Lady Marian

Chapter 1

The first month or two, all desire for motion abandoned me. With a heavy sigh, I sent away my maid and let my embroidery go unfinished, roamed corridors and stared out windows. Such wistful idleness was soon replaced by an insatiable thirst, a craving for constant activity. Horseback riding, calling upon Lady Huntingdon, weaving tapestries; it was only a matter of time before the suitors came prancing through one by one-until the sheriff and my father drove them away. My father would not, perhaps could not, drive the sheriff away. I took to my window once again, watching for the Crusader to appear on the winding road to Arlingford.

* * *

Morning light broke over the crest of trees that formed the outer rim of Sherwood Forest as I urged my mare into a gallop. The brisk spring breeze ran its fingers through my loose hair as we raced up the hill towards the slim light of dawn. I let the reigns hang loose and the cool air fill my lungs. My ambler strained her black head against the hill and the wind, her long dark mane flowing as free in the wind as mine.

I slowed my horse at the top of the hill, letting Shadowcrest drink in long draughts of air. Below me the sunrise had reached the tower of Huntingdon Manor, casting an orange glow over grey stones and charred stables. Already the serfs and servants were about, milking cows and preparing for a day in the fields, leading strong brown work horses out of the paddock. Out of open windows, maids flung rugs and beat carpets. I crossed myself and whispered one more prayer for the lord of the manor to return.

I would not hope today was the day-I could not hope that. Instead, I nudged Shadowcrest in the ribs, racing back against the spreading light to Arlingford, still shrouded in the stillness of early morning hours. With quiet hands and feet trained not to arouse the suspicion of my father, I slipped Shadowcrest back into her stall and myself back into my bed.

* * *

My thoughts lingered on Robin and the exuberance of my solitary morning ride as Sarah opened the heavy red brocade curtains of my casement window and stoked the fire. I eased my feet onto the cold grey stones. Sarah was earlier than usual, grinning at me as she twisted her apron in her hands. It was fortunate I had returned from my ride before she had come to rouse me.

Sarah cleared her throat as she swayed from side to side. "If you please, my lady, my brother is a page boy at Huntingdon Manor."

I splashed cold water from the basin onto my face. "I know."

"He sent word early this morning that young master Robert, the Earl of Huntingdon, I should say, has returned from the Holy Land."

My hands stopped. My heart stopped. Water trickled between my fingers onto the delicate roses painted on the rim of the basin.

"The Earl has returned?" I asked.

My hands refused to move, dripping water onto the rim of the basin like so many drops of rain.

"Yes, my lady. Shall I lay out your red gown?"

I eased myself into a chair near the window. "The blue one-with the yellow trim."

"Oh yes, my lady. That will do well."

I nodded.

"If you are sitting, shall I plait your hair first today? We'll use the yellow ribbons."

"The earl will require a great deal of time to see to his affairs. Huntingdon is a large estate and has been without a master for a long while," I said.

"Aye, my lady."

Sarah did not leave off her silly smiling as she twisted wide scalloped ribbons through my hair.