Lion Heart

by A. C. Gaughen

  He would have been alive; you wouldn’t be hidden away, in whatever hell Prince John is keeping you in. Maybe then I could have forgotten you.

  Maybe not. You’re not easy to forget, Scar.

  The point of all these sketches is that I know you’re not coming back. I have faith that Prince John won’t hold you captive forever; you’ll find a way out of that prison. You will beat him, because you never give up hope. But you won’t risk returning here and bringing his fury down on Nottingham.

  And it’s not just Prince John, is it? I know you won’t risk hurting me. You won’t risk maybe hurting yourself. Because every day, when I’m a little more certain that you won’t return, part of me is furious and despondent, but part of me is so relieved, Scar.

  I’m scared of the ways you hurt me. I’m scared of the ways that you make me feel things—confront things—think things—that I never wanted. When you’re not here my life is only half of what it can be, and, coward that I am, I sometimes find comfort in that ease.

  What do I give up? Only the good things—those moments when you look at me and I’m robbed of breath. Those moments when you touch me and my mind is taken from me. Those moments when you forgive me, heal me, and I find my heart has been utterly stolen. By you. In ways that I only hope to deserve.

  So stay away, Scar. I don’t blame you. I understand. I will continue to live my half life, and I’ll only mourn how it might have been when I see the sunset, and I can’t prevent myself remembering all the things I feel for you in that half world between light and darkness, between the end and the beginning.

  Wherever you are, just remember you have my heart in your keeping, and as long as that damn sun goes up and down, I won’t be able to completely lose hope that you’ll return to me.

  When I slept, it were only after the words were formed within my heart, and my eyes were so tired I couldn’t see.

  CHAPTER

  The next morning, the girls woke me early, dressing me, braiding my hair round my head and sliding tiny white flowers into the twists. They took the fresh-bloomed wild roses from the forest and crushed their petals into my skin.

  “Scarlet!” Missy yelped, coming into the house just past midday. She sprang away from the door. “Hide!”

  “No!” I returned. “Is it Prince John? What’s happening?”

  She laughed, pulling me into the kitchen. “No! Rob’s coming.”

  Bess caught her cloak and threw it over me. “Go out the kitchen when he comes in the front,” she ordered.

  I nodded, and Missy took my hand, laughing.

  We started to do as she said, but I fast saw the flaw in her plan—the door out the kitchen were in sight of the front. And too quick, Rob opened it, and Missy and I hid off the side.

  “—went to the castle, Rob,” Much said.

  “No,” he said hot. “She didn’t. She wasn’t at the castle last night or this morning, and she was meant to be. Bess, Scar is missing. Have you seen her?”

  “She stayed with me last night, Rob,” Bess said in her soft way. Maryanne made a noise. “And you lot should know better than to burst in here with a baby about.”

  Rob sighed. “Thank God. Where is she now?”

  “Much is right. She left here and went to meet you at the castle.”

  Bess, bouncing Maryanne, glanced at us in the kitchen and saw our problem. She moved to the far side of the room, and laughed. “Oh, Sheriff, the baby’s watching you.”

  He took the bait, and Missy and I slipped out the back door, leaving it open so he wouldn’t hear it shut.

  I knew we had only a few minutes, and Missy and I started to run. Rob ducked out the back door and Missy shrieked, pushing me onward while she sought to stop Robin. He darted round her, close enough that I could see him frown at me. “Scarlet, what the hell!” he yelled at me.

  Ducking through narrow straits between houses, I broke into the main square and saw Winchester.

  “Winchester!” I cried, smiling. “Stop him!”

  He whipped his head back around and saw Rob turn the corner behind me. Without a thought, he held his arm out and Rob ran straight into it, were knocked off his feet, and slammed onto the ground on his back, still.

  I stopped with a gasp and Winchester winced, ducking down. I covered my mouth.

  Winchester stood with a smile. “Still breathing!” he said.

  “Good Lord, Winchester. I’m telling Margaret about that.”

  He shrugged. “Go hide. We’ll send him in the right direction when it’s time.”

  I nodded, turning and running at an easier pace.

  “Anyone have any rope?” I heard Winchester ask.

  I planned to go straight to the clearing, but I knew I had hours yet and my feet didn’t take me there. Instead, I found the road that cut through the wood, the one we’d given a reputation to as lawless and dangerous.

  Following it down, I found the arch where two trees knitted together, where we’d robbed many a traveler of their goods. Where we’d started, where we’d honed our skills.

  It weren’t my destination. I went onward, off the road, going on the path that were worn in by pilgrims, marked by crosses in the trees. I picked wildflowers as I went, and by the time I arrived I had a big, messy bunch in my hands.

  I didn’t go into the monastery proper. Last I’d been there had been when Rob hurt me in his sleep, and those memories weren’t far enough away. The pains in our love were never far below the surface, like the blood in the bruises they left.

  Besides, there were enough pain to face. I turned into the graveyard, and it didn’t take me long to find the new, simple stone that bore John Little’s name.

  Careful of my pretty dress, I knelt down, placing the flowers on his grave. “You’re a father, John,” I told him. “I imagine you’re watching over her already, but she’s perfect. Just perfect. Even considering she looks like you, which is something.”

  Drawing a slow breath, I pressed a hand to my stomach.

  “I’m marrying Rob today.” I smiled. “Much is giving me away. I can only imagine that if you were here you would have insisted it be you. I hope, at least. I hope after everything we went through, you didn’t really love me the way you thought you did. I hope you didn’t die because you loved me like that, not when I didn’t feel that way for you.” I looked down, sniffing. “Not when I kissed you when I wasn’t sure if I meant it.”

  A tear jumped from my eyes.

  “You died because of me, John. You died because of me and I’m sorry. There’s no reason, there’s no getting around it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I miss you, and I will always love you.”

  I brushed the water off my face, I kissed my fingers, and I pressed the fingers to his gravestone.

  “Good-bye, John,” I whispered. I crossed myself, shutting my eyes.

  In the dark behind my eyelids, I could see him there, standing, watching me. He sat on the gravestone, rubbing his thumb over where I’d kissed it.

  Good-bye, Scar, he whispered back.

  The sky were just starting to glow with color when I made my way toward the clearing before Major Oak, and when I saw it, my eyes filled with tears.

  All week long, we’d been fashioning ladders out of wood so that the townspeople—and me, to be honest—could get up into the branches of the old tree, stronger and healthier than ever after the fire last winter that were meant to destroy it. But my friends had gone further, and in the branches were draped long ribbons of cloth and garlands of flowers, making the whole tree alive with color and bits of things moving in the wind.

  Missy and Ellie were running around, lighting candles at the base of the tree. Well, sort of candles—little stubs of things that were waiting to be melted down and wouldn’t burn long. But the whole thing started to light up, and they smiled at me from their work.

  I covered my mouth, touched, as tears started to course down.

  “You can’t cry on your wedding day,” said a voice in my ear. I turned round and gasped to see Ma
rgaret, who ran to me with open arms. I caught her, hugging her tight. I saw Eleanor over her shoulder and let go of Margaret, going over to her. And losing all my words.

  She raised her chin and her eyebrow both.

  “Scar,” Much said, coming over. “He’ll be here soon. If I’m going to give you away—”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Eleanor snapped, glancing at him. “She isn’t yours, young man. You cannot give her to anyone. She is my granddaughter, and I will be the one giving her away.”

  Much’s eyes damn near jumped out of his skull. “Christ!” he yelped, dropping to all-fours on the ground. “Your royal, serene, um—holy? Highness,” Much stammered.

  I laughed. “Much, get up. Much, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen Mother of England,” I introduced. “Much Miller.”

  Her eyebrow arched up again, and she watched as Much got to his feet, brushing himself off. “One of your fellow vagabonds?”

  “The best of my fellow vagabonds,” I told her.

  She gave him a regal nod. “You may address me as ‘my lady’ or ‘my queen,’ ” Eleanor told Much.

  He turned red. “Yes, my lady. My queen. My lady Queen. And I didn’t meant to—um—steal her from you, or imply—anything. Sorry. Sorry, my queen!” he babbled.

  She touched his shoulder. “Thank you for your service, young man. You have honored me and my granddaughter. Why don’t you join the rest of the wedding.”

  Much looked like the Pope just canonized him, and he bowed deep to her. “Yes, my lady!” he said, turning and near running for the tree.

  “He does know you’re royal, doesn’t he?” Eleanor asked.

  I laughed, watching him go. “Sort of royal. How did you know about this?” I asked her.

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, how do I ever know anything? Between Margaret and Winchester there isn’t much gossip I don’t hear.” She took my hand, and drew a breath. “I will give you away, if you’ll have me.”

  I hugged her.

  Townspeople were starting to come, climbing the ladders we’d made to get up to the branches and sitting in the tree. Nervous, I took up one of the candles, holding it in my hand as the sky grew pinker and he weren’t there yet.

  I pushed the wax about. It were almost out. Raising my head, I stared into the forest.

  Hearing someone coming, everyone went silent, and my heart stopped beating.

  Winchester appeared, and he went to Margaret, taking her hand and kissing it before turning to me. “He’s right behind me,” he told me with a wink. He kept her hand and led her into the tree.

  More people had come than could fit in the tree, and they just stood round the clearing, waiting. Waiting like I were waiting.

  And then more footsteps crunched, and when a body rounded the tree, it were Rob. Allan took up his strings, playing music with a bright smile.

  Rob stopped, seeing all of this before him. Seeing me before him.

  I put the candle down, and it doused. He were dressed well; I reckoned Winchester must have somehow managed to talk him into that. It set my heart to hammering, seeing him so handsome, standing before me, piecing it all together.

  A slow smile dawned on his face, and his eyes darted past me for a breath. “My lady Queen,” he said, bowing to Eleanor.

  She nodded, and he stepped closer to me.

  “What is all this, Scarlet?” he asked.

  I were shaking, and he took my hands, surprised. “I choose you, Rob. I will always choose you. And I may not be good at it just yet, but I will choose you every day of my life. Over and over and over until I do it the best of anyone. And together, we’ll be strong enough to take on our enemies. We’ll be strong enough to take on our demons.”

  He squeezed my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles, his smile sliding off to the side. “And you couldn’t have just told me this? This lot has sent me over half of Nottinghamshire looking for you.”

  Grinning, I told him, “Our love has always been the grandest adventure, Rob. I couldn’t let our wedding be any different.”

  He blinked, and I saw water edging his bright eyes. “Our wedding.” He lifted my hands to his mouth. “Scar, you’ll finally marry me?”

  I nodded, and a tear shot down my cheek. “Yes. Finally.”

  He wiped it off. “Our last sunset apart,” he said, looking to the trees as they were soaked in orange and pink.

  He started to turn us toward the tree, but Eleanor stopped him, pushing at his chest. “I’ll thank you not to take another step, young man. I have something to say.”

  He dropped his head to her.

  “When Richard comes back, he will beat the stuffing out of you for marrying his only daughter without his consent.” Rob’s face dropped. “But I give my consent, and my blessing, which will have to be enough for him. And, of course, the more evident it is to me that you adore her, the easier he will be to mollify.”

  “You and your minstrels, you mean,” I told her.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Who doesn’t like a good song. Now just one more thing—” she told me. She turned to me, untying the cloak from under my chin. She pulled it gentle from my hair, and my shoulders, and Rob just looked at me. He looked at me like he were lost, and found, and like he loved me. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t remember this face, and ever doubt that he loved me.

  He took my hand in his, kissing it, and walked me forward to the tree.

  I led him up one ladder and then another, everyone in the tree holding it steady, as we went up to the strongest part of the tree, where the priest teetered, unsettled by the height.

  “The heartwood,” Rob murmured, looking at me. “You wanted to marry me in the heart of Major Oak.”

  I beamed at him, grateful that he understood.

  “And Scar,” he whispered.

  I leaned in close.

  “Are you wearing knives to our wedding?”

  Nodding, I laughed, telling him, “I was going to get you here one way or another, Hood.”

  He laughed, a bright, merry sound. Standing in the heart of the tree, he reached again for my hand, fingers sliding over mine. Touching his hand, a rope of lightning lashed round my fingers, like it seared us together. Now, and for always. His fingers moved on mine, rubbing over my hand before capturing it tight and turning me to the priest.

  The priest looked over his shoulder, watching as the sun began to dip. He led us in prayer, he asked me to speak the same words I’d spoken not long past to Gisbourne, but that whole thing felt like a bad dream, like I were waking and it were fading and gone for good. “Lady Scarlet,” he asked me with a smile, “known to some as Lady Marian of Huntingdon, will thou have this lord to thy wedded husband, will thou love him and honor him, keep him and obey him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, forsaking all others on account of him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  I looked at Robin, tears burning in my eyes. “I will,” I promised. “I will, always.”

  Rob’s face were beaming back at me, his ocean eyes shimmering bright. The priest smiled.

  “Robin of Locksley, will thou have this lady to thy wedded wife, will thou love her and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, forsaking all others on account of her, so long as ye both shall live?” the priest asked.

  “Yes,” Rob said. “I will.”

  “You have the rings?” the priest asked Rob.

  “I do,” I told the priest, taking two rings from where Bess had tied them to my dress. I’d sent Godfrey out to buy them at market without Rob knowing. “I knew you weren’t planning on this,” I told him.

  Rob just grinned like a fool at me, taking the ring I handed him to put on my finger.

  Laughs bubbled up inside of me, and I felt like I were smiling so wide something were stuck in my cheeks and holding me open. More shy and proud than I thought I’d be, I said, “I take you as my wedded husband, Robin. And thereto I plight my troth.” I pushed the ring onto his finger.


  He took my half hand in one of his, but the other—holding the ring—went into his pocket. “I may not have known I would marry you today, Scar,” he said. “But I did know I would marry you.” He showed me a ring, a large ruby set in delicate gold. “This,” he said to me, “was my mother’s. It’s the last thing I have of hers, and when I met you and loved you and realized your name was the exact color of the stone—” He swallowed, and cleared his throat, looking at me with the blue eyes that shot right through me. “This was meant to be, Scarlet. I was always meant to love you. To marry you.”

  The priest coughed. “Say the words, my son, and you will marry her.”

  Rob grinned and I laughed, and Rob stepped closer, cradling my hand. “I take you as my wedded wife, Scarlet. And thereto I plight my troth.” He slipped the ring on my finger and it fit.

  “Receive the Holy Spirit,” the priest said, and kissed Robin on the cheek.

  Rob’s happy grin turned a touch wolflike as he turned back to me, hauling me against him and angling his mouth over mine. I wrapped my arms around him and my head spun—I couldn’t tell if we were spinning, if I were dizzy, if my feet were on the ground anymore at all, but all I knew, all I cared for, were him, his mouth against mine, and letting the moment we became man and wife spin into eternity.

  CHAPTER

  There were so many people around us I couldn’t count them all. I didn’t much care to either—there were no hunger or thirst, no pain or weariness. Rob and I danced and kept dancing, close in each other’s arms, as the light of the sunset gave way to the torch-lit dark of night.

  I had no way of knowing what the time really were, but at some point Rob and I stole away a little, and he leaned me against a tree, kissing me until my whole body shivered and burned in the same strange moment.

  “You look so beautiful,” he told me, pulling out one of the flowers that Missy had braided into my hair. “The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

  “You’re awful handsome yourself,” I told him, running my hands over his chest. “Too handsome by far. We’ll have to make you much uglier now you’re married,” I told him. “Make sure all the ladies want to keep their hands off.”