Arrow To The Heart (De Bron Saga) (14 page)

Eyeing Hugo, wishing he could look into his mind and soul, Kendrick made his way to his chamber and slowly disrobed. He would humor John’s watch dog, at least for now. “No bath, but I would welcome a good night’s sleep.”

Hugo hurried to retrieve the garments his lord scattered on the floor as he undressed, then warmed the bed with hot stones that he took out of  the just-extinguished fire.

Kendrick motioned for Hugo to go. Blowing out the fires of the wall sconces, he slipped naked between the covers of the bed. Staring up at the moonlight dancing on the ceiling he tried to sort out his emotions. Marriage. Imagine that! The very word caused every muscle in his body to stiffen, his throat to go dry. And yet, spending the rest of his life with Rowena Fitz Hugh might well prove to be an adventure. That is, if he could ever get her to stop resenting him.

No easy matter. And yet, he had to win her over somehow.

Kendrick closed his eyes, then opened them again. Was he imagining it or was there someone in the room? “Hugo?” He held his breath, listening, and thought he heard the soft tread of footsteps. “Hugo?”

“Shhhhhh,” whispered a voice. Before Kendrick had time to answer a hand clamped over his mouth. “It’s me, Robet Fitzooth.” Slowly the hand moved away.

“Robert?” Kendrick remembered hearing the heralds proclaim the man outlaw. And a shame it was. He had known Robert since boyhood and had always thought him to be honest and abiding. “What are you doing here?”

“Desperation.”

“You are in trouble.” Kendrick didn’t have the heart to turn him away. There had been too many times that Robert had come to his defense when they were boys. Once he had even taken on three youths who had dared to call Kendrick “bastard” to his face.

“I’m not in trouble.” There was a candle on a wooden stand near the bed which Robert lit now. “It is Marian.”

“Ah, yes. I think I know all about that.” Getting out of bed, Kendrick wrapped the bed sheet around him. He and Robert were of like height but he was solidly built ,whereas the other man was of a more slender frame.

“Now that I have been declared outlaw I can no longer move freely about to gain information about John. Marian has been helpful in the past with her bits of news from  the court bu
t now ‘tis no longer safe. John tried to take her prisoner.”

“I know. I rode out that day trying to warn her.”

“Some brave young lad beat you to it.” The tawny-haired Robert grinned.

The memory of who it was irritated Kendrick. “How well I know. I have a bone to pick with that bold youth.” He was quick to promise, “But no matter. I’ll do everything in my power to see that Marian doesn’t fall into John’s hands.”

“I knew you would.” Playfully Robert cuffed him on the arm. “Ah, but I have missed you. We have fond memories. Can you ever forget all the tussles we have had? You won every one.”

“Yea, but it was you who were lighter of foot and won every race.” Unspoken moments and events flashed through both their minds. “I was the swordsman.”

Robert put his hands on his hips. “But I was the one swift with my bow.”

“I drew the fairest women.” Kendrick looked smug.

“But I won Marian.” Robert sighed. “Ah, true love….”

“Love?” Bah!” Kendrick’s wrinkled brow gave him away,  much to Robert’s mirth. Throwing  back his head he laughed soundly.

“Ah, a woman has caused you to scowl? Tell me all then, friend before I go. What woman has so annoyed you?”

“Never mind.” Kendrick didn’t  really want to talk about it. It bruised his ego to have to tell
Robert  that some young wench had scorned him.

Robert read his mind. “A  woman has told you ‘No”?” He clicked his tongue sarcastically. “Tut, tut, tut.”

“It’s not funny, Rob!” Pacing back and forth in his bare feet, Kendrick told Robert everything, including his first meeting with the lady Fitz Hugh.

“She hit you?” Robert roared with laughter, slapping his thigh with his hand. “And did you have it coming?”

Kendrick flushed. “I did, but that is not the point.” Remembering the sting of her fist, Kendrick rubbed his jaw. “Damn it all, man, her father proposed that I marry the chit and she had the nerve to openly say she prefers a nunnery.”

Robert’s mood softened. “Ah, poor Kendrick. To be struck with cupid’s bow only to come up empty handed must have hurt indeed.”

“It did.” Realizing he was revealing too much, Kendrick affected bravado as he said, “But I’m certain I will survive.”

Robert winked. “Give it time. It took me one full year to get a kiss from Marian. A full circle of seasons. But in the end she yielded and rewarded me thrice over for my patience.”

“Patience,” Kendrick grumbled.

“Aye, patience. Something you have little—“ A thump outside the door caused him to be suddenly silent. Cautiously he moved towards the window. “John has sent his hounds here. I dare not be caught.” He mouthed.

“I  know. ”Kendrick blew out the candle, then hustled his friend out the window, aiding him to climb down a vine to the ground below. When Robert had safely descended, he waved. He had just turned around when the door opened. Hugo stood there. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Kendrick snapped. “I did not call for you.”

The servant bowed. “Sorry;, my lord, but I thought you should be aware of the outlaw who has been spotted lurking in the woods.”

“Outlaw?” For just a moment Kendrick thought about the young archer, then realized that of course Hugo meant Rob.

“It seems Robin Hood himself is nearby.”

“Robin Hood?” Kendrick raised his brows. Was it possible? Robert—Robin?” He decided that it was. So, Robert was not just any outlaw then. He had chosen for himself a lofty alias. “Well, I’m certain that were he here you would be the first to know, Hugo.” Acting as nonchalant as he could, he climbed back into bed. “As for me, I’m too tired to worry overmuch.” Ah, but he was worried. For Robert. For Marian. And, if it was known about his association with Robert, for himself.

PART TWO:  THE FLAME

Nottinghamshire
, England – Winter, 1193

Your love is all consuming,

like a flame;

Blazing forth my heart, my soul to claim.

Not ocean, river, nor earth’s waters

Can quench this fire.

You are and always will be,

My love, my heart’s own desire.

                         -   Kendra de Bron

Chapter Thirteen

A winter mist hung over the hillside and yet that did not dampen Rowena’s good spirits. She felt invincible, she felt free.
Roaming the woodlands disguised as a boy was what she loved doing. She was making quite a name for herself as the avenging archer.

Oh, how surprised her father would be if he knew how and where she spent her days.
During the evenings she was her father's proper daughter, dressed in her wimple and gown, her hair adorned with the braid; but during the time just after dawn and before dusk she rode about the nearby forests and countryside robbing from the rich, doing mischief to those who had done evil, helping the poor and those wronged by the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John.   If she was mistaken for the famous outlaw Robin Hood, well so be it.  She laughed at the very thought, hoping that perhaps one day she would be able to let the truth be known and take credit for her own good deeds.

“I want de Bron to know that he has been bested by a woman.” Oh, how that would wound his pride. Meanwhile, she would have to be patient and content herself with
imaginary reprisals for de Bron’s manor was of  necessity off limits.

“Mind me well, old man,” he had warned. “I will not tolerate any more destruction. Next time I will strike back and strike hard….” It was a warning that Rowena dare not ignore lest her father be harmed by her daring.

Rowena’s restraint did not extend to the prince’s men now living on de Bron’s property, however. It was with the greatest delight that she taunted and teased them whenever she could. One had lost his helmet, one had lost his shield, gifts the blacksmith had quickly melted down.

“I will not rest until they have been chased back to the castle. They are not welcome here.”

Whistling a bawdy tune, Rowena sat on a rock, contenting herself in looking up at the sky.  It was a strange day. Fog floated across the sun, casting eerie shadows on the ground of the forest below like witches or ghosts.  Why, she could nearly imagine their shrieking.

"No."  Rowena sat up with a start.  It was not imagined.  The sound was real.  Frightened screams that echoed throughout the forest.

Jumping to her feet, she vaulted onto the back of her horse, cutting short his peaceful grazing.  Urging the horse onward, she rode in the direction of the sound, coming upon two figures silhouetted against the horizon.

"Please, spare me.  Please."  The voice was high
-pitched like a child's, but though the owner of the voice was a mere three feet or so in height, it was no youth who issued the plea.  The grey beard attested to that.

"Lankless," she whispered, recognizing the court buffoon.  Clearly
, as he was being  poked and prodded by his attackers' swords he was not laughing now.  Like a trapped squirrel the small man's eyes darted back and forth looking for any means of escape.

"I will give you to the count of three to hand over your gold.  If you do not, I will see that your size is diminished by another head.  Do you get my meaning, dwarf?" boomed a voice.  Taking a step towards the tiny man
, a hooded figure looked as if he intended to give credence to his threat.

"Do as he says,
" commanded his companion.  Stepping forward he began to search the dwarf as the other man kept him at sword's point.  "I thought so."  Withdrawing a large money pouch hidden in the jester's hood, he started to stuff them into his tunic but he paused as he felt his hat whisked from his head.  "What in God's blood?"

Grasping her bow,
Rowena showed herself.  "Shame on you for seeking to harm one but half your size," she scolded.  Robbing from the rich was one thing, but stealing from this little man was another.  She knew Lankless to be good at heart no matter if he was in the employ of the prince. Nor was he rich.

Whirling
, the man stared down at his hat which was pinned to the ground by a still pulsating arrow.  Sputtering, he bent to retrieve the object only to find it whisked from his head by a second arrow.

"Give the jeste
r back his coins."  Arming herself with another arrow, Rowena pulled back on the string of her bow, eyeing the man in brown and green.  "Robin Hood would be ashamed of you."

"Robin Hood be damned.  It's each to his own."  With a grunt the man held out the money pouch, but instead of returning it to its owner
, he hurled it at Rowena, taking her by surprise.  With a lunge he grabbed her by the foot, pulling her to the ground.  She was forced to fight in hand to hand combat.

Rowena had spent several years wrestling with stable boys before she had grown to womanhood.  Now her days of fighting and sparring came in handy.  Rolling around on the ground
, she felt the fingers of her attacker entwine around her neck, squeezing until she gasped, but she didn't panic.  With a well aimed blow to his groin, she soon had the man groaning in pain. 

Now it was Lankless' turn to come to the rescue.  Turning a somersault
, he kicked the other outlaw in the jaw with his boot.  Retrieving the man's sword, he held it threateningly against the man's throat.  "Move one step and I will cut you down to my size," he threatened.

Picking up her bow and arrow
, Rowena was once more in control of the situation.  "Me thinks we have caught ourselves two weasels, Lankless.  Shall we send them back into the forest?"

"Aye."  With a grin the dwarf gave each man a boot in their behinds.  Brushing himself off, adjusting his yellow and green tunic, he grabbed his money pouch tightly and climbed up on his brightly painted
wagon.  "I can never repay you, archer."  The bells upon his hat jingled merrily as he waved.

"'Tis enough that you are safe."  She turned away, then turned towards him saying, " I
recognized them, no matter their disguise. I saw them at the castle. They were not Robin Hood’s men, albeit it appears that’s what they would have you believe.”

“Little did they know that I would never have believed.” He grinned. “For Rob is my hero.” He took off his had, exposing a rapidly balding head, then eyed her quizzically. “Why did you help me?”

“I have taken a vow to aid those like yourself."

“I see.” He smiled. “Perhaps one day I’ll be able to help you too.” He leaned over, confiding a secret. “Though the prince’s jester I be, I must confess that I have no love for the man. Long live King Richard.”

"And God speed him back to England," she whispered. 

"Only then will all be well."  Bending over
, the dwarf grinned at Rowena.  "If you ever have need of me, merely whistle, like so and if I am near by I will come to
your
aid."  Trilling his tongue, the dwarf made the sound of a lark three times. 

"Like so."  Rowena mimicked his sound.

He nodded.  "I will consider you my friend from this day forth, archer.  May God be with you."  Pulling at the reins of his horse he guided the wagon down the road, but he did look back several times.

"A friend," she repeated, pulling herself up on her horse's back.  "No doubt I will have need of one before I am through." 

Patience, Robert Fitzooth had advised.  Well, patience it would be, Kendrick vowed as he appraised his appearance in front of the silver mirror in Sir William's entranceway.  He had taken special care in his grooming and wardrobe, choosing black hosen, black boots and a tunic of black trimmed in si
lver.   Having noticed Rowena's fascination with his chest hair, he had chosen the tunic because of the "v" at the neck and because it emphasized his broad shoulders.  A round amulet studded with small diamonds that had once belonged to his uncle, Geoffrey de Bron, seemed to add just the right touch of nobility.  

"Rowena Fitz Hugh could not find a more handsome suitor," he declared somewhat vainly, running a hand through his hair.

Oh yes, her aloofness had taken a toll upon his self-assurance, Kendrick couldn't deny that.  Being rejected was a new experience for him, but tonight his confidence was again restored.  Robert Fitzooth's good natured advice had egged him on. Tonight would be the beginning of his wooing, a courtship that was obviously favored by the lady in question's father, seeing as how he had issued a dinner invitation for this evening.

The scent of roast swan filled the air.  Kendrick took note of the aroma and licked his lips.  He had let it be known to Sir William how much he fa
vored swan and he perceived it to be a good sign that it was going to be the night’s fare.

"Ha!  Too bad the daughter isn't as amiable as the father," he said
to himself with a wry smile. He liked Sir William. And damned if he didn't like the winsome little witch too.  She had remained on his mind today, a disturbing and alluring presence.  Closing his eyes he could see her nearly as clearly as if she stood before him.  Her flawless skin, her mouth that always seemed to be mocking him, the tendrils of glossy honey-colored hair that curled around her pretty face.  It was her eyes, however, that haunted him the most. Blue eyes. Eyes that could  run the gauntlet  from warm and kind to dark and stormy.  He wondered how they would look tonight.

"Follow me this way, my Lord."

A feminine voice behind him startled Kendrick out of his musing.  Turning around he was met by a friendly face that was thankfully recognized. “Maida.”  As he followed her down the long hallway he felt a bit of his cockiness returning. 

"Look at him swagger,"
Rowena said to herself as she watched him from the top of the stairway.  "Oh, how could Father do this to me?" 

Why did Sir William encourage the man?  She had made her feelings very clear.  But then
, what did it matter. According to the law of the land and the church, her father had the right to marry his daughter off to any man he might fancy.  More than one noble daughter had been sold to the highest bidder.  Some young women had even suffered beatings and near starvation in their fathers’ efforts to break their resistance to an upcoming marriage.

It was a man's world when all was said in done.  From the moment a girl-child was born her father had control of her life
, making her little more than a puppet.  Then she was pawned off on a husband who took over pulling the strings.  If a woman had sons they were the next in line to tell her what to do and when.

"Fie!"  Her father had ordered her to dress in he
r finest for their guest, much to her protestations and willful frowns.  Would she dare disobey him?  Rowena paced anxiously, longing to be out of her stifling woman's garments and away from the manor's walls, for then and only then was she really free.  "But why not now?"  Why should she have to wait just because of an unwelcome guest.

Retreating to her room, she tore off her false braid and stripped off her bliaut and kirtle as if they burned her skin.  She was outraged, not
at her father, for she did not really blame him.  It was Kendrick de Bron's name she cursed.  Had he not come, all would be well between her father and herself.  As it was they had spent the last two days arguing over her haughty attitude and lack of congeniality.  Well, if she wasn't at dinner tonight then she wouldn't be tempted to fling insults at the man who had most certainly earned them.

Donning her archer's garb she swung one leg out the window and reached for the vine she used as a rope to climb to the ground.  In mid-escape, however, she had a change of h
eart.  She wouldn't run away.  Not now, not ever. "Father wants to offer me to Kendrick de Bron.  Well then, I will let my dear suitor see exactly what he would be in for." As she moved around her bedchamber choosing what to wear, her laughter was so spirited that Kendrick could hear it down below.

"Well, at least she seems to be in a jovial mood," he said to her father, looking upward.

"Rowena and I have had a long talk," Sir William informed him, clasping his hands together so tightly that his knuckles cracked.  "I have made her see the error of her  wayward ways.  Tonight I am certain that you will see an example of the perfect lady."  He gestured towards the chair which marked Kendrick the evening's guest. "The firm hand of a husband is all that is needed."

The table was covered with all kinds of dishes, a feast that might have been meant for Prince John himself.  Not only were there platters of roast swan and duckling, glazed in their sauces of wine and honey, but dumplings and dressing to go with them.  There were pies and pastries. 

"Blankmanger."  The blending of chicken, rice and almond milk, garnished with fried almonds and anise, was Kendrick's favorite dish above all. Sitting down at the table he stared at his bowl, eager to eat.

"As I was saying," Sir William mumbled, tugging nervously at his beard, "Rowena has undergone a change of heart since last you visited us.   Her walk is as graceful as a swan glides over the lake, her voice is
soft and melodious, and her disposition is...is....well, you will see that she would make a very fine wife." 

Kendrick looked i
n the direction of the stairway, wondering where this paragon of womanhood was.  Certainly timeliness wasn't one of her new virtues.  Or was this a sign of her rebelliousness.  Would she refuse to come down?  Snub him?  If so, what would Sir William say to cover for his daughter's rudeness?  "So, she has changed her ways," he said raising his brow.