For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2)

by Charlene Newcomb

  “He is Robin’s squire,” Milo said. “I saw him at Ringsthorpe.”

  “A squire? Now there’s some silver in that for us. ‘Course, this Robin could just kill us both.” Ysac sneered at Little John. “You’re a mighty big man and we’ve not got rope to keep you tied. We shall keep the boy. You tell the knight we want ten shillings.”

  Ten shillings! That was more than Little John might earn in a year on a squire’s pay. Little John imagined that between the knights and Lord de Grey the money could be gotten, but there was no way he wanted to return to Greyton without Robert at his side. “If I go back without the boy, Sir Robin will kill you.”

  Robert’s eyes grew wide. Little John saw so much of Robin in those blue orbs.

  “Send you both back?” Ysac scoffed. “Do you think we’re mad? Besides, what’s this boy to the knight? He’s just a villein.”

  Little John wisely chose not to reply. One thing he had learned from watching King Richard and serving the knights: negotiating a solution was always the best option. “If it’s money you need, Sir Robin might have work for you. He believes in second chances.”

  Ysac growled, but Milo spoke first. “I was caught stealing flour. They turned me out of Ringsthorpe. But I must help my mother else she will starve.”

  Little John remembered the dilapidated cottage Robin had pointed out. And he knew how Milo felt. “I cannot promise, but King Richard might forgive your crimes if you pledge your loyalty to the crown. If you work for Robin, he will put in a good word for you.”

  “Let me go,” Robert said.

  Ysac grunted. “And let you tell the knight that I held a blade to your neck?”

  “I will not say a word.”

  Little John nodded. “I won’t either. I swear.”

  “Do it, Ysac,” Milo pleaded. “We can trust them. Let them go.”

  Ysac’s mouth flattened in a hard line. Little John could tell he was mulling over how a meeting with Robin might go. Milo’s eyes filled with hope.

  Ysac shoved Robert towards the horses. “Be sure to talk to Robin. We shall be nearby if he will put us to work.”

  Little John realized he’d been holding his breath. He took a gulp of air and urged Robert to mount before Ysac changed his mind.

  Little John felt the outlaws’ eyes on his back. It wasn’t until they were away that he realized his hands were shaking. He couldn’t believe he’d talked Ysac into releasing Robert. Thank you, Jesus.

  Robert had spurred his horse to a gallop. Little John could have reined him in, but racing through the forest seemed like a good idea right now.

  Robin plucked a handful of wildflowers from a patch behind the manor. He might not impress Marian with a rose like he’d done when he was younger, but he hoped she might appreciate the delicate white and yellow blossoms. It was a good thing he’d shooed Robert off with Little John. He didn’t want the boy to wonder why he held flowers in his hands.

  Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Mary appeared, eyeing him curiously. “No need to knock, Sir Robin.”

  Robin fiddled with the blossoms. He cleared his throat. “When a knight comes to call on a lady, I think it is proper. I would like to see Marian.”

  Mary tapped her foot. She looked him up and down, a gleam in her eyes. “You’ll need speak with Lady Bea.”

  “Of course.”

  Mary stepped aside to let him come in. She turned to Bea who sat on the far side of the room. “It’s Sir Robin, my lady, come to call on Marian.”

  Bea looked up from her embroidery. Her gaze strayed to the stairs. Marian had heard her name and stood there unmoving.

  “The flowers are quite lovely, aren’t they, Marian?” Bea asked. In the cradle at her feet David squawked.

  Marian blushed. She hurried down the stairs to attend to David, but threw an impatient glance at Robin. “What do you want?”

  Robin held the flowers out, but she’d stooped to pick up the babe. Robin’s hands were still outstretched when she faced him. “These are for you,” he said.

  “I must tend to David.” She rubbed the baby’s back. “Can’t you see?”

  “He might enjoy the sunshine. Why don’t we take a walk?” Robin looked at Bea. “If that is all right with you, my lady?”

  “You have a good sense of babies,” Bea said. “Fresh air and sun will be good for David. Give those flowers to Mary and be off.”

  Unable to resist a chuckle, Mary took the blooms from Robin. Marian looked between the two women who smiled conspiratorially. She retrieved David’s blanket and thrust it and the babe into Robin’s arms. “I must get my shawl,” she said.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Robin told Bea as Marian disappeared through the kitchen.

  Bea tilted her head, inspecting him, her eyes narrowed. “Will the king need to approve this match?”

  “He owes me this, Lady Bea.”

  “You may have an easier time with him than with Marian. And do not forget—one good turn deserves another.”

  He looked at her curiously, but when she held her hand out he took it, pressing his lips to her pale skin.

  “I am ready.” Marian placed the brown linen shawl across her shoulders.

  Robin was struck by how lovely Marian looked. He wanted to tell her, but could only stare. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bea’s amused look. His speechlessness wasn’t all bad. He knew if he complimented Marian she would be embarrassed. And then angry. And he’d already seen enough anger—and pain—in her eyes.

  He managed a nod. Marian’s hands curled into the edges of the shawl, accentuating the creamy whiteness of her skin. In Robin’s arms, David babbled. His plump fingers tangled in Robin’s beard. “Ow,” Robin cried.

  Marian hid a smile. Robin grasped David’s hand and kissed it. He planted another on the babe’s cheek. David’s arms flew around his neck. He hugged Robin, laying his head on his shoulder.

  “He has a way with little ones, Marian,” Bea said.

  Marian nodded and turned to leave. Her eyes grazed Robin’s face like an arrow swooshing past. Her smile had disappeared.

  Outside, she led them along the wooded path winding north of the manor. Birds sang in the trees and the breeze was light, the sky blue. It was a perfect day.

  “Has a way…” Marian repeated, an ache in her voice. “Robert will never know that gentle man.”

  David dozed on Robin’s shoulder, his fingers clutching Robin’s tunic. Robin stroked his back, swallowed hard. “You’ve decided not to tell Robert?”

  Marian stopped, turned sharply. “Why would you say that?”

  “You just said…” His eyes fell to David’s sweet face. “You meant this. Holding Robert in my arms.”

  Marian started to walk again. She looked intently at downed trees, at rotted limbs.

  Robin remembered near daily rendezvous with her. He would come south on this same path from Ringsthorpe. They’d meet halfway, or he would find her at the cove.

  “I’ve not been this way since I returned to Greyton.”

  Nine years then, Robin thought. I was dead to her. Why would she come this way? The times they’d had together were happy, but good memories were easily overshadowed by the pain of a loss.

  “Thank you for agreeing to walk with me,” he said.

  Marian laid her fingers on David’s back. “Thank you for the flowers.” Her hand slid to Robin’s arm and she gave it a light squeeze.

  Robin smiled. “Your eyes used to light up when I brought flowers.”

  “I was a girl then.”

  “And I was just a carpenter’s son who hated carpentry as much as he loved you.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “Would you have taken your father’s trade?”

  “To give you a home and family? To make you my wife? I would. But now I can offer you and Robert so much more.”

  Marian stopped, staring at two large oaks felled during a storm long ago. She and Robin used to call them the sleeping lovers. Their branches twined like arms one over t
he other for warmth and protection.

  Robin could see her hesitation. She had good reason not to listen to anything he said. He’d made too many excuses for not sending her word of his life with the king.

  “Robert and I have all that we need. His lordship has seen to taking good care of us.”

  “And Henry will do that, too, but you do not need to be their servant. Let others serve you.”

  Marian turned down an overgrown path by the fallen trees, bushes catching on her skirt. “And I can sit and do embroidery all day.”

  “If you like,” he said.

  The path widened and they emerged at a cove. It had not changed much—the trees were taller. Water rippled over stones jutting up from the creek bottom. Some were barely visible after the recent spring rains. By late summer there would be a path of rocks for crossing from one side to the other. They’d oft followed the creek downstream where it met the River Witham. Robin glanced skyward recalling the sun dancing through the tree canopy. It would warm one larger stone in the middle of the creek where they’d sit dangling their feet in the water.

  “Remember how we would stretch out on the table rock, listen to the water slipping past?”

  Marian didn’t respond. Robin shut out the chatter of birds and the murmurs of the stream. He could hear her breathing, but dared not look at her. Minutes passed. He couldn’t stand the silence and turned, heart breaking when he saw her drawn face and tears in her eyes. “Marian, I am sorry if you only find painful memories here. We can go.”

  Marian stepped towards a log that was bench height. She sat and tapped the space indicating he should sit. “First kiss. First time we made love.”

  “I love you, Marian.”

  “But you will leave.”

  “I must. For now. I must follow the queen’s orders. It is what I do. Mayhap I will be here, somewhere, in England. There is much to do whilst we wait for the king’s return.”

  “And when he is free you will follow him to fight the French king.”

  “It won’t always be that way.”

  Marian chewed on her lip. “You cannot promise anything.”

  “Except my heart. And everything I have.”

  David stirred and Marian tugged the blanket around him. “You will leave, and I will worry every day.”

  “You will worry for me?”

  “Damn you, Robin. You said you never came back because it was better if I thought you were dead. I think you were right. Now I must live each day wondering if a sword has cut you down.”

  “Then you do care.”

  Marian ran her thumb along David’s cheek. Robin reached out, touched her. When she did not flinch, he let his fingers linger on her hand. Her skin was soft and smooth, still girlish. Her eyes locked on his face. He leaned closer, felt her warm breath. His heart pounded. How he wanted to kiss her, wrap his arms around her.

  Something moved on the far bank. David woke and Robin pulled back, urging his heartbeat to slow. Marian looked disappointed, but recovered quickly, pointing at two deer taking a drink. David squirmed so Robin bounced him on his knee. “This one may be thirsty, too. Shall we head back to the manor?”

  Marian nodded. She’d only taken a few steps when she said, “You may speak with Robert.”

  “I’d like to take him to shoot bow, if that is all right with you?”

  “He would like that.”

  “And I will keep my promise not to reveal that he…that you and I…”

  “Good.”

  They started walking again and were within sight of the house when Robin asked, “When I return, may I see you again? Please, Marian, let me try to heal your heart.”

  Just ahead, Hugh lifted an axe and cleaved a log in two pieces with a resounding crack. Marian froze. “Only to rend it again?” she asked, watching the wood tumble to the ground.

  Robin grabbed her hand. “Some lovers realize that the moments they spend together are worth the time they must be apart.” Marian stared at him. Confused, angry? He could not tell. He handed David to her and walked away.

  *

  Stephan grew increasingly fidgety—whether from being under Bea’s eye or because late afternoon shadows grew long across the yard. Little John and Robert should have returned, but there was no sign of them. Marian had come in with a huff and without Robin. Henry worked at the desk, addressing the day’s business from the reeve, four villeins, and the blacksmith.

  Edward returned from Grantham and, with a wave, signaled Henry to carry on. Henry exchanged a look with Bea, watched his father tread upstairs with Hugh offering a steady hand. Edward had had one too many ales. Distracted, Henry barely heard the smith speaking. The man held Henry’s hauberk pointing out his handiwork and explaining every step involved in mending the links.

  Henry nodded absently when the man quieted. He caught the frown on Stephan’s face and added a quick, “It is fine work. Thank you.” He might have a hundred worries, but he knew, as his father told him, a lord’s kind word would always be remembered. Well that, and a coin or two, which Henry promptly handed to the smith.

  An hour passed, and then a second. Still no sign of Little John. The afternoon was warm, but Stephan’s gut felt cold with a nagging dread.

  “You look like a mother hen,” Henry said, sensing his concern. “They are boys, enjoying a warm afternoon. The river would be quite appealing.”

  Stephan might have agreed had it been Allan sent off on the errand. “Little John does not like to swim.”

  “If they do not return shortly we shall go look for them,” Henry said as Sarah came in from the kitchen with a tray laden with fruit.

  Bea looked up from her embroidery with a smile. “I believe there is more than one mother hen in the coop.”

  Giggling, Sarah placed the food on the trestle, and then went about her work quiet as a mouse.

  Henry rose from the desk and grabbed a slice of dried apple from the platter. “I shall have Hugh pack my bags on the morrow for our journey. Will you need his help?” he asked Bea.

  “Marian and I will manage.”

  “Henry, is it safe for Bea to accompany us to Boston?” Stephan asked.

  “What do you mean?” Bea asked. “It’s a journey I have made many times.”

  “The wagons, the guards—” Stephan stopped himself, eyes drawn to Sarah meticulously placing goblets on the trestle. He doubted Edward cared that they aligned just so. Mayhap Hugh or Mary did, but Stephan would bet his last denier that she was eavesdropping, looking for some morsel to pass along to her friend Burford. “If your father is right, we’re sure to meet another group of them on the road.”

  Sarah inched a goblet a finger’s width, but her gaze darted between Henry and Bea.

  “Why would they present any danger to us?” Bea frowned, and suddenly the pieces fit together for her. “We know their cargo.” She had no need to add and you are king’s men.

  “They’d have no reason to believe we travel on anything other than de Grey wool business,” Henry said.

  “And?” Bea demanded. She knew Henry would make inquiries about those wagons. What boats brought them in. Who oversaw the operation.

  The goblet in Sarah’s hand tipped. It smacked a silver trencher with a clank. She looked meekly at Henry. “I’m so sorry, master.”

  Stephan saw Sarah’s little messenger mind at work as she set the cup upright, but they’d said nothing Burford wouldn’t have already considered. Stephan had been ready to divert the conversation, but Sarah’s mishap took care of that. She checked the table one last time and scooted back to the kitchen.

  “This mother hen is off to look for chicks.” Stephan strode across the hall, opening the door to the sounds of approaching horses. “Little John and Robert are back.”

  It was just an abandoned barn they’d sent Little John to check, he thought, as gravel crunched beneath his boots. Not a storehouse filled with weapons of war. But should anything surprise him?

  Halfway across the yard, Stephan could see why he’
d been anxious. Mud covered Little John’s hose. Robert’s face was streaked with dirt and sweat, his hair unkempt. They’d not been swimming or rolling on the ground for fun.

  When Little John tossed his saddle bag over his shoulder and turned, Stephan swallowed hard. He touched the cut on Little John’s cheek. “Blood?”

  Little John looked hard at Robert.

  “A tree branch whipped back into Little John’s face,” the boy blurted out.

  Stephan frowned at them both. “That’s what you will tell your ma.” And Robin. “The real story?”

  “Two men were using the barn for shelter,” Little John said.

  A grin splashed across Robert’s face. “Little John was brave.”

  “Robert,” Little John ordered, “take the horses and brush them down.”

  Robert didn’t want to miss any part of the re-telling of their adventure. “Tell Sir Stephan how you stood up to the outlaws.”

  “I will, but you’ve work to do. And get yourself cleaned up before your ma sees you.” Little John waved him away. When Robert led the horses into the stable, Little John hung his head. “If Marian finds out… Robert could have been killed.”

  Stephan lifted Little John’s chin. “You could have died, but you are both safe.”

  “That will certainly set Marian’s mind at ease.”

  Stephan touched the seeping cut again. “It is not too bad. Have Mary give you some salve. Tell your tree story for now.”

  “Robin is going to kill me.”

  “If Marian doesn’t kill him first.” Stephan turned at movement at the far end of the road. Robin. “It appears we shall see the knight before the lady.”

  Little John hurried to the cistern and splashed his face with water.

  Robin’s consternation showed in his steps. His mood seemed no better than Marian’s had been when she’d returned from their walk. Stephan wasn’t sure if he should be more worried for Little John or for Robin.

  He and Little John intercepted Robin as he made his way into the courtyard. Little John praised Robert’s riding skills and stuck to the tree branch story. It sounded reasonable given the boys’ ride through the forest.