Maid of Sherwood (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four:

“Kill the sheriff? What are you talking about?” Marian scurried after Mother.

“It is the only way to free Dulcina and keep the throne free for Richard’s return.” Mother explained.

“But—King Richard is in the Holy Land.” She glanced at Mother’s stern face as she hurried alongside her.

 “I have heard rumors that tell me differently,” she said. “I have no way of finding out how true they are, but even the possibility of their accuracy frightens me.”

“What rumors? What are you talking about?”

“Austria,” Mother said. “The last rumor I heard was that Richard had left the Holy Land and was taken prisoner while crossing Austria. If that is true, then I fear for his safety. Duke Leopold is not easily forgiving of insults, and I am afraid Richard has a volatile temper.”

“I am not sure what that has to do with Robin,” Marian said.

“Were you not listening? Pay closer attention. This is important, probably the most important thing which will happen in your entire life. We need to ensure the safety of the throne.”

“Will the prince not notice when we kill his closest friend?”

“Of course he shall notice,” Mother walked into the maze garden, the yew trees cool and inviting. “But the thing you do not understand about Prince John is this: he is ineffective at best. The sheriff is the true power behind the throne, Marian. Their relationship is like that of a chicken with its head. It functions well enough with it; eats, breeds, etc. But once the head is gone, all it does is run around the barnyard, waiting to fall.”

 It did not take long to reach the honeysuckle curtain guarding the entrance to the passageway.

“Watch your footing.” Marian stepped down into the passageway. Mother dropped it behind her, enclosing them both in a blackness so complete Marian was sure she could see shapes where none existed.

“Did you ever use this in your days as a spy?” Marian’s question was hushed.

“On occasion it was necessary.” Mother replied.

Then came the unmistakable sound of flint striking stone. Mother suddenly appeared in front of her, holding a wildly sputtering torch in one hand.

“Where did you get that?” Marian asked.

“You would be surprised,” Mother said, “at the number of items that can be hidden in a gown. I do not know how long the torchlight will last, so we had better hurry.” She hastened up the passageway, the torch held in front of her like a beacon of hope.

Marian rushed after Mother. The hard packed dirt below her feet seemed to go on forever.

“How much further until we reach the end?” In the bobbing light, Marian could see nothing but Mother’s dimly lit figure ahead of her.

“It is a long passage,” Mother said.

“Surely it must end sometime!” Marian protested, the stitch in her side growing worse.

“It will when we reach Sherwood Forest,” Mother answered.

Marian turned her head to look back down the hall. “Do you think—oof!”

“If you had not turned your head, you would have seen the door,” Mother’s voice was mild.

Marian rubbed her left cheekbone. “Ouch.”

“Indeed,” Mother said. She gently moved Marian out of the way. “Let me open the door first.”

She placed her shoulder against the dirt encrusted door and pushed hard. It creaked open, the cobwebs in the corners tearing free and hanging to brush against her face as she stepped outside the narrow corridor.

Marian followed, breathing in the scent of damp leaves and letting it out slowly. She was home. “I missed this.”

Mother nodded knowingly. “I understand. I always loved the way the forest smelled. I hated having to play the role I did for a lot of reasons, the least of which meant having to stay away from Sherwood.” She smiled at Marian’s astonishment.

“You both should visit the heart of the forest,” Nyneve said. She floated over the grass to where Marian and Mother stood, her feet barely touching the ground.

“How—how did you get here so quickly?” Marian asked.

Nyneve winked. “This is
my
domain. Besides, it would take me a hundred years plus a hundred more to tell you all my secrets, and we do not have that kind of time. Beatrix, I am glad you understood my message.”

“The implications were rather clear,” Mother said sharply. “I am not a complete idiot.”

Nyneve barked out a laugh. “I know exactly who the du Luc women are, and ‘idiot’ is not the word I would use for any of them. I do hope Robin is listening.” Raising her head, she pursed her lips and whistled; three long notes and two short ones. “It should not take long, now.”

It did not.

 Robin was the first to arrive. He bowed elaborately to Nyneve. “You summoned me?”

The Lady’s voice was solemn. “I did, Robin of Locksley. I have a task for you, and only you can accomplish it.”

“Anything for you, Lady.” Robin’s tone was equally solemn. For an instant. He grinned. “But I claim a kiss as forfeit.”

“You are cheeky, and some day that shall get you into trouble,” Nyneve scolded, but her granite colored eyes twinkled.

“Well, luckily for me, you need my help,” Robin teased the old woman.

“Are you going to say hello to your betrothed?” She laughed when Marian flushed red.

“I have not—” Robin started, but she shook her head.

“Do not bother denying it, Lord Locksley. You have had your heart set on her since she nearly bested you with Excalibur.”

It was Mother’s turn to gasp. “You dueled Robin with
Excalibur
?”

“You never told me what the blade was!” Marian snapped. “How was I supposed to know?”     

“She has a point,” Nyneve said. “You can hardly blame her for using the blade
you
gave her.”

“I am not blaming her,” Mother defended.

“Hmph.” Nyneve replied. “Regardless, now is neither the time nor the place for such discussions. Robin, we need you to kill the sheriff.”

Robin’s eyebrows crawled into his hairline. “You mean The Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“No, The Sheriff of London,” the Lady replied. “Of course we mean the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

“But…why now?” Robin glanced at Marian, his jaw clenching at the sight of the bruise on her cheek. “Did he do that to you?”

Marian flushed red again. “No,” she murmured, embarrassed. “I did it to myself.”

A smile began to quirk the edges of Robin’s mouth. “I assume that is a story you will share with me later?”

“I highly doubt it,” Marian returned.

“While all this is utterly
fascinating
,” Nyneve said, “it does not solve our problem. Now, will you do it?”

“I did not realize it was a request, but since you asked so kindly…” He winked.

“Damnit, Robin, this is serious!” Mother ground out.

“I am fully aware how serious this is. After all, it is not your head with a price on it.” Robin said calmly. “If I choose to have a bit of fun while contemplating my next course of action, that has nothing to do with you.”

“Children, arguing will gain us nothing. Beatrix, I need you to give me Excalibur.” Nyneve said.

“It is Marian’s sword now,” Mother said.

“And yet it is still hidden in a chest in your rooms. I will expect you, and it, in my rooms no later than this evening.” The old woman turned to Robin. “You and I need to speak privately.”

Robin bowed his head. “Can I have a word with Marian first?”

“You can have two.” Nyneve said. She turned to Mother. “Come, Beatrix, let us allow them their privacy.” Mother refused to move and Nyneve continued. “Either you trust them or you do not.”

Mother sighed, but followed the Lady.

Marian stared at Robin through the dappled sunlight, the open door of the Sherwood passageway at her back. “Are you really going to murder the sheriff?” Her voice was low.

“It was not my first choice, but I trust Nyneve’s judgment. If she thinks it is necessary, then yes. I will.”

Marian swallowed hard. “He is an evil man,” she whispered. “But…murder?”

“Tuck tells me the ghosts like you. Did they tell you it was the sheriff who actually placed the nooses around their necks and pulled them tight?”

She shook her head.

“He has a great deal to answer for, Marian.” Robin smiled somewhat grimly. “But I do not want to talk to you about that now. I have missed you. Have you been well?”

“Considering where I am, yes. But I miss the forest,” she sighed. “The gardens are lovely, but walking in them is not the same. It is an artificial loveliness.”

“You will be home soon enough,” Robin promised, touching her bruised cheek gently. “We will be together sooner than you think.”

“Marian, it is time for you to return with your mother.” Nyneve interrupted them. “I am sorry I cannot give you longer together, but we have much to accomplish and not a lot of time.”

Marian smiled at Robin. “I trust you,” she said.

He pressed a kiss against her palm and folded her hand over it. “Be safe.”

“Good grief,” Nyneve grabbed Robin’s hand and hauled him through the trees, leaving Marian and Mother alone in the small clearing.

Chapter Twenty-Five:

“What now?” Marian turned to Mother.

“Now we go back to the castle before we are missed,” Mother said.

“And do what? Pretend we have not been planning anything? I do not think I can do that.”

Mother placed one hand on each of Marian’s cheeks, cradling her head. “Listen to me carefully, Marian. You have no other choice. If you do not play your part, and play it well, we will all be hanged as traitors.” She softened her voice. “I have lived this for years, Mari. You will be fine as long as you remember to breathe. Now, are you ready?”

Marian took a deep breath and released it before nodding. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good girl.” Mother walked toward the passageway back to the castle. “I am proud of you, Mari.”

“I—you are?”

“Yes, of course.” She bent down, picked up the torch and cradled it under her arm as she struck flint to stone. Once the torch was lit, she continued. “My greatest fear has been of you turning out like one of those ladies you have met at court. And yes, I see the irony, considering you thought me one of them for years. But I could not tell you about working with Robin. I needed you to find out for yourself.”

Marian nodded, following the bobbing light in front of her. “I wish you could have told me, but I understand why you did not.”

Mother stopped suddenly. “Wait here, Mari. And be very quiet. Someone is outside.”

The curtain parted unexpectedly.

“Lady Beatrix, thank God I found you!” Friar Tuck said. “The prince has guards combing the grounds, searching for you. You are to meet him in the throne room at once. You, and Lady Marian, of course.”

“He wants us? But why?” Marian followed Mother into the maze.

“The prince would not lower himself to tell me,” Tuck said, “even if I had an audience with him, which I did not. One of the guards thought I may know where Marian went, since she is known to spend quite a bit of time in the chapel.”

“If Prince John wishes to see us, then we must go immediately,” Mother stated calmly. “Whatever he has to say, he is our prince and we owe him our allegiance.”

The woman who had spoken so frankly to Marian in the passageway and the forest was gone under a layer of court veneer.

“Will—will the sheriff be there?” Marian asked.

“Naturally, he
is
the prince’s right hand man.” Tuck escorted them through the maze and into the gardens, where they were met by three of the prince’s personal guards.

“Lady Beatrix, Lady Marian, Prince John awaits your presence in the throne room. He sent us to ensure you arrive there in a timely manner.”

Mother straightened her shoulders, and Marian followed suit. “We are honored to have you escort us.”

The guards bowed their heads briefly. “If you are quite ready…”

“Yes, of course.”

A light drizzle began to fall as they crossed the cobblestones to the castle. Marian could not help it; she glanced upward at the sky. Gray clouds stared back at her and she smiled. Unlike the thunder and lightning of earlier, this rain was natural.

The throne room was the biggest room Marian had ever seen. Tapestries of every hue hung on three of the four walls. The wall behind the throne itself was festooned with weapons; ancient swords, battleaxes and shields of every size. Prince John leaned back on the massive throne, looking like nothing more than a boy playing with his father’s toys.

Father sat on multi-colored velvet cushions at the prince’s feet, strumming idly on his lute.

 “We are glad you could join us,” Prince John said, his fingers steepled in front of him. “Lady Marian, I fear we shall have to postpone our duel. We have other concerns we must occupy ourselves with.”

Mother and Marian sank into deep curtsies. “Your Highness,” Mother murmured.

“We have been considering ways in which the du Luc House can best serve the throne,” the prince said. “And we have come up with a solution we are well pleased with.”

“Indeed, Your Highness?” Mother prompted.

Prince John leaned forward. “A marriage between my closest friend and your daughter would benefit both our houses.”

The lute twanged at the same moment Marian gasped. Only Mother kept her composure.

“That is—most generous of you,” she began. “But Marian is still young to consider marriage, Your Highness, and the sheriff is nearly twice her age.”

The prince waved his hand. “That is of no importance,” he said.

“And what does the sheriff think of this?” Mother continued. “Does he wish to marry a child?”

“It is of no account!” Prince John roared. “
I
am the ruler here!” He slammed his hand against the throne’s armrest.

Father rose to his feet. “Your Highness, if I may speak?”

The prince visibly reigned in his temper. “What is it?”

“I would not see my daughter unhappy for the world, so I hope you understand that I would rather have this engagement postponed for a time, so they can get to know each other better. I understand it is rather unconventional, but your word here is law.”

Marian’s eyes flickered between Father, Mother and Prince John. “Your Highness?” She ventured. “I am new to court, and to court protocols. Unless I learned more, I do not think I would be an asset to you or to—to the sheriff.”

Prince John arched an eyebrow at her. “You are forward, Lady Marian, to speak so to us, but we will forgive your lack of manners.” He drummed his fingers on his velvet clad thigh. “Your engagement to Roger de Lacy will be announced tonight, and you
will
be married by Harvest time.” His eyes flicked up and down Marian. “Make sure you are dressed appropriately. You would be unwise to disgrace our court with less than perfection.”

Mother drew in breath to speak, but Father put a hand on her arm and she subsided.

“You are dismissed,” the prince said. “The guards will see you back to your suites.”

Mother, Marian noticed, did not curtsy again, but only tilted her head slightly. “Yes, Your Highness.” Her submissive attitude did not change until they reached their rooms and the doors were shut and bolted behind them.