 'Where is Mr Crawford?' Sybilla said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'God---That is, we're no' all that certain,' said Archie. 'We left him in Volos,   Greece, a wee bit overcome by the weather. Then we heard he had gone. . . . You'll   see a change in the young lady?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Yes,' the Dowager said. They had reached the rest   of her family. Holding out her hands to the new, self-contained Philippa she said,   embracing her, 'Although I don't know how we are going to explain it.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'We met Sir   Thomas Wharton,' Philippa said deprecatingly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'So it will be all over Hexham,' said   Kate. 'Since that man went to court he's been worse than a midwife. You won't be   dull, Philippa mine. We shall have plenty of callers.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Mostly male,' Richard said,   grinning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Isn't it queer?' Philippa said. Standing at the top of the steps, she   caught Archie's eye and then removed her gaze from him, unfocused. 'It didn't occur   to me that people might gossip. It was Mr Crawford who warned me.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'I'm glad he   took the trouble,' Sybilla said tartly. 'To allow you to travel home on your own,   after treating you, so far as I can see, like one of his own underpaid mercenaries,   must be the abominable highlight of a strictly egotistical career.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kate, better   acquainted with her daughter, said, 'How did he warn you?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Philippa gazed again   round the courtyard. The chests were being shouldered indoors. Archie, lifting Kuz?m,   had carried him across to young Kevin and Lucy. The horses were being led away. Richard   was looking at her: the 3rd Baron Crawford of Culter, more heavily built than he   had been, but still level-headed and pleasant: running his home of Midculter, raising   his children, sustaining, year after year, the blows which fell without warning,   the traps which opened, the doors which shut in his face because of his brother Crawford   of Lymond. Richard smiled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Philippa said, 'He suggested I should get married.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kate, whose hair was coming down in the wind, gave a groan. 'A profound offering   of typical masculine subtlety,' said Philippa's mother. 'I might have known it. Come   inside. I want to look at your earrings.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'So I did,' Philippa said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was   a mind-cracking silence. 'What?' said Richard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'I did marry. On paper. To give me   some standing at first, especially because of Kuz?m. Of course, it will all be annulled   in a moment. It was,' said Philippa again, austerely emphatic, 'strictly on paper.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was Sybilla who walked slowly forward and, taking the girl's manicured hands,   held them both, firmly and coolly in her own. 'Philippa. You are not to worry. We   are all here and ready to help you. But tell us first, whom did you marry?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 'Mr   Crawford,' said Philippa bleakly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kate said 'Philippa!' and it fell on the air like   explosive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But Lymond's mother, still holding Philippa's hands in her own, carried   them after a second to her cheeks, where the colour had come flooding back, and said,   'Of course he would do that. Strictly on paper?'","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303514984677,"sku":"NP9780525565284","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780525565284.jpg?v=1767741246","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-ringed-castle-isbn-9780525565284","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}