Then late one bitter afternoon, we rounded a curve and plunged into disaster. Green-clad archers swarmed like locusts over a dell, their stolen treasures spread on the hoary grass, while several bound merchants watched in terror. A fat friar was among the bandits and saw us before we could pull back.
“A company of scurvy priests, Robin!” he shouted.
“Ho-la, get the scum!”
They charged upon us on foot and instantly o’ercame the priests who carried no arms. However, I turned Thistle and prepared to dash back up the road alone.
A slender boy grabbed my bridle and I beat him about the face savagely. “Let go, in the name of the king!” I cried.
Instantly a large muscular man came to the lad’s aid and pulled me rudely by the leg so that I started to fall. I loosed my foot from the stirrup and turned the fall into a leap, then hit Thistle’s flank smartly to make him sprint away. By the time the man and boy turned, I had saber and sword. “Touch me and you’re dead!”
“I’ll take him!” the boy called, drawing his weapon.
The man grinned and shouted to his comrades. “Swordplay men!”
I took my stance, sword and saber in position. I was determined to win at the same time that I saw I was hopelessly outnumbered. ’Twould take wits to escape this predicament, but winning came first.
My opponent held his sword at a flat angle before him, his arms stiff. Astonished, I wondered if this was the first time he’d fought. If so, my real challenger was the muscular man behind him.
I took one step back, then marched swiftly from the side. I tapped his hand and drew blood!
He cried out in pain and danced back, then forward, waving his sword like a banner.
More and more astonished at his lack of training, I easily avoided his wild gestures by feinting, then struck him again on the shoulder.
Again he cried out, but thrust his chin forward stubbornly and rushed at me and past me as the men began to laugh.
“Methinks you’re outclassed!”
“Good work, stranger!”
Before he could recover, I thrust, but he whirled and avoided sure death.
“Want to quit?” his mentor asked him.
The stripling’s eyes flashed. “Never!”
I smiled derisively, beat my blade on the flat of my hand to confuse him, thrust again and tore his tunic. I no longer planned to injure the wight; ’twould not be chivalrous to take advantage of him, or good strategy either. I admired his valor, and I feared his backers. I marched, flèched, and tossed his weapon into the air as easily as if it were a feather.
A mighty cheer went up.
I flourished this way and that, never taking my eye off the boy who was now embraced by the man. Something in their manner reminded me of Richard with me, and I shuddered.
“Are you hurt?” I heard the older man ask.
“Only my pride.” The boy grinned bravely, showing dimples much like mine, and thrust out a hand to me. “You’re the better man.”
There was a roar of laughter at these simple words and I winced. Surely they didn’t know I was female.
The friar now leered down on me, the most disreputable prelate I’d ever seen, what with his stained smock barely girding his bloated cod, an old piece of helmet topping his crown, bleary eyes and breath strong enough to make me drunkalewe on the spot.
“Where did ye steal that garb?” he belched.
I was about to say that the fathers had lent me a cape, when I saw that I’d dropped the cape and stood forth in full Plantagenet splendor. Remembering that some of these highwaymen worshiped the king, I decided to brazen it out.
“I’ve come directly from King Richard in the Holy Land where I served him as page,” I said haughtily.
A murmur of excitement swept their ranks and the friar was pushed aside by my opponent’s friend. He doffed a feathered cap and bowed low. He had dark curly hair to his shoulders, a crooked smile and cleft chin.
“Robin Hood, at your service. My men and I are keeping the king’s peace in this dangerous wood during his absence. Have you heard of us perchance?” His black eyes gleamed eagerly.
“Yes, I believe I have.” I affirmed to please him. He could be the “ruffian” in Queen Eleanor’s letter. “And so has King Richard.”
“What has he said of us?”
Before I could reply, an extremely tall man whispered in his ear and I tried to appraise my situation. I no longer feared for my life, but delay would be equally hazardous. Robin Hood was a vigorous, intelligent-appearing man with a courteous manner, but at least a dozen rich-clad merchants watched me from their bindings and my fellow travelers cowered in a group under the eyes of three archers, so I dared not trust the varlet. This was an outlaw cutthroat band and must be handled warily.
Robin Hood turned back, his crooked smile in place, his dark eyes still eager. “What is your name, sir?”
“Lord Alex of Wanthwaite, in the household of King Richard.”
“You will be our guest tonight in Greenwood Hall, Lord Alex. You are the most excellent swordsman we’ve ever seen forsooth, and we want you to join us.”
Permanently? My heart fell like a stone.
“I’m most flattered, sir, but I must decline. If you will release the priests, we shall be on our way, for we have orders from Richard to reach the north with all due haste. The Scots are expected to cross the border.”
A small frown fretted my host’s brow. “We have no use for priests, nor should you, a scurrilous lot of leechers. However, since you obviously come from the king, I’ll release them to show respect for His Majesty. As for you”—his voice dropped—“I’ll let you go in good time.”
“And the merchants?” I persisted, wanting to help the poor prisoners. Deo volente, I, too, would regain freedom, though soothly I was frightened, especially that Enoch would o’ertake me.
“As soon as we’ve left with their purloined goods, the priests can do with them as they please.”
He nodded to his men who were already collecting valuable pieces of carved silver off the ground and packing them onto their horses. Now my opponent whispered in Robin Hood’s ear and the robber turned an astonished face to me, listened again, and smiled licentiously. A knot of fear formed in my gullet. Did the varlet mean to abduct me for reasons beyond my swordplay? Had I once again fallen into the hands of a man who loved boys? He swaggered toward me, hat in hand, his manner both deferential and mocking. “I’ve called for your horse, Lord Alex. Usually we blindfold our guests, but you will be an exception.”
I bowed properly and slid my eyes to the boy for clues, but he continued to smile with strange vacuous delight. In almost no time, everyone had mounted and we turned to enter the dense forest. I cast one piteous farewell glance at Father Thaddeus who made the sign of the cross. Deus juva me, I would be back in his company, safe and sound, tomorrow. Then I had to pay heed to the way, for huge ivy-covered trees spread roots like traps, angled their low limbs cunningly to strike our heads off our shoulders. Robins men rode silently as ghosts through this tangle, neither speaking nor cracking a twig. The leader turned back to accompany me. His teeth flashed in the gloom and he reached boldly to my saddle, whereafter each time I came back to the seat I sat directly on his palm. Now certain that my suspicions were correct, I almost broke my legs in an effort to ride in my stirrups and avoid my own saddle.
I was sweating from exertion by the time we finally came to a halt in a greensward. Instantly Robin Hood was on his feet and reaching upward to help me. I had no choice but to accept his arms, whereupon he slid me down the entire length of his torso and bruised my breasts. Too bad I no longer wore my false prick, I thought sourly, for he was deprived of that particular thrill.
The boy now approached. “Come, Lord Alex, I’ll take you to a chamber where you may refresh yourself before dinner.”
For the first time, I realized that we stood before massy structures of logs and woven branches which blended completely with the background. I followe
d my narrow-shouldered guide into an octagonal hall already lit with pine torches and set with trestle tables loaded with silver. At the far end of the area we climbed a narrow stair to a vast upper chamber dominated by a huge bed.
“This is Robin’s chamber,” the boy explained. “He’s taken the liberty of ordering water to be heated for a bath after your long ride.”
More and more uneasy, I stared at the fur-laden bed. “I would prefer to sleep close to my horse.” Aye, and to ride through that pathless wilderness if need be.
“Soothly?” The lad was startled. “Well, of course, whatever you say. But I thought that before dinner you might like to clean yourself and change your clothes. Would you perhaps like a woman’s tunic?”
’Twas my turn to be startled. “What? What are you talking about?”
The lad laughed gaily. “Forgive me, but I guessed immediately by the way you fought. You took particular care to protect your breasts.”
Which made me angry. “I fought to protect my heart and chest-spoon as I was instructed. ’Twould not hurt you to learn the same lesson!”
“No offense, Lord Alex.” He touched my arm lightly. “Perhaps ’twould be more honest to say I recognized a fellow female, for I, too, dress as a boy to ride with the men.” And he stripped off a tunic to reveal himself a woman.
I must have looked as ridiculous as I felt, for the wench couldn’t stop laughing, especially at my gauche study of her torso. Soothly her breasts were small knotty muscles, nothing like the swellings on my own chest, and I marveled anew at the variety of shapes the body could assume, recalling the naked witches in Paris.
“Would you like to borrow a tunic?” she asked again.
“Aye, I believe I would, thank you.”
“Ah, here’s your bath. Soak as long as you like, and I’ll bring appropriate garb.”
“Does Robin Hood know?”
“Of course. That’s why you rode without blindfold. He’s ever chivalrous to the fair sex.”
She admitted two varlets with a wooden tub of steaming water, then ran down the steps after them, leaving me alone. I sank into the luxuriant suds, dazed at this turn of events. So my suspicions had been wrong. But wait! That hand under my seat had been no error. Robin Hood knew I was a woman, that was all. Benedicite, I wished I were a boy! No, for then I’d be a captive swordsman. Unless … more and more frightening. What were the brigand’s intentions? And what was the role of this boyish girl?
She was back, already dressed herself in a soft green gown laced with gold, and with a similar one in her hands for me. Late-afternoon twilight entered the upstairs window and shone on her face. In boy’s garb and from a distance, she appeared very young, for her body was straight and hard, her face clean-jawed and alert. When I perceived her close and as a woman, however, I noticed crinkles at the outer edges of her eyes, a slight discoloration of her teeth, and realized she was in her late twenties, not young at all. Also, she made a handsome boy, a plain woman. Her brown hair and eyes, sunburnt skin, extra-wide mouth and square chin were engaging, but not feminine. I took all this in at a glance, while she studied me with the same curiosity.
“Your skin glows as if there were a fire behind it,” she observed. “How do you keep it so bright when exposed to wind and sun?”
Soothly I didn’t know.
“And your hair.” She fingered my wet locks. “Spun gold and silver combined. Your eyes are luminous as jewels. Do you have some magic elixir you could share?”
I heard the note of envy, though ’twas more sad than bitter, and shook my head. “No need, My Lady, for you are an elf from fairyland yourself.”
She brightened. “Do you think so? Robin assures me, but I feel alone without women and it’s been so long …”
She then recounted her most odd story. She was Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Arlington Castle, only child and heiress to her estate. She had fallen desperately in love with Lord Robert Fitzooth of Locksley a champion of justice for all. King Richard had called him the most noble lord in all England for his chivalry, and rewarded him with the earldom of Huntingdon. Richard, alas, then went to Jerusalem and his brother Count John promptly stripped Richard’s men of their honors. In defiance, Robert became Robin Hood, and formed his own nation in the forest, dispensing the king’s justice, robbing from the bloated rich and giving to the deserving poor. Marian, too, had defied her father, forsworn her inheritance, and followed Robin to his woodsy lair.
I listened to this fantastic tale, astonished and dismayed. Naturally I knew naught of Arlington Castle or Count John, but I did know about the Earl of Huntingdon. I had been in Chinon when King Richard signed the order making David, brother to the King of Scotland, the Earl of Huntingdon. I’d heard it from both Enoch and Richard. Had Robin managed to deceive poor Marian? Or was she trying to impress me?
But that wasn’t all.
“Robin and I want to marry, but above anything we worship Richard and Mary.”
“Mary who?” I asked, not following her reasoning.
“Why, the Virgin Mary! We’ve built an elaborate chapel in Her honor and say Mass twice daily.”
“Of course, I see. Only what does this have to do with Richard or marriage?”
I could barely see her flush in the fading light. “Robin and I have taken the vow of chastity until the king’s return. Then and then only will we wed. Thus I am known as Maid Marian.”
And should be titled “Made” Fool, I thought, remembering Robin’s insidious hand. The Earl of Huntingdon who’d taken the vow of chastity and gave to the poor—though his own tables groaned with gleaming silver—and was “chivalrous” to all ladies. Poor credulous Marian. How could she be so old, yet so naive?
By now I was dressed in my tunic, crowned with a gold braid, and I stood before a cloudy mirror to study the effect. Benedicite, I didn’t recognize myself in the glowing curving creature before me, as if I’d been touched by a wand.
“How did you serve King Richard?” Maid Marian asked from behind me.
I looked at my seductive image and considered rapidly. Either I would have to tell the truth, or render some fantastic tale such as she had told, or create a falsehood which would nevertheless seem closer to reality. I decided to protect the king by the latter course.
I sighed deeply. “We loved each other passionately, Maid Marian, even though it was against his purpose in Jerusalem, against God. We couldn’t help ourselves.”
Her dimples showed. “Please tell me all, and I promise to be discreet. I, too, love the king and need to know for my own future bliss …”
Perhaps she was convinced of my invention because she was so sheltered, but I believe I told a good tale besides. The yearning and passion were easy, just a slight exaggeration of the truth. When it came to our bedding together, I started with our assignation in the tent and ended with what I’d seen Enoch do over the years. ’Twas I who groaned under Richards weight, that was all.
Tears trembled on her lashes. “How could you ever say goodbye?”
“He couldn’t bring himself to expose me to the dangers of the desert,” I lied glibly, then permitted a significant pause. “In any case, ’twas not goodbye, but farewell. You are not the only person awaiting his return to England.”
Which I thought was a nice touch, just in case her nefarious Robin Hood had any intentions of detaining me.
“I will tell him we met you,” she declared, “when he attends our wedding. Oh, Lady Alix, perhaps you will attend as well.”
I refrained from smiling, poor wench.
We then descended to the great hall to meet with Robin and his men. Robin stood courteously as Maid Marian presented me by my true name, adding only “beloved lady of King Richard.” I winced at her openness, at the same time that I noted Robin’s appreciation of my exposed neck. Indeed, all the thieves leered and made me wish for my boy’s braies again.
The dinner was suspiciously succulent, and I wondered again at the “poor” who benefited from Robin’s good works. Maid
Marian and I sat on each side of her love, while the other men ate at our table with no distinction in rank that I could see. Marian had identified the prelate as Friar Tuck, and he led the questions about the Crusade with a Little John and Will Scarlet close behind. Robin, oddly enough, showed little interest in his king, but a great eagerness to impress me by his own exploits. He recounted incident after incident—all the same, all to his own glory—which I must relay to the king. I quickly grew weary of the man’s braggadocio and paid more attention to his manner toward Marian.
’Twas sadly lacking in courtesy and affection. If he cherished her at all, ’twas as a loyal audience, for she kept goading him to remember this event or that. Weary, I announced that I must retire.
“Not before you tell us where you travel and why,” the unperturbed Robin said.
“To Durham to see Bishop Hugh, Earl of Northumberland,” I answered coldly. “I have a writ from the king which the earl will enforce through the Assize.”
Robins black eyes twinkled wickedly. “Except that your king neglected to inform you that Hugh is no longer Northumberland.”
“What?” I was so astounded that I sat again. “Is he dead?” Benedicite, my worst fear come true, that the old bishop would expire before I could reach him, that Enoch would become Northumberland.
“He’s alive and fighting,” Friar Tuck continued. “Hugh won’t recognize the king’s brother as archbishop, so the king stripped Hugh of his powers. However, the wily bishop refuses to renounce the title, though I believe he no longer calls the Assize court.”
And I took wanhope. Better that no one rule Northumberland than that Enoch assume power. Aye, a limbo of jurisdiction might yet benefit my cause.
“If you need help, I could ride with my men,” the oily Robin offered.
And siege a castle with a ragged group of archers? Conquer Enoch when he arrived? O’ercome a Scottish army led by a brute waving his odious writ? I carried Roderick’s garnet ring as my writ which I’d been sure would be persuasion enough for Northumberland. Now I must discard this plan and go to my second scheme, more chancy by far.
Alix of Wanthwaite 01 - Shield of Three Lions Page 45
