by N B Dixon
The meal dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Marian wanted nothing more than to be alone to think. Her dislike of Katrina and her husband intensified the longer she spent in their company. Guy remained solicitous, offering her the best choices of meat for her trencher, filling her wine cup personally. His conversation mainly revolved around the various punishments which were to be meted out to this or that offender, all of which seemed overly harsh to Marian.
At last, she managed to make her escape. The same young maid came to help her prepare for bed. She introduced herself as Ursula. Marian took the opportunity to question her.
“What do you know of this Robin Hood? He seems to have quite a reputation.”
“Oh, yes, My Lady.” Ursula’s face lit up with excitement. “He is a good man to the poor.”
Marian stared. “Are you sure we are talking about the same man?”
“Yes, My Lady. Robin Hood. That’s what they call him. Some call him the Knight of Sherwood, or the hooded man, on account of him always wearing a hood when he robs travellers.”
Marian was amused. She could certainly attest to the description.
Ursula warmed to the subject. “Rumour has it he was a nobleman before he was outlawed.”
Marian was intrigued. “What happened?”
“I don’t know the details, My Lady. Some say…” She broke off with a nervous glance towards the chamber door.
“I promise this will be just between us,” Marian said. “Please go on.”
“Well, they say that while he was away on Crusade, the sheriff took the land that was rightfully his. When Robin Hood returned, he challenged him, and the sheriff made him an outlaw.”
“But who was he? Robin Hood cannot be his true name.”
“He was once Robin of Locksley.”
The name stirred something in Marian. She heard her father’s voice. “Robin of Locksley would have been the perfect match for you.”
Four years ago, her father had attempted to arrange a marriage between herself and Lord Locksley’s heir. But something had happened to put an end to it. Marian racked her brain. Hadn’t Robin of Locksley refused and been disinherited? Marian wished she’d got a better glimpse of his face. She’d always wondered why the young heir had turned her down. It had displeased her father at the time, since he and Lord Locksley were old friends. As she had never met Lord Locksley’s son, she hadn’t felt particularly heartbroken by his rejection.
Then had come the second suitor, a man she had instantly taken a dislike to. In the end, so had her father. Again, he had mourned the loss of Robin of Locksley as a future son-in-law.
“Are you all right, My Lady?”
“I’m quite well. You say Robin of Lock—I mean Robin Hood, he gives the money he takes to the poor?”
“Yes, My Lady. He is very generous. The people in Nottingham and the surrounding villages love him. There are songs sung about him. They say there’s no better archer in England. The sheriff has been hunting him for months. There is a high price on his head.”
An outlaw giving money away. Such a thing was unheard of. Outlaws stole to survive, barred as they were from any outside help from their families, or from any paid job. Robbery was their only option. It must be a special man indeed who would place the survival of others above his own. But then, if he had once been a lord, perhaps he felt he owed it to his former people.
Marian could not imagine any noble she knew acting so selflessly. Peasants were there to work the land. They were useful, but beyond that, their lords had no interest in their welfare. She felt a little better at the thought that the money and jewellery the outlaws had taken would be put to some good use—assuming what her maid said was true.
Her curiosity was well and truly aroused. She supposed she would never see Robin Hood again, but she found herself hoping Guy of Gisborne would not catch him.
She considered Ursula. She was certain the girl had been chosen to keep an eye on her. She seemed a biddable soul, easy to manipulate, but what was the best approach? Fear, she decided.
“I have a headache, Ursula. Why don’t you run along and see the sheriff. He’ll be waiting for your report, I’m sure.”
Ursula blanched. “M…My Lady?”
“I’m not stupid. You should remember that.”
Ursula had begun to tremble. “I meant no harm, My Lady, on my honour. I wouldn’t have told him anything. You seem like a decent woman, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. Not like the sheriff.”
Marian looked at her with fresh eyes. There had been unmistakable loathing in Ursula’s voice when she spoke of the sheriff, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Like many nobles, Guy of Gisborne probably used his serving girls as he saw fit and discarded them afterwards. Against her will, she felt her heart soften towards the girl. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen—only two years younger than Marian.
“I’ll let you into a secret, Ursula. I don’t like the sheriff, either. He intends to force me to marry him so he can have my lands. That’s why he asked you to spy on me. He knows I’m on to him, but together, we can fool him.”
“How?”
“You’ll do your job. You will give him boring information that will keep him satisfied, and together, we’ll come up with a plan of escape. How does that sound?”
Ursula’s eyes shone. “Oh, yes, My Lady. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Good. Go and tell him I was fatigued after the robbery and I’ve gone to bed with a headache. Let me know if he says anything interesting.”
As soon as Ursula was gone, Marian allowed a satisfied smile to cross her face.
Two can play at that game, Gisborne.
***
“You haven’t changed your mind, then? You still intend to marry her?” Katrina didn’t try to keep the derision out of her voice.
Guy glared at her over the rim of his wine cup. Couldn’t she leave him alone for five minutes? It was late. Most people were in bed. All he had wanted was a moment or two to reflect on the day. Locksley was becoming more and more brazen. Guy couldn’t believe he would rob a woman. What had happened to that ridiculous chivalry of his?
The incompetence of Hugo and his men knew no bounds. Guy was well aware that many people laughed in secret behind his back at his inability to catch Locksley, while Locksley himself was being set up as some kind of Messiah for the people.
Katrina was still talking. “Why you would want such a plain piece as that in your bed I cannot imagine.”
Plain? Marian was anything but. Any man who looked on her would certainly look again. She was slender without being too thin. The gown she had been wearing at dinner had hinted at the suggestion of feminine curves underneath. Her dark hair and eyes were a contrast to her pale porcelain skin. True, she had a stubborn jaw, and her nose was a little too big for his liking, but it wasn’t her looks he was interested in.
“I don’t believe my choice of wife is any concern of yours.”
“Certainly not. I just thought you would want someone a bit more robust. Didn’t you see how she blanched when you were describing how you had that Jew flayed?”
“I would no longer be sheriff once Marian was my wife. The Huntingdon estate would be mine.”
“Does Prince John approve?”
“He does. He has given me his permission to court the lady.”
“You will need to move fast before somebody else gains the prince’s favour and makes an offer for her.”
“Why don’t you leave me to manage my own affairs? You will have worries of your own if I choose to dismiss your husband.”
“On what grounds?”
“Let’s see.” Guy pretended to think. “How about the fact that Locksley has been on the run for the last two months and your husband and his so-called soldiers have been unable to apprehend him? It seems no matter how large a number I send out, Locksley is always able to get the better of them.”
Two angry spots of colour blossomed on Katrina’s cheeks. “You know as well a
s I do that Locksley is an archer. One man with a bow can take down several men, swords or not.”
“Then you’d think it would occur to your husband to send men with crossbows.”
“An archer can shoot off twice as many arrows in the time it takes a soldier to load a bolt into his crossbow. Not to mention the range is far greater and a trained archer costs money. It takes years to become proficient with a longbow.”
Guy bristled at her patronising tone. Who did she think she was, speaking to him as if he were an imbecile?
He loaded his voice with sarcasm. “Then what is your solution, sister dear?”
“If you want Locksley, you will have to entice him out of Sherwood.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job. Just warn Beaumont he is on shaky ground. Everyone is expendable. The prince is looking for someone to blame. One more failure, and I’ll be happy to point him towards your husband.”
Katrina opened her mouth, but a gentle tap at the door forestalled her.
“Enter,” Guy snapped.
Ursula edged into the room, curtsying first to Guy and then Katrina. Guy ran his eyes over her. Even in her ragged dress, she was a comely wench. She had warmed his bed until he grew tired of her. She hadn’t been exactly willing, but that had only added interest to their encounters. He had assigned her to wait on the Lady Marian, with instructions to report to him if her lady did or said anything suspicious.
Guy was certain Marian was hatching some sort of plan. She had agreed to come under his roof and his protection because she had no choice, but Guy knew she would be looking for a way to extricate herself from his and the prince’s machinations.
“Well? And how did you find your new mistress?”
“Lady Marian is very beautiful. She is kind and—”
“Yes, yes. I did not summon you to hear a list of her virtues. I wish only to know what she said to you.”
Ursula looked confused. “Nothing, My Lord.”
“Did she speak to you of the robbery?”
“She was most upset, My Lord. She has retired to bed with a headache.”
Guy glowered. Perhaps he’d made the wrong choice after all. This girl did not have the brains for a spy. It crossed his mind that she might be holding back, but he dismissed the notion. It was more than her life was worth to lie to him, and she knew it.
“Get out,” he ordered.
Katrina barely waited for the door to close. “What of Hugo?”
Guy turned away, bored. “We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?”
Her voice was a venomous hiss. “There are things the prince doesn’t know about you. What do you think he would do if he knew your little secret?”
Guy seized her wrist, gripping it hard enough so that the bones ground beneath his fingers. Katrina gasped, her face twisted with pain, but her eyes still blazed defiance.
Guy leaned close. “Are you blackmailing me? I warn you, that would be a serious mistake.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Our prince would not be happy to learn that you and Locksley are brothers. As Lord Locksley’s bastard son, you have no rights to any of the land you hold. It would be the end of your career for certain.”
“You wouldn’t.” Guy’s voice shook with rage, but there was panic mixed in with it. He released Katrina as if her flesh had burned him.
“Rest assured, Guy. If you blacken my husband’s name, I’ll make certain you suffer along with him.”
***
“His brother?” Marian breathed.
“Half-brother, My Lady,” Ursula corrected.
“Are you sure?”
“I listened outside after Sir Guy made me leave.”
“Does Robin know?”
“I don’t think so. Lady Katrina acted like it was some big secret. She said Sir Guy was ‘Lord Locksley’s bastard son’.”
Marian struggled with the ramifications of what she’d heard. Guy and Robin were brothers. From what Guy had said, he was not, in fact, a Gisborne at all. Marian vaguely recalled some scandal about Lord Locksley and Lady Gisborne being lovers. If Lord Locksley had refused to acknowledge Guy, Lady Gisborne would have had no choice but to pass Guy off as her husband’s. All of Guy’s actions—the murder of Lord Locksley (Marian knew he’d been suspected of the crime) the outlawing of Robin, everything—was so he could claim what he believed to be his.
Prince John had a reputation for being a suspicious man. If he knew the truth of Guy’s parentage, perhaps he would doubt his loyalty. Marian’s mind raced as she tried to think of how she could use this information to her advantage. If she told Prince John, he might think twice about wishing one of the most powerful earldoms to be put into the hands of a possible traitor, but she had no influence with the prince. John had only one use for women, and it certainly wasn’t conversation. Still, she had a weapon. All she had to do was bide her time and wait for the right moment to use it.
***
“He blames me, doesn’t he? As if I’m not doing all I can to catch the blasted man. I have men combing Sherwood. I have informants throughout Nottingham and in the surrounding villages. There are reward notices everywhere—I’ve doubled the price on his head—and torturing the peasants makes no difference. What more can I do?”
Katrina stroked the hair back from Hugo’s forehead and let her hand trail down so that her fingertips grazed his cheekbone. “He will not replace you. I’ve made sure of it.”
Hugo draped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close. It was cold despite the bearskin covering them. Katrina nestled into her husband’s warmth, burrowing close to give comfort as well as receive it.
“He wants results, Katrina.” She hated to hear how defeated Hugo’s voice sounded.
“You must not give up, my love. You will find him.”
“How? Tell me that. Your brother wants Locksley dead. His patience will only last so long. If he does not replace me, the prince will.”
“Then we shall give them what they want. Locksley is predictable if you know his weaknesses.”
“And you do?”
Katrina did not miss the hint of jealousy in Hugo’s voice. She repressed a smile. It was good to know that he still desired her. Their marriage had been one of convenience initially, but they’d soon discovered they had a lot in common besides their appetites in the bed chamber. Hugo shared her ruthlessness and her thirst for power. He was prone to let his temper rule him, but her cunning more than made up for that. He would never admit to the influence she had over him, but that was all right as long as he did what she wanted.
“Locksley has always had a high opinion of himself. Set him a challenge he cannot resist and he will come. Once he is out in the open, we shall take him.”
“We?” Katrina did not miss the subtle warning in his tone and cursed herself inwardly for her mistake.
“I only meant that I support you, my love, in all things. You will be the one who brings Locksley down, and my brother will be forced to sit back and watch. He’ll know that you succeeded where he failed. Prince John will know it as well. He will reward you.”
This mollified him as she had known it would. She turned her lips to meet his.
***
Will hefted the last sack of flour from the cart. “This lot should feed Blidworth for months.” He turned to the miller, who was gazing at the outlaws with tears in his eyes. “Where do you want it?”
“In the barn. If you’d follow me, sirs.”
The plight of Blidworth had reached the outlaws two days ago. Thanks to a series of well-placed and well-paid informants in village taverns, it was easy enough to get a distress message to Robin and his men. He gazed around the bare barn, which should have been stocked with grain after the harvest. The miller followed his gaze.
“It was the Abbot of Saint Mary’s. He took it all. He said we were failing to do God’s work or some such.”
Robin’s face darkened at mention of the abbot. Sir Richard had told him how his older brother had purchased a small hol
ding with money earned through fighting service in Ireland. He’d died childless, leaving the holding to Richard. Sir Richard had been forced to hand it over to the Abbot of Saint Mary’s when he was unable to pay his debt. If Robin ever saw the pompous cleric, he’d show him divine justice.
The outlaws were persuaded by the grateful villagers to visit the tavern. Staying was a risk, but John and Wat were through the door before Robin could refuse, and it was a long ride back to Sherwood. Soon, the outlaws were enjoying home-brewed ale and course rye bread, which was all the people of Blidworth had to offer.
John raised his mug in a toast. “To the Lady Marian and her generosity.”
“I must say she was a comely lass.” Wat held out his mug for a refill. “Spirited, too. The way she went for you with her whip, Robin, I thought she’d have you.”
Robin snorted. It was true the jewellery taken from Marian and the contents of the soldiers’ purses had more than paid for Blidworth’s needs.
“Our Robin wasn’t turned by her pretty head,” John said.
Wat leered. “That leaves her free for me, then.”
“Always assuming you can get past the guards at Nottingham Castle and break into her bedchamber.”
“There’s not a building I can’t break into.”
“She’d never look twice at you,” Will said.
“Jealous, Scathelock?”
“That must be it,” Will said, straight-faced.
Wat turned to Robin. “Didn’t you think she was pretty?”
“Hmm?” Robin’s mind had wandered from the conversation.
Wat spoke as if to a child. “Lady Marian. She’s pretty.”
Robin shrugged. “Pretty enough if you like the proud, haughty type. I think she is a bit beyond your reach, Wat.”
Wat was not put off. “Once I lay on the charm, she’ll be like clay in my hands.”
