In the center of the field stood a series of targets, side by side. Duke Guy’s champion archer would shoot at one set, the challengers at the other.
“Look, there’s Mad Tom,” Shannon said, pointing to a familiar figure. He had secured a place at the very front of the crowd. As we’d strolled the streets of the town throughout the morning, Shannon and I had caught sight of others of Robin’s people. We had acknowledged one another with a quick nod, but nothing more.
All Robin’s people had been warned that something unusual might take place, and that they were not to interfere until Robin asked for their help himself. But of Robin or Steel themselves, Shannon and I had seen no sign. Robin’s absence, I knew, was by design. After some discussion, we had decided it would be best to let Guy de Trabant wonder whether or not his son would take the bait. But concern over Steel’s whereabouts was like the buzz of an angry bee in the back of my mind.
Had he been captured somehow? It hardly seemed likely. By his own admission, he was not known in Duke Guy’s lands. No one could know that Steel belonged to Robin. We could have simply missed him in the crowd, of course. It was a large one. Still, the fact that we hadn’t seen him at all bothered me.
A call of trumpets rang out.
Duke Guy must be arriving, I thought. Shannon and I elbowed our way through the crowd, on our way to Mad Tom. All too soon now we would know whose strategy would succeed, Duke Guy’s or mine.
The duke’s bodyguards came first, marching smartly in his colors of green and gold. Then came several men I had no way to identify. Chief nobles, or court functionaries, I thought. The most elaborately dressed carried a bundle in his arms.
Surely that must be the harp, I thought.
The functionary moved to stand in front of a chair on the far side of Duke Guy’s, though he did not sit down. The others of the duke’s retinue now arranged themselves behind the row of chairs. There was a second fanfare of trumpets, and finally I saw Guy de Trabant himself.
He was tall, his bearing straight and proud, as if his very posture was a dare to all those who would defy him. He was dressed in fine garments of deep forest green. From his shoulders hung a bloodred cloak lined in cloth of gold.
But it was his face that caught my attention and held it. This man was not much older than my mother. Unlike her, he had led a rich and comfortable life. But above his fine clothes, Duke Guy’s face bore the unmistakable marks of time. His hair was a shock of ashy gray. His eyes were sunk deep into their sockets. Grooves outlined the sides of his mouth. It seemed to me that this was the face of a man who knew no peace.
What might he do to find it? I wondered.
“Gen, look,” Shannon’s voice suddenly spoke at my side. Her grip on my arm was tight enough to cut off circulation.
Following Guy de Trabant, guarded by a second group of soldiers, walked a familiar form. I felt my heart begin to thunder in my chest. Jack! I thought. Oh, please, I prayed silently. Let him not have been harmed.
But as far as I could see, Jack seemed fine. He carried himself erect. His face was unmarked. In honor of the occasion, he’d been given a set of nobleman’s clothes. But these could not disguise the fact that he was a prisoner. His hands were bound in front of him. The soldiers escorting him positioned themselves in a curve behind his chair and alongside it, as if to ensure that Jack could not dash down the steps at the end of the platform and make a run for it.
Duke Guy came to a halt in front of his chair of estate. As if from nowhere, a servant appeared to take the long cloak he wore. For a moment the duke stood, gazing out across the field, as if picturing what was to come in his mind. Then he sat, and everyone who had a place to do so sat down too.
The duke raised a hand, and a single trumpet called. As its notes died away, a man with a longbow and a quiver full of arrows strode onto the field, with a second man, dressed in Duke Guy’s livery, at his side. That is the herald, I thought. Again the trumpet called. Though the crowd assembled on either side of the field was enormous, by the time the voice of the trumpet had faded, everyone had fallen silent.
They all know what is at stake today, I thought.
“I give you the duke’s champion, Yves Dupré,” the herald called out. “By Duke Guy’s command, he will now accept all challengers. If any man can best the champion, he will win the right to determine the fate of the prisoner seated beside Duke Guy. But if the champion triumphs, the life of that same prisoner is forfeit to the crown.”
The herald bowed toward Duke Guy. Then he marched smartly off the field, leaving the champion archer standing alone. He plucked an arrow from the quiver.
“I am ready,” he declared.
The first challenger stepped up to face the target.
The archery contest continued well into the afternoon. The sun burned hot in the sky, but Duke Guy’s champion showed no sign of growing tired. There were moments when it seemed to me that he possessed an almost superhuman strength. Man after man appeared to take up the challenge. The two men stood side by side, each facing a target. They took turns firing. If the arrows landed in more or less equal positions on the targets, the targets were moved back ten paces and the contestants repeated the ritual. But this didn’t happen often. Yves Dupré defeated most of his challengers with a single shot.
Finally only three challengers remained. Second to last stood Robin. He was dressed like any other country man, in plain brown homespun. He wore a straw hat on his head, the brim shading his features. Still, there was nothing plain about him. There was simply no disguising Robin.
Do I only see this because I love him? I wondered suddenly. Or was it the plain and simple truth that there was nothing plain or simple about Robin? Always there would be something that set him apart, something more than an accident of noble birth.
It’s all the things that aren’t accidental, I thought. It was the way he had chosen to maintain a generous spirit and a sharp mind. Robin had something that his father did not. Much more important than noble bearing, Robin possessed a noble heart.
Yves Dupré dispatched the challenger ahead of Robin with two shots. And then, at long last, Robin was stepping up to the target. His movements were loose and easy, as if he were completely unaware of all the eyes upon him, completely unconcerned that two lives hung in the balance.
“Look,” Mad Tom said in a low voice, as Robin removed his hat and dropped it to the ground. “Dupré knows him.”
One look was all it took to see that this was so. Yves Dupré started, then made a movement as if to kneel. Robin stopped him with a hand on his arm. The two men spoke to each other. All around me, I could hear the voice of the crowd begin to swell, as more and more people began to speak of what they had seen. I looked at the platform. Guy de Trabant sat perfectly still, as if turned to stone.
Finally, the conversation between Robin and his father’s champion archer seemed to end. Robin took his stance before the target, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to his bow. The crowd hushed as he pulled back the string and let the arrow fly. It flew straight and true, the point burying itself in the center of the target. As if it had a single voice now, the crowd gave forth a moan.
They don’t know what to think, I thought.
Now Yves Dupré took his turn. His arrow too found the perfect mark. At a signal from the herald, servants came forward and moved the targets back ten paces. Their order reversed, the two contenders shot a second time. Again both arrows found their marks. The targets were moved back ten more paces.
The crowd was growing restive now. This is where their love for Robin will truly be put to the test, I thought.
For Robin’s people had spread the same instructions they had received themselves: No matter what happened, the crowd must not interfere, not until Robin gave the signal as a last resort. The plan I had devised must be given a chance to play itself out. But if the crowd’s fear for Robin’s safety led them to take action too soon . . .
It seemed to me as if the whole world held it
s breath as, for a third time, Robin sighted the target and let an arrow fly. Yet again it buried itself in the very center of the target. Duke Guy’s champion put an arrow to his bow. The banners hung loosely on their poles, not a breath of wind to stir them as Yves Dupré took his stance, pulling the string taut.
But then he seemed to hesitate. He continued to stand, legs spread, body as tight as his own bow string, and still he did not let the arrow go. Almost in spite of myself I began to count, One, two, three, in the silence of my mind.
That was when I heard it. The quick snap of the banners as the wind came up. As if the sound had been the signal for which he’d been waiting, Yves Dupré loosed his arrow. It streaked toward the target. The crowd gave a feral moan. Then, with a force that made the target rock, the arrow struck home.
Duke Guy surged to his feet. The herald sprinted for the target. Close. It is so close, I thought. But even as I saw Yves Dupré fall to his knees at last, even as I saw Robin place a hand on the other man’s shoulder, I thought I understood what the champion archer had done. Instead of waiting for the wind to die down, he had waited for it to rise. The sudden burst of air had drawn his arrow off course.
Just a little. Just enough.
“The challenger is the winner!” the herald cried.
“Now, Gen,” said Mad Tom.
I picked up my skirts and ran for all I was worth toward Robin, praying that the nerve of the crowd would hold.
“Bounty!” I shouted as I ran. “That man is Robert de Trabant. I claim the bounty on his head, according to Duke Guy’s law!”
TWENTY-ONE
To this day, I’m not quite sure I know all of what happened next. My whole world became a sea of conflicting sights and sounds. I could see Yves Dupré, weeping at Robin’s feet. All around me, I heard shouts from the crowd, and the duke’s captain shouting orders to his soldiers. And finally I could hear Robin himself, calling out for the crowd to be still. To trust him and hold true to his cause if ever they had loved him.
Unbelievably, miraculously, it worked. Though the crowd moaned like an animal in pain, no one rushed forward to challenge the soldiers as they surrounded us. I stood beside Robin, gazing up into his face, battling the urge to weep.
This is the true magic of the World Above, I thought. This demonstration that love truly can conquer fear.
Now there was just one more person who must prove his love. The most unlikely one of all. I had staked everything on this one leap of faith: my belief that, despite all evidence to the contrary, despite what Robin himself believed, Duke Guy de Trabant loved his son.
Quickly now, the soldiers marched us toward the platform where Duke Guy stood, his courtiers and nobles clustered around him. Jack still stood to the side, surrounded by his guards. For several moments no one spoke. Robin stood still, gazing up at his father. Duke Guy looked back down. Even in the midst of turmoil, I felt my heart give a surge of hope. Duke Guy had eyes for no one but his son.
“You are looking tired, Father,” Robin said at last.
A wintry smile touched Duke Guy’s features. “And whose fault is that, my son? Let’s get the first part of this over quickly, shall we?” He gestured toward Jack. “I suppose you intend to spare this young man’s life?”
“Of course I do,” Robin answered steadily. “Why else would I have come?”
“Why else, indeed?” his father inquired. “And I would grant your request, were it not for the fact that you are a criminal yourself. Can one wanted man free another? I’m not certain the law will allow that. It seems you have risked yourself for nothing, my son.”
“Then do what the law will allow,” I finally spoke up. “I named this man your son, when no one else would. I claim the bounty as my reward.”
Duke Guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Betrayed by a woman? That doesn’t sound like you, Robert. Well, young woman, I will—”
“What you will do,” a voice I recognized broke in, “is let all three of them go.”
A lone figure stepped out from the body of the crowd. He, too, carried a bow, string pulled taut, the arrow nocked and ready to be let go. It pointed straight at Guy de Trabant.
“Steel,” I moaned. “No.”
“Do not speak to me,” Steel said harshly. “You I will deal with in good time.” He took a few steps closer. “Well, my lord?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Guy de Trabant snarled. He gestured to the soldiers, their weapons at the ready. “You will be dead yourself as soon as the arrow leaves the bow.”
“As long as I take you with me, that will be enough,” Steel replied. “Now give the order to release them, or I will release my arrow.”
“Steel,” Robin said in a low, clear voice.
“No!” Steel said. “Do not try and stop me, Robin.”
“Do you love me?” Robin asked, as if his friend had not spoken. “Do you trust my judgment?”
“You know I do,” Steel said. “More than my own life.”
“Then listen to me,” Robin said. “Do not fire.”
“Think what you are asking!”
“I know what I’m asking,” Robin said. “I’m asking you to spare my father’s life.”
“I do not understand you!” Steel cried, anguish in his voice.
“I know you don’t, my friend,” Robin said. “But spare my father’s life anyway. Not for his sake, but for mine.”
For several agonizing seconds, no one moved. Then, with a great roar of fury and despair, Steel shifted his aim and let the arrow fly. It flashed in the late afternoon sun, streaking over Duke Guy’s head, and was lost to sight.
“You have killed us all,” Steel said, and I could not tell if he was speaking to me or to Robin. Slowly he sank to his knees, all the fight gone out of him. “It is over.”
“Not quite, I hope,” said Robin. He turned back to where Duke Guy towered above us. “It would seem that I have just saved your life, Father. According to custom, you are now in my debt.”
“What do you want?” Duke Guy asked harshly.
“I want you to give this young woman what she has asked for,” Robin said. “Let her be paid the bounty. Bring forward the harp.”
Duke Guy began to laugh then. In all my life, I’d never heard such a sound. I did not know there could be a laugh with neither humor nor joy.
“You are a fool, my son. You could have asked for your freedom and I would have been bound to bestow it.”
Robin said nothing.
“Oh, very well,” said his father. “Bring out the harp, and let everyone here be witness that my debt is discharged.”
At this, the richly dressed man who had been seated beside the duke unwrapped the bundle in his arms. I caught my breath.
Beautiful, so beautiful, I thought.
The lyre gleamed in the late afternoon light, as if made of spun gold. The courtier snapped his fingers, and one of the soldiers brought a chair and placed it beside the duke. The courtier set the harp on the chair, then stepped back, bowing to the duke as he did so.
“Now, young lady,” Duke Guy said. “By custom, you must speak your name and the name of the one to whom you will pose your questions. He or she will then be brought.”
Now we come to it, I thought. I did not dare to look at Robin, standing at my side. If I did, I feared I might lose my courage when I had the most need for it. Instead I pulled off the kerchief I’d worn to cover my golden hair and curtsied as my mother had once taught me.
“My name is Gentian des Jardins,” I said. “And I would like to question you, my lord.”
TWENTY-TWO
Duke Guy started. “Celine,” he said in a tortured voice. “Celine Marchand.”
“Celine des Jardins,” I corrected. “Duke Roland’s wife and my mother.”
“No,” Duke Guy said at once. “I do not believe you. It is impossible.”
“Believe what you like, as long as you answer my questions,” I said.
“No!” Robin’s father suddenly shouted. “This is trickery, and
I will have none of it. I am Guy de Trabant, lord of this realm. I will not be questioned like some commoner.”
“So it’s as I’ve always suspected,” Robin said. “Your word means nothing.”
“How dare you say so?” demanded his father. “Do you defend the very woman who betrayed you?”
“No,” Robin replied. “I defend our family’s honor. To the one who names me, three questions before the harp. Three questions asked of anyone in the realm. Was this not your own decree?”
“Yes,” Duke Guy said heavily. “You know it was.”
“Then honor your word,” Robin said simply. “How difficult can it be to answer three questions, Father? When they are over, you’ll still have plenty of time to decide what to do with all of us.”
“Ask your questions, then,” Duke Guy snapped. “But I warn you, do not try to be too cunning. It is not simply in the answers that the harp can detect a falsehood.”
“Here is my first question,” I said. “Duke Guy de Trabant, have you achieved your heart’s desire?”
Duke Guy opened his mouth, then closed it again. I thought I saw his throat work as he swallowed. Is he swallowing down the lie he wishes to tell? I wondered.
“No.” He bit off the single syllable.
At this, the harp sent up a melody, as pure and ringing as a church bell. And then, to my astonishment, even though I thought I knew what to expect, the harp sounded again.
“He speaks the truth,” it sang out.
I heard a sound like the rush of the sea and realized it was the sigh of the crowd.
“Duke Guy de Trabant,” I continued, “do you love your son?”
From his position still kneeling at Robin’s side, I saw Steel’s head turn toward me.
“Ah,” Steel said on a sigh. His voice was so low that only Robin and I could hear it. “I see where you are going, Gen. How I have misjudged you!”
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