“Oh, no need. I have had quite enough,” the bishop said, turning to the abbess. “Superb feast, Abbess. Superb.”
But Marian was not looking at the abbess, who had for all appearances turned to stone. She was looking at Friar Tuck. She knew exactly what had happened: Friar Tuck had tripped her. His right foot was splashed with wine.
“I suggest,” the abbess said coldly, “that this serving girl be retired for the rest of the evening. I cannot tolerate an ox as a maidservant. The only oxen in the great hall are roasted and served with apples.” She narrowed her eyes and talked directly at Marian.
Marian felt herself grow faint. She wavered a bit. I have to get out of here. She was still clutching the silver pitcher as she ran from the great hall into the lesser hall of the castle where the mummers were practicing their next tricks.
Chapter 21
FIRE OR DUNG?
When a hawk’s mutes, or droppings, change from white to green and the hawk seems listless, it is a sign of a digestive ailment. Such ailments are best cured by feeding the bird freshly killed game with its feathers or fur attached to provide roughage.
AS MARIAN ROUNDED THE corner, she slammed into a tall figure in a red cloak. “Scarlet!” she gasped. Scarlet clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her off to a shadowy corner.
“You’re here!” she exclaimed when he removed his hand.
“Yes, Marian, and so are you. Fancy us meeting like this! Don’t have much time. About to go on with the second round of jugglers. What is it?”
“I’m in trouble!”
“Well, I probably will be soon. What’s that you got?” Scarlet looked down at the pitcher she was clutching to her chest.
“Oh, good heavens, I forgot to take it back to the kitchen.”
“Why take it back? Bet it could fetch a fine price.”
Marian blinked. He was right, of course. “Take it!” She tried to shove it into his hands.
“No, you take it. I have to perform. But where else is there treasure?”
“Look, hardly time for treasure. The abbess just tried to poison the Bishop of Ely and I…well I…managed to stop it. She’s furious. I’ve got to get out of here.”
Marian looked over her shoulder. She caught sight of the abbess storming into the hall. “She’s after me! I have to go.” She ducked behind Scarlet, and as she ran she heard an angry voice boom.
“Has anyone seen a serving girl carrying a silver pitcher? She is called Marian.”
“Oh, yes. I saw her.” Scarlet stepped forward. “I passed her as I left the great hall. She was on her way to the kitchen, she said.”
Marian had just sent Marigold back to the Fitzwalter castle and packed up her own small bundle of clothes with the silver pitcher wrapped in a spare kirtle. She was leaving her quarters when she heard footsteps mounting the staircase. Now she pressed herself against the wall. Would that I could fly, too! she thought as the sound of footsteps grew louder. A shadow sliced across the pool of yellow light cast by the candle. She’s coming for me now!
And then the abbess was there on the staircase just a few steps below where Marian stood.
“Oh!” the abbess said in a mocking voice. “Not simply a spy but a thief as well.” She nodded at the bundle Marian held. The silver handle of the pitcher was clearly visible.
But not a murderess! Marian thought.
Marian stood frozen.
“Lost your tongue, did you?” The abbess’s lips pulled back into a rictus that looked like a skull trying to smile. The abbess slowly started to advance upon her.
“You know what the sheriff does to thieves, don’t you?” The abbess raised her rather thick eyebrows as if awaiting a response. Still Marian said nothing. Then brightly the abbess chirped almost with merriment. “Their hands! Yes, first offense only one hand. Usually, he just has the swordsman chop off the left if one is right-handed. He’s quite merciful. Second offense, the right hand goes. Third offense…well, we shouldn’t talk about that, but what’s a thief without his—or should I say, her—eyes?” The abbess paused. “And spies…yes, spies would certainly be out of business with no ears.”
She is dismembering me as I stand here! And with each slice of the abbess’s tongue, she took a step closer to Marian. I have to stop this!
Without thinking, Marian slung her bundle in a wide sweeping arc and knocked the candle over. A sheet of flame leaped down the steps, igniting the rushes and dried grasses that covered the floor. There was a piercing shriek. Marian turned and ran up the spiraling staircase. There was no way down except the garderobe! Not again! Marian slipped into the portal of the garderobe and then began her descent. Fire or dung? Not much of a choice, she thought miserably.
Chapter 22
OUTLAWS
Frounce is a severe illness contracted by hawks when they eat pigeons. The first sign is a yellowish growth in the mouth. Therefore it is necessary to periodically examine your hawk’s mouth.
MARIAN’S FATHER SAT SLUMPED in a chair and stared at her as she stood before him. She had just returned from Nottingham. Her father had not said a word. Of course he doesn’t recognize me, Marian thought. I smell like a dung heap. But there was a distant, foggy look in his faded eyes. His lips began to tremble and move, but no sound came out. Meg stood tensely by his side. “Who are you?” Lord William spoke in a tremulous voice.
“It’s Matty, Lord William. Your daughter, Matty. Remember,” Meg said, “she’s been gone for a bit. She got herself a job in Derby.”
“Yes, Father, it’s me, Matty.” For more than a month she had been called Marian, but hearing her father’s voice, she was Matty again. She went over to him and dropped to her knees. “I know I’m all dirty. But, see, I did bring back some money.” She dug into her bundle, careful not to reveal the silver pitcher, and brought out two handfuls of coins. “I earned these, Father.”
“Oh, your mother won’t approve of a lovely maiden touching coins. Oh dear, she’ll be very upset when she comes down for supper.”
Marian cast a desperate glance at Meg.
“He’s been like this since day before yesterday,” Meg whispered.
“Meg, where is my real daughter? This girl, I think, has come to help you in the kitchen. Is Michaelmas coming? We’ll need extra help. Yes, you know how Lady Suzanne is.”
Marian got up from her knees and backed away. She’d have Meg heat some water for her to wash. Perhaps tomorrow he would recognize her, she thought tiredly. But first she had to get to the mews and see if Marigold had returned.
The birds knew her despite the odors of the garderobe. They seemed happy that she was back, although she could tell that the boys had taken excellent care of them. Every perch had been scraped and sanded. There were new rushes on the floor.
When she went back downstairs, Meg had hot water ready. As Marian sat in the wood tub, washing, Meg said, “Lord William must have taken a seizure like Hodge.”
“Oh, dear Meg. I am so sorry.” Marian was filled with sadness and not just for her father. “It must be so lonely for you here now.”
“Well, you’re here now, dearie. Won’t be quite so lonely. How was Derby?”
Marian looked up suddenly. “Meg, it wasn’t Derby, it was Nottingham. I went and worked right in the sheriff’s castle.”
“You didn’t!” Meg gasped. “Now you’ve given me such a shock, I’ll take a fit like your father and old Hodge.”
“I did it for all of us. I can’t explain just yet. But, Meg, I am in a bit of trouble. It would be best that you not tell anyone that I was working in Nottingham castle.”
“Yes, but you told us that you were going to Derby. Why, Derby’s almost out of the shire.”
“I lied.” She looked steadily at her kind old nursemaid.
Tears sprang into Meg’s eyes. “There only be one reason why a lovely girl like you comes home smelling like dung. You did it for all of us, as you said. God bless you.”
“You’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?”
“Of course, Matty. But what was the trouble that you got into?”
“It’s best you don’t know. But if anybody comes here asking where I’ve been, just say I’ve been here tending my father who’s been taken ill.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Don’t worry. And if anyone asks me where I got these coins, I’ll say that Robin Hood gave them to me.”
Robin Hood? Marian was about to say, when at that moment they heard a pounding on the door. Marian hopped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a heavy blanket before the door flung open.
“Rob—” Marian blurted. “Fynn!”
Meg planted herself right in front of him. “Matty ain’t decent, Robert Woodfynn. Ye got no business in here when she be half naked.”
“It’s all right, Meg. I’m more covered with this blanket than I am in my kirtle and cloak.”
“So you got out all right! Scarlet said a fire broke out.” He looked nervously at Meg.
“Don’t worry, she knows,” Marian said. “But how did Scarlet get out and back so fast?”
“He stole one of the sheriff’s men’s horses.”
“Really!” The blanket dropped from her shoulder as she gave a start. Meg plucked it up and covered her shoulder, muttering about what Lady Suzanne would say if she saw her daughter now.
Robin grinned and took a step back, blushing slightly.
“Wait here. Let me get dressed. I’ll be back quickly. I have something to show you.”
“Yes, that’s what Will said.” He cocked his head toward Meg as if to warn Marian.
“It’s all right. She won’t mind.”
“Won’t mind what?” Meg asked. But Marian was already racing toward the spiraling stairs to the mews.
When she returned, she was holding the silver pitcher.
“By God’s precious heart, what have you done, Matty?” Meg asked.
Marian set down the pitcher on the table and walked over to Meg, who could not take her eyes from the gleaming vessel. “I stole it. ’Tis true, Meg, but Rob—Fynn—will take it and sell it. And watch, the money he gets for it will come back to the people.”
“She’s right, Mistress Meg. And Scarlet managed to filch a goblet or two when he wasn’t juggling. So there’ll be more!”
“What in the name…” Meg put her hand to her brow as she looked at the two young people. After a moment, she threw her hands in the air and declared, “I don’t want to know.” Her face was proud and troubled as she left the room.
Marian clapped her hands. “It was worth it, wasn’t it, Robin, me being the maid and all that.”
“It certainly was, and from what I understand you managed to save a bishop’s life as well.”
“Yes, but there is another one I have not settled my score with yet,” Marian said darkly.
“Oh?” Robin lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ll explain tomorrow. Let’s meet at the cave in Barnsdale.”
“We’re not at the cave anymore. We more or less live at the blasted oak.”
“The one near Sherwood? But it’s so far. Why not the cave?”
“It’s better. And we’ve made platforms like the tree houses in Barnsdale. None as nice as the one you made in the weeping willow.”
“I had to make it by myself because you kept me out, remember? But how did you come back and tend the birds?”
“Well, we already had some horses. So that made it easy. And I got a fine little cob pony you can ride. You see, while you were away—”
“But I was only away for a bit over a month.”
“A lot can happen.”
“So that’s why you had to find a new hideout because they know about you in Barnsdale?”
“Yes, and they’ll never expect us right under their noses in Nottingham. It’s a good place. We’re safer than the sheriff in his castle. For you see we know where he is, but he doesn’t know where we are. It’s like they say in chess—‘A knight on the rim is dim,’ since it can only attack half the squares from the edge of the chessboard than it could from the center. Better to be in the center.”
But are we knights or outlaws? Marian wondered. Or outlaw knights, perhaps? She took a deep breath. “I guess we’re…um…true outlaws now,” she said softly. “Outlaws.” The word rang in her head. Her pulse quickened. “Robin,” she said softly.
“Yes?”
She decided she couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell him. “There’s something I saw when I was at the castle. Something I want back.”
“Want back?” he asked with a trace of confusion. “Something of yours?”
“My—score—I told you it’s unsettled with the Bishop of Hereford. It’s the bishop’s ring.”
“His ring? The bishop’s ring? I don’t understand.”
“Not the ring of his church office. No. The stone in my mother’s pendant, the Star of Jerusalem, he now wears in a ring. I plan to steal it back, Robin Hood. We’re outlaws after all.”
Chapter 23
TO TAKE A BISHOP
When a hawk completes its first molt, it acquires a new dignity. This perhaps has to do with the dawning realization of its own powers of flight, of its ability to hunt, overtake, and kill. No longer will it tolerate a stranger stroking its wings.
WITH THE RUMORS OF Richard’s impending return, Prince John began his final and most desperate efforts to rally his forces. He needed money for bribes, food for his soldiers, weaponry, horses, and all manner of equipment with which he was determined to defeat his brother. What was not given willingly he took by force. But another force had emerged that perhaps at first did not seem so significant. It was a band of outlaws. These were outlaws like none had ever known, for they stole silver and gold from those few families who remained rich because of their allegiance to the prince and the sheriff and gave to the desperately poor. Throughout the countryside these outlaws who always robbed with good cheer were known, as Meg had mentioned the night Marian had returned from Nottingham, to be led by a certain Robin Hood. They were called Robin Hood and his Merry Men. No one suspected that one of the Merry Men—in fact, their chief strategist—was a girl.
Marian had completed her first real “molt” soon after she returned to her castle from Nottingham. She had cut her hair short and now wore leggings with a tunic that fell to mid thigh. On her head she wore a loose hood. She had sewn these garments herself of a green cloth that blended well with the forests.
Although she had planned to go to the blasted oak within days of her coming home from the sheriff’s castle, her father’s condition had worsened. She rarely left his bedside. She was not sure if he could hear her words, but she spoke to him as she held his hand. Sometimes he gave her fingers a slight squeeze, but those times became fewer and farther apart. Then one cold and moonless night she felt his hand clasp hers firmly.
“Look, Matty!” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes opened wide. He nodded as if to direct her attention toward something outside. There, framed in the window against the midnight blue of the sky, a star shone fiercely. The Star of Jerusalem! She fastened her eyes on the milky streaks that stretched the star’s rays of light into a perfect cross. A voice in her head whispered something from the day her mother had died: Keep looking into this deep blue…we shall be safe. It will be the sky, and we will be little stars and float…float away…away.
She felt her father’s grip slacken. “Father?” But she knew, though his eyes were still open, that he had gone.
She slid her fingertips over his eyelids to close them, for the star had quickly passed out of the window and taken her father with it. Her dear, dear father who had taught her the way of hawks, taught her to read and to write, to use a needle to mend a broken feather shaft. He had taught her all this in a time when no wellborn lady was supposed to know any such things. A time when to dance a fine saltarello was considered vastly more important than reading. A time when to figure mathematical calculations was a suspect skill only for shrewish women of trade. A time when needles were used only to embroider. He had
been both a father and mother to her.
Marian was alone now. The hawks and Hodge and Meg depended on her. The Fitzwalter castle, long plundered, was of no further interest to the sheriff’s men, so at least they would be able to live out their remaining years there.
For days Marian remained in the castle. She did not cry. She felt it important to fight any such feminine weaknesses. She took care of her hawks and hunted with them daily. It was as if she were determined to exercise more than ever the skills her father had taught her. But each night when she went to bed she looked out the window, searching the sky for the star that had appeared right before her father had died.
One evening she went to her father’s library where she had first learned to read and took down a volume of astronomy. She knew very little about the stars and how they passed through the heavens and wondered if she might find the one that had made its transit on that night. She was not sure how long she had been reading when she was aware of a presence in the room. She turned around slowly on the stool where she sat.
“Robin!”
“I came as soon as I heard about your father. I was in the south and only heard when I got back.”
“Oh, Robin!” And now the tears that had been locked somewhere deep inside were undammed. Her face was wet as Robin pressed her head against his chest. She loved the coarseness of the tunic against her cheek and the forest fragrance of his skin beneath it.
“Cry, my maid, cry!”
Marian was not sure how long she cried, or how long he held her in his arms, but finally she pushed back. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and snorted loudly, then chuckled softly. “Fine lady I would make.”
“Lady enough,” Robin replied.
“And reading, too!” she added, making a wry expression and nodding at the book.
“And what are you reading?”
“Astronomy.”