Maid of Sherwood (8 page)

Chapter Eleven:

Marian stabbed at the sliced eggs on the bread trencher she shared with Mother while Father chatted with the woman seated next to him. The meal was endless, servants filing past the trestle tables, placing platter after platter of food onto the already overburdened surface. She wished she could have escaped the whole affair. Her eyes flicked up from her trencher and met the gaze of an older gentleman at the next table. He smiled and she lowered her eyes.

“Marian, what is the matter with you? You should be eating.” Mother said. “Are the eggs undercooked?”

“No, the eggs are fine.” They were. Swimming in an unidentifiable sauce, but fine as far as she could tell. She eyed them as they sat on her trencher.

“You will insult our host if you refuse to eat,” Mother said.

“Where
is
the prince?” Marian asked. “I thought the sheriff said he would be in attendance.”

“Royalty never arrives on time,” Mother sniffed. “You need to eat.”

“I—I am not used to being stared at.” Marian faltered under Mother’s stern gaze.

Mother laughed. “Is that all?” She waved a hand to encompass the entire hall. “I see no one staring at you.”

“It has only been two people,” Marian confessed. “That man over there, with the red hair and freckles, and a woman at our table, seated at the end. They do not stare at me all the time, just enough to make me uncomfortable.”

Mother shrugged. It was a delicate gesture that barely rippled the shoulders of her ivory silk gown. “I would not concern myself with it. Concentrate on your meal. You will need to eat something before the dancing officially begins.”

Marian’s eyes widened. “Dancing?”

Mother sighed. “You know how to dance. And you
will
dance.” Her voice was firm.

Marian turned toward Father, but he was no longer there. She looked around and saw him walking in between the tables, laughing and looking perfectly at home.

She went back to stabbing the innocent eggs.

“Lady Marian, is the food not to your liking?”

Marian looked up into the sheriff’s concerned eyes. “Everything is fine, thank you.”

“Then why are you not eating?”

To her dismay, he slid onto the bench next to her, forcing the nobleman on her left to shift over.

“The dancing is about to begin,” the sheriff continued. “Are you sure I cannot tempt you with something?”

Marian shook her head. “I will try and eat something later. I am too nervous to eat now.”

“Then may I have the honor of the first dance?”

Marian forced a smile onto her face and nodded. 

“I would be pleased to dance with you,” she lied.

“Lady Marian?” The soft voice caught her attention and she met the widely spaced eyes of the older gentleman who had been staring at her throughout supper.

She smiled as the sheriff glowered. “Yes?”

“Would you honor me with this dance?”

“She is mine,” the sheriff stated.

Marian looked at Mother for help, but none was forthcoming. The older woman sat with her back to Marian. Marian’s jaw clenched before she answered. “I am afraid the first dance has already been promised, but the following ones are unspoken for.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed, but his voice was honeyed. “Lady Marian, he is here at the sufferance of Prince John. There is no need to indulge his request.”

The older man’s face flushed.

Marian stiffened. “And I am here solely due to my mother’s ties to the crown, Sheriff. He and I are here for the same reasons.”

 “Hardly the same reasons, Lady Marian. You are royalty. He is—nothing.” The sheriff waved his hand in a dismissing gesture.

“Sheriff,” Marian’s voice was cold. “I promised you the first dance. Do not presume more than I have offered.”

Without warning, the sheriff smiled. “I would never presume with you, Lady Marian. Very well. If you choose to dance with this—this person, I will not stand in your way.”

Marian nodded at him, not trusting herself to speak. The first piping notes of a lute rose high into the air.

“I see your father decided to play for us even though the prince is not here.”

“He has a ballad he wished to perform for the historian,” Marian said. “But this is not the piece. He must intend this piece to lead into the next one.”

“Ah, yes, the Lady Nyneve. She is—an interesting woman,” the sheriff said. He glared at the man. “The first dance is mine.”

Marian smiled at the flustered gentleman. “After Father sings,” she promised. She took the sheriff’s offered hand, allowing him to draw her onto the dance floor.

“Tell me, Sheriff, are the rumors about Prince John true?”

“What rumors are you referring to, Lady Marian?” He spun her around.

When she was once more in his arms, she answered. “As you know, I live within walking distance of Sherwood Forest. There are rumors that Prince John has placed a price on every man’s head that makes the forest his home.”

“If you are referring to the outlaws, then those rumors are, indeed, fact.” His hand tightened on hers until she nearly cried out.

She pulled her hand away and rubbed at it, glaring at him while couples swirled around them.

“Lady Marian, I apologize.” He reached for her hand again and she let him take it. “I do not know what came over me. There are certain people who have started rumors in the hopes of destroying Prince John’s rule. While the prince certainly does not wish to see anyone within his kingdom hung, he feels it is best for England if all outlaws are brought to a swift and immediate justice.”

“But they have done nothing wrong,” Marian found herself protesting.

“Nothing wrong?” The sheriff frowned. “Lady Marian, I do not know who you have been listening to, but those men are wanted criminals by the throne. They are hardly the innocents you apparently believe they are.” His eyes narrowed as the music faded. “Unless… Lady Marian, are you a sympathizer of outlaws?”

“Of course not!” Marian snatched her hands away. “Thank you for the dance, sheriff, but I am tired and wish to listen to my father perform.”

“Naturally. I am glad you graced me with your presence. I do hope I can claim another dance before this evening ends.” He bowed, turned on his heel abruptly and walked away.

“Lady Marian?”

She blinked, her gaze focusing on the skinny, fire-haired man the Sheriff had berated.

His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You promised me a dance?”

Marian nodded.

“I am Lord Aelfred Phismore the Third.”

She smiled at him. “And you apparently already know who I am.”

“The whole c—court  is whispering your name.” He grinned at her shocked look. “You are the daughter of Lady Beatrix du Luc herself.” 

Marian barely heard Father begin to sing, his baritone voice rising high above the drawn out notes of his lute.

“My mother? How does everyone know of me through my mother?”

Lord Aelfred blinked. “You do not know?”

“Know what?” Marian asked. “What am I supposed to know that everyone else does?

“Maybe we should go outside.”

Marian shook her head. “I cannot, Lord Aelfred, my maid did not accompany me to supper and I have no one else to chaperone us.”

“I would never suggest any impropriety,” he said.

“I was not saying you would.” Marian was quick to reassure him. “But my mother would kill me if she knew I was even
considering
such a thing.”

Lord Aelfred leaned in close, and lowered his voice. “Then you already know what she is,” he whispered.

“What?!” Marian pulled back. “Are you calling her a murderer??”

The gentleman looked utterly shocked. “A murderer? Of c—course not!” He met her puzzled expression. “You really have no idea what I am t—talking about, do you?”

“No, I do not. And I certainly do not appreciate the innuendo about my mother.”

“I—never mind. I should not have said anything. Would you c—care for some mead? You look flushed.” Without waiting for an answer, the nonplussed Lord Aelfred vanished into the crowd.

Chapter Twelve:

Marian watched the dancers swirl around her while she waited for Lord Aelfred’s return. It was obvious he knew something about Mother, and she was determined to learn exactly what that was.

“Here is your c—cup.” A goblet was thrust into her hands.

“Thank you, Lord Aelfred,” Marian said. She sipped the golden liquid and nearly choked at the first swallow. “It really is sweet, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yes, if you are not used to it. And please c—call me Aelfred.”

Marian smiled. In spite of what he had not told her about Mother, she liked him. He was sincere and very unlike the sheriff. “Only if you will do me the same courtesy, and call me Marian. I am not used to having ‘Lady’ attached to my name.”

“How long will you be at c—court?” Aelfred asked.

“We shall be here as long as Prince John decrees, I imagine.”

“Prince John,” Aelfred repeated.

Marian blinked. “Yes, that is what I said.”

“No, look, it is Prince John!” Aelfred bowed low, head bent.

Marian gasped, her eyes automatically searching the hall. The prince waded through the dancers, who parted before him like water around a large stone, until he reached Marian.

“Lady Marian du Luc, we are so glad you could join us.” The tall, thin man, head slightly too large for the shoulders it sat on, gazed down at her.

She stifled the urge to giggle at the sight, instead sweeping into a low curtsey. “Your Highness.”

“And you, Lord Aelfred. Have you been keeping Lady Marian company all evening?”

Aelfred flushed. “Only this one dance, Highness.”

Prince John nodded. “Walk with us, Lady Marian.” He took Marian’s hand and drew her towards the huge fireplace. “As a child, I was interested in all aspects of history, especially as it related to the throne.” His hand brushed a curl away from her face, fingers lingering against her cheek. “I am curious, Lady Marian, about your ancestors.”

Marian blinked. “I am not sure I understand what you’re asking, Highness.”

The prince smiled. “You are such an innocent,” he murmured. “Allow me to be blunt, then. I am most curious about your knowledge of Excalibur.”

“What is that?” Marian asked.

Before the prince could reply, Mother hurried up to where they stood. “Highness, it is good to see you again! My husband and I were so pleased to receive your summons.” 

“Lady Beatrix, you finally grace us with your presence.” Prince John turned to Mother. “You have been greatly missed.”

“You are too kind, Highness. Has my daughter been keeping you good company?”

“She is charming,” Prince John said. “We were just speaking of certain aspects of your history.”

Mother laughed. “Should you wish to know anything about our family, Highness, all you need to do is ask. I would be more than pleased to answer any of your questions.”

“I will admit,” Prince John said, “an interest in a certain blade rumored to be within your family.”

“The only blade we have is an old, nearly worthless one,” Mother said. “It would be of no interest to you, Highness.”

The prince gazed at Mother for a long, silent moment. “The blade I speak of can be nowhere else,” he murmured before addressing Mother directly. “Then where, Lady Beatrix, is Excalibur?”

Marian stared at Mother. “What is Excalibur?”

“Excalibur is a legend, nothing more.” Mother said.

“It is the most famous sword in history,” Prince John explained. “It was pulled from a stone by King Arthur and protected him from all serious harm during his reign. I have it on good authority it can now be found somewhere in England.”

Mother’s laugh was shaky. “Did your source not tell you it was returned to the Lady of the Lake upon King Arthur’s death? I thought that was common knowledge.”

“I would not be doing my duty as—regent—of the throne if I refused to investigate such information thoroughly, common knowledge or not.”

A small frown crossed Prince John’s forehead as a young page hurried across the floor toward him.

“Highness.” The page waited for the prince’s nod. “The sheriff wishes a word with you.”

“What was important enough to interrupt me?”

The little boy gulped. “He said it was about the problem in the forest.”

“Ah,” the prince nodded. “I see.”  He turned back toward Marian. “Lady Marian, Lady Beatrix, I fear other duties claim my attention. I do hope we have the chance to converse again. It has proven very—enlightening.” He smiled tightly before walking away.

“Why would Prince John be interested in an old sword?” Marian asked Mother.

“Excalibur was very powerful during the time of King Arthur, Marian. But why John thinks it resides in England, I have no idea. It vanished into history, just like The Lady of the Lake and Camelot itself.”

“Why would he believe we have it?”

Mother sighed. “Lancelot du Luc was The Lady of the Lake’s son. Marian, I understand that Camelot is in our distant past, but what happened there was fact, not fiction. You need to pay more attention to your history lessons.” She raised one hand to stop Marian’s next question. “Enough. This is not the time to speak of such matters. Come sit with me. The acrobats are about to begin.”

Marian raised a hand to her mouth and yawned. “Do you think I can just go up to our rooms?”

Mother shook her head. “No, it would be unbearably rude to our host to leave in the midst of his planned entertainments.”

Marian sighed.

“Marian du Luc, what is wrong with you?” Mother admonished. “It is your first night at court and you seem bored with it all.”

“I am not bored,” Marian protested. “I did not sleep well before we left. I am simply tired.”

Mother bit her lip, then nodded. “Very well then, you can go up. I will make your excuses to Prince John, should he ask about you.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Marian glanced once at the acrobats already performing before she slipped out into the relatively quiet hallway.

“She does not understand,” a young voice whispered.

“
Should we tell her the truth?”
Boyish laughter followed the question.

“
We are not allowed to, remember?”

Marian glanced around her. The only people in the hall were servants, carrying empty platters from the Great Hall.

There was another burst of laughter.

“Did you hear that?” Marian stopped a passing servant with a hand on his arm.

He nodded. “It is the ghosts, milady. They always babble more when the prince is in residence.”

“What ghosts?”

“You do not know, milady? This place is haunted.” He lowered his voice. “It is a fact that the boys were murdered, right here in the castle.”

“
Yes
,” a young voice agreed.
“Murdered. Taken from our beds…”

The servant pulled away from Marian. “Excuse me, milady. I have already said more than I should about it.”

“
Hidden secrets
,” multiple voices whispered.
“More than she knows.”
There was another burst of high pitched laughter.

“Be careful,” the servant threw the warning over his shoulder. “Be sure to stay away from the battlements. The boys seem to like you, but their sense of humor can be deadly.”

The ghosts laughed again but this time the laughter seemed sinister. The sound sent a shiver down Marian’s spine.

“
You scared her.”
An older boy’s voice stated. “
You shall have to answer to them. They want her to stay.”

There was no response. Marian gathered her skirts in one hand and ran down the hall and up the stairs to her suite of rooms. Only once she was inside, with the doors shut firmly behind her, did she lean back against them and close her eyes.

“Will was right,” she whispered incredulously. “They actually exist.”

There was only one place she could think of to go next, and it was not to her bedchamber. Opening the doors once more, she slipped out and down the halls toward the chapel.