NOTHING HAD ever looked finer than Nottingham Castle on the eve of King John’s Coronation Feast. Every corner had been dusted, every bit of silver shined. Flowers poured out of the vases that festooned every surface, and garlands were draped over the windows. Marian’s gown for the occasion had been months in the making, and on the afternoon of the feast, the seamstress came in for one last fitting, nipping and tucking so the fabric clung to Marian’s body in a way she wasn’t entirely sure was decent.
“It’s lovely,” Lucy told her as she powdered Marian’s shoulders and bosom, fluttering around her like a furious butterfly. “You look positively lovely. The other ladies will be mad with jealousy.”
Marian hardly knew what to think of the other ladies. She’d thought she was so well informed of the movements in the court, thought she was kept so well abreast that nothing could shock her anymore. But to see Lillian sneaking out of one of the inns, never mind her being there so late at night…. There could only be one reason she’d been there at such a time, and Marian couldn’t begin to think of what that meant.
Lillian had her eye on John since she was a young girl, and Charlotte had him in her sights well before that. Would she really risk that for a dalliance with an unproven soldier? Those men were in the inns to begin with because they didn’t have money or means to have homes or land of their own. The king’s hand was a far-off dream, but Lord Sherwood had made Lillian an offer, and he wasn’t the only one.
“Your jewels for the evening, lady.”
Marian glanced up to see one of the king’s stewards presenting her with a velvet-lined box.
“A gift from the king, God save him.”
Marian took the box with a nod and handed it to Lucy. “Will you pass my gracious thanks on to His Majesty?”
The steward nodded, then bowed and backed out of the room.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Lucy gasped, flipping open the box. Eyes wide, she turned it so Marian could see the jewels within.
Blood-red rubies lay in a necklace as thick as Marian’s forearm. There had to be at least a dozen of the jewels in the necklace, and another two in the earrings fastened beside it. It had been years since finery impressed Marian, but she found herself reaching out with a shaking hand to touch her fingertips to the stones.
“I—” Lucy faltered. “I hardly dare to touch them, my lady.”
“You must, Lucy. I certainly can’t show up without them.”
“They’re so fine, my lady.”
“I know.” Marian shook her head, unhooking the necklace from the velvet. “Here, help me.”
The necklace rested heavily around Marian’s throat. She touched it and then turned away from the looking glass, unable to stand the sight of herself.
“How striking they are. And how fortunate they complement your gown so perfectly.”
Marian nodded. John could have easily made it his business to find out what she was wearing and commissioned something to match it. There was nothing outside his grasp, not if he truly wished for it.
“Shall I call for His Majesty’s escort?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Marian straightened her shoulders and smoothed down her dress. “I’ll take myself down.”
Lucy needn’t have worried. One of the king’s personal servants was waiting for Marian at the outer door to her chambers. He fell into step in front of her, and his presence cleared the hallway ahead of them. Marian watched the swirl of his red cloak as he walked, not daring to look up at the people they passed. She knew what she looked like. She didn’t need to see it on their faces.
The banquet hall was loud and bright, already full to bursting when Marian was announced.
Whispers followed her as she strode into the room. In her red gown, the stones dripping from her neck, there could be little question of whose property she was.
Johnny was the first to approach her, and Marian was so grateful she could have fallen into his arms.
“My lady,” he said, bowing low as he held out a hand. Marian placed her hand in his, and he brushed a kiss over her fingers. “I can barely look at you.”
“Oh hush,” Marian said tightly. “Is it that bad?”
“Bad? What can you mean? You’re breathtaking.”
“I feel like a fool.”
“Well, you don’t look it. Will you dance with me?”
Marian would have dearly loved to, but for all that she enjoyed causing gossip in the court, she couldn’t dare dance with a man before King John made his appearance, not tonight of all nights. “I can’t, not yet. Later, perhaps?”
“Certainly,” Johnny replied. “It’s only….” He glanced around, biting his lip. “I need to speak to you about something.”
“All right.”
“I’m not certain if I should just yet,” Johnny said, “but, well…. It’s been so long since we’ve seen one another, and I’d hoped that now I’m here, we could be friends again.”
“Johnny,” Marian said. She squeezed his hand. “Of course we can be friends again. We’ve always been friends.”
Johnny grinned. “I’m glad.”
“Is that what you wanted to tell me? Why wouldn’t you—?”
“No,” he cut in. “Not that. Well, not only that. You see, I’ve been… well, the king, God save him, has accepted me into his service.”
“Johnny,” Marian breathed, pride and fear warring in her chest.
“I’m to be sent to France. Quite soon, I think. And before I go, I need to tell you something.” He shook his head and dragged one enormous hand down his face. “A few things, actually.”
Marian shook her head, slowly taking a step back. Despair crushed her ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe. Not Johnny. Not now, not after all this time. “No. No, you mustn’t.”
“I know I’ve only just—I’d hoped we’ve have more time together, you see. There’s… well, there’s someone. She’s become very dear to me.”
Marian hardly heard him. Her ears were roaring. “No, Johnny,” she said, grappling for his arm. “Johnny, listen to me. You mustn’t.”
“What are you saying? Of course I must. His Majesty—”
“You mustn’t go to France. You absolutely mustn’t. I’ve heard—Johnny, I’ve heard things. Terrible things. You must stay here in the city where I can keep you safe.”
Johnny let out an awkward, uncertain laugh. “How in Mary’s name would you protect me, Marian? Didn’t you hear me? I’m going to be a knight.”
“You can be a knight here, in Nottingham. If you’re here—”
“If the king commands it, my lady, I must go.” He straightened up and looked over his shoulder. “You’ll remember my dance, my lady.”
“Johnny—” Marian tried, but he had already begun to move away, disappearing into the crowd.
Marian pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t let Johnny go to France, she absolutely couldn’t. So long as John continued to simply throw bodies at the battles, no soldier there was safe. And Marian wouldn’t lose Johnny again, not after she’d only found him.
“His Majesty, King John!”
The booming voice of the herald snatched Marian from her thoughts. She looked over and saw John striding into the room, his face alight in satisfaction.
“John,” Marian whispered. She touched the jewels at her throat. She needed to speak with the king. She had to change his mind.
It was not a small task. Every person gathered wanted the king’s attentions for themselves, and John was nothing if not magnanimous. He greeted everyone with kisses and bows, accepting gifts and passing them off to the stewards trailing him as he slowly made his way around the room. Marian stayed put, watching and waiting for her turn. Her mind whirled like a windstorm.
When John finally approached her, his entire face changed. Gone was the king greeting his court. All at once he was nothing more than a man. Marian took in a deep breath and stepped forward, locking eyes with him.
“Your Majesty,” she said, sinking into a curtsy. She bowed her head low, exposing the back of her neck to him, then lifted her eyes to meet his.
“My gift,” he said. His voice was a rasp. “You’re wearing them.”
“Of course I am, Majesty. They’re perfect.”
“As are you, my love. Rise, lady.”
At his command, Marian rose, never taking her eyes from his.
“Do you like them?”
Marian touched the stones, then trailed her fingers lower, lower, lower still, until they skirted the edge of her bodice. John’s breath caught. “I love them, Your Majesty. I hope you’ll allow me to… demonstrate my gratitude to you.”
John stepped in then, closing the distance between their bodies. If anyone around them was speaking, Marian could not hear them. All she could think of was Johnny and how she could not lose him. She had already lost Robin. She wouldn’t lose Johnny too.
“Later, perhaps.”
Marian dipped her head. “As you wish.”
THE FEAST wore on. Marian sat at the king’s table, unable to eat. Every so often, John would come to her and whisper something, letting his eyes and his hands wander all over her body.
“Are you not hungry, my love?”
Marian shook her head. “No, Your Majesty.”
“You should eat something,” John went on, his breath ticking Marian’s neck. He touched her waist. “You need your strength.”
The bread tasted like sawdust, the boar like leather. Marian forced down five or six bites. John went away again.
Marian tracked Johnny throughout the feast, terrified that even before the knighting ceremony, he would be yanked away from her and thrown onto a horse. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time he passed by a table where some of the other soldiers were seated that Marian caught sight of Robin.
Almost instantly she regretted the few bites she had eaten. They were lead in her stomach as Robin met her gaze. Her eyes were icy as she looked Marian up and down, leaving no doubt she knew exactly what Marian was about. She sneered, then turned away.
Marian pushed herself from the table and stood. She had only taken two steps when John swooped in on her, slid an arm around her waist, and steered her behind one of the screens where the servants kept pitchers of mead and wine. He pressed her into the wall, sliding his hands down her hips.
“Where are you off to, my lady?”
“I felt a little light-headed,” Marian said, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. She tried to affect a lightness in her voice; the king could not know how miserable his touch made her. She could suffer it for one night if it meant saving Johnny. “I thought I’d rest a moment.”
“But I haven’t even performed the knighting ceremony.” His breath was muggy, and when he pressed his mouth to Marian’s, his lips were sticky sweet. He pulled back. “You can’t leave before that.”
“Your Majesty,” Marian said, gasping for air. John was pressing her into the wall with his whole body. “I can’t breathe.”
“Yes,” John murmured. He dragged his hands up and over her hips, then circled them around her waist and back down again. Marian colored as he cupped her bottom and squeezed. “Perhaps this dress is too tight. Perhaps we should get you out of it.”
“Your Majesty.” Marian fought not to struggle in his grasp. “They’ll be looking for you.”
“Let them look.” John kissed her again, sliding his thick tongue into her mouth. Marian didn’t stop him. “Let them know where you are.”
“The court… they’ll say things.”
“Let them. When I take you as my queen, they’ll shut their mouths or I’ll have them sewn shut.”
Marian went utterly still. John was not so drunk that it escaped his notice, and he paused in his attack, pulling back to peer down at her.
“Your queen,” Marian said evenly. “Your queen.”
“Yes.” John pulled back even farther, his heavy brows drawing together. “What did you think?”
“I thought….” Marian sucked in a deep breath. “I thought to say thank you for the jewels.”
“You thought—” John threw his head back and laughed. “You thought I meant to take you as a whore? Oh, Marian, but you do amuse. There is no one finer than you in my entire kingdom. Of course I mean to take you as my wife.” He reached up and groped her breast. “How could I not?”
“But…. Majesty. I’m not… I’m not even a lady.”
“You’re whatever I say you are.” He tugged at the bodice of her dress, and Marian gasped, grasping for it before her breast slipped free.
“I fear you are drunk, Your Majesty.”
“Drunk with your scent. Drunk on the idea of finally having you beneath me. Having you in my bed. Marian….” John grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her breast. He gripped her wrist and turned it, shoving her palm against the front of his leggings. “Do you know how I want you? Do you know what men and women do?”
“John!”
He groaned, grinding his hips into her palm. “Say it to me again, Marian. I long to hear my name on your lips.”
“John,” Marian said quickly, panicked beyond words. “John, please. Please, not here. Not like…. John, please.”
John moaned and dropped his head to Marian’s shoulder. He shoved against her one more time, then straightened up. “You’re right.” He dragged his hands through his hair. His face was red and splotchy. If she’d had a knife, Marian might have stabbed him right there, just outside the full view of his entire court. She wished to cut off her own hand. She wished she could plunge her entire body into a pot of scalding water. What had possessed her to think she could trade her body for a favor? No, no. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear it. Not even for Johnny. Not for anyone.
A sob escaped Marian before she could choke it back. Quickly, she covered her hand with her mouth. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, Marian. Oh, my love. No, forgive me. You’re such an innocent. I never should have—oh, it’s the drink.” He grabbed Marian’s hand and kissed it. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you? Our marriage bed, of course. I can wait until then. I’m not a beast.”
Marian couldn’t respond. She swallowed down the scream trying to claw its way out of her throat.
“My love.” John kissed her hand one more time. “You’re overcome. You should go and rest. I’ll have a bath drawn for you. Go, I give you leave.”
She turned and fled.
THE LOCKED box under her bed was full to bursting with medicines and gold. Marian worked quickly, separating out what she would need from what she would give to Gilbert. Most of the king’s jewels were too obvious, and Marian would die before she carried with her the rubies he’d given her that night, but she had a few that were common and would fetch a good price. She wrapped them in a cloth with a few gold coins and shoved that in the bottom of her pack.
This gown wouldn’t do. Marian stripped it off, not caring when the stitches in the back ripped. She threw it over her bed and grabbed her riding boots and a simple cotton dress she’d stolen from the laundry months ago. Her cloak went around her shoulders, and a change of clothes into her bag, and that was it. She couldn’t carry her mother’s books or her father’s sword, and for those she would grieve. But not now. The king was very, very drunk and unlikely to remember to send someone up to draw a bath for her, but if he did, Marian needed to move quickly. She had no time.
The hallway was empty when Marian peeked outside. Relief flooded through her. She hastened to the back steps by which the servants came and went. They too were empty. Marian flew down them two at a time, her hand sliding on the cool stone wall.
She must get to Gilbert, give him what she could. Then she would leave.
Where could she go? Not back to Abyglen. The people there were loyal to the king and would know her face. Someone would find out she had fled and would send word. John would find her in Abyglen.
Marian’s heart ached to think of Johnny and of Robin. Oh, how she would miss them, and how it hurt to think of them now. She forced the thoughts from her mind; if they lingered, she would turn back and throw herself at John’s feet—would lie down in his bed—to spare them. And perhaps, for one night, she could have. But to take John’s hand, to spend every night with a man who lied to his court while men laid down their lives for him, who feasted while children starved…. Marian’s resolve strengthened.
The lower town celebrated the king’s coronation, even if they did not feast at his table. Music filled the streets, and children shrieked and darted back and forth between their houses with cloths draped around their shoulders and sticks in their hands.
“I’m Sir Evan,” one little boy shouted, waving his stick at her. “Come and fight me!”
Marian nearly ran past him, desperate to reach Gilbert’s house. When she finally got there, his front door was open and Myra was standing there, her hands on her hips as she watched the revelry. Marian ran up to her; she gasped, then stood aside and hustled Marian in.
“Maiden? What…. Heavens, you can scarcely breathe! What are you doing here?”
Marian bent over, pressing her hands to the ache in her side. “Myra.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Sit down, child.” She hauled a chair near the fire and shoved Marian into it. “What are you doing down here? You should be at the feast.”
“I’m going,” Marian said.
Myra looked at her in confusion. “To the feast?”
“No,” Marian said, shaking her head. “Away. I’m leaving Nottingham.”
“Leaving Nottingham? Whatever for?”
“I can’t explain it, Myra, but I must go. Is Gilbert here? I’ve brought….” She flipped open the latch of her bag and withdrew the bundle of medicines and money. “This should last for some time. But it’ll be the last of it, Myra, I’m so sorry. I know how the people count on it.”
Myra took the bundle and held it in her lap. She shook her head and studied Marian’s face. “I don’t understand. Why must you go? Are you in danger?”
“No. No, it’s not that. But the king… he wants something I cannot give.”
Understanding flooded Myra’s face. She nodded and stood. “I have leggings and a tunic that will fit you. It will suit you better than that dress.”
“No,” Marian said, holding up her hand. “No, I couldn’t.”
“You will. I can’t offer much, but what I have is yours. It’s the very least I can do.”
Marian couldn’t stand her gratitude, not when leaving would mean an end to the food and gold from the castle. The poorest people in Nottingham would suffer if she didn’t turn back, didn’t go and submit to the king….
“You don’t owe me anything, Myra. I can’t take anything from you.”
“You can’t be serious. Maiden, I owe you my daughter.”
“I can’t—” The sob that had been choking Marian for so long finally escaped. She clapped her hand over her mouth and turned away. “Forgive me.”
For the longest time, Myra didn’t say anything. Chaos reigned in the streets, but Myra’s little house was a quiet refuge. Marian covered her face with her hands and fought to catch her breath.
Eventually Myra came over and sank down, laying her hands on Marian’s knees. “You should rest,” she said quietly. “You should rest, and you should eat.”
“No, I must go.”
“The streets are too crowded right now. Someone will see you. The king will look for you, and someone will trade their knowledge for a bit of copper.”
Marian opened her mouth to protest, but Myra cut her off.
“And if you go now, they will see where you have been. The king will come here. He’ll question us. Stay until everyone is asleep, maiden. It’s the best way to keep us safe. It’s the best way to keep Tabby safe.”
Marian protested no longer. She took the warm cider Myra offered her and curled up under a blanket, her knees tucked beneath her. She kept away from the windows so no one would see her as the night wore on.
HOURS LATER, a knock came at the door. Marian sat up and looked at Myra, who had returned from checking to see that Tabby was still asleep. How that child could sleep with the noise beneath her window was beyond Marian. She envied her.
“Just stay there,” Myra said. “No one can see you from the doorway if you stay there.”
Another knock. Marian shrank into her chair and contemplated hiding beneath her blanket.
Myra crossed to the door and cracked it; her face softened into a smile and she spoke quietly. Then she shut the door and turned to Marian.
“It’s one of our”—a grin tugged at her lips—“couriers, I suppose. Is it all right if she comes in?”
Over the years, Marian had worked hard to keep her name and her face separate from Myra, Gilbert, and Tabby, and from anyone whose hands touched the goods she stole from the castle. But at this point, what did it matter? These people were not loyal to the king, and so what if they saw her face? They could not snitch that she’d been here without meeting the end of a noose themselves.
“It’s fine,” Marian said. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Marian thought to rise and meet the guest standing. She moved the blanket aside and pushed herself to her feet just as Myra opened the door and Robin stepped inside.