As the Lords ate, Marian stood against the wall near the curtained window with Mirabelle and the other maids. Once more she noticed Gisborne’s eyes turned in her direction, and once more she dropped her head and pretended to be thoroughly entranced by the floor.
The celebration was a raucous event. The bards were loud, their songs obnoxious. The ladies’ laughter filled the air as the Lords pinched and teased them while they danced. The cacophony was merry, but Marian’s mood was anything but.
This feast sickened her. The audacious gluttony of it all in the face of near famine amongst her countrymen made her furious. These Lords were responsible for the welfare of their people, yet they sat here stuffing their ample bellies with enough food to feed the entire village while the people fought to scrape together scraps for their trenchers.
The feast went on for hours. Once the table had been picked clean, the table was laid with a selection of sweet treats including custards, spiced pears poached in mulled wine, crisp wafers drizzled with honey, delicate pastries, and glorious cakes decorated with flowers and marzipan.
Her stomach rumbled as she stood aside, watching the men shovel the food into their pig-like faces. They belched and laughed, commenting on how delightful it was to forget their table manors, having left their wives behind. No one seemed to notice the presence of the maids, nor did they make any attempts to behave for their sake.
Marian had not eaten breakfast, and they were too busy with the banquet service to have anything at noon. As the scent of honey and pastries drifted up her nose, her head began to feel light, as though it might float away. She hiccuped and blinked several times, and the room began to spin around her. She’d been weak from hunger before, but nothing like this. As her stomach gnawed furiously, she put her hands back against the cold stone wall to steady herself. Alas, it was not enough, and her vision blurred and then faded to black.
“Marian!” a voice shouted, and she heard the scraping of a chair across the floor, and the loud crash of it being overturned as she tumbled to the floor in darkness.
“Marian,” the voice seemed to echo through the darkness. “Marian!”
She felt her body jitter as it floated somewhere above the ground. Her lashes fluttered. Through haze, she could see flashes of light rapidly passing by as though she were flying. Shaking, shaking, her body was tossed up and down.
A crash! The sound of splintering wood -- a door, perhaps? The movement slowed, and her body slowly drifted downward onto a surface, yet still she felt as though she was somewhere above the floor.
“Marian...” that voice again. “GET THE PHYSICIAN!”
She was startled, and she gasped, trying to force her heavy eyelids open. The scuffling of boots and shoes arose nearby.
“What happened?” another voice asked.
“I d-don’t know, she-she-she fainted,” the first voice stammered.
Her eyelids were forced open, and lantern light blinded her painfully. She squeezed her lids shut and turned away.
“Young lady, can you hear me?” the voice sounded familiar.
Marian stirred, trying to speak, but only an incoherent mutter escaped her lips.
“Has she eaten anything that might have been spoiled?”
“How should I know?”
“Young lady! Can you hear me?”
Marian fought her way through the haze, the blurry, swirling mass of undulating fog. Her stomach grumbled painfully, and her arms curled around her waist, clutching it tightly. She moaned.
“Did you hear that?” asked a woman’s voice.
“Yes, I heard it. I think I know the problem. Bring some honeyed water at once!”
“Right away,” answered the woman.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s fainted from hunger. She’ll be alright.”
Marian heard feet shuffling into the room, growing rapidly closer. Her head was lifted, and something cold touched her lips. Liquid poured down her throat, and as she was unprepared, it made her sputter and cough. The liquid was sweet, delightful to her empty belly. She began to gulp it vigorously. Soon, the cup was empty, and her head was slowly lowered.
“Can you hear me now?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and then they opened. The physician stood above her, and she blinked at him.
“Wh-what happened?” she asked.
“You fainted, that’s what happened!” the physician said. “Have you eaten today?”
Her face flushed and her cheeks felt hot.
“No,” she said weakly.
“Why ever not?” the physician demanded.
“B-because we only had enough for my ailing father,” she admitted quietly. “There wasn’t enough for me.”
The woman standing across the room clucked her tongue.
“Does this happen often?” the physician asked.
“Not often,” she told him. “My garden isn’t doing too well this year. The summer was dry, and this autumn chill has been harsh. And I... I gave some of our food to the villagers, who are much worse off than we.”
“You’re starving and you gave food away?” the physician clarified.
She only nodded weakly.
“We need a few more like you around these parts,” he muttered. “Well, you get some rest. I’ll have some food brought to you from the kitchen.”
The physician and the nurse backed away, and Marian noticed the grim face of Lord Gisborne glaring down at her in the doorway briefly as he backed from the room, spun ‘round on his heel, and disappeared. She opened her mouth to shout an explanation, but her voice broke. He was gone.
Surely, he would notify Lord Blackstock that she’d been distributing unrationed food, and she was certain her punishment would be swift. She groaned, and when the nurse brought her food, she could barely eat it.
“You have to eat this food, girl!” the nurse demanded. “If you haven’t much at home, this is your chance!”
“I know. I’m just not feeling well,” Marian moaned.
“And you won’t if you don’t eat, now open up!” the nurse bellowed.
Marian opened her mouth and accepted a spoonful of the hearty stew. She gulped and swallowed, but it was practically flavorless. Her mind was consumed with dread, and it simply wasn’t capable of processing anything else.
When the stew was gone, the nurse sent her back to work. She slipped quietly into the banquet hall and stood beside Mirabelle, whose face was stolid, but her eyes spoke volumes of concern. Marian nodded to show Mirabelle she was fine, and she received a curt nod in return.
Through a curtain of her dark locks, Marian noticed Gisborne glowering at her through narrowed eyes, and her heart thumped anxiously. He was obviously quite cross, and it would only be a matter of time before Blackstock was made aware of her transgressions.
Lord Blackstock clapped his hands harshly together twice to signify the end of the meal. Marian and the other maids hurried to clear the table, and upon their return, they were dismissed.
“Go,” Blackstock snarled at them. “We’ve things to discuss.”
Marian’s shoulders slouched forward and her head hung dejectedly as she followed Mirabelle from the banquet hall. This had been her only chance to find out what they were planning. Once Gisborne told his liege of her misdeeds, she would never get another one. She’d be lucky to escape the gallows.
“Marian, go clean the guest chambers while we tend to the dishes,” Mirabelle said. “I’m assuming you feel up to it.”
“Yes, Miss,” Marian nodded.
She gathered her bucket and brush and headed toward the guest corridor. Just before she turned down the hallway, she froze. Her mind raced, and she bit her lip nervously. This was her last chance to discover their plans. If she were arrested, she’d never be able to give Robin the information he needed to stop them.
With an iron grip on the bucket handle, she veered off course and headed toward the banquet hall. Two guards stood stonily on either side of the great wooden doors. She’
d never get past them. Her only hope was to listen from outside the window.
She slipped down a narrow service corridor and out into the tiny courtyard in the center of the castle grounds. She set her bucket down by the door and slid along the wall until she was standing outside the massive window. A guard patrolled the wall across the courtyard, but his gaze was fixed firmly toward the exterior of the castle.
With her heart thrumming rapidly, she pressed her hear against the glass and struggled to hear the muffled voices inside the hall.
“But Lord Blackstock, you must understand that our communities are just as strained as yours!” shouted one Lord.
“We have families who can barely feed their children!” another shouted, and the din of the other Lords agreeing rose through the hall and rattled the window.
“You don’t think we have such problems right here, as well?” Gisborne’s voice rose above the cacophony, thick with anger. “Why just tonight that young woman fainted from hunger! Did you not see it with your own eyes?”
The noise slowly began to wane to a dull murmur.
“The point my dear Gisborne is trying to make,” Blackstock interjected, “is that you are not alone your troubles. Our citizens are every bit as strained as yours. But some problems are bigger than individual comforts. It is vital that each and every one of you contributes your share to this. Only then may we come together for the greater good.”
Another murmur broke out through the room.
“Blackstock, I just don’t think out citizens can give any more in taxes. Another ten percent on top of what they’re already paying would crush some of them!” one Lord said.
“Have you not been listening?” Blackstock shouted. “This tax is for the benefit of all citizens! With it we shall build roads, clinics, orphanages... we can do so much more with the taxes from all out communities combined than any one of us can do in our own!”
Voices began to chatter, and soon they rose in agreement. It seemed as though the crowd was overwhelmingly supportive of Blackstock’s plan.
“We shall vote at noon tomorrow,” Blackstock shouted over the din. “I hope I shall have your support. Until then, please enjoy our fine ladies and all the hospitalities our castle has to offer!”
Chairs began to squeak across the floor as the Lords departed. Upon hearing the massive doors slam, Marian began to slide away from the window, but she froze as Gisborne’s voice alerted her that there might be yet more to hear.
“I do believe they are on your side, my Lord,” he said.
“Most of them, perhaps,” Blackstock agreed. “But there are a few who may still need some... convincing. See to it?”
“Yes, my Lord,” Gisborne said.
“Oh, and Gisborne...”
“My Lord?”
“If you cannot convince them... see to it that they aren’t at the voting tomorrow,” Blackstock said, raising his eyebrow knowingly.
“I will take care of it, my Lord.”
Another chair squeaked loudly on the floor, and Marian quickly gathered her bucket and rushed inside, taking the long way around to the guest chambers. She’d lost her opportunity to clean the rooms unhindered, as some of the Lords would undoubtedly be retiring to their chambers with the dancing ladies, but she still needed to finish as much as possible as quickly as possible so she could make it to her training with Robin at dusk.
By the time she’d finished, the sky was blazing. Purple clouds streaked their fingers across the fiery sky in long threads. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her so she could give her father dinner and get to the forest edge in time.
The thundering of hooves began to follow her soon after she left the castle grounds. Her heart began to race as terror gripped her. She’d never make it home. Gisborne had told Blackstock, and now he was coming to arrest her. What would happen to her father? How could she get word to Robin about Blackstock’s plans?
She froze, waiting for the inevitable. She closed her eyes and listened to the hoof beats behind her. They slowed down, and then they stopped.
“Marian?”
She swallowed hard and turned toward him, her stomach twisted in knots.
“Well, get on with it,” she said defiantly.
One eyebrow arched curiously, and he cocked his head slightly askew.
“I’ve come to take you home,” he said. “I didn’t think it would be safe for you to walk home after your spell earlier.”
“I... I’m fine,” she stammered.
“All the same, you are one of Lord Blackstock’s most faithful servants, and it would not be fitting to have you walk home after such an ordeal.”
Now she understood. They had to look good in front of the other Lords. This was not being done out of genuine concern, but as a misguided attempt to sway the Lords to their side.
“I can make it home just fine, thank you, my Lord,” she said curtly, with a brief bow.
Marian whirled around on her heel and began to march off toward her home. Gisborne clucked his tongue and slapped the reins, and the horse began to trot beside her.
“Marian, please,” he said. “It’s not proper for you to walk home alone. What if you should faint again? You’d be out here unprotected.”
“Why should you care?” Marian asked. “My Lord, it is none of your concern what happens to a lowly servant.”
“Be that as it may, you have done the castle a great service, and it would not be proper...”
“Proper,” she muttered, and he stopped speaking. “Is it proper to...”
It was then that she realized what she was about to say, and she closed her mouth. She cleared her throat and kept walking.
“Continue,” Gisborne said.
“I’m sorry, my Lord, what I have to say is nothing you should be concerned with,” she lied.
“You are free to speak without fear of retribution,” he told her. “Please, say what is on your mind.”
She stopped, her eyes wandering over the glittering surface of Lake Heron in the distance. She took a deep breath and turned to him, her dark hair fluttering gently in the breeze.
“As you wish, my Lord,” she said. “Is it proper to have a feast such as the one you had to day when the citizens are starving? Is it proper to lay a child of three years old to rest in a cheap pine box as my neighbors did last week simply because they could not afford to feed him, while our Lords are dining on venison and fine pastries?”
Gisborne’s jaw was slack. She’d done it now. Surely her insolence would be punished, despite his promise she’d have no retribution to fear.
“I believe you should be getting home,” he said after a long pause.
“Yes, my Lord,” she nodded, grateful she wasn’t being arrested.
Marian turned away and began to walk. For several moments, all was silent. Then she heard the gentle clop-clop of the horse trotting behind her. The horse’s pace matched her own as she walked. It was getting darker, so she picked up her pace, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. Still, the horse’s hooves kept with her pace.
The horse’s hooves slowed down and finally stopped as she burst through the front gate. Marian turned around and bowed politely.
“Thank you for your escort, my Lord,” she said, her lips thin and her jaw flexed.
He nodded his head curtly and pulled the horse’s rein to the left, turning it. With a cluck of his tongue, the horse broke into a gallop, and she glared as his back with narrowed eyes as he rode back toward the castle.
Shaking her head, she quickly entered the cottage, fed her father a brief meal, and strode out into the darkness with a lantern to meet Robin. He was already waiting at the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed in front of him.
“I see your friend escorted you home,” Robin said with a scowl.
“That mongrel is no friend of mine,” Marian spat.
“Are you certain? I saw the way...”
“Robin, stop it!” she snapped. “Listen,
I have to tell you what I heard today!”
“Oh? You were allowed in, after all?” Robin perked up and started to wind his way through the trees as Marian followed at his heels.
“Not exactly. I was there for the banquet, but afterwards Blackstock made us all leave.”
“Then how did you...”
“I’m getting to that!” Marian said. “Mirabelle told me to clean the guest chambers, but I snuck out to the center courtyard and listened at the window.”
The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1) Page 6