Maid of Sherwood (13 page)

Chapter Twenty:

“Your mother was quite the figure at court when she lived here,” Prince John said, casually spinning her about the dance floor.

“I do not know what you mean, Highness,” Marian said. “She never speaks to me of her time here.”

“And you are quite sure she never once mentioned Excalibur to you?”

“Yes. I do not even think Mother knows which end of a sword is which.”

“Yet I heard a rumor that you are trained with one.” The prince observed.

“Father thought it was a good idea,” Marian said carefully. “In these times of unrest, and the fact that we live so close to the forest, he believed I should be able to protect myself.”

“Very wise of him,” the prince said. “And have you had occasion to do that?”

“Do what, Highness?”

“Protect yourself.” Prince John kissed the back of her hand before releasing her and Marian realized with a start that the music had ended.

“No, I have only ever practiced with Father.”

“Dare I hope you brought your sword with you?”

It was not where Marian expected the conversation to go. “Ummm…I am sorry, Highness. I did not.”

“Ah, that is a pity. I have never tried my hand against a female opponent.” He snapped his fingers. “But I can provide you with one. What type of blade are you familiar with?”

“The only sword I’ve used was an old arming sword,” Marian admitted.

“An ancient weapon, indeed. Tell me, it is a family blade?”

Marian’s heart began to pound. The prince was a master, it seemed, of delving for information. “I do not know, Your Highness. You’d have to ask my parents. All I know is it is the sword I was given.”

“Well, I have swords in the armory. My guards can find one for you.”

“You want to duel with me, Highness?’ Marian asked.

“I believe that is what I have been saying,” Prince John returned. “You need not worry. I will go easily on you.”

There was no way for her to refuse. Instead, Marian smiled and nodded her agreement. “I look forward to it.”

“I will send for you first thing in the morning. We shall duel after we break our fast.” His eyes raked over her once. “After I send you some more suitable clothing. I would not wish it said I won unfairly.”

He had, Marian noticed, stopped using the royal ‘we’. She wondered if it meant something significant about the king’s absence. Or his possible return.

“I hate to leave you,” Prince John said, “but I have much to do before I return to London. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“I—thank you,” Marian stuttered.

The prince strode away and the music started up in his absence. Marian glanced around her. Couples were moving onto the floor. She noticed the sheriff striding toward her.

“Lady Marian, I hope you were not leaving,” he said as he reached her. “I was looking forward to dancing with you again.”

“I was going to stroll through the gardens,” Marian said. “I have not had the opportunity to walk through them at my leisure yet.”

“If you do not mind, I will join you,” the sheriff said. “The gardens are particularly lovely in the moonlight, especially the maze.”

“Ummm…I have walked in the maze before. I am afraid it might prove too much of a challenge to get through at night.”

The sheriff laughed. “Lady Marian, I was here when that maze was built. I can keep you safe.”

“Allow me to be perfectly honest,” Marian said, lying through her teeth. “I would rather stay close to the castle until I am more comfortable here.”

“Of course. There are perfectly lovely gardens just below the battlements. Would you care to see them?”

“If you mean the vegetable gardens,” Marian said, “I have seen them already and while they are abundant, I do not know if I would use the word ‘lovely’ to describe them.” 

The sheriff raised one eyebrow. “I did not realize you were so familiar with the grounds.”

“I am learning more each day,” Marian returned carefully. She scuffed one shoe lightly against the marble floor.

“Well then, since you have already seen the gardens, would you like to join me for a cup of wine?”

Marian shook her head. “I do not drink wine, but a cup of honey mead would be welcome.”

The sheriff bowed. “Your wish is my command.” He strode across the floor and Marian walked to a nearby chair.

“Are you having fun?” Father startled her and she squeaked.

“I did not see you, Father. I—yes, I suppose I am.” She smiled up at him. “Why are not you dancing with Mother?”

Father shrugged. “Your mother is busy holding a court of her own.”

Marian looked where Father pointed and giggled. There was Mother, surrounded by courtiers. Interestingly enough, there were very few ladies in the group.

“How does she do that so easily?” Marian asked.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Change personalities like that,” Marian said. As she watched, Mother flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed. “She seems so—so at home.”

“This was her home for many, many years,” Father pointed out. “She knows what’s expected at court; she knows how to play to an audience.”

“I do not know who she really is,” Marian said. “What I saw in the chapel made me realize what I grew up with was false, but how do I know that was not a front, either?”

“Remember what I told you back home? ‘Your mother is who your mother is. No more and no less’? That is the sum of it, Mari.
Both
personalities are true. Just at different times.”

“That must get very confusing,” Marian stared at Mother.

“Here is your mead,” the sheriff said. A tall goblet was thrust at Marian. “What do you find confusing, Lady Marian?”

“Marian was just telling me that she is not used to castle life,” Father said. “She finds it overwhelming.”

“Exactly,” Marian agreed a trifle too quickly.

“Is there anything I can do to put your mind at ease?” The sheriff asked.

“No, I think it will just take some time. But I appreciate your concern.” Marian said.

Father smiled at both of them. “I think I will go join your mother. Sheriff, it is always good to see you. Marian, do not forget tomorrow is Sunday. We shall attend service first thing in the morning.”

“I will be at the chapel early,” she promised.

“You will enjoy the Sunday service,” the sheriff told her. “I never miss it. Shall I save you a seat?”

“I would rather sit with my parents,” Marian said. The next words almost stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. “But I am sure no-one would object if you joined us.”

“Regretfully, I must decline. The prince demands my undivided attention during his visits here.”

“Can I ask you something…personal, Sheriff?” Marian placed one hand on his arm and leaned toward him confidentially.

“Of course,” he replied.

“Why is Prince John so afraid of the ghosts?”

The sheriff stiffened. “The prince is afraid of nothing,” he snapped.

Marian softened her voice further. “He seemed distraught at the noise they were making during dinner.”

“They are pests,” the sheriff said. “It was nothing more than that.”

“But what happened to them? Why would they say he killed them?”

“You seem to be very interested in the ghosts of dead children.”

“There were dozens of them, Sheriff. How could you
not
be curious?”

“He is not curious because he killed us, too.”

The whisper against her ear startled her and she fought not to twitch in response.

“I am not curious, Lady Marian, because they are dead.” The sheriff’s voice was flat, as though he was talking to her about the weather.

It sent shivers up Marian’s spine.

“The ghosts are not a subject I care to discuss,” the sheriff continued. “And I suggest you do not bring it up to the prince. He’ll view it with less…kindness…than I have.”

“My apologies,” Marian murmured. “I certainly did not mean any offense.”

The sheriff smiled. “None taken. I find you to be quite charming, if a bit unrefined. But I am sure a longer stay here will easily remedy that.”

 “I believe my parents plan on leaving when the prince does.”

“I was not referring to your parents,” he said. “I was referring to you.”

Marian shook her head. “Oh, but I cannot stay without them. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“You would be my personal guest. I guarantee nothing would happen to you without my express permission.”

She caught the glimmer of madness in his eyes and swallowed. “It is inappropriate for you to even suggest such a thing, Sheriff, and I am not particularly comfortable with where this conversation is going.”

“Never mind,” the sheriff said. “It is just something for you to consider. After all, it would benefit you greatly to take advantage of your heritage.”

“I never even really knew what my heritage
was
until coming here.” Marian said. “It simply was not important enough back in town.”

“All the more reason for you to stay here. There are plenty of people who would be willing to educate you.”

Marian shook her head. “I already told you I was uncomfortable with this conversation, Sheriff.”

The sheriff gripped Marian’s arm just below the elbow. “Make no mistake, Lady Marian, you are
not
in charge here. I am.”

She yanked her arm away from him. “This conversation is
over
.” Turning on her heel, she marched away from him on quaking legs. The sheriff, obviously, was no-one to be trifled with. She wondered if Mother could have succeeded where she had failed.

Chapter Twenty-One:

“Where is she going?”

“She does not know.”

Marian strode past the stairs leading to her suite. The ghosts were right. She had no idea where she was headed.

“If she does not know, then how is she supposed to get there?”

“If you are not going to speak
to
me, then would you kindly not speak at all?!” Marian snapped aloud.

The ghosts laughed.

“She is feisty; no wonder the sheriff likes her.”

“The sheriff is not the only one…”

“Stop it!” Marian commanded them. They did not listen, just giggled harder.

 “Do you think she needs a hint?”

“
We could give her one,”
a single, very young, voice replied.

“What are you talking about?” Marian gasped when the shadows which had been clinging to the walls she walked past began shifting and sliding toward her.

“I like her. Let us help.”
The young ghost announced.

The laughter tapered off and the shadows crowded closer around Marian’s skirts.

“Follow us,”
they whispered. “
It is not too much further.”

Marian shook her head. “This is mad.”

The shadows tugged at her skirts, gathering in close, and then stretching farther down the hall. “
You have to hurry,”
they demanded. “
She needs you.”

“She? Who is she?” Following shadows was mad, but the idea of not following them was even crazier.

The ghosts did not answer, just kept undulating back and forth, forcing her further and further down. And the direction she was walking
was
down. The air around her cooled, and the walls, bare now of the shadows which were clinging to the stone floor and her skirts, grew clammy and damp.

Guttering torches placed every few feet did little to relieve the dimness of the long corridor, producing a thick smoke that rose into the air and made her cough. She stepped deeper, taking shallow breaths to keep the smoke from filling her lungs. A skittering sound near her feet caught her attention and she glanced down, stifling a scream as a rat scurried into the flickering shadows the torchlight created against the stone walls.

“Where are you taking me?” She did not really expect an answer.

“The dungeons,”
was the reply she received. “
That is where she is. That is where she has been.”

The dust stirred at her feet as she walked and she sneezed. The dust tickled her nose again. She blinked suddenly in surprise. There were footprints on the floor before her and they continued down the corridor for as far as she could see.

“Why is she slowing down? She needs to walk faster, not slower.”

“Leave her alone; she is following us.”

That was true. She was following them. But where were they leading her? The question so preoccupied her that she barely noticed the wooden doors she walked past until the shadows collected at the last door on the left side of the corridor.

“There. She is in there.”

Marian wiped suddenly damp palms against her gown, leaving faint sweaty stains on the light green cotton. She was not sure what was behind the door, but she was equally positive she really did not want to find out.

“
Look at her, she is scared.”
The shadows giggled.

“I am not scared!” Marian said. “I came down here, did not I?”

“
Bet you will not walk through the door,”
the voices taunted.

Marian’s spine stiffened and, without hesitation, she twisted the wrought iron handle on the shadow darkened door and stepped inside.

At first glance the room was empty. Torches placed every two feet on the far walls met her gaze. Only two of the torches were lit, throwing flickering shadows on the floor and walls. As Marian watched, the shadow ghosts crawled into the dungeon, coating the floor and the walls with their presence.

“What is this place?” Marian’s voice was hushed.

“Are you sure she is not dense? Did not we already tell her?”

“You know, considering I followed you down here, I would think you would be nicer to me,” Marian huffed.

“Look around,”
the shadows directed. “
You will see.”

“I am just a bit tired of being ordered around by shadows,” Marian complained.

Laughter.

“H—hello? Is someone there?” The voice was hesitant, and broken, but it was a woman’s voice.

Marian took a hesitant step forward. Darkness, a real blackness brought on by lack of torchlight, kept her from walking further.

“P—please, is someone there?”

“Who are you?” Marian peered into darkness, trying to pierce the faint light from the torches.

The woman coughed a dry rasping sound. “Do you have water?”

Marian shook her head before realizing the other woman could not see her. “No, I am sorry.”

“It—it does not matter.” Marian heard her swallow. “Come closer, so I can see you.”

“It is dark,” Marian felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth.

“She is scared of the dark!” “I thought only babies were scared of the dark!”

“Hush,” the other woman said softly and the ghosts’ teasing subsided. “Do not be scared, child.” Chains rattled. “I certainly cannot hurt you.”

“But,” Marian moved closer. “Who are you? Why are you down here?”

The woman laughed. It was more of a wheezing sound than anything Marian thought of as laughter. “The sheriff brought me here as his ‘guest’ nearly five years ago. He did not want me to leave.”

Marian was finally close enough to make out the other woman’s features. Greasy brown hair pooled around where she lay, curled into a ball on the cold stone floor. Chains bound both her feet to the closest wall, disappearing under a once fine gown, now stained with water and bits of food.

“Oh, my…what did he do to you?” Marian hurried over, kneeling down by the other woman.

The woman squinted at her. “Do I—know you?”

Marian automatically started shaking her head, then paused. “You almost look like someone I know…”

“I am sure I do not look like anyone anymore. Not even myself.”

“Do you have a son?” Marian asked.

“I had a son once,” the woman answered on a sigh. “I have not seen him in a very long time. He was twelve or thirteen. A tall boy, nearly as tall as his father.”

Marian narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “What is your name? Do you remember?”

The woman’s voice when she replied was sharp. “Of course I remember! The sheriff calls me his Scarlett Bird, you see…and that is my name. Dulcina Scarlett.”

Marian gasped. “You are Will’s mother!”