NOTTINGHAM CASTLE was always kept in fine form, but never more than during the summer Trials. Marian did her part, making sure to throw her windows open to let in the sweet summer air and taking particular care with her hair and dress. Flowers were strewn about her quarters in absurd amounts and a fresh platter of juicy fruit kept on her dining table at all times. Of course the chance anyone would wander into Marian’s quarters was so far beyond the realm of possibility as to be laughable, but it didn’t matter. Every corner of the castle was shined to perfection and none more so than the king’s private dining quarters. As the Trials drew on, King John would invite lords and ladies and favored knights to join him. He liked to boast as though he himself had been in the field, battling with the best of his men, and his people were, of course, most obliged to let him.
Everyone was either drunk or well on their way, and no one paid a bit of attention to the maid carrying a heaping basket of flowers away from the king’s hall. Even so, Marian dressed in her most unremarkable frock and pulled the hood of her cloak up, keeping her face hidden. In three years she hadn’t been caught once. She had no intention of starting now.
Gilbert answered the door to his sister’s house, poking his weathered old face into the crack between the door and the frame. “Yes?” he said, peering under Marian’s hood.
She tipped her face up, letting the light from inside shine on her. Gilbert’s face split into a grin.
“Maiden,” he whispered, ushering her inside and shutting the door behind her. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“I’m sorry it’s so late.” Marian handed Gilbert the basket and removed her hood. “I dined with the king.”
“And how is His Majesty?”
“Steady as the tides.”
Gilbert hummed and began unpacking the basket Marian had given him. Underneath the flowers, which he discarded on the kitchen table, were two whole chickens, cold sausages and potatoes, and most of a ham. Beside that, bits of fruit and vegetables, two loaves of bread, and an array of herbs. Tucked in the very bottom, wrapped in brown cloth, were several small bottles and a purse filled with a half-dozen bronze coins. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”
“The summer Trials,” Marian said by way of an explanation. “You’ve never seen so much waste in your life.”
“Well, waste not, want not for us, I suppose.”
“I suppose,” Marian said. “Is your sister already in bed? I wanted to show her the herbs.” For the first six months after she’d returned to Nottingham, Marian had stolen medicines directly from the court physician before deciding it would be less conspicuous to simply steal the ingredients and make the medicines herself. It had taken some trial and error, but over the last two and a half years, she and Gilbert’s sister had amassed a knowledge of medicine that rivaled any trained physician’s.
“She’s asleep already, but I’ll show her in the morning. She’ll be so pleased, maiden.”
Behind Marian something creaked. She spun around and caught a glimpse of bright brown eyes and chocolate-brown curls disappearing into the kitchen. “Tabby?” she called out, grinning. “You’re not up, are you?”
A pause, then a tiny voice called out, “No?”
Gilbert laughed. “She hasn’t slept a wink. Been up all night. Come on out here, girl.”
Tabby’s hair appeared first, entering the room several seconds before her tiny body followed. How a girl so small could hold up a head that full of curls, Marian had no idea. “Hullo, maiden.”
“Hullo, Tabitha,” Marian said. She squatted and held out her arms. “Come here, love. What are you doing up? You’re not poorly, are you?”
Tabby shuffled across the room and into Marian’s arms. “Not a bit, maiden. Fit as a fiddle.”
“I’m most pleased to hear it. Then why aren’t you in bed? Four-year-olds need loads of rest, you know.”
“I know,” Tabby said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “But I’m too excited! Did you see all those knights fighting today?”
“I did.” Marian glanced up at Gilbert, who had carried the ham into the kitchen and was carving it up. He would be out most of the night distributing the food and medicine to those in the lower town who needed it. The coins he would keep until the need for them arose. Marian tried not to think about how small the purse was. With any luck a traveling money changer would be in Nottingham for the Trials, and she’d be able to deal with him. Her jewels from the king were too well-known to sell in the market. She needed someone who was not from Nottingham and who had no intention of lingering there to make arrangements with.
“Did you like them?”
“Hmm?” Marian pulled her attention from Gilbert and focused again on Tabby. She had recovered from her fever three years before, but her growth had been stunted from it, and she’d been on the small side ever since. “Did I like what, love?”
“The fighters!”
“Oh! Of course. I—”
“Did you see the woman? Marching about with all those men! Why, Mama says she aims to be a knight herself.”
“I did see her,” Marian said, “And the king himself told me she was the best archer of the bunch.”
Tabby’s eyes lit up. “Is that really true?”
“I swear it is.”
A fierce determination swept over Tabby’s face. “When I grow up, I’m going to be a knight.”
“Is that so?” Gilbert called from the kitchen.
“It is,” Tabby said firmly. “Can’t I, maiden?”
“You certainly can,” Marian said, reaching up and taking hold of Tabby’s shoulders. “You can be anything you like. But not if you don’t get enough sleep.” She punctuated the words with a kiss to Tabby’s soft cheek.
“All right,” Tabby said, giggling. “Uncle, may I have a bite of ham before bed?”
Gilbert sighed. He handed Tabby a small slice of ham, then swatted her on the backside and she scuttled off to bed. Marian watched her go, gladdened for even a small bit of time with the child. She’d felt a particular kinship with her since the first medicine she’d stolen from the court physician had saved Tabby all those years ago, and the feeling had only grown stronger over time. There was nothing that made Marian’s heart lighter than a single moment spent with Tabby.
“She’ll be a right terror tomorrow,” Gilbert said, cutting through Marian’s thoughts.
“I suppose.” Marian stood and smoothed down her skirts. “You could take her down to the Trials. See if it doesn’t distract her.”
“I might do. We’ll see what the day holds.”
Marian sighed. Gilbert drank less now than he once had, but there were still days when he sat and drank all day long. Marian hated it. Aside from Gilbert being her best contact in the lower town, Marian counted him among her very small group of friends. She worried about him.
“How is your arm today, Gilbert?”
“Better.” He’d finished carving the ham and was dividing it up. “Much better now the spring has gone and taken the damp with it.”
“I’m glad.”
“So am I.” Gilbert smiled at her. “And you, maiden? Are you well?”
“Quite well.”
“That lady knight. She looked familiar.”
Marian clenched her hands into fists. She had been trying so hard not to think of it. Robin had barely spoken to her, had hardly even looked at her, and Marian’s heart had betrayed her by leaping in her breast just as fiercely as it had the first time she’d laid eyes on her. How foolish she’d been to think three years would be enough time to forget. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
To his credit, Gilbert did not press the subject. “You shouldn’t come two days in a row. Someone will get suspicious.”
“It’s the Trials, Gilbert. No one is paying attention to me.”
“His Majesty is always paying attention to you.”
“His Majesty is always paying attention to himself.”
Gilbert did not answer, just turned back to the table and began sorting the vegetables Marian had brought. “Have a nice night, maiden.”
“You as well.” She lifted her hood and slipped out the back door, sliding once again into the shadows.
THE LATE night caught up with Marian the next morning. She was usually up well before Lucy came to dress her, but she was still burrowed under her blankets when Lucy came in with a fresh bouquet of flowers and a fistful of hairpins.
“You had too much excitement yesterday,” she said disapprovingly, once she had unearthed Marian from her bed. “Look at the state of you.”
“Then you should let me sleep,” Marian grumbled. She flopped back down and pulled her blanket above her head.
“I would like nothing more, Lady Marian, but the king, God save him, would like you to watch the Trials with him today.”
Marian groaned. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Lucy was puttering around the room, stoking the fire before hauling armfuls of dresses out of the wardrobe. “Honestly? All day?”
“All day. And Lady Charlotte was most disappointed you were unable to dine with her yesterday.”
“I’m sure she was. Did she send a note?”
“Two. I assume she wished you to ask the king to extend a dinner invitation to her and Lady Lillian. As if His Majesty’s dinner table is yours to fill. And as if you’d fill it with her if it was!”
Marian slumped over and rubbed her eyes again. “I should send her a letter.”
“You can do it after you dress,” Lucy said. “Time to rise and face the day.”
When Marian’s father had died, she’d returned to Nottingham an orphan with little means and no idea of what to expect. Kitterly had taken one look at her rumpled dress and tearstained face and bundled her into a hug that lasted for what seemed like a solid week. Erik’s body was burned on the battlefield with the other men who’d given their lives for the crown. His sword was brought to Nottingham, where King John himself had called Marian before him to receive it. If there was a speech he’d prepared for the occasion, Marian never heard it. Upon laying eyes on her, he had called for his steward, who had escorted Marian to the rooms that had been hers ever since. Kitterly had gotten her settled, then turned her care over to Lucy. The king had supplied the rest of her household. And a ward of the king, especially favored as she was, did not have the option of spending the day in bed, no matter how many laws she’d broken the night before.
“I’m starving.”
“I don’t see how you could be,” Lucy said. “The feast last night was enough to feed fifty men.”
“Yes,” Marian muttered. “And no more than six at his table.”
Lucy did not seem to hear her. Her eyes were narrowed in contemplation as she sorted through Marian’s gowns. Finally she selected an enormous yellow velvet thing that looked like a set of drapes.
“Absolutely not,” Marian said, shaking her head. “Do you wish me to roast to death?”
“The stones in the bodice will look so nice when the sunlight lands on them.”
“I can’t wear that outdoors all day, Lucy. I’ll die.”
“You won’t die,” Lucy snapped. All her good humor was apparently lost that morning, and in such a situation, Marian knew better than to bait her. She sighed and swung her legs off the bed.
“At least let me eat first.”
“Fine, but not too much. The kitchen is preparing a luncheon for the king to take outdoors.”
Luncheon was hours away. Marian stuffed her mouth with sausages and some cheese from one of the plates the maids had left on her table. Lucy looked on disapprovingly, tapping her foot impatiently as she sat at Marian’s dressing table and selected her jewels for the day. Once she had laid out a necklace and a pair of emerald earrings, she turned her attention to the flowers she’d brought in, selecting the most perfect blooms to weave into Marian’s hair. His Majesty adored fresh flowers in a lady’s hair, so Marian wore them in hers nearly every single day.
Almost as soon as she’d finished eating, Marian began to wish she hadn’t. Watching the Trials with the king meant watching Robin all day, and Marian wasn’t at all sure her nerves could handle it. Unfortunately for her, unless she was feverish or bedridden, Lucy would stuff her into a gown and haul her out to the fields. The complaint of a nervous stomach would get her nowhere.
“Are you quite finished?”
Marian wiped her mouth, then stood and strode over to her dressing table. She stripped off her robe and sat down, jaw clenched. “All right.”
“You needn’t look as though you’re headed into battle,” Lucy said. She picked up Marian’s brush and began working it through her tangles. “Yesterday you were as eager as a newborn puppy!”
“Perhaps I was more foolish yesterday than I am today.”
Lucy didn’t answer. All her concentration was focused on Marian’s hair. She held a half-dozen pins in her mouth as she worked, frowning around them when she hit a particularly tough snarl. “What do you do at night?” she asked, the pins garbling her words. “I don’t understand how your hair—” She broke off to yank on a knotted lock.
“You do understand that’s attached to my head, Lucy?”
Lucy hummed and jammed a pin into Marian’s hair. “Of course, milady.”
Sometime later, Marian followed the young guard who had come to fetch her to the great hall, where King John was waiting with a cluster of young men, who bowed as Marian drew near, and young women, who scowled at her as they dropped into curtsies. Marian fought back the urge to laugh. How insulting it must be to them, to curtsy to a woman of lower birth simply because the king fancied her, when they themselves held titles and gold and estates. Any one of them would have made a better match for the king than she would, but until King John realized it, she would stay just where she was. It maddened everyone, Marian most of all.
“My dear,” John said as she drew near. “You look a picture.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Marian said softly, curtsying low and graceful. A dozen pairs of eyes watched her, waiting for the slightest bobble. Marian wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She drew herself up again, catching the king’s eye and smiling softly, dipping her chin. “I was honored by your request.”
“Nonsense,” John said. He extended an arm, and Marian placed her hand upon it. “I can’t think of a single person I’d rather spend the day with.”
“Nor I.”
John beamed. How foolish he was, to be manipulated so easily. “Shall we go?”
“I would follow you into battle, my lord.”
John’s booming laugh echoed off the marble floors of the great hall. “Thankfully I will never have to ask it of you, my dear. Besides, I already have a darling lady fighter, do I not?”
If anything could have made Marian’s composure falter, it was that. Luckily John’s attention had already been drawn away by one of his squires, and he didn’t seem to notice the step Marian missed as he led her out to their horses.
Their party moved from the castle down to the fields, where tables, chairs, and a few brightly colored silk tents clustered around a small feast that had already been laid out. Marian saw a wild boar and counted at least four chickens before Lady Charlotte swooped in, grabbing Marian’s hands and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“My darling Marian,” she screeched. “How lovely to see you, and how pretty you look this morning.”
“Lady Charlotte.”
“We missed you at dinner last night,” Charlotte said, her voice pitched high, even though John was standing at Marian’s right elbow. “But if His Majesty, God save him, requests your company, of course you must attend him.”
Her tactics worked. John looked away from the knight he’d been speaking with to turn his attention to Charlotte. “What’s that?”
“Your Majesty,” Charlotte said. She dropped into a curtsy. “I was simply saying my daughter Lillian and I missed Marian’s company last night. She was meant to join us for dinner, you see.”
“Was she? My apologies, Lady Charlotte. I’m afraid I demanded her attentions myself.”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. Not at all. Of course I understand. Why, Marian is like a daughter to me, of course. She and my daughter Lillian have been fast friends for such a long time, you know.”
“Of course,” John said. “Then you must join us for dinner this evening.”
Charlotte tittered. “We would be most honored, Your Majesty.”
Marian was thoroughly unconcerned with their conversation. She looked past them to the far end of the field, where the king’s knights and those who hoped to join their ranks were already at arms. It was easy to pick out both Robin, who was the smallest among them, and Johnny, who was head and shoulders above everyone else. As she watched, the two of them were paired off.
“Heaven and earth,” Marian whispered. She gripped John’s arm tightly. Johnny was twice Robin’s size. He could positively skewer her.
“Doesn’t that sound lovely, Marian?”
“What’s that?” Marian asked, dragging her gaze away from Robin to look up at John. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, what was that?”
“Dancing. Wouldn’t it be nice to have dancing this evening?”
“My daughter Lillian is such an accomplished dancer, you know.”
“Of course she is,” John replied vaguely. He was watching Robin and Johnny, who were locked in battle. As they watched, Robin landed a particularly brutal blow to Johnny’s left side. Marian winced, and the king cheered. If he noticed how tight Marian’s grip on his arm was, he said nothing. “Oh, look at that! Is that the girl?”
“It is, Majesty,” answered one of the men standing nearby. “We’ve been most impressed with her bladework.”
“Who is that she’s fighting?”
“One of the new men, majesty. Tom, I believe he’s called. Tom Little.”
“He’s left his left side exposed again,” John said. “She’s going to—oh!”
John had realized his mistake a moment too late. Robin stuck him hard in the left side, then took his legs out when he lurched to protect himself. He went down like a tree.
“Well done!” John cheered, extracting his hand from Marian’s to applaud loudly. “Well fought! Well fought! You there”—he pointed at the nearest man—“bring her to me. Bring the man too.”
Whether it was the heat of the day and the weight of her dress that made sweat spring up on Marian’s forehead, she couldn’t have said. What she did know was that by the time Robin and John had been brought before the king, she was dizzy with heat. Her fingers were clumsy and swollen. She forced herself to smile at John, who looked absolutely terrified. He favored his left side, his hand clutching his ribs.
“Majesty,” said the guard who had fetched Robin and John. He clutched his side breathlessly. “Robin Hood and Little John, both of Loxley.”
“Majesty,” they chorused.
Marian whipped her head up to look at John. Loxley? Had he been with Robin all these years?
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “How absolutely wonderful. He’s twice your size!”
“It was a lucky blow, your majesty,” Robin said.
“Come now, don’t be modest. You’re a skilled fighter. I wouldn’t have expected it from one as young as you, never mind a woman. Where on earth did you learn to handle a blade?”
Robin hesitated, darting a glance at Marian. “It was… Sir Erik, my lord. The Lady Marian’s father.”
“What?” Marian said, shocked out of her stupor. “He did what?”
“He knew I wished to become a knight, and before he died, he gifted a sum of money to my father for my training and education.”
“Did he really?”
“He did, Your Majesty.”
“What a thing. Honorable even in death.”
Marian could hardly believe her ears. “He was honorable in all ways, Your Majesty.”
“Of course he was, my lady. And his loss is still keenly felt. Now you—” He turned to face Johnny. “John, is it?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You’re a bear of a man.”
John nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“Once we teach you to use that size, you’ll be able to take on three men at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I thought you grew up in Abyglen. Isn’t that what my dear Marian said?”
Johnny looked at Marian, then back at the king. “Yes, Your Majesty. But my parents were lost several years ago, and I went to live with an aunt and uncle in Loxley. Robin Hood and I have trained together for years.”
The corner of Robin’s mouth curved up. “And still, he leaves his left side exposed.”
“You’ll both join me for dinner, of course,” John went on. “I believe there’s to be dancing.”
“My daughter Lillian is such an accomplished dancer.”
“Yes, Lady Charlotte, you said. You’ll both come.”
“Of course, Majesty,” Johnny said.
It took Robin a moment, but eventually she nodded as well, shooting another look at Marian. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
John thumped John on the chest. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Well, back to it, then. I daresay Sir Barth is looking for you both.”
They hastened to rejoin the others, and John led Marian to a pair of chairs under a silk canopy. Marian’s head was reeling. Her brain was so full she couldn’t even decide on one thing to think of. She was grateful for the king’s steady stream of commentary as the day wore on and luncheon was served and then cleared away again. People—servants and knights and courtiers—drifted in and out of his tent, bringing him news or coming in just to kiss his hand. The entire parade exhausted Marian, and when Lucy came at midday to collect her, Marian was quick to take her leave.
“You should lie down before dinner,” Lucy said.
“If I lie down, you’ll have to redress my hair.”
“You’ve been sitting in the sun all day, my lady. I’m going to have to redress your hair no matter what.”
All the windows in Marian’s rooms were still open, the faintest wind coming through. A breeze, really. Marian sighed, lifting the hair off her neck. “In that case I think I might lie down a bit. Can you help me out of this dress?”
Lucy unfastened her and slipped the gown off, then laid it over one of the chests that lined Marian’s changing area. Then she pulled back the covers on the bed and plumped the pillows. “I’ll fetch you some cool water to wash your face and hands.”
“That would be lovely, Lucy, thank you.”
Once she was gone, Marian collapsed on the bed, her arms spread out on either side of her, seeking out the coolest spots on the sheet. The light was still bright and golden, and Lucy would be back any moment. Marian would rest for the shortest while, then get up and wash and see to some of the herbs she had soaking in the locked box under her bed.
She shut her eyes and sank into the mattress. A few minutes of rest. That was all.