Lady Marian

Chapter 8

The breeze swirled up the castle steps, pausing to play with the brocades and silks of barons' wives and daughters. I felt the wind tug at my gauzy veil, trying to pull it out from beneath my best gold circlet. Would Robin like it? I reached up to realign the emerald studs over my hairline as I thought of him. I could close my eyes and hear him calling me a forest sprite in my green dress and emerald jewels; a fairy come to enchant him as we walked hand in hand through the orchards of Huntingdon, boughs of pink apple blossoms forming a canopy above us.

He would very likely melt down my headdress to pay a serf's back taxes.

By now those calloused hands were no doubt stained by blood or gold. As I stood in the heat under a red canopy held aloft by emotionless servants in ridiculous ballooning hose, Robin and his band must be holding hostage at least half a dozen of my father's men under the banners of Sherwood Forest. I smirked a little as I thought of Sir Guy's foolish plans crumbling around him, of how his mistaken pride would be hurt. Perhaps the end was as simple as this: Prince John stripping him of his inauspicious title for failing to guard the King's Highway.

The ladies gossiped behind me of their homes and husbands. It would not bother me if Sir Guy resorted to taxing gossip along with everything else he seemed to dream up. If I learned again today that I had attracted the attentions of the Count of Anjou or some other such fool, I might just use the circlet to wring the gossip's neck.

"Sir Roderick is to be married, they say, and to a servant's daughter, no less," an old woman whispered so the whole courtyard could hear. A few undisciplined servants turned their heads, even the prim Lady Swadlincote cocked an ear in their direction.

"No man but a servant would give his daughter to old Roderick. And the girl?"

"Lucy, daughter of Harold, the flute player."

"I am not certain, Agnes, if a flute player is a servant."

"A yeoman on uncertain terms, then," Agnes said.

The high-pitched chatter behind me ceased for a moment.

"Do you suppose Robin Hood attacked the prince's retinue? They are taking their time in coming." I recognized the flighty squeal of Lord Alfreton's wife. Father had turned their pock-marked son out the other day when he came to call. No man with less than thirty serfs was good enough for me, it seemed.

"Suppose we ask her?" My back stiffened.

"How'd she know?" Lady Alfreton sniffed.

"They say she has not given him up, but can be seen sneaking off to Sherwood Forest at night." I could just imagine the glint in Agnes's eyes as she shared this scandalous tidbit. I prayed the veil was thick enough to hide how red my face must have flushed.

That snobbish Lady Swadlincote raised her eyebrows in my direction. The ridiculous looking servant holding up the canopy dared to grin for a moment. I felt flustered. It was a lie. I had never snuck off to Sherwood Forest at night. If Father heard that whispered around corners, let alone in the courtyard of the sheriff's castle, I would be in need of my dagger or Robin's swift rescue. I took a sideline glance of my father's hefty figure next to me. Father did not seem to notice as he ascertained if his lion head broach still clasped his blue velvet cloak to his shoulder. His fists remained unclenched; his jaw relaxed. If he had heard, he was saving his rage for later.

"I do not believe it. The maid Marian was always a sweet girl and very obedient to her father." God bless you, gossip of the loudest voice. The old lady continued, "Besides, she is being courted by Sir Guy. A pretty match that will be. If she could not have our late sheriff's son, she shall have the new sheriff and that is just as fine." I prayed Father had caught all of that, if only to save me from his distrust.