Mark of the Black Arrow (13 page)

“Richard the Lionheart is a Christian king.”

“So he is,” Prince John murmured, turning from her and walking away.

She watched him cross the dock, moving toward a man who stood looking down at the people gathered to see off their king. His back to her, she couldn’t see the man’s face. Black armor that gleamed dully in the sunlight wrapped him from heel to throat. She’d never seen armor like it, interlocking plates that fit so close they looked like the carapace of an insect.

One with a stinger… and venom.

The man’s hand was bare, and so pale it looked dipped in milk. It rested on a great bastard sword that jutted off a narrow hip, the sheathed blade sweeping out behind him. A shock of white-blond hair hung down his back in a thick braid, glaring out in stark contrast to the ebony armor.

He turned as Prince John drew near him. His face was clean-shaven, the skin smooth over sharply angled cheekbones and jawline, just as ghostly white as his hand, contrasting harshly with a wide furred collar that circled his throat. A straight and patrician nose jutted over a mouth framed with thin, villainous lips.

John spoke to him. She strained her ears to hear what was being said, but the wind off the ocean blew from behind, carrying any sound away from her. After a few sentences the man’s eyes flicked up to look at her.

It took everything she possessed not to turn away. Instead, she stood resolute as they walked toward her.

She jumped as a hand came down on her shoulder.

King Richard stood next to her. He pulled her into a hug, his arms tight around her. She had a brief flash about proper etiquette, the decorum of how royalty should behave in public, but the thought was dashed in the warmth of her uncle’s embrace.

He’ll be gone so soon.

She gave herself over to the moment, embracing him in return, clinging to his strength with all of hers. Finally the king loosened his hold and stepped back. His eyes shimmered in the sunlight.

“Ah, Marian,” he said, smiling. “I will miss you. Take care while I am away.”

“I will miss you, too, more than you could possibly know.” Her voice choked.

His thumb swept the tears from her eyes. “Enough of that—it is unbecoming for a king to weep before his people.” Richard cleared his throat and looked at the gathered crowd that waited for him to board.

“It’s time.”

She nodded, even though her heart had turned to lead.

“Brother, send me in your place,” Prince John said from behind her. “England cannot afford to lose you.”

“Would that I could,” Richard said with a smile. “Alas, the task that God has set before me is mine alone. I need you here, John, protecting England, keeping her safe for me.”

“I am but your humble servant in this charge,” John said with a bow. He straightened, holding his hand toward the man in the black armor. “I have the finest adviser. Please allow me to introduce the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

The Sheriff gave a small nod.

“He will help…
quell
any unrest that stems from your leave-taking.”

Richard looked at the man for a long moment, his face a blank.

“Marian knows how I run my court. She will guide you,” he said, gesturing to her. “There should be no need of any quelling.”

John turned and looked at her. She shivered. His eyes were empty, cold, like a snake’s.

“She has grown,” he said. “It seems she has become a woman in my absence.”

“I do not remember what kind of man you were, or know what kind you have become,” she said, subtly putting him on notice that she knew something was different about him. By the narrowing of his eyes, she knew that he had taken her meaning.

At least we understand each other.

She jerked as she felt something like a cold hand brush the back of her neck. Reflexively she turned her head to see who it was, but there was no one behind her.

“Marian?” Richard asked.

“Nothing, sire,” she said quickly, to hide her own uneasiness. “It was a chill.”

“You should be careful, my dear,” John said. “We wouldn’t want you to become sick.”

“I can assure you that I am in the best of health, and in no danger of suffering such a fate,” she smiled, even while she imagined slapping him across the face.

“It’s reassuring to hear that,” he said.

Yet someone was watching her, she could feel it like an oppressive weight. She glanced around. The Sheriff met her eyes and smiled slowly in a way that made the knot in her stomach twist, and she realized she had begun to sweat. What
was
this man that he had the power to make her feel that way?

“Are you sure you’re alright, niece?”

She could hear John speaking, but it was as if he was far away. She felt dizzy, lightheaded, and wished with all her heart that she
was
someplace else in that moment. She took a step back, and then another, struggling to get enough air. She couldn’t breathe, and her knees didn’t want to continue to support her.

I’m going to faint
, she realized.

Then, suddenly, a steadying hand gripped her elbow, holding her up. Everything seemed to snap back into place. She gulped air as fast as she could as she looked up. Robin stared at her, brows knitted together in concern. He had a hand under her elbow and gripped her arm tight enough to keep her on her feet.

“Are you alright?” he echoed.

She nodded as she looked around and realized that she had walked farther away from King Richard than she had thought. Her head began to clear and she glanced around hurriedly, but didn’t see the man with the black armor.

“Yes, thank you. I—I don’t know what happened,” she said.

“I thought you were going to fall,” he said, slowly removing his hand from her arm.

“Thank you for your timely intervention,” she said. Her head was clear again and her stomach no longer rebelled. She had no idea what had happened, but was grateful Robin had stepped in when he had.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she added. “Are you joining the crusaders?” The thought of Robin stepping aboard that boat, marching past that streak of blood-soaked wood, made her stomach feel hot and oily again.

Please, no.

He shook his head, dark hair falling over his eyes.

“I came with my father, in the hopes of talking him
out
of going. I failed in that. He’s too damn proud, and stubborn.”

“Traits you inherited.” Her hand fell on his arm. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“So he tells me. Often.” His hand covered hers. “I just can’t shake the feeling that there is some dark hand at work in all of this.”

Marian almost told him that she felt the same way, but realized she should be more circumspect. At least for the moment.

“So then you are staying?”

“Someone has to watch Longstride manor, and keep the wolves at bay,” Robin said, nodding.

“Those sound more like your father’s words than yours.”

“My mother’s actually.” He laughed without humor. “She just happens to think I’m not the watcher she needs.”

He looked so wistful it hurt her heart. The enmity between Lady Longstride and her youngest son became obvious within a few moments of watching them together. She knew the ache of missing her own mother, and she couldn’t imagine how it would feel if her mother were still alive, but shunned her. It would destroy her.

Her hand moved toward him before she thought, touching his chest.

“You’ll prove her wrong.”

His dark eyes turned toward her, and he smiled a crooked little smile full of longstanding sorrow. “Not to her, I won’t.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

A commotion on the dock broke the stare. As much as she would have liked to stay with him, she had duties to be performed.

“I should return to the king,” she said, glancing over at Richard and John.

Robin tilted his head and stepped back. “I won’t keep you.” Marian gave him a smile before hurrying to Richard’s side. Just as she reached him, alongside his ship, he began to speak.

“I appreciate your concern, brother, but there’s no need for that,” he said firmly. “I will return home soon enough to resume my rightful duties.”

John turned away, walking over to the Sheriff, who was back watching the crowd. He spoke to the taller man, and their backs were turned to Marian and Richard.

“What was he suggesting?” she inquired.

Richard turned to look at her. “He voiced concern for the danger of my mission, and whether it might be prudent to give him the kingship now, so that I could focus entirely on matters in the Holy Land.”

“But
you
are the rightful king of England,” Marian said, outraged at the very thought. “He has no claim.”

Her uncle chuckled. “Calm yourself, my dear. I’m certain it was one of his advisers who pushed him to ask. I take no offense, nor should you. For the good of England I am leaving, and for the good of England I will return.” He leaned down, dropping his voice. “I am leaving behind the
Kestrel
. It is my fastest ship. I have ordered it to be maintained and ready for service at a moment’s notice during my absence.”

“For what purpose?”

“If England needs me, if
you
need me, then you send a messenger to Donthos at the dock. He will maintain the
Kestrel
and put your man in that ship with a crew that can be trusted. They will have the charts and maps needed to find me.

“If the need is true, then I will return aboard it immediately,” he continued. “You must only use it in the direst of circumstance, but use it if you must. You are the only one to whom I am giving this information.”

Realization bloomed in her heart. She was his watchman on the wall then. If John harmed England in any way, her uncle expected her to call him back. With that thought, another seemed inescapable.

Why does he doubt his own brother, his very choice?

Yet she had no time to ask. Already he was preparing to depart. So she pushed it from her mind, determined that she would be true to his request. It was the most trust anyone had ever shown her, and the weight of it was tremendous.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Be strong and of good faith.” He kissed her forehead. “I will return.” At that, he turned and strode up the gangplank. The crowd cheered at the sight of him. At the top he turned, unsheathed his sword, and lifted it high.

“For the glory of Christ the Lord and the safety of England!”

The crowd exploded with a roar. Richard sheathed his sword, nodded once, then turned and disappeared.

Marian hugged herself. She vowed that she would watch the prince carefully in the days to come.

A
daryn knelt in her garden, clucking over some of the herbs she’d planted in the spring. Most were doing nicely, but her sage had been much slower to grow than the rest. She puzzled over it. It got the same water and sunshine as the others, and she spoke the same incantations over it at night. The plant should be flourishing. She needed it as a potent ingredient in several of the poultices and potions she created. It had healing properties and was good for all manner of ailments. Burning it could also cleanse a place and ward off evil spirits.

She touched one of the tiny leaves and it crumbled like ash. The spot where it had been attached to the stem was black and oozed some sort of liquid. She’d never seen the like. She dug deeper in the earth, and, when she pulled out the roots, a stench of death and decay came out of the earth with them. It was so strong that her midday meal leapt to the back of her throat.

She looked into the hole left by the plant and saw more of the black ooze. Moving over a few inches she inspected a rosemary plant that was growing well. She carefully dug in the ground, exposing its roots. There was no stench and no black ooze, even though the two plants were close together.

Something was wrong.

The sound of horse’s hooves came from the narrow path out front and she rose, wondering who had come to call. There weren’t many who knew Adaryn, or where she lived, and that was how she liked it.

She moved around her small house and watched the path that led here. A rider came into view, a woman of fair hair and complexion riding a stallion that matched her. Both had a regal bearing, chests thrust high and necks straight as they came at a good clip. It took only a moment for them to draw close enough that she could recognize the rider.

Lady Longstride.

Adaryn frowned. She had not expected a visit at this time of year. The lady pulled her horse up and Adaryn reached out to hold the reins while the woman dismounted. She then led the horse to a patch of grass a short distance away and tied his reins to a stake driven into the ground for just such purpose.

She turned back. “What can I help you with today, milady? Are you looking to have another child?”

“No, I have my hands quite full enough with the ones I already have. Besides, my husband is away fighting in Richard’s Crusade.”

Adaryn blinked. News could be slow to reach her, but even she had heard about the Crusade.

“Then what may I do for you?”

“I have no sage. My crop failed this year and I need to dry some before winter comes.”

“Milady could have sent her servant to ask for it,” Adaryn observed.

“I would never trust a servant with an errand as important as mine,” the woman said haughtily.

Yet she had sent her servant, Lila, on numerous occasions. Adaryn suspected that the lady had come with another purpose as well.

“Did all your plantings fail?” she asked.

“No, just the sage. It rotted in the ground. None of it could be salvaged.”

Adaryn frowned. To have the same plant be destroyed in two completely different locations smacked of something unnatural. Could there be magic at work? If so, why the sage? There were many herbs that could be used for healing, some far more valuable.

“Why have you squished your face up in such an unattractive way?” Lady Longstride asked.

Adaryn smiled outwardly. Lady Longstride wasn’t a nice woman, despite what others might think. She was, though, an excellent client, and one well worth humoring.