Lion Heart

by A. C. Gaughen

  I drew a long breath as Margaret came toward us. She raised her chin, walked forward, and though I couldn’t say the same, she never turned round once as we walked out of the courtyard and into the gardens.

  When Leicester came out, Winchester weren’t with him. Leicester nodded to Margaret, flicking his fingers at her like a dog, and at his command, she went.

  The first few words of their exchange were too quiet to hear, but she cried, “Father, please!” and everyone in the garden went silent.

  “No,” he said sharp. “You will obey me. You will marry de Clare. You will listen to your betters and do as I say!”

  “But Winchester is a better man! An earl in his own right already.”

  “And you care for him,” Leicester snarled. “Do you not think I’ve heard of your wanton ways? The prince himself came to me, telling me of your behavior. The queen has written to me to say she wishes to attend the wedding, and if that were not so, you would marry de Clare tomorrow, my girl. No more of your protestations.”

  “Father, please—” she begged.

  He slapped her.

  I ran forward, stepping in front of Margaret. She curled herself, sobbing free, against my back. “Lady Huntingdon—” Leicester started.

  “Scarlet,” Rob said, coming to me. “Take Margaret inside. Now.”

  I met Rob’s eyes, and his blue oceans were hot with anger. I nodded once, glaring at Leicester.

  Turning, I took Margaret full in my arms, and I hauled her out of the gardens. We bare made it inside the wall of the palace when her legs stopped holding her, and rather than drag her, I crumpled round her, trying to make my arms a fortress like Rob’s arms were for me. I petted her head and kissed her hair, and she just cried on me.

  “I thought—I thought I would have a happy end,” she whispered, hiccoughing with sobs. “I loved a man suitable to my station, without a wife, who was free to love me too. How did that end badly?” she said. “I did everything I was meant to.”

  “It’s not the end,” I told her.

  I brought her back to her chambers, and stayed with her until she slept. When I returned to my own, Winchester were there with Rob. His nerves were gone, and in its place, a cold, hard anger.

  He saw me and stood. “Locksley’s terrible at this, Marian,” he told me.

  Rob stood too, frowning.

  “At what?” I questioned, coming in.

  “I need a plan,” he said. “I’m going to marry Margaret one way or another.”

  “And this came for you,” Rob said, holding a letter.

  I came to them, sitting beside Rob and taking it. It were in Eleanor’s hand, and I broke the seal. “Eleanor’s coming with Essex and Bigod,” I said, reading it quick. “With a considerable amount of silver.”

  “No,” Winchester said. “I don’t give a damn about the ransom right now. I’m not letting that monster lay a finger on Margaret.”

  “Neither are we,” I told him, leaving the letter in my lap.

  “You have to run away,” Rob said. “That’s your only option.”

  I rubbed my head. “Not your only option. But it is a good one. Goodness knows that’s how Eleanor married King Henry.”

  “That was against her will, though. Margaret’s willing, isn’t she?”

  Frowning, I said, “I’m not certain. She wants to honor her father’s wishes. I can’t help you if she doesn’t agree to it.”

  “There’s no way I’ll be let near her,” Winchester said. “Will you speak to her, Marian?”

  I nodded. “Yes. But if she agrees to marry de Clare, you have to respect her wish,” I told him.

  His mouth twisted. “I don’t know if I can,” Winchester said, his voice rough. “But I’ll try.” Standing, he shook his head. “I’m going for a ride,” he said. “I can’t . . . I can’t be here a moment longer.”

  He didn’t even wait for good-byes as he quit the room.

  Rob leaned back, draping his arm over me and staring up. “And I thought our love was fraught,” he said.

  I held up the letter. “If they’re bringing more silver, we need to wait until it’s here to steal it,” I told him. “We can only make this play once, and if Prince John has enough to fill the treasury back up again the plan is useless.”

  Rob looked at me. “There’s no way if Eleanor, a huge number of nobles, and de Clare are here for a wedding, Prince John isn’t planning on coming. Especially since I’m sure de Clare has sent word that we’re here by now. Prince John won’t be able to stay away. Which means stealing the money when he’s here. When he’s watching.”

  “And when Winchester is either too drunk with grief or running off with his bride to help us,” I added.

  He drew a breath and closed his eyes, his throat working. “There are a million ways this can end badly, Scar.”

  I nodded. “There always were.”

  CHAPTER

  That night, I went to visit Margaret. She were awake in her room, staring out the window, quiet.

  She turned to me when I entered. “Have you seen Saer?” she asked.

  I nodded. “He’s gone riding. I thought that meant an hour or two, but Rob thinks he won’t be back until tomorrow or the next day.”

  She sighed. “That will clear his mind.”

  “He wants to run away with you,” I said.

  She looked at me with wide eyes. “He does?”

  Sitting beside her, I nodded. “I told him I would help you both if you consented. If you wanted to overthrow your father’s wishes.”

  She looked at me. “You did that, didn’t you? Disobeyed your father. Ran away.”

  My shoulders lifted. “It turns out he was not actually my father, but yes. I ran away—without a man—instead of marrying Gisbourne, who my father wanted for me. I was young, though. Not ready in so many ways.”

  “And it was the right choice?” she asked.

  I sighed. “Maybe. I think life becomes a fabric of choices, interwoven, all related. I think I had to run away then to be married to Rob now. But running away also cost me the life of my sister. It split my life into these two things, thief and lady.”

  “You aren’t split. You’re simply more than one thing at once.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think I would have chosen different,” I told her. “But this path has been costly beyond measure, and fraught with darkness and pain. I would wish different things for you.”

  She stared out the window again. “I don’t understand if the less painful path would be to marry de Clare and obey my father, or Saer. The man I love.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t say either. But being married to someone you love . . .” I stopped, shivers running over my skin. “I never imagined I could care for someone like this. I didn’t think I had that in me.”

  She took my hand, gave me a weak smile, and looked out the window as her smile faded. “I can’t disobey my father,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

  Isabel called for a feast to be held the next evening to celebrate the engagement of Margaret and de Clare. Even in so little time, the palace cooks made a ridiculous spectacle of stuffed birds that looked frozen in flight, sugar confections that appeared as if from some kind of strange dream, and food enough to feed half of London.

  There were minstrels called in, and I shouldn’t have been a bit surprised to see Allan amongst them, but I were. Rob laughed beside me, grinning my way.

  “I have prepared something exquisite for the princess,” Allan said, bowing to Isabel.

  She beamed at this. “Very well, minstrel,” she said. “Play on.”

  Allan glanced at me with a wink, and I glanced at Rob, horrified and hoping I weren’t the princess he meant. Allan swept out in another, fancy bow for Isabel, and he nodded to his fellows.

  A bonny fine maid of a noble degree,

  With a hey down down a down down

  Maid Marian called by name,

  Did live in the North, of excellent worth,

  For she was a g
allant dame.

  For favor and face, and beauty most rare,

  Queen Hellen she did excel;

  For Marian then was praised of all men

  That did in the country dwell.

  ’Twas neither Rosamond nor Jane Shore,

  Whose beauty was clear and bright,

  That could surpass this country lass,

  Beloved of lord and knight.

  The Earl of Huntingdon, nobly born,

  That came of noble blood,

  To Marian went, with a good intent,

  By the name of Robin Hood.

  With kisses sweet their red lips meet,

  For she and the earl did agree;

  In every place, they kindly embrace,

  With love and sweet unity.

  Rob kissed my hand, but I felt pale and weak and sick. This couldn’t be a good thing, and I felt eyes on me, de Clare and Isabel at the very least.

  The song went on, verse after verse, telling some silly false story of kisses and feasts and me getting wounded and Rob rushing to my aid. Which, I’m sure, were true in some way, but it felt strange and different, and I sounded like a simpering lady. Not one word of my knives, or the scrapes I’d saved him from. I felt myself scowl deeper and deeper at Allan.

  “It isn’t really about us,” Rob whispered to me. “It’s what they want to hear.”

  “They want to hear lies,” I grunted.

  He flipped my hand over. “Stories aren’t about what’s true; what’s real and not real.”

  His fingers trailed over mine, and mine chased after him, fingertips touching, kissing, breaking. “No?” I asked.

  “No. Stories are told to make you feel something, and they can tell ours over and over again, and every time it will be something different.”

  He drew a heart in my palm with his fingertip, and I looked at him.

  He grinned. “Pay attention; Allan will be hurt if you miss it.”

  In solid content together they lived,

  With all their yeomen gay;

  They lived by their hands, without any lands,

  And so they did many a day.

  But now to conclude, an end I will make

  In time, as I think it good,

  For the people that dwell in the North can tell

  Of Marian and bold Robin Hood.

  He finished with a great big flourish of music, and Rob’s hand slid full into mine. I looked at Rob, shy over my shoulder, and he were staring at me, drunk on me, leaning forward until our lips met.

  All I could hear were the strange symphony of my breath and my heart and his heart until our lips parted, and then I could hear people clapping. I pulled away from him, frightened, but no one were cruel about it; they were smiling, laughing, clapping in a happy way, celebrating us.

  Here. At court, where I’d only known games and claws and teeth.

  I looked back at him. “I love you,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “I love you too. And that’s the best chance we have,” he told me.

  The clapping died down, and de Clare, sitting between Leicester and Margaret, cleared his throat.

  “Surely, minstrel, your tale is taller than most,” he said.

  Allan gave a fancy bow. “Nay, my lord, for the proof sits here with us.”

  De Clare tapped his finger on the table. “Yes, the subjects of your story are here. But you failed to capture many things I’m sure the prince would be most upset about.”

  “Please correct me, my lord, so I don’t make such a mistake in the future,” Allan said.

  “You forgot the true hero of the story was the prince, triumphing over two fools who tested his patience and his generosity at every turn. They fought his knights, they stole his bread. The Lady Huntingdon even tried to kill him. You praise a traitor, minstrel.” De Clare twisted his cup on the table. “I cannot think that the prince will look kindly on such.”

  “Lady Huntingdon is no traitor,” Margaret said to him.

  “Forgive me; she was a traitor and is now a high-ranking lady instead,” de Clare said, taking her hand and squeezing hard enough that she winced. “Things change so quickly I can barely hope to keep up.”

  “My wife is an uncommon thing,” Rob said, his deep voice rumbling. “Stalwart and brave in all things. It is the prince, and perhaps the law, that changes so swiftly, for she is like the evergreen forest, eternal and sure.”

  De Clare chuckled. “The prince will be here soon, my lord,” de Clare told Rob, “and you’ll see how he feels about your wife. And you.” De Clare raised his cup to Allan. “You most of all, minstrel.”

  “Come now, de Clare, it was a lovely song,” Lady Suffolk said.

  “Yes,” Suffolk said, beside her. “But perhaps we ignored our best source of adventure. De Clare, please, tell us of the goings-on in the north.”

  De Clare took a deep drink, enjoying the attention, and Rob’s hand wrapped warm around mine.

  “I will say,” de Clare began, “that England has never been more resplendent, more proud and glorious. York was the first major city we went to, and the beauty we saw there—beyond compare.” He glanced round, taking in the warm smiles before going on. “The redheads, the blondes—Lord on high, I saw one bit of fun with the best—”

  “Enough,” Isabel said.

  De Clare laughed heartily.

  “Quite enough,” Isabel repeated. “Or do you need to be removed from the table, de Clare?”

  “With so lovely a dinner companion—” he started, pulling Margaret’s hand and trying to drag it to his mouth.

  She pulled away with a gasp, and even her father glared.

  “Don’t touch me,” he mocked. “Like you don’t enjoy a man’s hands on you.” He shrugged. “You’ll learn to like my touch soon enough, wife!” he crowed, drinking more wine.

  “De Clare,” Leicester said, standing. “You’ve had enough for one night. Why don’t you absent yourself?”

  De Clare got to his feet. He weren’t drunk at all, just an ill-mannered brute. “Very well, Father. I’m sure you know best.”

  Leicester frowned. “Don’t mock the bonds of marriage,” Leicester said. “You will not refer to me as such until it’s true.”

  De Clare laughed and turned back to Margaret. He leaned over her chair and took her chin, kissing her full on the mouth.

  Leicester’s scowl burned red.

  De Clare let her go, and quit the hall.

  CHAPTER

  Winchester returned, roaming the palace like a moody beast. Rob tried to keep him out of doors as much as he could.

  Allan spent much of his time in London. He wouldn’t tell me for sure that Kate agreed to our plot, only that he knew she would come through when we needed her. It weren’t reassuring, and the days were passing faster.

  We received word that Eleanor and her party would arrive by nightfall five days after Leicester. No one had heard when Prince John would come, but I could feel him drawing close like a gathering storm.

  Leicester declared that his daughter would be married on Sunday, two days after Eleanor were meant to arrive.

  Margaret didn’t come to the gardens anymore. She didn’t want to see de Clare, she didn’t want to see Winchester. I rather thought she wanted time to grind to a halt before Sunday ever came, but that weren’t in God’s plan just yet.

  The nobles gathered in the garden. Rob and Winchester seemed engaged in a serious debate with Suffolk, and I could no longer walk aimless in a strange place where nature were made careful and pretty instead of wild and free.

  David followed me as I left the gardens, but I waved him off. I didn’t want to be followed; I just wanted to be alone.

  There were a little brook past the gardens, and I crossed it, walking through a field and making for a copse of trees ahead. The farther I walked, their tittering whispers faded out, replaced by birds talking animatedly to one another, flying and swooping above me. The blades of long grass in the field slid against one another, shushing me, and the sun
beat down on all of it, making it glitter.

  Inside the copse of trees, the air were cool and fresh, and I shut my eyes, wishing myself back in Nottingham.

  Just a few days more, I promised myself. And all this will be finished.

  As soon as the trunks of silver arrived with Eleanor, we could spring into action. Prince John or not, we could protect the realm, and we could be free.

  I stayed as long as I could, hiding in the trees, trying to draw on their strength. Maybe Prince John wouldn’t arrive until the next day, and we could finish this after Eleanor arrived.

  As I crossed the brook to come back to the castle, riders on the road kicked up dust to come around the curve, slowing at the gate. My blood went cold and still as I saw Prince John riding at the forefront, and he saw me clear in the sun.

  His horse and men stopped as the portcullis were raised, and I curtsied. “Prince John,” I greeted, tight-lipped. “Welcome to court.”

  He dismounted, coming to me with a bright, false smile. “Lady Huntingdon. My God, you just keep on turning up alive, don’t you?” He laughed like he’d said something funny, coming close to me. I backed up. “You know, it’s simply so difficult to enlist able men these days. So next time I try to kill you,” he said, meeting my gaze, “I’ll be the one holding the blade.”

  I stopped backing up as the gate opened full and knights came out, taking the prince’s horse and men inside, keeping people between us. Prince John gave me a grin and inclined his head to me, walking into the palace.

  Eleanor arrived within a few hours, and when she did, she called me for a private audience. “You did as I asked?” I said.

  “Hello, my darling granddaughter,” Eleanor said, embracing me. “So lovely to see you.”

  “I know you like your manners, Eleanor, but now is hardly the time.”

  She looked wounded. “There is always enough time for exquisite manners, Marian.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And yes, I did as you asked. Since I’m certain it will all be for nothing, I prepared the chests for you.”

  Drawing a breath, I nodded. “Thank you.”