Lady Marian

Chapter 13

"He shall be punished of course." Aunt Eleanor rearranged the wimple above her creased forehead, pushing away her lady-in-waiting's hands.

I sighed, ready to resign myself to being poor Marian, bartered back and forth between my father and my aunt. I paused.

"He, a soldier, dared to touch me, the cousin of the king." I tapped my foot.

My aunt raised her eyebrows.

"Indeed, one day I may be much more."

Aunt Eleanor rose from the dressing table. "Yes, you are right, the offence is great indeed. The punishment must be as great, also."

I fell in step with my aunt as she exited her chambers, her retinue of ever-present ladies in waiting behind us.

"We have had enough troubles for one day, Marian. Emissaries have arrived for me from the continent. Do enjoy the tournament. I shall rejoin you as soon as I can." My aunt sauntered down the corridor, her red velvet gown sashaying behind her in crimson waves, her ladies scurrying along to keep pace. I remained alone, praying the emissaries brought news of my cousin's imprisonment in Austria, and not word of the Holy Father's blessing of my marriage to the prince.

Either way it did not matter, I reminded myself. I would be in Sherwood Forest soon enough.

The mêlée did not interest me. Trumpets blared, colourful banners waved in the breeze, knights charged on the fields outside of Nottingham. Lances broke and squires risked being trampled to bring new ones. I sat in my place on the wall next to Father, in the tiresome company of both Sir Guy and Prince John.

"You have grown since I saw you last at court." The prince eyed me—or at least the low-necked green brocade Sarah had selected for the event.

"Nay, my lord, I have not grown," I protested.

"Lady Marian only grows fairer," Sir Guy said.

"You are too kind," I replied.

"And does Aquitaine agree with your sister? Have you been to France to see Lady Bayonne since her marriage?" Prince John inquired, touching my hand.

I flinched. "Aye, my lord. She is very fond of Aquitaine. Their manor has beautiful lands, I am told, but I have never been so fortunate as to see them for myself."

"We are fortunate Lady Marian favours England and does not seek to join her sister in France," Sir Guy interposed.

"Yes, I believe, dear cousin, you are of the breed that craves to conquer. You would not favour returning to the old lands. Unless, of course, it was to expand your territory."

"Are all lands worth conquering? One must not forget the traditions of the old. Do not both make up our empire?" My veil felt sticky against my forehead. It still stung my jawline whenever the gauze touched it. I looked aside at Father. He gazed with disinterest down at two knights about to impale each other.

Prince John folded his ringed hands together. "Yes, our empire." His overlapping gold rings and fir trimmed cloak gave him the look of a cat studying its prey.

"Lady Marian, are you familiar with the mêlée, shall I explain the rules to you?" Sir Guy asked, leaning in towards me. I felt like a ball being passed between two children.

Father laid back in his chair, smiling in the sunlight. Who was offering him the better bargain now? I wondered to myself. No doubt my aunt would throw in a secretary position for him if I married Prince John.