The Queen Of Arrows

Chapter 55 - The Spark

The Sheriff of Nottingham stepped out of the archway like a sinister shadow. As he raised his hand to signal, a wave of murmurs and apparent nervousness rolled over, all present in the castle courtyard. Some women reached for their husbands' arms as the drummers rose and began to beat the monotonous rhythm of the Dead March. The sheriff strode forward, judge and executioner united in one dark man.

Accompanied by two guards flanking her side, Lady Marian De Burgh strode behind him. 'We must expect anything, and this time we will be prepared,' the sheriff had sharply drilled into the guards. Their heads turned from side to side, and more sheriff's men urged the people to keep their distance.

Lady Marian wore a blue robe with beaded trim around the collar, hem, and sleeves. The fabric was of such a dark blue that it almost seemed black. On the way to the gallows with her hair pinned up, the noble Lady looked as out of place as if she had been abducted from a fairy tale and thrown into a nightmare. She took her steps with dignity, but no matter how high she carried her head, trepidation stood in her eyes like icy frost on a summer's day.

Words could hardly express what Marian felt as she walked slowly through the castle courtyard, towards her end in the form of a simple noose of rope. Again and again, she had told herself to be brave. Yet she had no tears left to shed that morning. Her face was sallow, the color gone from her features, and her stomach was queasy so that she could hardly touch the last meal.

The maid who had brought it to her begged her to say whatever was necessary to be spared. Her chambermaid, who did her hair, sobbed incessantly, and it was Marian who comforted her instead of the other way round - although she herself had hardly any strength for what lay ahead of her. A guard wiped a tear from his face seemingly casually, and Marian's heart was heavy as lead.

A thick lump in her throat squeezed her throat shut, making it hard to swallow and her lips dry. She had to force herself to take each step as she walked up the steps. Doubt and fear wrestled inside her with the bravery she had usually found much easier to give herself. A hundred things had been running through her mind all night and troubling her, not to mention the tears she was shedding by the second.

Doubt and disappointment had taken over her heart as she had hoped relentlessly all night that Robin would show up like a heroic savior and rescue her. But he wasn't, and neither were any of the others for whom she had risked her life. Was Guy perhaps right in what he said? Would her sacrifice be in vain?

Now that the sheriff was leading her to the gallows, Marian had to muster all her courage to keep her chin up. Again and again, she had to remind herself that she could not forgive herself for being a coward for the rest of her life now.

'Gillian would be immensely proud of you. Never show them your fear. They don't deserve your tears!'

The walk seemed endless to her. The drumming rang in her ears like hell. And it almost seemed to her as if the sheriff was taking his time on the way. Was it pure sadism, or was he hoping to break her will?

He strolled up the steps to the gallows, positioned himself, and waited patiently. Until Marian and the two captured bandits were led up. Then he let his gaze wander, and a guard yelled loudly, "Quiet! Be quiet!" across the square until the noise level had dropped noticeably.

"Lady Marian De Burgh, you are charged with the crime of conspiring with the enemies of the Crown and the people of England. Further, of conspiring with the fowlers and high treason, of fraternizing with the wanted and outlawed Robin of Locksley, and of assaulting a representative in the service of His Majesty the Sheriff of Nottingham," the cold voice announced. It echoed across the castle courtyard like the crowing of ravens lurking on the battlements of the roofs and the beams of the gallows - the harbingers of death.

His gaze settled on the Lady like icebergs crashed against firestorms, making the air tremble. "You now have the opportunity to own up to your deeds," the sheriff looked at her promptly. "Choose your words wisely, MyLady."

Marian looked into all the faces, tense and anxious, eyes full of tears, quivering chins, and pitiful expressions. Others were full of disgust, wrinkled noses, incomprehension, and rejection. Here they all met; the hopeful and the resigned, the dreamers, the sufferers, and the rebels. The young woman took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

'A title does not only mean wealth. It also means duty. True nobility and our noble blood is not shown in times of plenty but in adversity, my child. Never forget that.'
Now, of all time, the words floated into her mind and stroked her head like his gentle hand, straightening her back.

"The king's messengers came, and so first our husbands and sons, brothers and fathers left us. They went away, and hardly any returned. Then the people of England had their money taken from them. Now a new ruler sits on the throne and sends his deputies, like the dear Sheriff of Nottingham, to take from the people even the last thing they own. I stand here so that the brave people of Nottingham may see that there are also women and men of noble birth who will rise against the injustice done to you."

"Enough!" the sheriff's footsteps rumbled across the floorboards towards the Lady.

"I will not renounce what is right!" cried Marian aloud, and cheers and shouts appeared in the crowd, hesitatingly at first but then more and more distinctly.

When the sheriff grabbed the Lady's arm, people began to boo. He dragged her roughly to the side and towards the hatch under the beam. The executioner put the noose around the maiden's neck, and the Earl rose jerkily from his seat. The father's eyes widened and met those of his daughter. Fatherly instincts warred with the knowledge of the consequences.

Pandemonium broke out, wild discussions, then scuffles. In one corner of the castle courtyard, things got terrible. The bandits hidden among the spectators stirred the atmosphere, rushing loudly, jostling, and pushing or throwing rotten fruit at the soldiers. Thus the first fights broke out.

This was the moment Robin and the others had been waiting for!

Robin had already aimed the arrow at the sheriff's back. He pulled back the string and felt the familiar tickle of fletching. There was no mistaking the large raven on his crest, the red eye embroidered in blood-red thread adorning it like a target. It would be a perfect shot despite the crowded place. Robin took a deep, steadying breath and tightened the bowstring. It pressed against his fingers with the weight of the draw. He was ready to let the arrow fly. Then the bastard suddenly jumped to the side and did something Robin had not expected.

The sheriff realized that his control of the situation was slipping away. He had waited long enough and given his son enough time. Even if he was fundamentally reluctant, he could not allow this woman to agitate the servants further and undermine the king's authority as well as his own.

"You have made up your mind, my Lady. May God have mercy on your soul." He had to smother this ember of opposition before it became a devastating fire. "Traitor hang!" The sheriff pulled the lever, and the trapdoor opened beneath Marian's feet.

Her heart faltered. Now she was going to die.

Marian's body fell with a jolt.

A scream escaped her throat but was instantly stifled as the rope tightened.