Chapter Fifteen:
Marian wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. The castle felt colder than usual. As she headed toward her suite of rooms the echo of childish laughter made her hesitate. It sounded similar to what she had heard the night before. Marian turned toward the sound, following it into a stone hallway as it faded into silence. A single torch sputtered near the entrance to the hall, its flame fighting to stay alive in a black iron holder. She stood on her toes to remove the torch from its sconce. The wall felt cold and slimy when her fingers brushed against it. It had been a long time since anyone had walked through here. Cobwebs hung down from the ceiling like filmy drapes. Marian used the torch to burn them away as she crept further down the dark hall. In front of her was a set of stone stairs leading upward.
“Is she coming?”
“Course she is.”
The voices floated down the staircase. Marian stopped and swallowed. Children would never be allowed here. It was the ghosts, it had to be. She swallowed again, heart pounding. Lord Aelfred said they played pranks. No one actually got hurt…did they? Wiping her damp hands on her gown, she forced herself forward. The ghosts were children and had died, alone and afraid. They deserved better treatment in their death then they had received in their life.
Her feet carried her up the curving stone, worn smooth after years of use. Boyish giggles accompanied her progress. She placed one hand against the uneven wall and continued upward until the steps ended at a low doorway.
Marian stepped through and found herself on the battlements. The only sound she could hear was dim footfalls. No doubt it was guards, patrolling their assigned areas. The shadows on the ground grew longer with the setting sun. She shivered again. This was where rumor said the boys had died, their bodies swaying against the walls meant to shield them from harm. A cold chill that did not come from the cooling summer air crawled across her skin.
“What now?” A boy’s high pitched voice said.
“Do not worry,” the other voice answered, “they will be here soon.”
“Who—” Marian’s voice cracked, and she tried again. “Who is coming?”
More giggles.
“She is scared of them.”
“Shhh.”
Fading light traced long fingers of gray along the edges of the low walls as the sun finally dropped completely below the horizon.
“They are coming,” the voices whispered in unison.
The hair on the back of Marian’s neck rose. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. The shadows grew longer, stretching across the battlements until they tore themselves free to swirl and eddy around her ankles. She did not move, not even when the shadows separated and coalesced into two forms, one slightly hidden behind the other. The first figure smiled at her, one hand clasping the hand of the child behind him. They were young boys on the cusp of the manhood they would never attain. Marian’s eyes welled with sympathetic tears.
“What are you doing here?” She asked.
“She does not understand.”
“They will explain it to her.” More boyish giggles followed that statement.
The first ghost raised his chin, the beginnings of a downy beard on his nearly transparent cheeks. Marian could see where the rope that hung him had cut into his windpipe. The younger boy stepped out from behind him, lifting his chin so she could see the identical marks across his throat.
“Wh—what do you want?” Marian took a cautious step forward, her hand outstretched to touch him. As her fingers touched his palm, he shimmered briefly. The unnatural shadows laughed.
The boys shrugged in unison, the younger one stepping back to stand next to the older boy, his hand reaching out to clasp the other child’s.
As Marian watched, they solidified, their features becoming more distinct. Both ghosts had curly dark hair, wide blue eyes and wore long white shirts which hung to just below their knees.
The eldest one pointed to his throat and shook his head.
“You cannot speak? But—I’ve heard the other ones...”
The boys sighed, chests rising and falling with breath they no longer had. Opening their mouths wide, they screamed wordlessly.
A screeching so ghastly it threatened to uproot Marian’s very soul emerged from the ghosts’ mouths. She dropped to her knees, her hands covering her ears. The sound faded away and Marian raised her head, eyes watering.
“I do not understand,” she said.
The youngest one pulled his hand free of the other boy and, with a wink, began to sink into the stone directly in front of her. When he was buried nearly up to his chest, he raised one ethereal hand and beckoned her closer.
Marian took a cautious step forward, but as she did, he sank further into the stone until he disappeared entirely, leaving her staring at the ghost who remained. The young boy opened his mouth and she cringed, waiting to hear his unearthly shriek. He sighed, a barely felt puff of air against her face, and vanished into the stone, his hand gesturing her to follow him.
“Wait!” she cried, “I do not understand what you want.”
Marian heard the soft metallic sound of chain mail approaching and turned.
“My lady, what are you doing here?” A single guard, his face worn and leathery, walked toward her, his footsteps slow and methodical.
“I—needed some fresh air,” Marian said.
“You came up here for some air?” The astonishment in his voice was plain, and Marian stared at him. “But—no-one comes up here. Ever.”
“Why not? Is it dangerous?” She glanced over at the edge of the castle. “The walls seem sound enough.”
“It is the ghosts, my lady.” He ran one hand across his graying beard and lowered his voice. “It is said they are strongest here, where they were killed.”
“I did hear voices,” Marian admitted. “But I thought nothing of it.”
The guard shook his head. “You should not be up here.” He glanced around. “Never know what might happen.”
“So the ghosts are real, then?” Marian followed the guard across the battlements to a staircase winding down the side of the castle to the grounds below.
“Real enough. Watch your step. These was the stairs those poor boys climbed for the hanging.”
Marian hugged the wall as they began the steep climb down. It was a long drop. “Why did they die?”
The guard stopped walking and turned on the staircase to face her. “They were innocent boys,” he said. “And I was not here when it happened.”
It was an interesting response. “What about others? Why is no-one else curious about them?”
“Milady, if you are not careful, you will fall.” The guard said, ignoring her question. “A few of the boys slipped on their way up here that night.”
“If you were not here, how do you know that?” Marian asked.
He stepped up one stair to place a hand at her elbow. “I never said I was not in the castle. Just not here.” He leaned close. “These are dangerous questions. If you could get into the dungeons, you might find some answers.”
Marian drew in breath to answer, but he shook his head. “Now, as I said, watch your step.”
“How would I access the dungeons?”
He helped her down the last step, and then turned to face her again. “You would not. It is not meant for the likes of you.”
“But you said—”
“I said if you could. I did not say you could.” He glared at her for a moment before turning swiftly and marching off.
Marian had no idea what the ghosts were trying to tell her, and the guard knew more than he was willing to admit. As much as she wanted to speak to Friar Tuck and through him to Robin, it was time for bed. Marian glanced around her. She could see corn stalks, waving lazily in the moonlit vegetable gardens. She would have to find her way around to the front of the castle in the dark, and then to her rooms.
Chapter Sixteen:
“What do you know about the dungeons?” Marian seated herself n
ext to Tuck on the marble bench.
Friar Tuck squinted at her in the bright morning light. “Is there something specific you want to know?”
Marian glanced around the courtyard. It was early enough that the only people visible were the ever present guards and a few servants. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice to a near whisper.
“One of the guards told me if I wanted answers about the ghosts, I should look in the dungeons. Do you know what he meant?”
Tuck shrugged. “I do not know why he would tell you that. The boys were not kept in the dungeons.”
“Were you here when they died?” Marian asked.
The friar turned toward her. “They did not just die, Lady Marian. They were killed. Never forget that.”
“But…why were they killed? It seems as though no-one knows.”
“Only one person knows the real reason they were hung,” Tuck said. “Prince John himself. All anyone knows for sure is that they were marched up to their deaths, one after the other, straight from their beds. Most of the people believe he simply grew tired of holding so many boys hostage to their father’s good behavior. Oh, the boys’ fathers were told a different story, one of betrayal and treason to the throne, but not one of them dared exact vengeance. Not with Richard gone.”
“So he just—gets away with murder?”
“He is not the first monarch to have done so,” Tuck said mildly. “Even King Arthur used the holy blade, Excalibur, to hold his throne.”
“I would hardly equate Prince John with King Arthur.” Marian sniffed. “Though the prince seems to believe Excalibur exists and is somewhere in Britain.”
“That is interesting. What do you believe?”
“I am not sure,” Marian admitted. “It is fantastical, if it is true.”
“It is your history. Are you telling me you do not believe it?” Tuck asked.
“I believe the sword existed at one time,” Marian said. “But to believe it still exists stretches credibility, do you not agree?”
Tuck shrugged. “There are older swords in the throne room. What makes you think Excalibur cannot exist?”
“Do you think it does?” Marian shifted on the bench.
“I am not saying that,” Tuck said. “But you cannot discount the possibility simply because it is an ancient weapon. Next time you walk through the castle, pay close attention to the walls. You will see what I mean.”
“Lady Marian? I did not expect t—to find you here.”
Marian glanced up to see Aelfred.
Tuck rose to his feet immediately. “I should go.” He nodded at the other man. “I have missed seeing you during morning prayers.”
The lord flushed. “My father does not—”
“Believe in the strength of prayer, though I had hoped he might have changed his mind since his wife passed.” Tuck finished. “I know, but you both are welcome to partake of worship nonetheless.”
“Thank you, Friar. I will pass the message t—to my father when I visit him.”
“Lady Marian, it is always a pleasure to speak with you.” Tuck nodded at her before striding away.
Aelfred shifted from foot to foot. “Will you join me for a walk around the gardens?”
Marian smiled at him. “I would be glad to.” She rose to her feet.
“Are you enjoying your st—tay?”
“It has been interesting,” Marian said. “I met the ghosts you told me about last night.”
“You actually saw them?” Aelfred glanced down at her.
Marian nodded. “Only two,” she said. “I think they were brothers.”
“Those are the only ones who ever appear,” Aelfred said. He pushed an overhanging branch away from the path, releasing it once they’d passed by. “Did you hear the shadows?”
A shiver ran up Marian’s spine. “Are those the…the boys, too?”
“Yes, they c—cannot manifest c—completely,” Aelfred said. “So they do not bother.”
They rounded a curve in the path and Marian gasped in delight. Ahead of them, just off the path in a small clearing, stood a gazebo, blooming honeysuckle climbing up the sides toward the skies. Aelfred took Marian’s arm, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “C—care to sit with me? I have something important t—to ask you.”
Marian glanced at him questioningly, but did as he asked. Once she was seated, Aelfred stood in front of her, shifting from foot to foot before he spoke in a rush. “Lady Marian, I know we just met, and I am quite a bit your elder, but would you do me the honor of allowing me t—to c—court you?”
Marian stared at him, not sure what to say. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Many girls in town had married men years their elder, but she had never expected it to be a possibility for her.
He stepped backward. “I have obviously over-stepped my bounds,” he said. “If you will exc—cuse me…” He turned away.
“No! I mean, wait!” Marian blurted. “I am just—you surprised me, that is all.”
Aelfred turned back to her, a smile lighting his otherwise homely face. “So you are—not disgusted by the idea?”
“I have a suitor back home,” she began carefully. “And it would be unfair of me to lead you on when I shall be returning to him soon.”
His face fell. “But your father gave his permission…Why would he do that if you are committed elsewhere?”
“It is—” she paused. “It is—complicated.”
“And a secret, I t—take it.”
Marian bit her bottom lip, but did not answer.
Aelfred lowered his voice. “You c—can t—trust me, Lady Marian.” He grimaced before continuing. “Not many people pay attention t—to someone like me.”
“He is not a bad man,” Marian said. “But my parents would never approve of him.”
“Then allow me the pleasure of simply k—keeping you c—company while you are here.” He smiled. “I know how lonely it c—can get.”
Marian smiled back. “I would like that very much.”
“May I join you?” He waited for Marian’s nod before seating himself next to her on the marble bench.
“T—tell me more of this secret beau of yours,” he said. “When did you meet him?”
“It is not very interesting,” Marian deflected. “Will you tell me more about what growing up here has been like?”
Aelfred shrugged. “Is there something specific you wanted t—to know?”
“Just…everything.” Marian laughed. “I am sorry I am not being very clear. Most of the time this place makes me feel like a country bumpkin.”
“Are you sure it is the place, and not the people?”
“It is the people, too,” she admitted. “Everyone is so sophisticated and beautiful all the time.”
“Only because we are bored st—tiff,” Aelfred said. “C—court was different when the k—king was here.”
Marian leaned toward him. “I have heard that before,” she said. “What do you mean?”
‘It is not appropriate for me t—to speak ill of the prince. But he runs Nottingham C—castle the same way he would run England.”
“Do you mean you do not approve of it?”
“I would like t—to see the k—king back on the throne.” Aelfred said. He leaned forward. “I know you have a suitor back home, but I simply c—cannot help myself.” Without warning, he captured Marian’s lips with his own.
Marian pushed him away. “Lord Aelfred, what are you doing?! I am spoken for!”
The man leapt to his feet, his face flaring. “I am so sorry, Lady Marian! I have no idea what c—came over me!”
“I think you need to leave,” Marian said.
“Of c—course,” Aelfred agreed. He bowed once before hurrying off.
Marian touched her lips with her fingers. Aelfred’s kiss was quite unlike Robin’s had been, and wholly inappropriate considering the difference in their ages, but not entirely unpleasant, and his views of Prince John seemed to be the same as hers. He could not possibly be her be
au, the kiss notwithstanding, but there was the possibility he could be an ally of sorts. It was something to consider.
Chapter Seventeen:
“So you have found a suitor?”
Marian squealed and leapt to her feet as Robin strolled around the corner, still hidden in his mock friar’s robes.
“What on earth? Are you spying on me?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
“No, but I was coming to find you,” Robin replied. “I just did not expect to find you kissing someone else.”
“I was not kissing him. He was kissing me.”
Robin raised one eyebrow. “So I noticed.” He stepped forward, taking Marian’s hands and tugging her closer. “Either way, I did not like it.”
“Robin, what if someone sees us?” Marian tried to pull back, to no avail.
“All they will see will be a friar, comforting a young woman who feels lost because of her first foray at court.” He grinned.
She smiled back. “You seem to have thought of everything.”
“You are not serious about allowing Lord Aelfred to court you, are you?”
Marian blushed. “No, he is far too old. Besides, I told him I already have a suitor.”
Robin’s arms slid around Marian’s waist. “And you do, at that,” he murmured before bending his head to hers and capturing her willing lips with his.
After a long, endless moment, she pushed at his chest. “But what are you doing here?”
“The Lady Nyneve sent me to find you.”
“The historian? But—why?”
“She did not tell me. I have instructions, however, to bring you to the chapel. Immediately.”
“Then should we not go?” Marian asked.
“I do not think she will mind if we delay our arrival,” Robin drawled, still holding her in the circle of his arms.
Marian thought of the historian, and silently disagreed with Robin’s assessment. The old woman scared her. But the fear did not stop her from snuggling deeper into Robin’s warm embrace. She rested her head against the scratchy woolen robe and sighed.
“I wish I could just go home,” she said softly. “Being here is complicated.”
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