Laura Strickland - The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy (25 page)

Lark blinked at her and then gave a hard nod.

“Only, go swiftly,” Linnet bade, “and do not be gone too long. Falcon awaits us.”

****

“Awake, my son.”

Gareth opened his eyes to a dazzle of brightness. The chamber his uncle’s seneschal had assigned him faced east, and the new morning sun came in the window and found him where he lay. Pure white, it appeared to him as he lay just called from sleep, and blinding.

Who had spoken to him? He had dreamed of Linnet, but this did not sound like her voice. Yet it was as familiar to him, over the distance of memory.

The brightness shifted, gathered, and took form. A woman stood at the foot of his bed, smiling.

And, oh, he remembered that smile. Every day of his youth it had been gifted to him, the highest reward he could hope to win. It held a measure of magic and beauty so true it even now twisted his heart in his chest.

“Mother?” He sat up, scrambling among his blankets. Ah, but she was wonderful to look upon! Clad in what he now remembered as her favorite gown of spring green, she looked slender as a willow, and her fair hair—golden, with a touch of red—spilled down her back. And her eyes—as a child, Gareth had believed heaven lay in her eyes, and all the love available to him in the world.

But they had laid her in her grave. His heart clenched again. Her presence here could not be real, much as he longed for it.

She shifted, came forward, and sat on the foot of his bed. Her smile deepened. “Look at you. All grown, and so handsome.”

He lifted a hand to the scar that now marred his face. “Nay.”

“I speak not of your appearance, my son, although that mark takes nothing from you. I speak of the man within. I am so very proud of you.”

Hot tears flooded Gareth’s eyes. How long had he waited to hear those words? Like a child, he answered, “I have tried, Mother. I remembered all you taught me.”

“I know. I have often been with you, though you did not see.” She shook her head and the morning light shed from her hair in radiant sparks. “That you could have come through your father’s hands, survived, and kept your heart pure amazes me.”

Gareth’s thoughts leaped. He had not forgotten what morning this was. Today he would fight a contest for Falcon’s life, and his own. Was that why she came, to warn him? Did she come because this day he must die?

Much as he wanted that answer, he dared not chase her with a question and end this moment. Almost, he did not care—her presence proved enough.

So he whispered, “You look well.” She did, especially since the last time he had seen her she had lain a broken creature, pale and wasted, most of her brightness flown. “You are happy?”

Her smile deepened. “I am. Only look.” She lifted both her hands in a graceful gesture and cupped them together. They caught the sunlight and spilled brightness like water. She laughed. “Remember the magic about which I told you, and that I said was everywhere? I am filled with it now; I am made of it. There is, my son, nothing to fear in death.”

Gareth swallowed hard. So, that was indeed why she had come. “Mother, am I to die today? If it is for her sake, I will not shy from it.”

“Oh, what a son you are! You combine my love and your father’s courage.” Gareth’s heart protested, and she said swiftly, “Nay, do not deny it.”

“I despise my father.”

“Then you must despise a part of yourself, for he too contributed to what you are. Say what you will of him, he made you strong.” She tipped her head, considering him. “Are you strong enough to accomplish what you must, this day?”

Gareth nodded soberly. “I live for her. Should I not die for her also?”

“You will do as you must. Follow your heart.”

His eyes widened at the familiar words. She leaned forward and laid her hand against his face. He felt a tingle where she touched his skin. Now he could see her eyes, deep green like the light in Sherwood.

“Therein, my son, lies your strength. It is a twisted, beautiful thing that in his cruelty your father gave you the iron to survive the poison he fed you and somehow keep the ability to love so strong.”

“No mystery, Mother. You taught me.
She
taught me.”

“Then bless her, and bless you also, Gareth. May the wind come and aid you when you need it, may the fire burn inside, may the purity of the water and the great strength of the earth flow through you. In the name of the Old Ones do I invoke all these for you.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He closed his eyes with the strength of her blessing. Through his eyelids he saw the light shift and he knew she had gone, even though the memory of her touch lingered. “Thank you.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Here is your blood price, or most of it.” Angrily, Lark thumped the small, heavy casket down at Linnet’s feet. For the past two days, Linnet knew, Lark had searched for that chest, unstinting in her efforts.

Now Linnet’s gaze flew to her sister’s. “How did you find it? Where?”

“Does it matter?” Lark scowled. “Some of it is gone. Yet surely it will still buy Falcon’s life.”

Linnet’s heart rose on a wave of hope, the first she had felt since parting from Gareth in the forest.

“So,” Lark continued, “you may speak to your bastard lover in your mind and tell him you have what he seeks. It goes hard with me to turn over to you what might keep the wolves from so many doors this coming winter, but I would do far more for Fal’s sake. Anyway, I have prayed on it.”

“And received an answer?”

Lark’s golden eyes narrowed. “We are lost anyway, without Falcon. So those who dwell in Sherwood do say.”

“We are three or we are nothing,” Linnet acknowledged. She, too, had done a lot of thinking these days just past. She knew she carried the future in the form of Gareth de Vavasour’s child. It was as if she could feel a measure of brightness tinged by magic just beneath her heart. Whether or not she bred the future, she knew she must accept the present in full. She had to step into her place in the new triad—nothing could be more important.

She remembered her mother telling her many times how life shaped individuals to be what they must. Events only defeated a woman if she failed to learn from them.

Quite possibly this day’s events would shatter her. She faced the possibility of going into the future without the man she loved more than her own life. Yet if the worst did happen, she would need to walk on, for Sherwood.

“Thank you, Lark,” she said softly.

“Do not thank me. I do naught for you—all for him.”

Gently Linnet replied, “Anything done for the three of us is done for Falcon. I only pray he lives still.”

“He does.” Again Lark’s eyes flashed. “I have spoken with him; I have been with him where he lies and upheld him, even as he endured the questioning. Nay—they have not tried him too sorely yet, but I have felt what he feels.” Wonder touched her, strong and visible. “In his time of need, I have lent him my strength.” Her chin tipped up. “If he survives this day, he will be mine.”

The fierceness of the declaration explained much, including the chest at Linnet’s feet. She nodded. “Then let us assemble our band of men and make haste to Nottingham.”

****

My love, we come. We have the casket you sought. Will it be enough to buy Falcon free?

Gareth straightened where he stood, sword in hand, when the words entered his mind. Already was the contest, which had begun at sunup, well advanced. The lads Gareth had spent weeks training had put on a fine show. The day—one of deep azure skies and white clouds streaming before a strong breeze that unfurled also the pennants on the royal pavilion—could not be more perfect. Robert de Vavasour, seated with the King, appeared pleased, and even from where he stood at the edge of the field Gareth could see that Henry looked content.

Now, with the sun high in the sky and the hour nearing noonday, came time for the major events. Gareth drew a deep breath and thought of the woman who spoke to him, and not whether this bright day might be his last.

Where are you, Linnet?

We are at the outer gate—myself, Lark, and four of our men. Where is Falcon?

He has not yet been brought forth
. Gareth pictured her passing through the gate.
Virtue survives death—
he must believe all higher emotions did so survive, especially love.
He will be here when the moment comes.

First, he knew, he must do his part, defeat all comers in order to win the privilege of facing the man he meant to name Nottingham’s worst enemy. For he must face Falcon as the champion in order to claim that right.

He flexed his left arm. Already it pained him. The bone Wren had fused by magic, in Sherwood, had perhaps mended too quickly. How many men could say they had a broken arm that healed in a matter of days?

True, it was not his sword arm. But with his shield upon it, he needs must take the brunt of every blow meant to fell him, in defense of his life—at least until he could face his last opponent of all.

What is it, my love—what is amiss with you?

Ah, and she could feel his disquiet. Could he hide anything from her, including the desperation in his heart? He answered,
I would play my part carefully, and true.

We all take our lives into our hands and do as we must
. Her strength touched him a mere instant before her love came rushing, filling and uplifting him like light. Despite the circumstances, it brought him fierce joy.

But I wish to see you,
she said, all her hope and longing in the words.

If all followed his plan, she might see him die. He would spare her that if he could, but did not know how.
Aye, love. I come to meet you now, at the gate.

Then I can keep breathing.

With a nod in the direction of the pavilion, Gareth hurried off, after sheathing his sword in one swift movement. People thronged the grassy area just west of the castle proper, where the contest was being held. Moving against the stream that contained peasants, tradesmen, and nobles alike, he searched for the party from Sherwood.

And found them by feel.

They looked no more than another group of woodsmen. Even Linnet went clothed as a male, and they all wore their bows on their shoulders. Gareth did not think he had ever before seen Linnet with a weapon.

She wore leggings and a leather hood with a wide-brimmed leather hat that shadowed her face. But he need not see her face to know her, for her spirit reached for him, a stark contrast to the hostility of Lark, at her side.

Even as he approached, Lark stepped forward. “Well, Norman, you had better intend to deal with us in good faith, or I swear you shall live to regret it. If Falcon does not survive this day, I will find and kill you myself.”

Gareth met her fierce, golden stare and spoke the truth. “Should your Falcon survive this day, my life may well be forfeit.”

Her eyes widened, and he went on, “If you would give him a chance to be away out of here, you needs must be clever in it, and we shall have to work together—no matter how much you hate me.”

That took her aback. For one of the few times since he had met her, she looked less than certain. “It is a matter of trust, Norman. How am I supposed to believe you willing to sacrifice yourself for Falcon?”

“Not for Falcon.” Gareth moved his gaze to Linnet’s face. All his being, as he now knew, lay with her. And he would do all he must for her sake.

Her eyes met his and, again, the love came rushing upon him, a sense of claiming so strong it steadied his resolve and his heartbeat.

Her voice sounded in his mind, a caress.
Forever, beloved.

Lark twitched, almost as if she heard.

Gareth looked at her again and then swept the grim-faced men who accompanied her with a glance. “Listen to me. Falcon will need to fight for his life. I can wrest for him that chance, and I can try to tip the scale—little more. Follow my lead, and above all else get Falcon away after the contest ends, no matter what condition he may be in.”

Lark’s chin tipped up. “If you can imagine I will not—”

“I can imagine you losing your temper and spoiling our chances.”

“ ‘Our’?” she sneered.

“Were I not with you, Mistress Lark, I would not make this attempt. Look around you. Do you think I can do more than sway these events? Now hold your tongue and come to meet the King.”

All six of them stiffened.

“You do mean to betray us,” Lark hissed.

“He does not.” Linnet laid her hand on Gareth’s bare arm. The last time ever she would touch him? Ah, but his whole body strained to her even as her love flooded through him again.

I will be with you
, she whispered in his mind,
in the sunlight, the breeze, and the grass beneath your feet—in the strength of your heart.
It was so like the blessing his mother had bestowed upon him, he caught his breath.

He nodded at her once. “Come,” he said again. “And, all of you, be as strong and wise as ever you have been.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Sire, I have grand news. I bring the return of your stolen taxes, lost here in Nottingham some weeks ago.”

The words caught the attention of the mild-faced, sandy-haired man seated in comfort in the pavilion, and brought the Sheriff of Nottingham to his feet.

Linnet had never before been quite so close to the dreaded Robert de Vavasour, and had never before laid eyes on the King. Now she stood under a silk canopy surrounded by guards and nobles, one of whom was the Sheriff’s captain, Monteith.

Would Monteith recognize them from the encounter near Ravenshead? But no, his gaze slid off both her and Lark, no doubt dismissing them as unimportant peasants.

King Henry crooked an eyebrow. “What is this you say, Sir Gareth? And are these varlets the fellows who stole it?”

“Nay, my liege.” Gareth bowed deeply, and his golden-brown hair spilled over his brow like liquid sunlight. So handsome did he look, stripped down to fighting trim in his leggings and boots, he nearly distracted Linnet from the situation at hand.

Nearly.