Heir of Locksley

by N B Dixon

  “Oh yes, I have heard it all before.” Lady Gisborne sounded angry. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Sneaking around, meeting in out-of-the-way hovels like some peasant girl on a tryst. Do you think I don’t know how many of them you have consoled yourself with over the years?”

  “None of them could hold a candle to you. Anyway, how do you think I feel? Watching you fawn over that weakling of a husband of yours, pretending I can stand the man.”

  “I am sick of this pretence. How much longer can we go on like this?”

  “Not long, dearest. You said yourself, your husband is failing. We must be patient. It cannot be long now.”

  “His health has been failing these last five years. I wish it would fail a lot faster.”

  There was a rustling noise. When Robin’s father spoke again, his voice was gentler than Robin had ever heard it.

  “We will be together. Soon, we won’t have to hide. We can announce our love to the world. You will be mine, and I shall be the happiest man in England.”

  “Geoffrey.” Lady Gisborne spoke his name on a sigh.

  “I love you, Amelia. Never forget that.”

  More rustling sounds. Another sigh, longer this time.

  Robin stumbled away from the door. His stomach heaved again, but this time, there was nothing inside him to bring up. He began walking, not caring about the direction. He knew only that he had to get away.

  “Well,” Will said, falling into step beside him. “That was interesting.”

  “Leave me alone,” Robin muttered.

  Will caught him by his shoulders, pulling him to a halt. “Are you all right?”

  “I…yes. That is, I don’t know. I need to…” Robin left his sentence unfinished. He didn’t know what he needed to do—only that he had to be on his own.

  “Who was that, then? You look as if you recognised them.”

  Robin’s voice was a croak. “He is my father, and she…she is Guy of Gisborne’s mother.”

  Will let go of him without another word, and Robin set off again, hoping his friend understood.

  By the time Robin reached his quarters, his head felt ready to spin off his shoulders. Unluckily, Martha caught him as he was about to enter his room. She took one look at him, and her mouth set in a disapproving line.

  “Master Robin.” She didn’t often call him that. She ushered him into his room. “You naughty boy. What were you thinking?”

  “My head hurts.” Robin knew he sounded childish but couldn’t bring himself to care.

  “I dare say.” Martha was unsympathetic. “Lie down. I shall return shortly.”

  Robin lay down obediently. He was still reeling from what he had heard, but every time he focused on it, his mind recoiled. More than anything, he wanted to sleep.

  Far too soon, Martha was back.

  “Up you get.” Ignoring his groan of protest, she helped him sit and forced a cup of some herbal infusion into his hands. “Drink it up now. All of it. It will settle your stomach and help you to sleep. We need you right as rain for the feast this evening.”

  Robin took a sip and gagged at the bitter taste. He started to push the cup away.

  “None of that.” Martha was relentless. “This is what happens to boys who do silly things. They have to take their punishment. There will be plenty of time for this sort of thing when you’re older.”

  Robin somehow managed to empty the cup. He lay down and felt himself begin to drift off almost at once.

  ***

  Robin didn’t know how long he slept. He supposed, from the angle of the sun that it had been at least two or three hours. He woke feeling better. His head was clearer and didn’t ache so much, and his stomach wasn’t queasy anymore.

  However, he knew something was very wrong, and as he lay there, it came seeping back, the conversation he had overheard between his father and Lady Gisborne.

  They were lovers. Robin tried to deny it. Maybe he had misunderstood, but his father had said he loved her and they had spoken of Sir Benedict. Lady Gisborne had actually wished for his death.

  Robin could hardly believe it. Sir Benedict was such a kind man, and yet his wife and his best friend had been meeting in secret behind his back. At least Sir Benedict wasn’t there to witness his wife’s infidelity. He had returned to Gisborne Manor on business.

  Robin thought of his mother. Perhaps because his father had always been so cold and distant towards him, he had built his mother up as someone kind and good and innocent. When he was little, and his father had beaten him for some misdemeanour or other, he had talked to her inside his head, pretending she could hear him.

  Of course, he knew such behaviour was childish, and he had long since grown out of it, but all the same, this betrayal of his father’s felt like a slap in the face to her memory. Had he ever loved her? Or had he been secretly in love with Lady Gisborne the whole time?

  Robin rose from his bed and started changing for dinner. He would confront his father later, demand the truth.

  Voices floated down the corridor to his chamber. Robin recognised Katrina’s laugh. He heard Guy say something, then, to his horror, Sir Benedict answered.

  What am I to do? Robin was seized abruptly with a desire to stay hidden in his room, to plead illness. He chided himself for being a coward. Why should he be afraid to face Sir Benedict? His conscience was clear.

  He emerged, tugging his tunic straight. Sir Benedict was just rounding the corner, Guy, Bryan and Katrina in tow.

  “Robin, you’re looking pale.” Sir Benedict’s face settled into a mask of concern.

  Guilt tugged at Robin, and shame on his father’s account.

  “It’s just a headache, sir. You’re back early.”

  “Yes, indeed. I thought it would be a nice surprise for my family, though my wife is apparently not to be found anywhere. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

  This was it. He could lie and say he’d been in his chamber all day, or he could tell the truth. Robin opened his mouth but no words came out.

  Sir Benedict misinterpreted his silence. “What is it, lad? Has something happened to Lady Amelia? Tell me, quickly.”

  Katrina’s hand flew to her mouth. “Is Mother hurt?”

  Guy was glaring suspiciously at Robin. There was no help for it.

  “She’s with my father in the hay barn.”

  “What would she be doing there?” Katrina asked, puzzled.

  Sir Benedict’s face had frozen. It looked as if it had been carved from wood.

  “You are sure?”

  “I heard them in there.”

  “He’s lying,” Guy snapped.

  “Take me to them,” Sir Benedict ordered.

  As they neared the barn, Robin found himself hoping it would be deserted, that he had been mistaken.

  Sir Benedict drew his sword and struck the barn door a resounding blow. A scream came from inside.

  “Locksley!” Sir Benedict roared. “Get out here, you knave.”

  Sir Benedict didn’t give either his wife or Lord Locksley a chance to obey. He struck the door another blow with his sword and the old wood splintered. Sir Benedict flung it open. Daylight flooded in, revealing Lady Gisborne crouched in the straw. Her hair was loose and dishevelled and she wore nothing but her linen shift, which was open to reveal her bare breasts.

  Robin stared, both fascinated and repelled. Then his eyes went to his father. Lord Locksley was wearing his hose, which he was in the act of re-lacing. His tunic and sword lay discarded in the straw along with Lady Gisborne’s dress. It was a damning tableau.

  “I knew it.” Sir Benedict’s voice trembled with rage.

  For all his undignified appearance, Lord Locksley remained calm.

  “I can explain, Benedict.”

  But Sir Benedict had eyes only for his wife.

  “All those secret rides into the forest. The lingering looks I told myself I hadn’t seen. Those times you pleaded ill-health so you didn’t have to accompany me, always at a time when Lo
cksley was also detained. I put it down to coincidence. I turned a blind eye for our children’s sake.”

  In two strides, he had crossed the barn and seized Lady Gisborne by the shoulders.

  Katrina screamed.

  “How long?” Sir Benedict shouted, shaking her. “How long have you gone behind my back?”

  “Get your hands off me.” Lady Gisborne’s voice dripped icy contempt. “Did you really expect any woman could love a doddering old fool like you with one foot in the grave?”

  Sir Benedict shoved her away from him. “I loved you, Amelia, and you betray me with my best friend.”

  Lord Locksley had finished dressing. He moved between them. “We can talk about this later, Benedict. The sheriff is expecting us in the great hall. We must keep up appearances.”

  Sir Benedict levelled his sword at Lord Locksley, and Robin gasped.

  “Is that what you’ve been doing all these years? Keeping up appearances? Pick up your weapon, if you have any honour left, and we’ll settle this now.”

  Lord Locksley retrieved his sword without a word and stood to face his former friend.

  Robin knew only too well what was about to happen. This was no mock fight. This was a fight to the death. He saw the look of dawning realisation on Guy’s face. Katrina ran to her mother and hid her face against her shoulder. Lady Gisborne, however, did not take her eyes off the two men. There was a look of avid anticipation on her face that sickened Robin. He knew she would make no move to interfere. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bryan slip away. He hoped the other boy had gone for help.

  “Father, you can’t—” Robin began.

  “Hold your tongue,” Lord Locksley barked. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  The two men circled each other. Fury had lent Sir Benedict strength. All his usual signs of frailty had gone, as had his kindly smile.

  Sir Benedict struck. Lord Locksley parried the thrust, and they exchanged a bewildering series of blows almost too fast to follow.

  Robin’s heart was in his mouth. Beside him, Katrina was weeping silently, still clinging to her mother.

  Sir Benedict got under Lord Locksley’s guard and scored a shallow gash on his arm. Blood flowed and Robin’s terror spiked.

  He turned in desperation to Guy. “Talk to your father. He might listen to you.”

  Guy rounded on him. Robin was taken aback by the hatred in the other boy’s eyes.

  “This is all your fault.”

  The accusation momentarily distracted Robin. His own temper flared. “I did nothing. It’s your mother who is the whore.”

  Guy drew back his fist and slammed it into Robin’s nose. Robin heard the crunch as pain exploded through his head. Blood fountained across his face.

  He spat some from his mouth and then launched himself at Guy. Robin’s fist connected with Guy’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Robin leapt on him before he could rise and drove a knee into Guy’s ribs.

  Then a deep, authoritative voice cut through the clash of swords and the yelling. “Stop! Christ Jesu, Stop, I say!”

  Everyone froze. Robin recognised Sir Richard of Lee’s voice. He supposed Bryan must have gone for him.

  Sir Richard yanked Robin and Guy apart and then moved between the two swordsmen.

  Robin saw his eyes travel from them to Lady Gisborne’s half-clothed form. Robin got to his feet, trying without success to stem the flow of blood from his nose with his sleeve. Only then did he realise that a sizeable crowd had been drawn. Dressed in their dinner finery, they all stood gaping at the spectacle.

  “Go to your room,” Sir Richard snapped at Robin. Then to Lord Locksley, “What in the name of God is happening here?”

  ***

  Martha jumped up as Robin staggered in. She had been sewing by the fire.

  “Oh my goodness. What happened?”

  “There was a fight downstairs,” Robin muttered thickly.

  Martha ran for a salve and hot water. With infinite care, she sponged the blood from Robin’s face.

  “Your nose is broken,” she said. Robin wasn’t surprised.

  Martha wrapped her arms around him. Robin realised he was shaking. His cheeks coloured with shame, but the image of his father locked in a fight for his life kept flitting across his mind. It was his fault. If his father was badly hurt, it would be all his fault. He had led Sir Benedict to him. His anger had cooled, to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of tiredness.

  He even, to his surprise, felt sorry for Guy. After all, it couldn’t have been pleasant learning the truth about his mother like that. Robin was sure that in Guy’s place, he would have reacted the same way.

  “What happened?” Martha repeated as she rubbed salve into his rapidly swelling nose. Though she was as gentle as she could be, it still hurt. More to distract himself from the pain than because he really wanted to, Robin told Martha about discovering his father and Lady Gisborne together and what had followed.

  Martha dropped her salve, eyes wide. “Lady Gisborne and your father? Well, I never would have guessed that. Poor Sir Benedict. He is such a kind man. What a terrible way for him to find out.”

  It was with a mixture of fear and dread that Robin at last heard his father’s familiar step in the hall.

  The door was flung open. Lord Locksley stood framed there. To his relief, Robin saw that apart from a bandage around his upper arm, he was unhurt.

  “Do you have anything to say?”

  Robin looked down. “I never meant for you to be hurt. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry, are you? Well, you may long have cause to be sorry for your actions today.” Lord Locksley surveyed his son. “Why, Robin?”

  Robin got to his feet. Now the concern for his father’s safety was over, his defiance returned. “You betrayed my mother.”

  Lord Locksley crossed the room. He slapped Robin across the face, hard enough to make him stagger. Robin regained his balance, his head ringing.

  Martha let out a small sound of distress.

  “You dare to stand in judgement over me? You are an interfering brat who knows nothing of the world. We return to Locksley tomorrow. You will stay out of my sight until then and on our return, you will be confined to your room until further notice.” He pointed at Martha. “Leave him,” he snapped.

  “But, My Lord, he still needs tending—”

  “You dare to argue with me? You will remember your place unless you wish to find yourself without employment. You have babied my son for too long. It is time he grew up and took responsibility for his actions.”

  That stung. Robin didn’t understand why he was being blamed. Nor did he see what else he could have done when Sir Benedict demanded to see his wife.

  Lord Locksley pushed Martha ahead of him through the door and then slammed it, leaving Robin alone. He lay back on his bed, with nothing to distract him from his throbbing nose. He had a feeling nothing would ever be the same again.

  * * * * *

  Part 2

  Summer 1188

  * * * * *

  Chapter 9

  Lucy lay on her hard pallet in the mill loft, straining to catch her parents’ voices. They floated up to her, low and anxious.

  “You’ll just bring trouble down on us.”

  She heard the break in her mam’s voice and her stomach twisted with dread. What on Earth could Da be planning? He’d been withdrawn for days, ever since Edgar’s visit.

  “We don’t have a choice. It’ll be all right.”

  Though Da’s tone was reassuring, Lucy felt far from comforted. If anything, her sense of foreboding increased.

  “Poaching is against the law. What if you were caught?”

  Lucy started. Da couldn’t be serious. She shot a worried look over to where her younger brother, Much, lay, a motionless shape beneath his thin blanket.

  “I’m a fair shot, and I’ll take Peter with me. He’s none too skilled with a bow, but his eyes are sharp enough. He can keep lookout.”

  Lucy wanted to tell her
da not to be so foolish. He would be caught on the first try. She shuddered to think what would happen then.

  Anyone caught poaching in Sherwood suffered mutilation, either by blinding or the removal of a hand, and that was if they were lucky. Get caught again, and it would mean a hanging.

  Mam seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “We’re close to the borders of Sherwood here. Lord Locksley is bound to have foresters patrolling the area. You haven’t a hope.”

  “So you would have us thrown out on the streets? Lord Locksley has raised the rent. That’s what Edgar came to tell me. Taxes are going up. We don’t have enough to meet this month’s rent, and we’re already in debt. If we use what little money we have to buy food, we’ll have nothing the next time Edgar comes calling. He’ll have no choice but to evict us. Do you want to subject Much to a winter out in the cold without a roof over his head? It would kill him, Meg, you know it would.”

  Lucy could hear Mam’s quiet sobs. Was Da right? Would they really lose their home? Their family had worked the mill at Locksley for generations. It was the only mill for miles. The villagers of Locksley had to bring their grain here. If the mill closed down, how would they live?

  Lucy thought of Much. He had always been frail and sickly. He was small for his age, too. Last winter, he had contracted an ague, which had brought with it a dangerous fever and a hacking cough. For days, he had hovered at death’s door. In desperation, Lucy’s parents had sought the advice of Old Molly, the village wise woman, but even her cheap prices were a drain on their resources. Much had pulled through, but at a cost.

  “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

  Lucy jumped. She hadn’t realised Much was awake.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard everything. “Go back to sleep. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Lucy could make out Much’s face in the moonlight slanting through gaps in the roof thatch. He was pale, and his lips were trembling.

  “It’s because of me that Da is behind with the rent. If he goes hunting in Sherwood and gets caught, it’ll be my fault.”

  Lucy crawled over to his mattress and took his hand. It was cool in hers, thin and fragile as a bird’s wing. She remembered when his skin had burned to her touch, as though he were on fire from the inside out. His hollow-cheeked face looked even more pinched with worry.