An Earl for an Archeress

by E. Elizabeth Watson

  Nottingham nodded, bowing low and backing away, and Ayr seemed to fume at him with vexation. Mayhap they had both been expecting a sympathetic ear.

  “Rise up, Robert. Imagine my surprise,” the king said, “when Sir Jonathan showed up in France, having run a perfectly good horse into the ground after bribing his way across the channel, only to barge through my guardsmen to brief me with such news.”

  Robert’s brow crinkled. He looked to the side of the room where Jonathan stood watching him. “What did he do?”

  “He left Huntington with haste to inform me of your precarious state.”

  Crawford, appearing to come to the conclusion that he would not find the sympathy here that he had expected, stood and began striding to the door. The king flicked his finger at two of his soldiers, and they moved to bar Crawford’s exit.

  “Not so fast, sire,” the king remarked. “You’ll wait until I’ve finished questioning Robert, for I then have questions for you.”

  Having turned to watch Crawford go, Robert turned back around, glancing at Jonathan again. He was confused.

  “Your Majesty, if I may speak,” Robert started, “I would like to know how John came to know you were in France and where to find you, when no one knew of your imminent return before Nottingham forced his luxurious hospitality upon me.”

  The king nodded. “Mayhap Sir Naylor would like to explain.”

  He gestured for John, and his friend came forward, bowing again, then turned to Robert. “After you left with Mariel and didn’t return before dawn, as expected, we grew worried. Our searches of the forest and of Creake Abbey turned up nothing. A royal messenger then arrived at Huntington to inform us that His Majesty was in Aquitaine, examining his holdings there and would be returning to England to hold court in the coming sennights, requesting all the peerage in England to attend.

  “That’s when David returned, reporting signs of a struggle on a forest path. He followed the tracks and determined that one set belonged to Crawford, and one to Nottingham. He followed Wendenal’s trail here to learn that you had been beaten and captured. He reported to us such news, and that’s when I made haste to find King Richard and bid him return immediately.”

  “But where did you disappear to before that? The news came that Crawford and Wendenal were riding to Huntington, and you disappeared shortly after our disagreement.”

  John’s expression turned sheepish. “I sought out the maid Bridget and spent the evening in one of the abandoned crofter’s cottages. She’s, eh, treated me well during my months at Huntington. Your intentions with Mariel filled me with jealousy and I needed female distraction. I did as you bade, posted sentries in the woods, and went to the bed of another to ease my anger.” He looked down, swallowed, then back at Robert. “I’m not proud of it, but I needed to cool my head before I saw you again. But I realize now how much you and Mariel care for each other. I never did stand to gain ground in her heart once she met you. Still, the revelation stung. I’m sorry I abandoned you, Robert. ’Tis all the more reason I went with haste to France. For my own atonement.”

  Robert felt ashamed. He had thought the worst of John. But John had been loyal…which meant Wesley had been the traitor.

  “Lord Crawford said someone close to me betrayed me. You were angered and disappeared on me. I could only conclude that either you or Wesley was the turncoat. I thought the worst of you, man, locked in that cell. My apologies.”

  John nodded.

  “I never said your traitor was a man,” Crawford grumbled, but said no more, his eyes cold as Robert turned to look at him.

  Indeed…no he hadn’t. But what he now implied was that the traitor was a woman. Who knew of his affection for Mariel? Anna and Charlotte. Who knew he wanted to marry her? There was only one answer, and it sank in his gut like a ship’s anchor.

  Charlotte.

  He had trusted their friendship, but then again, Charlotte had wanted to be Robert’s woman. He had always been good to Charlotte. He had compensated her handsomely when he severed their relationship. He had thought their friendship ran deeper than her ambitions for his bedchamber. Perhaps there would come a time to confront her about that, if he ever got out of his blasted manacles…unless it was Anna.

  He had dismissed Anna unkindly and she had clearly exhibited her dislike for Mariel. Anna might not have known he intended to marry Mariel, but she certainly knew he favored her. Mayhap, she had crossed Crawford and his men’s path on the roadside as she traveled northward to York and mentioned a female archer at Huntington holding Robert’s interest.

  God be damned, but his brain felt like bursting.

  He turned back to King Richard.

  “I’m guilty of stealing from William de Wendenal, Your Majesty,” Robert said. “But only because his coin was ill-gotten from your loyal subjects, both rich and poor, people he evicted and terrorized. Every shilling, every pence was returned to people who needed it, or sits in an account for such charity. I took people in, offered them shelter and work. I donated purses confiscated from Nottingham to Creake Abbey, Newstead Priory, and Barking Abbey, and sometimes I felt like my men and I were the only ones trying to hold the world together whilst waiting for your return. Punish me as you will, but I did what was right when no one else could. I stand by my convictions.”

  King Richard leaned back, propping his reddish beard between his pointer and thumb. “Surprisingly, your grand thieving scheme isn’t what concerns me. But more precisely, whose permission did you seek to marry? Not mine. And it seems you usurped a betrothal to William of Nottingham by stealing the woman promised to him. It seems nothing of Nottingham’s was safe from your thieving.”

  Ah, there it is. My marriage. To someone other than one of Richard’s eligible English noblewomen. Although, why now did he care? Robert was no longer an earl. He was no longer much of anything. Unless King Richard enslaved him or had him executed, there was not much more the king could do to him. He took a deep breath, glancing at Nottingham, who smirked at him, and began.

  “I married Mariel Crawford, the daughter of Harold Crawford of Ayrshire. She fled the man’s violence, and I offered protection in marriage. We were already going to elope when I discovered Crawford had promised her to William. And with all due respect, I decided waiting for your consent might not come soon enough, for no one knew when you might return to England.”

  Robert shot a glance at Nottingham and continued. “After hearing how William would be happy to put her in her place, I followed through on taking her to wife, for his deeds have been dark since he was left in charge of England, and I knew Mariel would fare no differently at his hands than your kingdom has fared. Mariel is my wife, like it or not, and our marriage is bound and sealed. There is no annulment possible. The only thing possible is to see me killed and her widowed.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” Richard stood and the hall hushed. “So you, my most eligible earl, married someone of your choosing with no familial clout in England without your liege’s consent when I needed you to secure a good alliance?”

  Robert kept his eyes locked on his king’s, then nodded. “Yes.”

  “Can this be proven?”

  Again Robert nodded. “Yes. Father Tucker, a lowly priest at Creake Abbey. He keeps the register. Which Mariel and I both signed.”

  Richard said nothing, then rubbed his beard. It seemed both anger and admiration warred on his brow.

  “I do have familial clout in England!” erupted Crawford. “I am second cousin to you and your brothers!” He rounded on Robert. “And you had no right to take Mariel! She was never meant for you!”

  “No,” Robert countered, whipping around to face him. “I didn’t have the right. And you did, in fact, have the right to marry her off to any man you chose. You thought that after months of searching for her, forcing her to wed Nottingham would strengthen your ties in England, just as forcing her to wed my father
would have done, had he not died. But can you not see that betrothing her to my father is what sent her fleeing in the first place? She lives and breathes just like any man, and you terrified her. You relied on your growing friendship to Ranulf de Blondeville, your friendship with Nottingham, and your unrecognized ties to King Richard to validate the power you sought and still seek. You ride through King Richard’s lands, as if you have some claim to authority.” He scoffed incredulously. “And is it not true that you hope to see King William the Rough of Scotland dethroned? I’d say that borders on sedition.”

  “Nonsense you speak.” Crawford growled with a dismissive wave.

  “Is it? You met with my father about your intentions to usurp your Scottish monarch when you betrothed Mariel, did you not? Little does anyone else know, but those parchments are still locked in a chest at Huntington upon my detainment. Sadly for you, both my father and I saw value in saving them. He, because he was just as vile a man as you, and I…because they seemed like they might become valuable in the future, should you ever pursue your ambitions.”

  “Is this true?” asked King Richard, his eyes narrowing.

  Crawford glowered at Robert, trying to determine if he bluffed, but was wise enough not to say anything.

  “You admit that you dislike your king and think little of his leadership. The proof is at Huntington,” Robert said, seething.

  “Nothing of such was found there,” Nottingham assured Crawford. “My men searched every room.”

  “Except the vaults,” Robert said.

  Nottingham gauged him, a snarl curling his lips, indicating Robert had nudged a sore spot. “Your guardsmen said you kept the keys to the vaults.”

  “Then my guardsmen are loyal to me and lied to you like a rug on your floor.” Robert chuckled. “Normally, I do keep the keys, but I made arrangements with my steward the night I eloped, in the event my capture or worse, death, should come to pass. I assure you the proof is still there.” He returned his attention to Crawford. “You knew from the day you met me that I wouldn’t be your pawn, and little did you know, I was hiding Mariel all along. ’Tis why you took your leave so soon, for Mariel was not there, or so you thought. Yes, I took bold liberty and married Mariel, and unless you plan to execute me or have already done so to her, our union is binding.” Robert glared, his chest rising and falling with coursing rage. “And you couldn’t stand seeing your daughter happy with me.”

  Crawford snapped and lunged at him. “You stole from me, you cocky upstart bastard—”

  Royal guardsmen charged forth to rein him back, but not before Robert met the threat with his manacled hands and whipped them over Crawford’s head, cinching the chain about his neck to lock him under control.

  King Richard jumped to his feet, and the guardsmen tried to pry his chain free, but he held fast.

  “Release him, Robert! You, the lad that I’ve known all my years, are better than this,” the king scolded.

  “Not until I know he won’t take a swing at me!” Robert bit out, straining against Crawford’s force.

  He knew he looked like a gladiator on display. He knew that his trousers and undergarments slouched so that his nether hair was sprouting just above the waistline. He knew that he ground his bare feet into the soiled rushes beneath him. But he wasn’t letting go until he knew Crawford submitted.

  The guards managed to break his death grip and shoved him back. He stumbled, seeing Crawford taken to the floor and subdued, and turned to the king, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. “I love her, Your Majesty,” he declared, his voice shaking with both rage and emotion. “I know my decision didn’t carry your blessing and doesn’t carry your favor, but knowing she suffers is making me mad. She should be at my side, penniless as I now am. From the moment I met her, I wanted no other. I have nothing left, but if you release me, I’ll walk to Scotland barefoot, if I must. I know not who betrayed me if it wasn’t Jonathan, but none of it matters now. My wife belongs with me.”

  “What have you to offer her?” Richard asked. “With no castle and no servants, no money and no property. Not even a horse. As poorly as you claim she was treated, she is still a Scottish noblewoman requiring, at bare minimum, a title.”

  Robert held out his manacles as if revealing his soul. “I have nothing but myself. But I’d rather see Mariel poor and free than trapped one more minute in a dungeon cell, for I don’t believe the good Sheriff of Ayrshire is the type to accommodate her with a bath and warm hearth.”

  “And why should I release you, Robert, formerly Earl?” the king asked, sitting down.

  “Because Nottingham has abused your people,” Robert proclaimed, confident, standing tall despite his humiliating lack of dress and decorum. “Because my band of men and I, who I refuse to reveal, were the only ones attempting to speak for the masses. And I’ll never come to court to attempt to flatter you into restoring my title. What’s done is done and I’m at peace with it, even if Nottingham’s treatment of me and your people was unfair. All I ask is that my people—the people of Huntington,” he corrected himself, for they were no longer his, “are treated well. I only want my wife. I have no horse, no coin, not even a bloody pair of boots, but I’ll walk to foking Scotland if I have to!”

  King Richard’s face split into a grin at Robert’s passionate exclamation.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” the king announced. He flicked his finger at his official, who then withdrew a ring of keys. “These, Robert of Huntington, were handed over to me by William de Wendenal…but they belong to you.” He tossed them across the room, and Robert snagged them out of the air with his chained hands, turning them over to look. “I believe those unlock Huntington Castle’s gates.”

  “Your Majesty! I must protest!” Nottingham exclaimed, his face splitting into a rage. “Robert’s fate was to be decided here, not my guilt! He attacked and stole from a royal official, and he encouraged Mariel Crawford to shoot at her father!”

  “Huntington,” Robert thundered. “She bears my name now!”

  Nottingham shook his head in frustration and continued. “Much of what he says is false! I only evicted those who would not pay the rents—”

  “And who made those rents so high that none could afford it?” said the king, rising up once more. “You invite my wrath, sire. What neither Robert nor you know is that many more accounts of your cruelty reached me in the Holy Land. His story is, in a saying I’ve brought back with me, simply the final straw upon the camel’s back.”

  He turned back to Robert, flicking his finger at the guard who had brought him in. The man brought his own key from the ring on his belt and unlocked the manacles at his wrists. Freedom. Robert pulled his arms apart and rolled his shoulders as the metal clanked away.

  “What exactly does this mean, my king?” Robert asked.

  King Richard, grinning again, stood tall. “It means, Robert, that you have proven your worth. You’re no longer the famed young bachelor who likes to dally with the willing females. You stood up to injustice as my loyal subject and have grown up.

  “It also means your band of thieves may disperse.” The king leveled a glare, his grin turning sly. “There will be no more need to illegally patrol the forests, and may I never catch you doing so again…because you are now appointed to the head of my East Anglian guard and custodian of the Huntington Alms Charity, to which I am donating one thousand pounds.” The king’s grin broadened into a chuckle at the surprise on Robert’s face.

  “No such charity exists, Your Majesty,” Robert said.

  “It does now,” Richard replied, standing tall. “It also means you are reinstated as the Earl of Huntington and returned all estate and land that accompanies such.” He turned to Nottingham. “If there are any missing properties or finances, I shall be deducting those deficits from your coffers, for despite the pitiful state of this grand castle, I have it on account your personal vaults a
re wealthy.

  “Lock both these men away,” the king said, waving his hand at Crawford and Nottingham. “I have many a question for them before I decide their fate, but in the meantime, Robert…” The king descended from the dais and came to stand before him, not quite as tall as Robert but broader from carrying a broadsword, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve become a fine young man. One I am proud to call one of my nobles. In a time of duress, your tactics might have been, eh, debatable, but ingenious, and I have it on account your woman is both as unconventional and skilled as you. She was not my pick for you. But it is clear to me now, I should not have been the one picking. I bid you retrieve your Lady Huntington in all haste and bring her to court to present her to me. I offer a contingent of a score of men to assist you on your quest for her and will pen a missive to King William so that he knows of the traitor that was in his flock. Be on your way.”

  Robert grinned for the first time in a month, and he bowed low. “My king, if William de Wendenal could see fit to return my codpiece, intact with its contents, I would be much obliged. I don’t think the man has need of one tailored to that, eh, particular size.”

  King Richard rolled his eyes. “Mayhap you have yet to become the fine young man I thought… I hope I don’t regret this,” he muttered, and turned to Nottingham to demand where Robert’s effects had been stored.

  Nottingham glowered at him as he left the hall at the hand of his own prison guard. Robert winked at him, tipping his head back, and laughed a merry laugh.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Robert made his way back to Huntington in record time, arriving before sundown, though Goliath, who thankfully had been recognized as fine horseflesh and thus had been stabled at Nottingham, was lathered and in need of rest before Robert’s impending departure.