In the past, he'd have given his daily bread for such a promise of protection and companionship. He could never accept it now. He'd always belong to another.
He wrested free, sliding from Henry's grasp. "I'll think about it." Henry looked crestfallen, so Cal quirked a smile. "It's a fine offer, Henry. Thank you."
He felt dazed as he was announced in the great hall, the largest and grandest room in the land. He scurried between the high arcades adorned with royal heraldry, then knelt before the regent. When Marshal offered his ruby ring for Cal to kiss, the old man didn't rise from his seat or crack his stony face. His age-ravaged skin stretched so tightly over his skull Cal wondered if he was still capable of expression.
"You've done well," said Marshal.
Cal matched his master's impassive tenor. "Thank you, my lord."
"I've just received word that our men took Odo prisoner on the road between Derby and Nottingham. With the evidence of his treason you delivered, there is no question about his guilt. I am…pleased with you."
Marshal's gaze locked on to him, and in that moment Cal's suspicions were confirmed. Marshal knew the treasonous document had been forged and that Cal, his pupil, had done it. But even if Odo pleaded, he would not be listened to. The document bore his seal. Besides, nobody would dare question the regent on such matters, not now. Marshal had wanted to curb the power of the barons with evidence of their disloyalty. Thanks to Cal, he'd succeeded.
"Odo's punishment will be a fine example to the more arrogant among our nobles." Marshal chuckled drily. "I'm not expecting a second Magna Carta anytime soon."
Cal raised an awkward glance to the forest's worth of vaulted beams in the hall's vast roof, caught the eye of a troll-faced grotesque, and shuddered. The baron would be dragged down to London to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Though Odo deserved it, his would be a horrible end. Cal hoped he wouldn't have to witness it. He wanted nothing more to do with this bloody game.
"Sire, if I might be so bold—what of the other document I brought you? The demands from the so-called lords of the forest."
Marshal dismissed two courtiers who lingered within earshot. Crooking a spindly finger, he beckoned Cal close.
"Trouble brews," said Marshal. "This threat you brought from Herne the Hunter is worrying, and now I hear tidings of thefts and animal rustling in the northern shires. Robin Hood and his men stole a hundred marks' worth of altar treasure bound for the abbey at Fountains."
Robin's name struck him like a spear through the chest. Robin Hood had returned to his old life as Cal had intended him to. The confirmation depressed him all the same. With an effort, he focused on Marshal's spiel.
"Young men rush to the outlaw's calling as keenly as knights once flocked to the Crusades. Something must be done."
Cal stared at the outline of Marshal's bony knees, tenting beneath the folds of his gown. "Do you intend to grant the lords of the forests' wishes, sire?"
Marshal exhaled, uncharacteristically weary, and stooped to touch Cal's cheek. "I'm not long for this world, boy. I want to bequeath a peaceful realm to our young king. Many may disagree with me, but to avoid war the crown must be respected by all those with power within this realm. And just occasionally, it is right to be generous."
He placed a roll of vellum in Cal's hands. Cal snatched his breath, not quite knowing why. "My lord?"
"I give to you the deeds to one thousand acres of the forest known as the Greenwood, including the manor of Carseald, the property of your mother's line. You will be the first of the descendants of the Saxon landowners to have his estates returned. You shall not be the last, and other dispensations will be made. I will start by curbing the powers of the foresters."
Cal's venture had paid off. He'd hoped the regent would be wise enough to make concessions, and now he inherited a leaky ruin and a swath of untamed wildwood stashed with fair folk none too fond of him.
He couldn't muster enthusiasm. "You are most generous, sire."
Marshal's thin lips twitched in an approximation of a snicker. "Don't fret, boy. I have just given my blessing to your marriage to Baron Burcy's daughter. It will make you lord of a prosperous domain. However, I suggest you appoint a bailiff for the running of your estates and take your pretty young bride somewhere warmer."
Marshal pressed a second document on Cal. He scanned as fast as he could, hardly believing what he read. "You wish me to go to Rome?"
"Your skills would be wasted chewing the cud on a country estate. I have appointed you second in command to my emissary there, and in good time, I expect you to rise to the senior position. You will be a rich and powerful man, Cal of the Greenwood. What do you say?"
Cal recalled the south, the caress of the Mediterranean sun on his face, and the beauties of Venice before all were destroyed for him. Rome would be even finer, and another chance at greatness.
In his heart, he'd no decision to make.
*~*~*
Cal chose a time when most of the courtiers knelt at worship in the abbey to creep into the stable block and load his belongings onto his horse. He swore bitterly when Henry bounded in, muddied and fresh from the jousting ground. Straw poked from the knight's tousled hair.
"I can't believe you turned down my little sister." Henry grabbed Cal's fashionably drooping sleeve, tugging him around. "She's heartbroken."
"No, she's not. We've never even spoken." Cal glanced around to check nobody else listened. "And she needs a man who'd like to swive her rather than be swived by her brother."
To Cal's amusement, Henry dropped to his knee, raising clasped hands. "Oh, Cal, I've loved you for so long!"
Cal curled his lip. Since when had he become Henry's impossible dream—Henry's princess in a Godforsaken tower? "You don't know me much better than Jane does. You don't love me, and if you believe you do, you're a silly fool."
He couldn't tell if Henry flushed with humiliation or anger but didn't fancy hanging around to find out. He climbed onto the little mare and chivvied her forward, wincing when Henry grabbed her reins near the bit.
"So you're bound for Rome?"
"No. I'm going home."
"I won't let you!" Henry jerked the strap so the little horse snorted and stomped. Cal kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling into the muck and hay.
"Leave me be," he muttered and rode out into the yard.
As he clopped past the abbey, the bells clanging a riot in his ears, he wasn't sorry he'd never return to Westminster. He didn't look forward to his first encounter with the people of the Greenwood villages, let alone announcing his intentions to the fair folk. But he'd accept his duty as landowner and protector, and he'd stay. He'd made a harder decision than this leaving Robin, and the remembrance set his irritation with Henry flaring anew.
That fool knew nothing of love, whining and clinging to Cal's sodding horse. Love was about letting go. Only the strength of heart Robin had taught him could have persuaded him to force Robin to go with John. He felt as much pride in that decision as any in his life. He'd no right to steal Robin Hood from his people. But damn it, he dreaded the lonely road without him.
*~*~*
By the time Cal rode into Little Lyndton, snow patched the bare earth, and the frosts had scoured his fingers red raw. The homely collection of mud shacks cheered him, their plumes of hearth smoke coiling into the blanched skies. He counted no fewer than a dozen fat hogs grubbing from a trough of acorns, and that pleased him. That first evening he'd met Robin, the knights had ordered every last creature among the livestock here slaughtered, leaving nothing for the winter ahead.
Cal slowed to greet a countrywoman smothered beneath a thick wool wimple. He recognized her as a serving girl from that night. How long ago it seemed.
She eyed his rich clothing warily. "Good day to you, sire."
He gestured to the sty. "Answer me truthfully, girl, and I'll give you a purse of copper. Who gifted you these fine beasts?"
Though her face lit up at the prospect of the rew
ard, it took a while to wheedle her answer. Her father had purchased the swine at Winchester market, along with two cows and some cloth. They'd paid with a bag of gold given them by a stranger.
Cal smiled. "Are you sure this kind benefactor had no name? Be honest now, for I am to be your new master at Carseald Hall, and there must be trust between us if I'm to do my duty."
"Oh! Well, he gave no name, my lord, but father said, and all of us have heard the rumours about—"
"Robin Hood?" He managed a weak smile. "Has the outlaw visited you recently?"
Robin hadn't. She'd not seen him since before the new moon. A cask of goat's milk and healing herbs had appeared out of nowhere a few nights prior after a mother had begged the Goddess for help nursing a sick child. The children squabbled about whether it had been left by the outlaw or the fair folk.
"But Robin Hood has returned to Sherwood," said the girl, pulling her gown tight at the neck. "We hear the tales even here."
"Yes," he replied. "I believe he has."
He didn't hand over the purse as promised. A better idea striking, he slid off his ring, which had been loose since he'd lain in that three-day stupor and gave it instead. Then he headed at a trot into the Greenwood lest his feelings overcome him.
The heirloom was worth more than the coins and meant little to him anyway. He'd be the last and loneliest of the protectors, because Robin was gone, and he'd never love another.
*~*~*
Robin layered his last batch of reeds and straw onto the lowest part of the roof of Carseald Hall. Relieved he'd rendered most of the building watertight before the snows deepened, he was tethering the withy about the thatch when he perceived the crunch of hooves on the frosted ground.
He leaped down, landing with a soft thud. The creak in his knees couldn't stop him from launching forward into a run, breathless with anticipation. A large man on a midnight stallion emerged between the tree trunks, and Robin's heart sank lower than the soles of his feet.
"Herne!" He managed a welcoming grin. "What brings you back to the Greenwood?"
Herne didn't bother to address him till he'd dismounted. He patted his beast's flank, then turned, frowning. "I journeyed all the way to Sherwood seeking you and found a sixteen-year-old boy acting in your name."
"Yes, John's son. He's doing a fine job, from what I hear. I was no older when I chose the outlaw's life and first led my men."
Herne grunted. "You can pass my tidings on to that fairy wench. I appealed to the Goddess, and she offered silence. I won't lead the Wild Hunt to oppose this charter without her blessing."
Robin exhaled with relief. "I'll tell the Elfaene next time I see her." He gestured to the hall. "Will you sup with me? I've fodder for your horse, and there's an outhouse I use as a stable."
"I can't abide company."
Robin couldn't help laughing.
"Though if you wish to ride north with me," muttered Herne, "I'll tolerate companionship this once. We can travel together as far as Windsor, and then you can journey on to re-join your band."
"That's very gracious of you, but I'm staying."
"You're giving up your fight?"
Robin shook his head. "Far from it. I'm making my stand here in the Greenwood. The people of the south need my help as much as the folk of the north. Anyhow, I'm waiting for Cal."
Herne climbed back up onto his stallion, the corded muscles of his throat quivering. "The little snake is long gone, slithering back to his masters in Westminster."
Robin equalled Herne in his bluffness. "You're mistaken. Cal is a good man. I thought I understood what friendship was, but he taught me everything anew."
"Don't be a fool, Robin. I adored a man like him once, and he betrayed me. Of all men in this blood-soaked age, you deserve a better end." Herne uncurled a fist and offered his palm in entreaty. "Go back to Sherwood and teach that lad to be a leader. Return to your life, Robin Hood. Cal will never come back."
*~*~*
When Cal glimpsed Carseald Hall between the time-blackened oaks, his body sagged with weariness, his thighs ached, and he felt ready to drop.
He didn't expect Robin to be there. Anticipation would only make things worse.
He slid from his saddle and slumped to the ground, resting his forehead against the mare's thin gut, as grinding and empty as his was. She scuffed her hooves. He dared not look at the ruin. It would be cold, dark, and silent. He inhaled the crisp scent of winter…plus the whiff of wood smoke and a hint of damp reeds.
A starling cried out, and a footfall crunched on the iron-hard ground. He jerked his chin up. He still daren't believe.
Robin touched his shoulder, then crouched down beside him. Cal fell forward into his embrace and buried his face in Robin's chest.
The rest of the world vanished beyond the musk of Robin, overpowering Cal's senses and the swiftly unifying beats of their hearts. Nothing else mattered; nothing but Robin would ever matter again.
"You waited," murmured Cal. "I thought… Who's leading the outlaws in the north?"
"Robin Hood, who can never grow old. But I must, and I want it to be with you."
Robin cradled Cal's chin, running a thumb across his cheek. Robin's adoration snatched the last of Cal's breath and vanquished his tiredness and all memory of the road.
"I knew you'd come back to the Greenwood," said Robin. "It was the only right path to take, and you always do the right thing."
They communicated the rest in a deep, all-conquering kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
The first spring flowers had broken through the soils when Robin and Cal returned from helping sow the villagers' barley crop and discovered the Elfaene waiting. She stood on the hall's well-scrubbed front step, hands on hips. Two of her daughters had climbed up to yank long strands from Robin's meticulously woven thatch, tossing them for a pair of pink-throated swallows to catch.
"What the hell's she doing here?" muttered Cal. It'd been a long, hard day. He wanted nothing more than to revive his energies supping on venison and mead and then curl up with Robin for a slow, invigorating fuck.
"Peace." Robin squeezed his fingers. "Let's hear her out. She means well…most of the time."
Cal scowled as they drew close, though the Elfaene offered a smile. He shook his fist at the fairies attacking their shelter. "Oy! That roof's barely clinging on as it is. Can't the birds use that silly hair of yours for their damned nests?"
To his surprise, the blonder of the pair obeyed, plucking a strand from her head and offering it to a swooping swallow.
"So," said the Elfaene, fixing her dark gaze on Cal. "You're back, the catkins are green, and the spirits of Niogaerst slumber. But how long are you thinking of staying this time, protector?"
Cal didn't like the mocking way she pronounced his title. Just the sight of her drained him, and he felt grateful when Robin drifted an arm across his back. "I'm not planning on going anywhere, unless you pester me too much."
"You must understand my concern," crooned the Elfaene. "How do you propose to continue the bloodline with him as your mate?"
"Oh, in heaven's name!" Cal rolled his eyes. "Can't I do anything right?"
"We're sorry." Robin spat his apology through clenched teeth. "But that's the way it is, and nothing's changing. Neither of us is going anywhere or lying with anybody else."
"But you always wanted a child of your own, outlaw," said the Elfaene. "I can tell these things."
"That can never be." Robin stiffened, and Cal winced. He knew Robin loved him and had accepted they'd never sire a family. It saddened him all the same.
"In the Greenwood, nothing is impossible." The Elfaene's smile burst into a laugh. "Now, I think it would be a good idea if the protector's line were to be bolstered by the blood of Robin Hood—scion of the Green Man, no less. The magic required is powerful, but I believe there is a way to mingle your fluids and produce a true-blooded heir."
"No!" Cal yelped and clutched his belly. "I can't have a baby. It would kill me!"
<
br /> "I'll bear the child," said Robin, his voice grim.
He agreed so quickly he left Cal stunned. How badly must he want a baby?
"You'll make a fine parent, outlaw," replied the Elfaene. "Fortunately neither of you will have to birth the child from your inadequate male bodies, though there are risks. The ritual is untried in a thousand years. We will beseech the life-giving power of the Mother Goddess, and she will send her blessing through the elements of her sky god, the spirits of thunder and lightning. During the process, your death by flame is unlikely…but not impossible."
Cal pulled a face. Then again, women risked their lives to deliver children everyday, and many lost their battle.
"The decision must be the protector's," said Robin.
"There's one more thing," added the Elfaene. "The magic of the ritual will bind you both to the forest. You will live long and even channel some of the powers of the sky god, but you and all but the greatest of your descendants will never be able to leave the Greenwood again."
Cal looked up at Robin, worrying his lower lip. He sensed his lover's blood racing with anticipation, yet read reassurance in Robin's eyes. If Cal didn't desire this, Robin would accept that.
"I want us to have this child more than anything in the world." Cal leaned up and pressed his lips to Robin's, then glanced back to the Elfaene. "Tell us what we have to do."
*~*~*
The ring of emerald flame encircled Robin, smoke and heat pressing him ever nearer to Cal. A fairy betrothal ribbon still draped about their wrists, Robin hugged his lover tight. Fear glittered with the firelight in Cal's eyes. To the backdrop of a bestial hiss, the Elfaene chanted, petitioning to the Goddess in that primeval idiom unknown to human ears.
"You're sure about this?" asked Robin.
"Yes," replied Cal, breathless. "But I don't know what to expect."
In all honesty, Robin wasn't sure either. The Elfaene had instructed them to do what came naturally, and with Cal naked and flush against him, Robin's cock gave a twinge. When he moved to knead Cal's tight shoulders, the betrothal ribbon fell away.
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