Maid of Sherwood (6 page)

Chapter Seven:

The inn was larger than Marian thought it would be. It spread across the clearing; a single main building with what appeared to be stables on either side of it. The inn itself was brightly lit and inviting, the double doors opened wide.

“I see we managed to make it here before the sheriff,” Mother glanced out the carriage window.

“I wish I never had to see him again,” Marian said.

“That is not an option,” Mother said. “He is the confidant of the prince. Anna, I need my oak chest, you know the one.”

The maid nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do. But, ma’am, it is too long for me to carry by meself.”

Mother sighed. “Have one of the footmen to carry it up to our rooms.”

“Ma’am, do we have rooms yet?” Anna questioned.

“Not if you stay here questioning me,” Mother ground out.

“Oh, yes, ma’am, I mean, no, ma’am.” The tiny maid squeaked. She clambered out of the carriage, leaving the door swinging open.

“Good grief,” Mother said. “Maybe Anna was not the best choice for a ladies maid. Well, it is too late to change things now. Come. We all need to freshen up before dinner.”

They exited the carriage and crossed the hard packed dirt to the open doors.

“Lady Beatrix, Alan, Marian, I am so glad you made it.” The sheriff met them as soon as they crossed the threshold.

“Your men ensured we were perfectly safe,” Mother responded, sweeping past him to the long wooden counter.

“I have already arranged rooms for you,” the sheriff said, following behind her. “And entertainments for tonight’s supper.”

“I thought we would eat in our rooms after the long journey,” Mother turned to face him.

The sheriff made a moue of disappointment. “But everyone is expecting the famous Alan a Dale to sing.”

Mother raised an eyebrow. “Did you bother asking my husband what his wishes in this matter are?”

He narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Father stepped up to Mother’s side. “It is all right, Bea. This would be the perfect audience for the ballad I plan to present to His Highness.”

Marian yawned behind her hand. “Would it be all right,” she asked quietly, “if I had supper in my room? I am quite tired and I have heard Father sing before.”

Mother nodded. “That would be acceptable.”

The sheriff grimaced. “Your presence will be sorely missed,” he said.

Marian stared at the floor, not wanting to meet the sheriff’s eyes.

Anna, weighed down with a chest Marian recognized as hers, struggled in through the still open doors. Marian stepped forward, but Mother stopped her with a glance and a slight shake of her head. Leaning forward, she whispered in Marian’s ear.

“We are royalty, and we do not assist the help. Ever.”

A footman, carrying a smaller chest, stopped Anna and silently exchanged his package for hers. She smiled at him and the two of them walked toward the set of wooden stairs.

“Go on up,” Father said. “We will see you in the morning.”

Marian followed in Anna’s footsteps, arriving at an already opened door. Through the doorway she could see her maid, filling a washbasin from a cracked and worn pitcher.

“I poured you some water to wash up before supper,” Anna said.

“Thank you,” Marian returned, stepping inside. “But I will not be going down for supper. I am tired and wish to stay here.” She noticed Anna’s slight frown. “But you can go.”

Anna shook her head. “Oh, no, ma’am. That would not be proper, ‘n your mother would be very upset if I left you alone.”

“I will be sure to bolt the door,” Marian promised, “and I will hear your knock when you come up.”

“Well…” Anna hesitated for a moment. “If you insist.”

“I do.” She yawned again. “I really
am
tired.”

“Your nightgown is packed right on top,” Anna said, edging toward the door.

“I will be fine.” To prove her point, Marian walked over to the chest and opened it. Pulling out the nightgown, she held it up. “See, you can tell Mother you left me getting ready for bed.”

 “Thank you, ma’am.” Anna flashed a smile and left.

Marian promptly dropped the nightgown on the bed and sat down. Through the thin walls she could hear Father tuning his lute. It was a comforting sound.

“Hsst…Marian.”

She gasped at the barely heard voice outside the window. “Robin, what are you doing here?” Marian hurried over to the window and leaned out.

He sat comfortably on a tree limb, blending into the leaves so well she could barely see him. “I had to make sure you were safe,” he replied.

“Are you not aware of the price the sheriff has on your head?” She gestured him inside.

Robin shrugged. “He has not caught me yet.” He threw one leg over the windowsill and levered himself into the room.

Marian’s heart began to pound. “This is not proper.”

Robin half smiled. “You are the one who invited me inside,” he said. He stepped toward her. “And do you really care about what is ‘proper’?”

She shook her head, not sure her voice would work with him standing so close.

He grinned. “Marian du Luc, you are everything I hoped for and nothing like I thought you would be.”

Marian’s eyes narrowed. “Your words tell me you have known of my presence for a while. How long have you been watching me in the forest?”

Robin shrugged. “I came back from the Holy Land two years ago and was banished from my father’s lands shortly thereafter. While Sherwood Forest is fascinating, I found the travelers and wanderers in it much more so.” He took her hands in his. “Do you not agree?”

She blushed.

“I brought something for you,” he continued. “Shut your eyes.”

Marian obediently closed her eyes. Robin let go of her hands and a few moments later, a twisted and rough object was placed in them. The sweet scent of dogwood blossoms filled the small room.

“Robin, where on earth did you find this?” Marian’s eyes flew open and she looked down at the stick of dogwood in her hands. “’It is not the right season for dogwood blossoms!”

He winked. “The fairies gave it to me.”

“They are beautiful,” she said. “But how did you know they are my favorite flower?”

“As I said, I have been watching you a long time.”

“I am unsure whether to be frightened or flattered.” Marian raised the dogwood to her nose and breathed in deep, enjoying the feel of the soft petals brushing against her cheeks.

“Marian,” the caress of her name on his lips made her heart take flight. “You never have to be frightened of me.” He stepped closer. “I will always keep you safe.”

Marian lowered the dogwood and sighed. “But I am frightened, Robin. I have no idea what to expect at the castle and the sheriff is…” her voice trailed off as she considered her words. “He is frighteningly attentive.”

“He has good taste,” Robin murmured. He caught and held her glance. “I do not have much time,” Robin said, “if I am to reach Nottingham before you.”

Marian raised her eyebrows. “You shall be at the castle?”

He laughed. “While I am sure I would be a welcome…guest…in Prince John’s dungeons, I have no intention of accepting his many invitations. No, I will remain close by in the forest instead.” A sly grin crossed his face. “Though I would be remiss if I left without collecting my rightly earned Festival kiss.”

Marian blushed again. “I—I thought you did that already,” she stuttered.

He took the dogwood branch from her loosened fingers and tossed it onto the bedding. “That was merely a taste,” he pulled her toward him. “What I prefer is a sampling.”

Marian’s breath caught in her throat. Robin leaned down, his mouth inches from capturing her own. “This is not proper, either,” he whispered. “But you do not care about propriety, do you, Marian?”

She could not think with his lips so close. “I am—not sure,” she finally whispered back.

One of his hands reached up to caress her cheek. “Good.” He lowered his mouth purposefully.

Her eyes slid shut at the feel of his lips on hers, the stubble on his upper lip scratching her.

The knock at the door startled both of them and they leapt apart.

Chapter Eight:

“I—who is it?” Marian’s voice shook.

“Marian, what is wrong?” The voice on the other side of the door asked.

Marian gasped. “It is Mother. Robin, she cannot find you here!”

“No,” Robin agreed, “she cannot. Just let me steal one last kiss.” He leaned down and touched her lips gently with his own before climbing back through the still open window.

“When will I see you again?” Marian could not stop herself from asking the question.

“I will see you in Sherwood.” He laughed when she could not stop the look of disappointment from crossing her face. “Do not worry, fair maid, time will pass swiftly enough.”

“Marian du Luc, open the door this instant!”

“I have to go,” Robin said. With a last wink at her he vanished back into the leaves.

“I am coming, Mother.” Marian said. She walked swiftly to the bed and mussed the coverlet. “I was napping. You startled me.” Three steps later she undid the bolt and pulled the door open.

“I thought I heard a man’s laughter,” Mother greeted, walking inside. Anna followed in her wake.

“Well, as you can plainly see, there is no one here,” Marian gestured around her.

“And what is this?” Mother bent over, plucked the dogwood branch off the floor and held it up for Marian’s inspection.

Marian blinked at her innocently. “Dogwood blossoms,” she said.

“They are not in season,” Mother said. “Where did you find them?”

“They were on the bed when I came up,” Marian lied. “They must have fallen on the floor without my noticing.”

Mother narrowed her eyes. “After you lay on the coverlet…” She waved one hand. “It does not matter. I came up to see if you were well. It appears you are. If you would like, I can send Anna back down to get you a tray.”

Marian shook her head. “I think I am going to go back to bed. I did not sleep very well last night.”

“As you like.” Mother crossed over to the window and pulled it closed, latching it from the inside. “The nights are getting cooler and I do not want you catching anything. Be sure to keep the window shut.”

“Yes, Mother.” Marian agreed.

“Anna, you should not have left Marian alone,” Mother admonished. “It was not proper, especially on such an important journey.”

Tears welled up in the maid’s eyes. “No, ma’am. It will not happen again.”

“I told her she could go,” Marian said. “All I was going to do was sleep, anyway.”

“Even so,” Mother said. “With the window left open, there was always the possibility of an outlaw finding his way inside.”

Marian’s eyes flew up to meet Mother’s bland gaze. “You think someone could come in while I was sleeping?”

Mother’s gaze flicked to the dogwood branch she still held. “The possibility always exists, though the probability is low.” She handed the branch to Marian. “I shall see you in the morning. Tomorrow night we shall enjoy supper with Prince John, and I expect all of us to look our best.”

“Supper at the castle!” Anna barely waited until the door shut behind Mother before she started chattering. “Imagine! Takin’ a meal with the prince!”

“I am very tired, Anna.” Marian cut her off. “Could you please help me into my night dress?”

“Oh. Of course, ma’am.” Subdued, Anna helped Marian out of the lime green gown and into a long cotton shift.

“Good night.” Marian crawled into bed, not waiting for Anna to blow out the two flickering candles on the end table. The double bed creaked slightly when the other girl slid under the coverlet, but Marian was already sliding into sleep.

Breakfast was an array of what Mother referred to as ‘peasant fare’, but Marian loved it. A thick, vegetable soup served with a slab of crusty bread and a large mug of still warm milk was placed in front of her as soon as she sat down.

The sheriff, seated across from Marian, grimaced. “I cannot wait,” he said, “for supper tonight. Lady Marian, have you ever eaten larks tongues soaked in honey mead?”

Marian shook her head, grateful for the swallow of soup she had just taken, which prevented her from having to answer the question.

“I never cared for that dish,” Mother dipped her bread into her soup. “It always reminded me of maggots swimming in sauce.”

Laughter bubbled up in Marian’s throat at Mother’s description. Before it could escape her lips, she forced it back and began coughing.

“Mari, are you all right?” Father patted her on the back.

“I—yes.” Marian coughed again.

The sheriff pushed his chair back from the table. “Larks tongues are a rare delicacy,” he said. “I am sorry, Lady Beatrix, that your palate is no longer refined enough to enjoy them.” He bowed abruptly. “Enjoy the rest of the meal. I shall leave six men here to escort you the rest of the way to Nottingham.” Before anyone could respond, he stalked out the inn door, slamming it shut behind him.

“That was interesting,” Mother said, dipping her bread into her soup again.

“Yes, it was,” Father retorted.

Mother pushed her soup bowl away. “Are you quite ready, Mari?”

Marian pushed her own bowl away as well, having just finished her own soup. “Yes, Mother.”

“Anna has already taken care of your sundries,” Mother continued. She turned to Father. “What about the chest?”

Father nodded. “The chest is under our seat.”

The wave of relief crossing Mother’s face did not escape Marian’s notice.

“What is so important about that chest?” She asked.

“Never mind,” Mother said. “It is nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

“You keep telling me that,” Marian complained. She scooted her chair backwards and rose.

“Because it is the truth,” Mother snapped. “Leave it alone, Marian.”

Father held up one hand. “Beatrix, Marian, we are all under a tremendous amount of pressure. Let us just get to Nottingham, do what the prince wishes of us, then we can return home and sort everything else out.”

Marian clenched her jaw, and then forced herself to relax it. Father was right. Nothing would be gained by pushing Mother for answers she was not willing to give. She placidly followed Mother and Father out to the waiting carriage, stepped inside and seated herself next to Anna.

“Just think!” Anna squealed in delight when the carriage lurched forward, “by tonight you will be supping with Prince John!”

Marian could hardly think of something
less
exciting, unless it was being seated next to the sheriff for said meal.

Mother glowered at the small maid. “I hardly think we shall be seated at Prince John’s table,” she said. “We have been summoned; we are not the prince’s personal guests.”

Anna glanced at Marian, who shrugged.

“Stop shrugging your shoulders, Marian.” Mother instructed. “It is hardly ladylike, and wholly inappropriate for court.”

Father smiled slightly. “Yes,” he said, “we certainly would not want an unladylike child, Beatrix.”

Mother glared at Father, but Marian was positive she could see a glimmer of laughter in her eyes.

“Watch the scenery, Mari,” Father said. “The forest can be very enlightening if you know exactly what to watch for.”

Marian sighed. As far as she could see, it was endless oaks in an endless sea of green and watching it roll by was not preferable to strolling the leaf strewn paths and smelling the almost damp scent of moldering undergrowth.

“Stop the carriage at once!” A strange voice cried out.

Anna screamed. “It is outlaws, ma’am! We will all be killed!”

“Hush,” Father’s normally gentle voice was threaded through with a core of steel Marian had never heard before. “Screaming will not help.”

Mother hushed them with one upraised hand. Outside, Marian could hear voices raised in anger.