Lion Heart

by A. C. Gaughen

  Once, my eyelids slipped closed, and I saw David behind my eyes, lying dead on the grass. Then the grass changed to snow, and the body changed to John. My eyes snapped open, and for a moment, I gasped for breath, and the vision still burned in my eyes, but it were Rob’s body lying crumpled on the ground.

  My hands shook, but I folded them in prayer, asking God to protect David like I couldn’t in life, to keep John out of trouble, and to protect Rob. It were damned little, but it were all I could do.

  The sky had begun to turn blue, the first herald of dawn, and I hadn’t heard anything from Rob in a long while.

  My heart were drumming in my chest, steady and hard, and it made my whole body shake.

  The door opened, and Prince John came in. He grabbed my arm, hauling me up. “Tell me—” He stopped, cocking his head. “Actually, I rather hope you won’t tell me. I’m very much looking forward to killing you both.”

  “Where is he?” I demanded.

  He pushed me out the open door, and I saw another door hanging open down the hall. A knight tied my hands, and Prince John led me down the stairs to stand in the open doorway. Rob were on a horse, being led to the tree, and the rope tied round his neck were thrown over a thick branch. He were bruised and bloody, and water pushed into my eyes and my heart ached.

  I looked toward the gate. The pounding weren’t my heart now; it were the gates.

  “Yes,” he said. “We have visitors. Which means we need to make this very quick, Marian. Tell me where the money is, right now, or I will hang him. Hangings kill people in one of two ways, did you know that?”

  He looked at me for some response, but I just stared at Rob.

  “The first is the more humane, of course. Often times the fall is so long and sharp that the jerk of the rope pulling tight just snaps the neck.” He snapped his fingers, and I flinched. “Dead. Just like that. The other is more horrible. They fall, and instead of instantly dying, their windpipe is crushed. They can’t breathe. Blood can’t drain out of the head, and it’s the worst, most awful headache you’ve ever had.” He leaned close to my ear. “It feels like your head is about to burst open.”

  A tear fell out of my eye.

  “He’s only a few feet off the ground,” he observed. “Just enough to keep his toes from the grass. I don’t think it will be enough to snap his neck, do you?”

  My eyes closed, and more water rushed out. “Your mother is right outside,” I told him. “You do this, and she will never forgive you. England will never forgive you.”

  “I am her son!” he screamed at me. “She will side with me, she will protect me, she will start the cheer to proclaim me as king once she hears her precious Richard is dead!”

  I glanced at the gate, at the guards, at Rob. “Prove it,” I challenged him. “If she comes in and sides with you, I’ll tell you where the money is.”

  He sneered. “You think I won’t murder you in cold blood with an audience?” he growled. “I’m willing to make it public. My people need to learn the same lesson you do. They need to learn to obey me, and they need to see how high the price will be if they fail.”

  Prince John nodded to a knight. “Surround the gate, and open it. Guard the prisoner,” he ordered.

  The knights all snapped to attention, a small group surrounding the tree and the rest forming a double wall in a half circle around the gate, their swords drawn. Once the gate were opened, the people there could only come in so far. If they started to push, like rioters were wont to do, they would fall on swords.

  The portcullis were raised, and the gate opened.

  People started to rush in, but they halted when they saw the swords.

  “Make way!” someone yelled, and I saw a carriage pushing up the way. It halted, and people pushed aside for Eleanor to come.

  But not just Eleanor.

  Suffolk.

  Essex.

  Leicester.

  Norfolk.

  Hereford.

  Albemarle.

  Hertford.

  Pembroke.

  “Your Graces,” the prince snarled. “What business brings you here?”

  “You will stop this immediately, John,” Eleanor said as the men spread out to flank her.

  He laughed. “No, Mother. I will not play favorites for you; I will not excuse treason for you. Your ill-begotten granddaughter’s first treason was pardoned, and look where that led? I let one traitor go and another grew up beside her. This time I will cut him down and let him stand as a warning to those who would dare oppose my brother.”

  “Treason?” she demanded.

  “They have stolen the ransom for King Richard’s safe return!” He looked at me. “Tell them what you’ve done! Tell them, and our bargain will stand.”

  “They can’t steal it,” Essex shouted. “He’s an earl of the realm! They raised that money like we all did. It is their own money.”

  “Then why take it from the White Tower?” Prince John demanded. “Only a traitor—”

  “I know what she did,” Eleanor said, raising her chin. “How do you think she got the money away? I helped her do it.”

  “You helped her defy me!” Prince John screamed. “How could you?”

  “Because she said if you didn’t trust her to hold the ransom—to move the ransom—as is her right as a noble, it proved your wrongdoing. It proved that you were scheming against your own brother to steal the throne.” Eleanor drew a breath and shook her head. “I am very disappointed, John.”

  “She’s setting me up!” he yelled. “She’s lying! And you, you ungrateful, coldhearted woman, you’d choose her over your own son? You’re supposed to love me, but all you ever gave me were the remains of your love for Richard. And now you see the face of your favorite in his bastard, and you choose her over me!”

  “You promised to let me go,” I told him. “You said—”

  He grabbed my hair, pulling me close. “You tricked me, you little bitch! And you will watch your outlaw husband die.”

  My blood froze, staring into Prince John’s wild, stricken eyes.

  “My lord Prince,” Suffolk called, scowling.

  Prince John let me go, pushing me back against the wooden rail. I looked down the twenty or more feet to the ground, but guards clapped their hands on me, holding me still.

  “Yes, Suffolk,” Prince John said.

  “It seems to me this situation has been a grave misunderstanding. Huntingdon is one of us; he has fought in the Crusades and he has acted time and time again in the best interest of this country. Forgive this misunderstanding and let Huntingdon go,” Suffolk ordered. “Such aggression against him would be an affront to the peerage, and one my honor—and that of my fellows here assembled—could not withstand.”

  “Not withstand?” Prince John roared. “Essex! You stand here? You agree with him?”

  “Yes,” Essex snapped back. “Indeed, it was your wife that inspired such passion for his plight,” Essex growled, his face a snarl.

  Prince John drew a deep, angry breath and blew it out in a way that made him look like a bull waiting to unleash his rage.

  “Fine,” he said. “A misunderstanding. Lady Huntingdon,” he said, turning to me. “If you are no traitor, if your husband is not either, tell me where the money that you stole from the treasury is. Tell me where Richard’s ransom is, and I will let you go.”

  “It’s safe,” I said.

  “It is not!” he cried. “You tricked my knights!”

  “If your knights could be tricked, perhaps the ransom wasn’t safe,” Essex said. “And Lady Huntingdon would never endanger her own father.”

  “But I would endanger my brother?!” Prince John screamed. “Tell me where it is or I will kill Huntingdon!”

  “I will tell the queen mother,” I said. “And only her. She’s the one gathering the ransom. She can decide how to protect it.”

  “That’s reasonable, my prince!” Suffolk called. This were echoed by several others.

  Prince John’s
jaw tightened and bunched with muscle. “Very well. You want my forgiveness, Marian? Tell me what you have learned from this episode. Tell me what your treasonous ways have taught you. Tell me why I should forgive you.”

  I looked out over the nobles and common folk, and I looked at Rob. I understood what he wanted. He were humiliated, standing here, forced to surrender to his peers. He wanted me to bend my knee to his pride.

  I looked to Rob. Our eyes met across the castle yard, and even in such distance it felt like a punch to my stomach.

  My pride weren’t nothing compared to Rob. Compared to life, and the love we would have together.

  “I’ve learned how generous you are, my prince,” I told him, loud and clear, bowing my head like a proper supplicant. “I’ve learned of your power and patriotism. I’ve learned you will do anything to protect your family and England.”

  The nobles nodded to this, satisfied.

  Prince John nodded too. He stepped closer, taking my chin and looking into my eyes. I strained and twisted against my bonds, but guards just held me still.

  “No,” he said. “No. The lesson that you were meant to learn is that you are a lowly, bastard thief. You’re trash. I am a prince. I am next to God, and like Him, I can grant life, and I can take it away.”

  “John!” Eleanor yelled.

  I saw metal flash as the earls drew their swords.

  My blood ran still as Prince John turned his head to the tree.

  Helpless, I followed his gaze, staring at Rob.

  “Execute him,” Prince John ordered.

  “Rob!” I screamed.

  The guard closest to the horse drew his sword and hit it against the rump of the horse.

  The horse started, and Rob’s face paled and turned away from me.

  The horse took two steps, breaking into a run, and I heard a sharp snap of the rope pulling taut as Rob’s body flew off and fell straight for the ground.

  I leapt.

  CHAPTER

  I hit the rail of the stair and it made me twist, spinning fast and hard to the ground, my arms still lashed behind me. I met the ground hard, and I felt pain crack through me like a whip.

  People had broken through the knights. They were fighting, everywhere, and my vision were still spinning as I tried to stand and fell.

  Someone touched my arm and I cried out.

  “Hush,” Essex said. “Be still.”

  I felt the pain in my wrists ease as the rope slid off.

  “My lady, you broke your arm—” Essex tried, but I just stood and ran.

  Everything around me were moving, writhing, flashing, and twisting, but I knew nothing of it. With one arm, I shoved and twisted, doing whatever I had to so I could push past them. It weren’t a hundred paces to where Rob were, and it took hours to get there. Days. A year, at least.

  Someone’s elbow caught me in my face, and I stumbled back.

  My feet slipped once beneath me but I pushed up, driving forward harder, with more purpose.

  Fighting. Fighting to get to him.

  The crowd of knights and fighting broke, and walking into the open space felt like falling off a cliff. My heart were falling free, and I ran toward the dark shade of the tree.

  Someone had cut Rob’s body down and laid him on the ground, a pocket of men protecting him from everyone else. I could see his boots from between their bodies, not moving.

  “Robin!” I wailed. “Robin! Robin!”

  They opened and let me through, and I fell to my knees beside him. My hands on his chest, his face, shaking to touch the red mark where the rope had been a moment ago.

  He heaved a great cough, opening his eyes to me. “Scar,” he groaned, coughing hard.

  I gasped and fell back.

  He sat up slow, grabbing me and crushing me in his arms. He were shaking, hard, the kind of shaking that feels like your bones are fighting you. He lifted his shirt, and I saw another length of rope tied there to pull his weight off his neck. To save him.

  “Who? How?” I begged. Tears were pouring hard down my face.

  “That would be me,” Allan said, chucking off a French knight’s helmet and tunic. “I better get out of this kit before someone gets the wrong idea, eh?” he said.

  I grabbed Rob harder, my heart beating so hard and fierce that I couldn’t even feel the pain in my arm yet. “I love you,” I told him, kissing his face, his eyes, his hair. “I love you.”

  He kissed my mouth. “Christ, Scarlet, I love you. Now get this rope off me,” he said.

  I tried to laugh but it came out a sob, and Allan leaned down to cut it from his middle.

  Rob dropped the rope and stood with me, taking my hand. “Your arm,” he said.

  I nodded. “I’ll live.”

  “No!” we heard. Prince John came rushing toward us, crashing into one of his guards to do so. “No!” he roared. “You’re dead! You have to be dead!”

  Rob put his arm around me. “Very much alive, my lord Prince,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough.

  “You!” he screamed, hurling his finger at me as men kept us apart. “What did you do? You little bitch, what did you do?”

  I stepped forward from Robin, going forward to see the mad look of Prince John’s eyes, the flecks of spittle on his mouth. “Me?” I asked. “I’m just a thief. I stole your nobles—they will never put their trust in you again, even if Richard never comes home. I stole your power, because without them, you are just a spoiled child with very few lands. And I stole your mother, because she just likes me better than you. I told you when you took my fingers that you would regret this, John. Everything I have taken, you let me steal.”

  I shook my head, stepping back from him as he sputtered.

  “Maybe you should worry,” I said. “Because maybe you were right, that night in the dungeon. Maybe the people and history will forget me.” I smiled at him. “But you won’t, will you? You will remember me, and this day, forever.”

  He screamed. It were a bloodcurdling thing, a cross between a battle cry and a wailing child, and he heaved one of the men holding him off, and slashed at another one’s face. I stepped back, but he lunged forward, grabbing me.

  His hand swung toward my middle, and I saw the bright flash of his knife. With one good hand, I caught his wrist, twisting it backward so he dropped the knife. I stepped forward and drove my knee into his nether bits.

  He wailed, falling to his knees before me. Rob touched my side, always beside me, together and strong.

  “A knife?” I yelled at Prince John. “A knife? You come at me with a knife?”

  I let him go completely, and he cradled his sore parts as I snatched up the knife, reclaiming his attention as I held it to his throat. “I will never be the schemer you are. I will never use words as well as you. But there are two things that make me powerful. There are two things that make me stronger than you.” I straightened my shoulders. “My heart holds my love, my hope, and my faith. My heart is unyielding, my heart is stalwart, and my heart is true. It will never be broken by the likes of you. But do you know what else makes me strong, you royal fool?” I asked him.

  He just cursed at me.

  I pushed the knife against his skin, hard enough to press, but not to cut. He swallowed hard. “I could kill you. You killed David. You killed John. You have hurt so many.” My mouth twisted, and I pressed harder. “You deserve it for what you’ve done.”

  I let him go and pulled the knife away, stepping closer to Rob.

  “But I won’t,” I told him. “Because now it’s you who should worry. It’s you who will look over his shoulder forever. Because you will scheme again, and I will be here, standing between you and the people of England.” I leaned closer. “I may be a bastard, a princess, a thief, and a royal. But do you know what the other thing is that makes me more powerful than you?” I said.

  He curled his lip at me.

  I held up the knife. “With a knife in my hand, I’m unbeatable.”

  For the longest time, no one re
ally knew about me. I were Rob’s secret, his informant, his shadow in dark places. They didn’t see me, and I didn’t mind that they didn’t see.

  But now I’m Rob’s wife, and our story isn’t a secret. It’s a song, a legend, a story people tell to their children at night.

  There’s a funny thing about light and darkness—like hope, you can never blot out either one completely. They always exist, side by side, bright light making shadows darker, darkness making the light more beautiful, a tempting siren call.

  I can’t hate the darkest parts of myself. They are the things that showed me how special and rare the bright flames of trust, loyalty, friendship, and love were. My darkness showed me how to love Rob.

  But now I choose light and fire and love.

  Now I choose freedom.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  In ending this trilogy, one of the things I would really like to address is the history.

  First—how cool? Writing this trilogy has been a dream come true for me because I’ve always seen Scarlet’s character, and her nature in general, as being part of the larger story of England. Many people say she’s anachronistic, but that’s not entirely true either. We see examples like the utterly legendary Eleanor of Aquitaine who rode into battle during the Second Crusade, fought with her husband, and made almost every man in England and France fall at her feet while she was still raising lions as she went along. She’s incredible, and she’s such an inspiration to write about and to research.

  More than that, though, is this idea of the person that Scarlet represents. King Richard did come home, the ransom paid. He never had a legitimate child though. Roughly a decade after the close of this novel, after Prince John Lackland becomes King John, his nobles gathered together and forced him to sign the Magna Carta, subverting many of his divine rights as king—signed by all of the earls mentioned in the final chapter, in addition to several more lords and castle-holders, and clergymen to bear witness.