The Stolen Crown

by Eva Howard

  The knights holding the baron loosened their grip. The baron stumbled into the dirt, then regained his feet. He looked around ferociously. “A horse—bring me my horse!”

  Nobody responded, not even the baron’s groom, who stood watching from the crowd. Finally the baron shoved through the throng of people and grabbed the bridle of the horse Stephen had readied to carry the king away. He pulled himself onto the saddle, wheeled around, then rode hard over the drawbridge. Not once did he thank his son for pleading for his life or even look back at him.

  King Henry and Queen Isabella moved away, quietly conferring. The knights began mounting their horses. Chatter broke out through the courtyard once more, the League of Archers grinning and talking together.

  Stephen stood apart from them all. Ellie went over. He blinked hastily and drew a sleeve over his eyes.

  “You know what,” Ellie said, “I think I just about feel proud of you. A really tiny bit.”

  “Really?”

  “You did it, didn’t you? You proved that you’re better than your father.”

  “If you say so. It’s not hard to improve on him, but it’s a start. I’m hoping I’ll do a better job.”

  Ellie looked up at him. “Wait—does this mean you’re now Lord de Lays?”

  Stephen nodded. “I can hardly believe it either, but yes—I started today an outlaw and ended it a baron.” Some of the gleam returned to his blue eyes. “And I’ve got a first proclamation of my own—the League of Archers can hunt on my land whenever they wish.”

  Ellie grinned. He turned on his heel and went to talk to some of the soldiers and servants. The king and queen mounted their horses and rode to the head of their cadre of knights. The two royals circled the courtyard slowly, reaching their hands down to those stretched up from the crowd. As they rode onto the drawbridge, Henry looked back over his shoulder and gave a final wave toward Ellie, crown glittering. She waved back and watched until he and his retinue had disappeared from view.

  The League had gathered around her. Ralf nodded toward where Stephen was bossing around the soldiers. Stephen jabbed a finger at the guard who’d told him off. “From now on the runaway son’s in charge! Do you understand me?”

  “The new Lord de Lays,” Ralf said. “Saints preserve us.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “I wonder what life will be like under this new baron.”

  Jacob eyed Stephen doubtfully. “Not easy, I would guess.”

  “But I think better than it was,” Ellie said. “We’ve taught Stephen a thing or two.”

  “Maybe,” said Ralf. “Let’s wait a few weeks before we decide about that.”

  Ellie threw an arm around his shoulders. “It can’t do us any harm to have a new baron who has fought beside the League of Archers—and a new king who has done the same! Things are bound to get better now, aren’t they?”

  “Definitely,” Margery said firmly.

  “So what now?” wondered Alice. “Back to the Greenwood Tree?”

  Ellie suddenly realized it was what she wanted more than anything. The villagers would be able to return home now, and all would be as it was before—just the five of them, with Marian and Tuck visiting when they weren’t on the road. She couldn’t wait.

  “Yes,” she said, half to herself. “Let’s go home.”

  Marian and Tuck were already making their way to the drawbridge. The League were close behind when Stephen caught up with them.

  “Wait!” he said. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  Ellie nodded.

  “Look, why don’t you stay? I can give you places in my household, anything you want. Jacob, you can be the castle fletcher, of course. Margery, you can be the farrier—you’re good with horses. Ellie, you’d be captain of the guard!”

  Ellie couldn’t help but be touched by his eagerness. But she shook her head. “I don’t think the guards would like that much.”

  Stephen waved a hand, dismissing this. “Who cares? It’s my castle.”

  Alice opened her mouth in retort and Ellie hastily spoke over her. “Thank you, but no,” she said. “Our place isn’t here. We belong at the Greenwood Tree. After all, your father wasn’t the only bad baron. There are more villages that need our help.”

  “The Sheriff of Nottingham won’t be happy your father’s gone,” Ralf added.

  “And besides,” Ellie said, “you’re a baron now yourself. You’ll need the League of Archers watching over you, to make sure you remember the right way to rule.”

  Stephen flashed one of his most brilliant smiles. He gave Ellie a courtly bow. “I look forward to being kept in line. Until we meet again, Elinor Dray.”

  “A husband? Mary Ursula has gone to France to look for a husband?” Ellie set down her mug of hot milk on the abbey’s kitchen table and laughed until tears came into her eyes. First Sister Bethan, then Sisters Joan and Agnes, joined her, till all four were nearly crying.

  “You should’ve seen her out of her habit,” Sister Bethan gasped. “Wearing a fine gown and proud as a peacock!”

  Sister Agnes dabbed her eyes. “It isn’t right to mock her . . . but she soaked her hair in ale and honey for a day before she went, hoping to make it yellow!”

  “She’ll be attracting far more wasps than men if those are her tactics,” Sister Joan said.

  Sister Bethan collected herself, patting Ellie’s hand fondly. “It’s because you sent the baron to ground like a rabbit. She was on her way quick after that. She knew she wouldn’t last long without him to prop her up.”

  “She’s going to tell the men in France she’s a wealthy widow,” Sister Agnes said primly. “I heard her telling Sister Muriel.”

  “Well, I feel sorry for the men of France,” said Sister Joan.

  Ellie remembered the piles of splendid things heaped in Mary Ursula’s room when she was the mother abbess, the hard glitter of them in the dark—and she had a thought that made her eyes go wide. She tucked it away for later.

  “Tomorrow you’ll have a new abbess,” she said, smiling slyly at Sister Bethan. “And I think I know who will be chosen.”

  “Anything can happen in an election,” Sister Bethan said, flushing.

  “And yet we all know it will be you,” Sister Joan replied warmly. “And none could deserve it more.”

  Ellie lifted her mug. “To the rightful abbess of Kirklees, finally taking her place.”

  Sister Agnes tapped her mug to Ellie’s, then dissolved into laughter again. “I can’t stop seeing her,” she gasped, “with her head all covered in honey!”

  Ellie listened to the nuns chatter on. She’d spent many hours in this kitchen when she was very young. Here she’d been an orphan, grieving and alone. Here she’d become Sister Bethan’s small shadow, keeping close to the sister she loved best and learning to bake bread. Here she’d been a novice with a secret, slipping out the kitchen door and into the woods beyond the wall, to hunt the baron’s game with her best friends.

  And sitting here now, she was happier than she’d ever been. The baron was too far away to hurt anyone she loved. All was well at the nunnery and would be for many years with Sister Bethan running things. The League of Archers were reunited, and even closer than before.

  Just one more thing to do, she thought.

  25

  THE SEA WAS BIGGER THAN anything in the world. It went on and on forever, until it met the sky miles away. It was just as endless as the sky, and just as changeable. It was blue and green and gray, purple in the distance, white where the water crested into foamy caps, then lapped against the rocks of King’s Lynn port. This was Ellie’s first sight of it and she was transfixed. She sat on the sand, breathing in the tangy smell of fish and salt.

  Ralf and Alice were ankle-deep in the water, grabbing pebbles from the beach and sending them skimming across the water. Margery squealed as another wave rolled in, the cold water breaking around her legs. A little way out a cluster of ships was moored at the end of the docks. Ellie watched them, restless, wondering when
Jacob would be back from his lookout post.

  Ralf whooped as one of his stones went hopping across the water, touching down five times before it sank. They’d arrived the night before, and a sailor they met on the beach had taught him the trick. “Did you see that?” he called to Ellie.

  “The best one yet!” she called back.

  Ralf waded in to sit next to her. “Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked. “We’ve been waiting a long time. Maybe we should go back to the inn, have more oysters. . . .”

  “I’m sure,” Ellie said firmly. “You know what Friar Tuck’s like for gossip. Their carriage has been spotted on the road here more than once. They’ve got to be—”

  “They’re coming!” It was Jacob, pelting down from the road, his cloak flapping behind him. “They’re almost here!”

  Ellie grabbed her bow. “Margery! Alice! It’s time!”

  They hurried away from the beach, Alice, Margery, and Ralf with sandy bare feet, and made their way to the main road that entered King’s Lynn. The nearby docks were thronged with boats and sailors, but the road itself was quiet and rolled through a flat, scrubby landscape. No one was around, Ellie noted with satisfaction, as they hid behind a large gorse bush, weapons at the ready. The carriage was already close, its paintwork shabby, pulled along by two gray ponies. An equally gray man was driving it.

  When it was a few paces away, Ellie sprang to her feet. She stepped out into the road and leveled her bow at the driver. His eyes widened, but before he could raise the alarm, she lowered the arrow and put a finger to her lips. Ralf joined her, waving a bag of coins at the man.

  He drew the carriage to a halt, got down, and whistled softly when Ralf tossed him the bag of coins. “I’ll be on my way, then,” he said in a low voice, and set off toward the town.

  Quietly the League surrounded the coach, arrows drawn. When Ellie got close enough, the burr of conversation from within sharpened into two distinct voices: one a woman’s wheedling tones, the other the arrogant sniping of a man.

  “You and that ridiculous gown have taken up altogether too much room on this journey.”

  “Oh, you think my gown’s ridiculous? Was it really necessary for you to travel with six busts of yourself? That’s truly ridiculous. Could you not have sold them in Nottingham?”

  “There was a time when many would’ve paid good money for my likeness,” the man replied querulously. “But let’s talk of more important things—like the jewels. I’ll gladly give you this bust if you agree that I will have the emeralds.”

  “The emeralds!” the woman squawked. Her voice went high and lofty. “Emeralds symbolize the glory of God and all his saints. Naturally, the emeralds must stay with me.”

  The man spoke through gritted teeth. “Of course that is so, but if you consider that—”

  “Wait. Why aren’t we moving?”

  The man’s indignation grew. “That fool driver must think we’re paying him by the hour.” A rapping came from within the coach. “Driver! Old man, answer me!”

  Worried she’d burst out laughing if she waited any longer, Ellie threw open the door of the coach.

  Inside, the former Lord de Lays and Mary Ursula froze, blinking in the sudden light. The two looked half-buried in finery and bags stuffed, Ellie knew, with the abbey’s treasures. Mary Ursula screamed and de Lays spluttered with fury.

  “Hello, Master de Lays, Mistress Mary Ursula,” Ellie said pleasantly. Their much-reduced positions felt delicious on her tongue. The League fanned out behind her, each training an arrow on the interior of the carriage.

  “You little flea,” Master de Lays spat. “Always hopping around. Always destroying my happiness. Always a cursed nuisance!”

  Mary Ursula smacked his arm. “This is your fault! You should have gotten rid of her when you had the chance.” She folded her pale lips together tightly and glared at Ellie. “What do you want?”

  Ellie smiled at her. “The crown jewels, if you please.”

  Mary Ursula gasped. For a moment de Lays looked as if he might charge at Ellie, despite the League’s arrows. His face quivered with rage as he realized how hopeless his situation was, and he pointed to a sack tucked next to his feet.

  “They’re here,” he growled.

  “Hand them over, then,” Ellie said cheerfully. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you enough to reach in there myself.”

  He lifted the sack and dumped it into her outstretched arms. Ellie nearly staggered with the weight of it. The mouth of the sack slid open, revealing a heap of treasures topped with a glittering crown embedded with jewels. She couldn’t help grinning.

  “Wow,” breathed Margery. Their bows still in place, the League peered at the loot the former baron had nearly carried away to France.

  Mary Ursula snuffled into a lace handkerchief. “How did you know?” de Lays demanded of Ellie.

  “Crown jewels don’t just disappear,” Ellie said, handing the sack over to Alice. “And the treasure I saw in Mary Ursula’s chambers was far too fine to belong at Kirklees. Besides, Master de Lays, I knew from the beginning that you were behind this. Wherever there’s trouble, you’re always there. Or you used to be.”

  She stepped back and bowed.

  “Enjoy France, sir. And I wish you good fortune in your husband hunting, Mary Ursula.”

  And she slammed the carriage door shut, hoping never to see either of their faces again.

  Laughing, the League ran back up the road to where they’d tied their horses, leaving the carriage behind. They took to the road on foot, leading the horses, the sea behind them and the countryside ahead. Once their laughter had died down, Alice looked at Ellie narrowly. “We’re not giving the crown jewels back to Henry, are we?”

  “What kind of outlaws would that make us?” said Ellie. “Henry’s a good king, but he’ll be an even better one if he’s got subjects who can fight back. If we’ve got money, we can fight. And maybe we’ll need to build our farm one day, to help other villagers escape barons who take more than they should. These jewels mean we can do that.”

  “I don’t think Henry would mind us keeping them,” said Jacob.

  “Me neither,” said Margery.

  They walked shoulder to shoulder on the road. Already the seaside scrub was giving way to green leaves and rich brown earth.

  “But these jewels make us rich, don’t they?” said Ralf forlornly. “Between that and the king’s pardon, we’re not really outlaws at all.”

  “I’m still an outlaw,” Alice said fiercely, touching her fingertips to the scar on her cheek. “A rich man’s pardon doesn’t change that.”

  Ellie linked one arm through Alice’s and the other through Ralf’s. “We’re still outlaws,” she said, “and we always will be, because those jewels aren’t really ours. We’ve stolen them from the rich to give to the poor.”

  Ralf grinned at her. “Like Robin Hood.”

  “Yes,” said Ellie, smiling back at him. “Just like Robin Hood.”

  The setting sun threw their five shadows long across the road as the League of Archers made their way to Sherwood Forest.

  About the Author

  When she’s not writing, Eva Howard escapes the city to hike and camp in the forest—and has even tried her hand at archery. She lives in New York.

  Take your shot.

  ALADDIN

  SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK

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  ALSO BY EVA HOWARD

  League of Archers

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN

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  First Aladdin hardcover edition December 2017

  Text copyright © 2017 by Working Partners Limited

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2017 by Charlie Bowater

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  Jacket designed by Jessica Handelman

  Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia

  The text of this book was set in Adobe Garamond Pro.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Howard, Eva, author.

  Title: The stolen crown / by Eva Howard.

  Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2017. | Series: League of Archers ; 2 | Summary: “Ellie Dray and her League of Archers are keeping Robin Hood’s legacy alive by stealing from the rich to help the poor, but when they discover someone is trying to steal the crown, they learn that some things may be out of their league”— Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017003330 (print) | LCCN 2017030995 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481460422 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481460408 (hc) |

  Subjects: | CYAC: Robbers and outlaws—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Characters in literature—Fiction. | Archery—Fiction. | Middle Ages—Fiction. | Great Britain—History—John, 1199-1216—Fiction. | Great Britain—History—Henry III, 1216-1272—Fiction. |