Knight of Sherwood

by N B Dixon

  Robin found Lara sitting on the ground, cradling Edward’s body in her arms while she shook with silent sobs. Much was beside her, battered and bruised, leaning against the wall for support. He stroked Lara’s hair and met Robin’s gaze sadly.

  “He was ever too hasty. All he thought about was revenging himself on Gisborne.”

  “He got his vengeance,” Robin said gently to Lara. “It was his body Gisborne tripped over. If not for Edward, things might have turned out differently. I’m so sorry, Lara. I tried to get to him in time.”

  Lara raised her tear-stained face. There was no condemnation in her eyes, which made Robin feel even worse. He would have preferred anger. “My brother knew the risks. He died fighting, which is what he would have wanted.”

  The others had gathered round. Will and Tuck looked unhurt. Alan had a deep sword gash in his shoulder, and Jane a nasty cut over one eye. Daphne was limping badly and leaning on John.

  “Where is Marian?” Robin asked.

  “She seems to have disappeared,” Tuck said. “I caught a glimpse of her before the hanging of those prisoners. She appeared to be uninjured.”

  Henry Runeville and Lewis d’Ambray came over. “You did well, Locksley,” Henry said. “That was a terrible blow you struck Gisborne. Still, the man deserved it.”

  “Where is Roland?” Robin asked.

  “Dead,” Lewis said. “I shall have to take the news to his wife.”

  “I think it’s time we all went our own way,” Robin said. “We have done what we set out to do.”

  Henry shook his head. “That’s why we’re here. Richard wants you to stay, Locksley. He wishes to speak to you as soon as he has the time.”

  Robin cursed. He was tired. He wanted to be alone so he could sort out what had happened. He had committed fratricide. Granted, the man had been a cruel, power-hungry bastard, but he had still been flesh and blood. Robin did not regret what he had done; nor was he happy about it. Killing one’s own brother was not a burden easily cast aside. Robin knew it would take some time before he could settle things within his mind. Now he had something else to worry about. He turned to Will, John and the others.

  “You should retreat to Sherwood. I’ll speak to Richard on your behalf, but until we know his mind, it’s best if you keep a low profile.”

  As one, they all shook their heads.

  “You are in as much danger as us,” John said gruffly. “We should stay together.”

  Robin didn’t have the energy to argue. He thought it more likely that Richard would pardon him, given his noble birth, but he was by no means certain about the others.

  ***

  Marian reined in her horse and gazed around her at the deserted camp. Hidden in the depths of Sherwood, it was virtually impossible to find unless one knew it was there. Dismounting, Marian left her horse grazing and wandered over to the ancient oak that stood in the centre of the camp. The trunk was hollow. Reaching inside, Marian pulled out a crumpled shift and kirtle and shook them free of leaves and earth.

  She had hidden them there when she first put on the clothing of the outlaws. They were dirty, but they would have to do. Marian stripped off her hose and tunic and pulled them on. She wished she had a comb. Her hair was a mess. Loosening the thick braid that hung to her waist, she ran her fingers through it, separating out the tangles as best she could, then braided it once more. She wondered if Robin and the others had missed her. Somehow, she doubted it. She had witnessed the fight between Robin and Gisborne, and seen Edward fall. Robin would blame himself for his death. He was that sort of man.

  Marian stuffed the tunic and hose inside the hollow, together with the bow and quiver loaned to her, then retrieved her horse. She had found it wandering riderless about the courtyard; one of many whose riders lay among the dead. It had been easy enough to steal it.

  She had caused some of those deaths; every one of her arrows had found a home in human flesh. Marian shuddered and pushed the thought from her mind.

  She had never believed battle could be so terrible. She’d shot at the men who’d sought to kill her, expecting any moment the wooden barricade would fall or to feel a crossbow bolt between her shoulder blades. She would have nightmares about this day for a long time to come. But that life was over. She would leave behind Marian the outlaw and take up the mantle of Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Huntingdon. Kicking the horse into a gallop, she turned its head for Nottingham Castle.

  It was easier than she’d thought to gain entry. She rode her horse through the damaged gates and into the outer bailey. No bodies, wounded or dead littered the ground, but evidence of the battle was everywhere. She’d been half afraid she might find Robin there, but there was no sign of him or any of the others.

  A stable boy came running to take her horse. Marian recognised him from her time in the castle.

  “Is the king still in residence?”

  The boy nodded.

  “I wish to see him on a matter of the utmost urgency.”

  The boy looked doubtful. In the end, he waved her on. Marian passed through the great hall and onwards, to the inner sanctum of the castle. There, a servant informed her that the king was in his private apartments.

  “But I don’t think you can see him, My Lady. He is very busy.”

  Marian made her eyes as wide and tragic as she could. “It will take just a few minutes of his time. I have risked much to come here today. I beg you, please, ask if he will receive me. If he refuses, I will leave at once.”

  The servant withdrew, leaving Marian alone. She twisted her fingers together in agitation. If King Richard sent her away, she would have to think of some other plan for stating her case. Her entire future depended on his goodwill. After what felt like an age, the servant returned.

  “The king will see you. Come this way.”

  Marian followed the servant to the royal apartments, where a guard stood outside the door of the king’s private solar. Marian curtsied, and he bowed in response. Then he knocked three times on the door.

  “Enter,” a commanding voice called. The guard opened the door, and Marian passed through.

  She had been in this room before. Gisborne had used it when there was no royal in residence. Richard was sitting at his ease in the chair Gisborne had occupied. At his feet, kneeling, was his brother. Even as Marian hesitated on the threshold, unsure if she should disturb this family meeting, John rose to his feet. With his head bowed, looking neither at his brother nor Marian, he strode out of the room.

  Richard then directed his piercing gaze at Marian. She felt the colour flood her face, conscious again of her dishevelled appearance.

  “Approach.”

  Marian closed the door softly behind her and walked the few paces that would take her to the King of England’s side. She dropped the deepest curtsy she could manage and when she straightened from it, kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

  “Sire, thank you for agreeing to see me. I know you must have many demands upon your time.”

  “Indeed I do. I have won a victory today, and I have a kingdom to put back in order. However, since my servant informs me that you have ridden some distance in order to see me, I will hear what you have to say. You are Lady Marian Fitzwalter, the only daughter of the Earl of Huntingdon?”

  “I am, Sire.”

  “Your father is dead, I understand, making you a Ward of the Crown.”

  “Yes, Sire. I sought protection with the nuns of Kirklees Abbey, but I was taken prisoner by the former sheriff, Guy of Gisborne. It was only thanks to the intervention of Robin of Locksley that I was able to escape. He assisted me before that as well, when Guy of Gisborne threatened me with an unwanted marriage. I was staying in this castle at the time, but I managed to escape.”

  “Do I take it, then, that you had no interest in marrying the late and unlamented Guy of Gisborne?” There was a note of amusement in the king’s voice.

  “I am a Ward of the Crown. I would not marry without my king’s permission.”

 
“What of my brother? Guy of Gisborne was a favourite of his. I am sure he would have sanctioned the match.”

  He was testing her, Marian knew. She raised her eyes to his face. “Prince John is not king. I would not be disloyal to Your Majesty.”

  “I see.” Again, the wry amusement. “Do you take me for a fool, My Lady?”

  Marian started. “Sire, no, of course not.”

  “Meekness ill becomes you. It may fool a lesser man, but not me. I am well aware of the wiles a woman is capable of using when she wishes to persuade a man to her way of thinking. You are no wilting flower, but a woman clearly capable of making her own decisions, however ill-advised they may be. From what you have told me, I infer that Robin of Locksley was more than simply your protector?”

  “That is so, Sire. Which is why I had to see you. I find myself in a most undesirable situation.”

  All trace of a smile had vanished from King Richard’s face. “And what situation might that be?”

  ***

  It had been difficult to find accommodation in the town. In the end, a single room at one of Nottingham’s less desirable inns was obtained. Lara, Jane and Daphne would seek refuge at Kirklees Abbey.

  Before they parted ways, they held a funeral for Edward. They buried him close to the border of Sherwood, with a simple wooden cross to mark his grave. Then Tuck patched up all their wounds.

  Much had been loath to leave Lara. “I should be with her.”

  Will patted his shoulder. “Jane and Daphne will look after her. It’s just for one night.”

  The room they had been given possessed only one bed. Alan, Much and Tuck took this, while John, Will and Robin made do with the floor.

  They whiled away much of the evening drinking and swapping battle stories. The whole of Nottingham was rejoicing at King Richard’s return.

  Robin, however, did not feel like celebrating. He was waiting for Richard’s summons. He’d been waiting all afternoon and much of the evening. More than once, he was tempted to leave, to seek sanctuary in Sherwood, but always the thought of the others stopped him. They deserved a chance at a new life. Much had confided to Robin that Lara was expecting their first child.

  “She told me after the battle. If I’d known before, I would never have let her come.”

  Sherwood Forest was no place to raise a baby.

  As the evening wore on, Robin eventually came to the conclusion that Richard would not see him today. He and the others retired to their room at closing time. Robin lay listening to John’s thundering snores and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

  He was woken just after daybreak by a furious pounding on the inn door. He sat bolt upright, reaching for his dagger. Will was already on his feet, his ear to the door. The others were stirring.

  “What in heaven’s name?” Tuck muttered.

  “It sounds as if they’re trying to break down the door,” Alan said.

  Shouts reached them. They heard the landlord’s voice raised in protest and abruptly cut off. Then came the unmistakable sound of booted feet on the stairs.

  “Soldiers!” Much hissed.

  John let off a string of curses.

  Robin and Will exchanged glances. So the king had made his decision already. He had decided not to see Robin after all. Robin’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an exit, but there was none apart from the window, and they would never all escape in time. And now the soldiers were at the door. Fists hammered on wood and a voice called.

  “Robin Hood, open this door in the name of the king.”

  Robin retrieved his weapons. His sword hung in its familiar place at his hip and his bow and quiver were on his back.

  “What do you want?” he called.

  “You are under arrest.”

  “On what charge?”

  “Open this door now or we will break it down. I assure you any resistance will be fruitless.”

  Robin turned to his friends. This room was a far from ideal place for close-quarter fighting. There was barely room to swing a sword. His friends’ faces wore expressions ranging from resignation to fury. Will was closest to Robin.

  “Do it. If we resist, they’ll likely punish the innkeeper and his family.”

  Robin knew he was right. He and his friends were traitors of the Crown; outlaws. The penalty for harbouring such men was death.

  “If we give ourselves up, you will leave the innkeeper and his family alone,” he called.

  “You are not in a position to bargain, Locksley. However, if you come with us quietly, they will not be harmed.”

  Robin exchanged one last look with his friends. Each of them nodded. He shot back the bolts and swung the door wide. He bowed to the waiting soldiers, so low that it was a mockery.

  “Gentlemen.”

  They were escorted under guard to the castle. Robin expected to be taken to the dungeons, there to await his punishment. His only small consolation was that Lara, Daphne and Jane were safe. Hopefully, the king’s men had no idea where they were or even that they had been involved with outlaws at all.

  As Will and the others were led away, Robin made to follow them, but two men seized his arms roughly, hauling him back.

  “Not you, Locksley. The king wishes to see you.”

  Robin’s confusion grew, but with it, came a tiny spark of hope. If the king had decided that they were all traitors, surely Robin would have been imprisoned with the rest of his band. It seemed he was being given a chance to plead his case. Perhaps there was a way to save them yet.

  He was taken to the king’s solar. At the door, one of the guards knocked, and on being told to enter, gave Robin a none-too-gentle shove in the back. Robin went in alone, while the guards took up their positions outside.

  “Ah, Locksley, there you are. My men have been searching every inn since sundown yesterday.”

  Robin made the briefest bow he could get away with. “I was told you wish to see me, Sire. I am, however, at a loss to understand why my men have been thrown into your dungeon.”

  “Firstly, I wish to inform you that as of this day, you are no longer an outlaw. I restore the Locksley estate to you, and in recognition of the service you have done me, you shall also have the Gisborne lands, as well as the smaller estates of Hathersage and Blidworth.”

  Robin was taken aback. He had no interest in any of the estates, but it was infinitely better than a hanging. He repressed a smile as he pictured the expression on the face of the Abbot of Saint Mary’s when he heard the news.

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “As for your men, their fate depends on you, and the outcome of this conversation. You have caused me a great deal of inconvenience. I have more than enough problems demanding my attention at the moment without this being added to them.”

  Robin frowned. What was Richard talking about? Disposing of outlaws was hardly a problem. If Richard meant to hang them, he would simply order it done. If he meant to pardon them, he could send them on their way and never be bothered with them again.

  “They are good men, Sire. I would vouch for every one of them.”

  “I’m sure you would. Their fate, as I said, rests with you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Lady Marian Fitzwalter. The heiress of Huntingdon. At one time, under your personal protection.”

  Robin stared at him. Of all the things he’d expected, this had never even crossed his mind. He had no idea where Marian was. He’d assumed that she had taken the first opportunity to return to her home.

  “I hardly need to tell you that Lady Marian is one of the most sought-after prizes in this kingdom. The Huntingdon lands are vast. Whoever becomes earl will be one of the most powerful men in England.”

  Utterly baffled, Robin searched for some reply. “I am sure you will choose a worthy man for the title, Sire.”

  “I would have, but such a choice is no longer possible, thanks to you.”

  “Forgive me, Sire, but you are making no sense.”

  Richard was
on his feet now. He and Robin were of a similar height and Richard’s eyes blazed as they bored into Robin’s, but Robin did not look away.

  “Do you deny that you deflowered Lady Marian while she was under your protection?”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Robin was left temporarily speechless. Finally, he said, “I took from her nothing that she did not willingly give.”

  “A woman’s value resides in her virginity. Do you think any self-respecting man would take her now, particularly when she carries another man’s child?”

  Marian was carrying a child? Robin did a rapid calculation in his mind. It was three months since their night together.

  “She has said nothing of this to me,” he managed.

  “It seems that lately, you have tired of her.”

  The cutting words brought colour to Robin’s face. Was that why Marian had kept silent? She was a proud woman. But why had she chosen to tell the king?

  Richard seemed to read his thoughts. “A woman under wardship to the Crown must be closely guarded against just such an eventuality if she is to score well in the marriage market. As I am Marian’s guardian, she felt it her duty to confess to me. There are other men I would far rather have seen as Earl of Huntingdon, but given the situation, there is nothing else to be done. You two must be wed, and soon. Today, if it can be arranged.”

  This was a bad dream; it had to be. Once before he had been faced with this situation. Lucy’s face filled his mind, pale and blotched with tears as she told him he was to be a father. It seemed history was repeating itself. Robin could hardly believe he was standing here, in the presence of his king, being ordered to marry. He had fully expected to be pleading for his life.

  “I need a man I can trust as Earl of Huntingdon,” the king went on. “I must be sure of his allegiance to the throne. You and I have never been friends, Locksley, but you hate my brother. I am confident you would never betray me for his sake. Therefore, I shall give to you the earldom of Huntingdon and the hand of Lady Marian Fitzwalter. Apparently, your fathers both desired the match at one time.”