Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel (14 page)

The door opened—in the chambers, in the castle, though for a breath I didn’t know where I were—and my eyes dragged opened with it. Gisbourne walked in with his chamberlain clucking behind him, and he looked at me and I looked at him. His shirt were off, and his skin were red and raw like it were holding all the cold in Nottinghamshire. There were patches of darker red too, and I wondered, for the first time, if he’d been hurt during the joust.

“The snow prevents swelling,” he said, and his eyes broke from mine.

I lifted a shoulder, looking back into the fire. “Cold is fair good for you, I reckon.”

He grunted. I weren’t sure if that were meant to be an agreement or not, but I didn’t look over to decide. I shut my eyes, wishing for the dream again, but it didn’t rise in the dark of my eyelids.

“Come along, Marian,” he said after a while. “Supper is soon.”

Supper weren’t the torture it had been the night before. Men were tired and quiet. Isabel led much of the talk and didn’t steer none of it toward me. For once I didn’t raise my husband’s ire, and when the meal ended, he offered his arm and led me out of the hall civil-like.

When we changed for bed and his shirt came off, I saw his body had taken hits; there were dark bruises on his shoulder and chest. For a joust, though, he had taken impressive little punishment. His eyes caught mine, his face dark and closed like a door.

I looked to the fire. “You’ll do well tomorrow,” I told him. “Might even win the joust.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The archery is the only thing that matters.”

“And bruising your competition, it seems.”

His teeth bared. “Battering them, if I can.”

I pulled a fur blanket around the loose dress for bed and climbed into the chair, curling tight.

There were a knock on the door, and my lady’s maid went to answer it. She spoke in hushed tones and then shut the door, coming back into the room.

“My lady, the princess requests you attend her on a purview of the market in the morning.”

“What does she need my attention for?” I grumbled.

“You know very well that a princess cannot be waited upon by commoners,” Gisbourne said. “It is an honor to be asked.”

“A backhanded honor,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Tell her no.” The order were for Mary, but I were looking to Gisbourne.

“The princess did not wait for a response, my lady,” Mary said.

“You can’t tell her no; that’s why she didn’t wait. Mary, Eadric, you’re dismissed,” Gisbourne said.

The servants left with the milords and miladies and such, and then I couldn’t hear naught but the fire crackling before me.

“It’s cold,” he said, looking at me.

That were as close as he’d ever come to asking for my wellness, and I looked away. “I like the cold.”

“It wasn’t always so,” he said, and I heard him creak into the bed. “I was hard pressed to get you out of the sun in the summer gardens when we first met.”

My chest went tight and my pipes stopped up as I thought of that, chasing Joanna’s streaming blond hair through the garden, watching as it caught the light and glittered. I thought maybe if I could just catch her, I could become her, all blond hair and light and happiness. But it weren’t never to be; the summer ended and Joanna died, and I were left in the dark-haired winter that I were born for. “Things changed.”

He grunted. “Quite.”

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “You knew they would hate me. You knew you’d be ridiculed for me. Why do it to yourself?”

“You are my wife.”

“But it don’t help you none.”

“You are the only reason I have a claim here. It doesn’t matter if I speak like a lord, they’ll always treat me like a dog until I have the lands and titles for their damned respect. You were born a lady and these adventures of yours are nothing but a
passing fancy. You should know that by now—you can run from it, but you can never unmake your birth, and they know that. For both of us.”

“But—” I started.

“Besides,” he continued, routing me off. “Prince John demands, and I answer.”

“
He
wanted to see us as man and wife?”

“He doesn’t like people subverting his control. Did you think your follies would go unnoticed?”

I frowned. “Well, it ain’t like it were all my fault.”

“You are more dangerous than a few peasants and a fallen earl, Marian.”

“Why? Just because I’m a noble?”

“Good night, Marian.”

“Gisbourne—”

“Please let one night pass where I don’t need to be furious with you.”

It weren’t my fault he had the temper of a bear. It weren’t my fault that he made me come here, made me stay in this god-awful place. None of it were my fault.

Still, I stayed quiet.

The morning dawned cold and clear, and my husband were up as early as me, dressing for the second day of the joust. Mary fussed over me to make me ready to walk beside the princess, and I ain’t never felt so foolish.

“Here,” Gisbourne said as I were done. He tossed a purse of coin my way and I snatched it. “The princess will expect you to spend.”

I peeked inside. “You won’t see any of this back, you know.”

His lip curled up like a dog. “So be it. You’ve already been stealing from me anyway, haven’t you?”

Tying the purse inside my skirts, I didn’t cop to it none.

“Marian,” he said.

“Fine, I nicked the coins,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You married a thief, you should hide things better.”

“
Marian
,” he said, and I looked up. “Impress her.”

I wanted to ask why, but I knew he were sweet on Isabel. Or I reckoned I knew—but that would be part and parcel with my husband having sweetness, or even a heart, which I weren’t sure were so.

“I’ll try to be less your wild wife,” I told him. He nodded like it were some solemn thing I promised, and then he left.

Mary heaped me with a furry cloak and fancy gloves and ladylike boots that were fair useless, little more than fur-lined fabric in the shape of a boot with nothing to make it sturdy or stalwart in any measure. If I were to so much as run to the gates, they’d be naught but a heap of fur-lined shreds.

But for walking slow and making pretty, they were just fine.

I were shown to the princess’s chambers and made to wait outside until she were ready, with the higher-ranking ladies flocked about her. When she emerged, the few others standing there dropped to curtsies, and it took me a breath to remember I were meant to do it too.

“Come along,” she said, and we all stood and followed her out.

It were a messy business, so many puffed-up ladies walking down a single hallway, but the overly layered parade made it to the courtyard intact. It seemed we were meant to follow along behind the princess in a half circle, which one lady—who hadn’t introduced herself to me—waved her hands and swatted at me to make sure I’d do.

My hands curled to fists—I left my damn knives in the
chambers. Which were probably a blessing, considering what notions ran through my head just then.

“Lady Leaford,” Isabel called, not turning her head to me. She did crook a finger, though, and I took that as a summons. I stepped on the swatter’s foot as I went and stood beside Isabel.

“Your Highness,” I murmured.

“You shall be our guide,” she said. “Come. This is your city, is it not? I wish to see it.”

“It isn’t truly,” I denied, careful to say it straight.

“But you know it well. Don’t be difficult. Show me,” she said, meeting my eyes and still keeping her nose up. She weren’t hard to look at, that were sure. Her skin were pale and her eyes brown and dark lashed; she were a fair English rose.

My mouth went tight. “Yes, your Highness.”

We walked side by side down through the castle to the gate. I couldn’t help but watch her dress drag through the dirt and mud and snow. Course that happened to most common folk too, but they tried to avoid it. The princess’s dress were meant for it, and yet it might see a washing or two before the thing was cast aside. It were a miserable practice to flaunt to those that were oft born and buried in the same clothes.

The guards opened the gate, and like the skirt collecting dirt, two guards followed behind us as we went out.

I counted in my head. I were used to moving fast and quick—it didn’t help to be a still target when you were a thief—and these ladies were slower than changing seasons. I took a step and counted, then took another.

“So,” Isabel said to me, “you must tell me how you know Eleanor.”

My mouth opened to question it when I realized who she were thinking of. “Of
Aquitaine
? You mean the queen?”

“Queen Mother,” she corrected. “Yes, of course.”

I made a fair unladylike sound that one of the women jumped at. “I never met her before yesterday.” I shrugged. “Well, she near run me down in a carriage the day before.”

“My dear, you are not well skilled at such games. You see, I know there is something between you two. Eleanor of Aquitaine approves of no one and she’s publicly lauded you. Beyond that, she requested to sit next to you at the joust.”

My fingers pressed light to the bruises on my face. “I fair think she only defended me, not approved overmuch,” I said. “And I can’t speak to the rest. If Eleanor has some sort of interest in me, I don’t know of it.”

She waved her hand. “Fine. Keep your secrets; I’ll discover them in time anyway.” She sniffed, raising her chin. “It was curious that my husband and I didn’t see you with Guy while he’s been at court,” Isabel said, her voice fair quiet, like she wanted it to be kept secret.

“Not so curious,” I said with a shrug.

“No? A dutiful wife should always travel with her husband.”

Were this where he got the notion? “I’m not the most dutiful of wives.”

She looked at me and her eyes caught on the bruises. “No,” she said, “but you are lucky. Guy is a fine gentleman.”

I frowned at her, but caught the disbelieving words that were like to fly out of my mouth. Like it or not, I told him I’d behave and I never liked to cross out a promise. “You must know him … better than most.”

She smiled. Beautiful girls shouldn’t smile half as much as they do; it weren’t nearly fair to the rest of us. “I do; I’ve known him since I was a child. He was always such a kind friend.”

My mouth twisted up to keep words in. Kind?
Kind?
“I watched him kill a child without any cause,” I said, my voice quiet and low, the proper words not hard to find when my blood ran hot. “An innocent child. Such a man can never be called kind.”

Her shoulders went back and her chin went up higher. “You may be married to him, but you don’t know him. And you have no right to judge. You glorify that thief Robin Hood, but he’s killed as well. You, a
lady
, I can well imagine has killed. A despicable thing. And yet, you don’t even pause to consider what a man Guy was before you ran from him, before he scoured the earth to hunt you down.
You
created his cruelty.”

“No,” I said, vicious and fast. “He had a black pall on his soul before ever I met him. I could feel it from the first. And Rob and I never harmed a living thing for profit or sport. You know nothing of this.”

“Scarlet!” someone yelled, and I turned. It were Ben Clarke, the oldest of Mistress Clarke’s three boys and Will’s older brother. He were tall and long, like someone had stretched him before his body knew to do it. He were standing before a
stall in the beginning of the market lane, with armor plates and such.

“Morning, Ben,” I said with a smile, trying to cool my rushing blood. It were a strange thing, how much the use of my name soothed me.

The ladies behind me were tittering though, and it took me a long moment to remember that in London, the night girls were called scarlets.

“You look awful fine,” Ben said to me with a laugh. “Passing strange, but very fine.”

“Ain’t no way to compliment a lady,” I told him, smacking him up the head with a touch of effort for his height.

Isabel made a noise, and Ben looked past me, losing his color and bowing, then dropping his rear down to kneel. Then he thought better of his knees in the cold mud and sort of crouched.

“Get up, Ben,” I said.

“No,” Isabel corrected. “Good morning, young man. And who might you be?”

“Milady. Ben Clarke, milady. Of the Clarkes. Of Edwinstowe. Milady.”

“Blathering idiot,” I muttered, crossing my arms. Tucking my hand in hurt, though, so the crossing didn’t last long.

“Please rise, Master Clarke,” she said. He did, awkwardly. “And what wares have you brought here?”

“My master’s. He’s a blacksmith in Worksop.”

“Scrawny for a blacksmith,” one lady said. Ben set to blushing and I glared at her.

“Ben’s learning,” I spat back. “He’s a good lad. Been providing for his family for years.”

Isabel held her hand out toward the ladies behind her, and one placed coins in her gloves. “I think my husband should like some new armor, Master Clarke. Please come to the castle when you’re finished for the day to fit him.” She pressed the coins into his hands. “Something to reward you for being such an excellent salesman.”

He bowed clumsily over the coins, looking fair awed and bloodless. “Thank you, your Highness. Milady Highness.”

Isabel nodded and turned away, and Ben threw his arms around me. “Thank you, Scarlet. Thank you so much.”

He let me go quick as he started, and immediately set to closing up his cart, I imagine to run back to his master and give the good news.

Isabel crooked her fingers at me, beckoning me along like a pup. Less than a pup, really. Least you called out for a pup.

I went. Most because in spite of her beauty and terrible sense of men, I liked what she’d done for Ben. “That will mean a great deal for him,” I told her. It were the closest I could come to thanking her for it.

She lifted a shoulder. “My husband’s reputation needs improvement, Lady Marian.” Her eyes met mine sharp. “It may be expensive to buy a loyal sword, but peasant loyalty is bought rather cheap, don’t you think? They will talk of it for years. The kindness of the prince and princess—and when Richard returns, he will hear of it and reinstate John as his heir.”