Maid of Sherwood (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two:

“You know my Will?” Dulcina’s voice was dreamy once more. “He is such a good boy. Always behaves and brings me tea.”

“I am Marian, Beatrix du Luc’s daughter.” Marian gazed earnestly into Dulcina’s eyes. “Do you not remember me?”

Dulcina bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Marian,” she said, her voice lucid. “I remember you. You taught Will how to skip stones, much to your mother’s dismay.”

“
She is not right in the head
,” a ghost whispered in Marian’s ear. “
It is the sheriff’s fault. He made her sick.”

“I have no idea how to get you free,” Marian admitted. “But we have to get out of here.”

Dulcina shook her head. “If I leave, he will get mad at me.”

“If you leave, he will not be able to find you,” Marian stated. “I can make sure you get back home.”

It was odd. She could almost see Dulcina’s eyes glaze over. “Where is home, the Scarlett Bird sings. She shivers and shakes and spreads her wings.”

“She is mad,” Marian muttered under her breath. “What in the Lord’s name did he
do
to her?”

“Bad things, scary things; all things we will talk about. You need to help her.”

Marian nodded. “Of course I will. I am just…not sure how.”

“Better figure it out quick. He is coming.”

“The sheriff? Here? Now?”

“
Go further in,”
the ghosts instructed.
“Hide behind the chests.”

Marian did not hesitate. So far the ghosts had not been wrong about anything; she was not going to take the chance that they might be now.  One corner of the room held large chests, stacked deep and high. If she hid behind them and was very still, the sheriff might not notice her. She picked up her skirts and ran, sliding into the miniscule space between the chests and the wall as the bolt on the door began to rise.

“How is my Scarlett Bird?” The honeyed voice she had done her best to ignore over dinner was followed by the door slamming shut.

Dulcina giggled. “I know a secret,” she sing-songed. “But I cannot tell you until Will comes back with my tea.”

“A secret? What kind of a secret?” The sheriff asked.

Marian risked raising her head a trifle above the chests, barely daring to breathe. Dulcina raised one hand, placing her index finger against her lips. “Shhhh… I cannot tell yet.”

The sheriff’s shoulders raised and fell as he sighed. “Important things are happening, Scarlett Bird. Very important things.” He leaned down and gently touched her cheek with one gloved hand. “Then we can live as we were meant to.” He straightened up, moving away from her and touching the torch in his hand to ones on the wall she was chained against until the room blazed with light. He placed the last torch in the empty holder. “There, that is better.”

Marian noticed the shadows crowding the edge of the torchlight. The ghosts were not the only ones; Dulcina shrank back as well, as though light touching her would cause her pain.

The sheriff’s voice gentled to a near whisper. “I am sorry you have had to stay down here, dearest. It will not be much longer. I promise.”

Marian clamped a hand across her own mouth to prevent her gasp of surprise from escaping.

“I need my son,” the woman said. “When is Will getting here? I am thirsty.”

“He will be here soon,” the sheriff promised. “But I brought you water.” The man knelt next to her and gathered her into his embrace. “Here, drink this.” He held a flask up to her lips. “Tell me something, my love… tell me your secret.”

Dulcina gulped at the water running down her chin. “The ghosts know,” she said. “They know everything.” She gazed up at him earnestly. “Did you know that? Did you know they know everything?”

The sheriff shook his head, a look of sheer frustration crossing his features.

“He broke her. She will never be right again.”

Marian was mesmerized by the scene playing out in front of her. It was obvious the sheriff loved Dulcina; loved her almost to the point of distraction.

“They are here,” Dulcina blurted out. “They came by carriage and horse and they are here. Did they bring Will? Is he with them?”

“Hush, Scarlett Bird,” the sheriff said. “No-one is here, no-one came.”

“NO!” The other woman screamed. “You are wrong! The ghosts saw them! They told me!”

“Prince John is here,” he tried to soothe her, but she twisted in his arms before suddenly quieting.

“It is Beatrix du Luc and Alan a Dale.” Dulcina’s voice went calm. “Have you met their daughter yet? She and Will are friends.”

“Yes, I have met them. They arrived last week,” the sheriff said. “It is all right. Just rest, Scarlett Bird, nothing will hurt you down here.”

“Nothing except him. Look at her hand; look at her palm.”

“Marian is a sweet child,” Dulcina continued. “I think she and Will might marry some day. But that is a long way off. They are children.”

“Of course they are,” the sheriff agreed. “Is that the secret the ghosts told you?”

Dulcina smiled. “What else would it be? Did you bring me food?”

He shook his head. “A guard will bring some down soon. Would you like to change your gown today?”

“No, why should I?” She smoothed the stained fabric over her breast. “Is it not lovely?”

“It is, but you wore it for dinner. It is nearly time for supper.”

“Oh, then I suppose that is fine.” Dulcina said. “But you cannot help me. That would not be proper.”

The sheriff smiled, a genuine one that lit the part of his face Marian could see. “I will go and send someone down to help you change. Would that be all right?”

“You are so good to me.” She reached up to touch his face and Marian caught the glimmer of…something…on the palm of her hand.

He grabbed Dulcina’s hand and pressed a kiss against her palm before double checking the chains that held her to the wall. “I will come back when I can, Scarlett Bird.” 

She giggled. “I will be here.”

No sooner had the door shut behind the sheriff than Marian rose from her place behind the chests.

“He is in love with you,” she said needlessly.

Dulcina nodded. “Yes, he is. He has been for years.” She peered at Marian. “That is why he killed my William, you know. Then I came here, where he keeps me safe.”

Marian stepped forward. “This is not safe, Dulcina. It is a dungeon.”

“Who can keep you safer in a dungeon than a sheriff?” The other woman asked. She held out her right hand, palm up. “And see? He made sure everyone knows I belong to him.”

Marian gasped. On Dulcina’s palm was a brand. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen; a series of circles, overlapping each other again and again until the pattern itself was almost lost.

“He
branded
you?” Her voice trembled. She reached out and gently took the woman’s hand in one of hers, tracing the circles with one fingertip. The entire thing was raised, each circle a small line of puckered skin. Marian’s eyes filled with tears.

“Why are you crying?” Dulcina’s voice was soft and filled with curiosity.

 “You do not understand,” she sniffed. “He branded you.”

“How else would he keep me safe?” Dulcina looked at Marian with wide brown eyes. “Who did you say you are?”

Marian shook her head. “I am sorry,” she dropped Dulcina’s hand. “I am afraid I wandered in here by mistake. I should leave.”

“Come back soon. I love having visitors.”

Marian fled without a backwards glance.

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Marian flew up the stone passageway and back to the light of the used portion of the castle. It was only when she reached the stairs leading back to her suite that she stopped running. A few servants glanced at her curiously and she realized how frightful she must look, with the dust of the dungeons clinging to her gown and hair. The faint sound of music came from the great hall but she ignored it and continued up the steps to her suite. She pulled the door open and slipped inside; praying Mother and Father were not there. She was correct. Not pausing, she continued into her rooms and collapsed on the bed. Before long, she was asleep.

“Marian,” Mother’s voice preceded the shaking of her shoulder. “Marian, it is time to get up.”

Marian tried to open her eyes; they felt glued shut.

“You have slept through breakfast, and services, too.” The bed creaked as Mother sat down. “I do not know what you did last night, but it is well past noon, and no-one likes a slug-a-bed.”

 Marian stretched and forced her eyes open. “I went down into the dungeons.”

“Why would you do that?”

“The ghosts led me there.” She sat up. “They wanted me to find someone.”

“Who did they want you to find?” Mother asked.

“Dulcina Scarlett,” Marian said. “It was Will’s mother. The sheriff is in love with her, Mother.”

The other woman stared at her. “That is an interesting development.”

“There is more,” Marian said. “She is completely mad, Mother. I do not know what he did to her, but she is not right in the head anymore.”

“The Scarlett women never did handle stress well,” Mother said absentmindedly. “But regardless, she cannot be left down there.”

“Do you think Prince John knows?”

Mother shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Dulcina did not do anything wrong. Five years in a dungeon is a stiff price to pay for not loving someone back. Get changed and wash your face. There is someone we need to talk to.”

Marian pushed back covers she did not remember pulling over herself. The light green gown she still wore was bunched uncomfortably under her and she tugged it down. “Who are we going to see?”

“The Lady Nyneve,” Mother replied. “Hurry up. I shall wait for you in the sitting room.”

As soon as Mother closed the door behind her, Marian changed into a clean white gown, laced it up and put on her shoes. “What do you think Nyneve will say?” She asked Mother, following her out of the suite and down the corridor.

“
Lady
Nyneve, Marian. She deserves your respect.”  Mother admonished her, but Marian could tell her heart was not really in it. “She has lived longer than either of us combined. If anyone will have any ideas on this—situation—it will be her. Our history always said she preferred the outdoors to anywhere else, so we shall try the gardens first.”

Marian hurried to keep up with Mother’s pace. “Why did not you tell me about her?”

Mother laughed. “When, exactly, Marian, would you have listened to me about anything? While I was busily acting like a featherbrained idiot, or when you where spending all your free time in the forest?”

“Father could have told me.”

“He did,” Mother’s voice was mild. “He gave you the ballads. Did not you read them?”

Marian flushed. “I read some of them, but did not have time to finish them before we left,” she said.

Mother nodded. “I understand, but you really should read them. Soon.”

“I will.” Marian promised.

They walked in silence until they reached the gardens.

“Why does she prefer the outdoors?” Marian asked.

“She is…who she is. Her power has always been in growth and greenery.” Mother said. “I just hope she can help us.”

“Help you with what, Lady Beatrix?” Nyneve startled them, stepping out of the brush as they walked by.

“We find ourselves with a very unique problem,” Mother said, continuing to walk. Nyneve fell in beside Marian.

“If I remember correctly, you are more than capable of solving unique problems. I am not sure why you are coming to me.”

Mother stopped in her tracks and turned to face the old woman. “Because you are The Lady of the Lake,” she said bluntly.

“I have not been called that in hundreds of years,” Nyneve returned. “But what is this problem of yours? Maybe I can offer some advice, if nothing else.”

“I would appreciate that,” Mother said. “But it is not my story to tell. It is Marian’s.”

“Let us have a seat, shall we?” Nyneve turned off the path and seated herself on a marble bench. “Now what did you have to tell me, children?”

Marian smothered a laugh at the idea of both her and Mother being called ‘children’, but she obeyed Nyneve’s direction and took a seat next to the other woman. Mother sat down on the other side.

“I found someone in the dungeons who I want to get out,” Marian said.

“You mean Dulcina Scarlett?” Nyeneve asked calmly.

“You—you know about her?” Marian gasped. “Why have you not done something?”

“And what would you have me do? Tell Prince John? Are you so sure he does not already know?”

“What game are you playing at?” Mother demanded. “Why would you leave her down there to be tortured by the sheriff? What kind of a monster are you?”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Marian glanced up at the sky; it was clear and blue.

“What history knows of me,” Nyneve said, “is a drop compared to everything I am. Never make the mistake of believing differently, Beatrix.”

Mother glared back at her. “That woman in the dungeons is my
friend
, Nyneve. Do you even remember what friendship is?”

Nyneve sighed. “I cannot release her. The sheriff’s feelings for her are…complex... and he would never stop searching for her if she escaped him.” She shook her head. “There are certain factors in play that will help facilitate her release. In time.”

“So what am I supposed to do now? Just forget I saw her?” Marian questioned, one hand curling a lock of her hair over and over.

“Yes. That is exactly what you need to do. I know it will not be easy, Marian, but it is the way it has to be. The ghosts will keep her company, and she them.” She held up one hand to forestall Mother’s statement. “Yes, Beatrix, I know what I am doing.”

The Lady’s voice was calm but Marian glanced skyward again and watched a lightning bolt arc out of the clear blue sky, sizzling down past the castle battlements.

Marian’s jaw clenched. “She was branded, Lady Nyneve.”

“She will heal.” Nyneve said. She dusted off her impeccable white gown and rose to her feet. “This conversation is over.”

“That…was not very helpful,” Marian said, watching her walk away.

“On the contrary,” Mother replied. “It was quite the opposite.”

Marian narrowed her eyes. “How do you mean? She will not help us.”

“We have someone else we need to contact.” Mother rose. “Have you learned of the secret passageways yet?”

“Which passageways do you mean? The one at the back of the chapel or the one in the maze garden?”

“The garden would be easier,” Mother said. “Come on, it is time to see Robin.”

“What does he have to do with any of this?”

“We need him to kill the sheriff.”