Romancing Robin Hood (12 page)

‘And then I can go home?'

‘If you're successful, and if the debt has been repaid, then yes.' Mathilda tried not to read anything into the fact that Robert coloured slightly, and didn't look at her while he replied.

‘May I ask a further question, my Lord?'

‘Indeed.'

‘How will I travel, my Lord? On foot the journey will take days, and yet unaccompanied on horseback it'll appear suspicious, a girl of my status out on her own.'

Robert studied her shrewdly and with satisfaction. ‘Eustace was right. You are perfect for this assignment, and your question is a good one.'

Standing and stretching out his long legs as if restless, Robert added, ‘I will ride with you as far as Derby, we have friends there. They will accommodate us overnight, and then, the following day, I will arrange for you to be taken on a cart with Master Hugo, an associate of mine who fought loyally by my side in the last Scottish war, to Bakewell, where they hold a weekly market. Hugo has a stall there selling leather wares. You will slip away from the stall to the Coterels' hall, deliver the message, obtain the reply, and then return to the market. When you are back with Hugo you will help him sell his goods until the end of the day. Once you have been returned to Hugo's workshop, I will bring you back here.'

Relieved not to be travelling alone, Mathilda was sure the task wasn't going to be as simple as Robert was making it sound. ‘Please, my Lord, why cannot you or your brothers deliver the message?'

Robert sighed, ‘How would you react, Mathilda, if you witnessed a member of the Folville family and the Coterel family meeting?'

‘Of course. I understand, my Lord,' and she did, very well indeed.

Part of what Robert de Folville had told her the night before had seemed unimportant as she'd listened to her instructions. During a long, lonely, wakeful night on a cot at the edge of the main hall , Mathilda hadn't been able to stop thinking about the sentence, ‘The debt your family owes involves more than money.' She'd just given up trying to decide what Robert had meant by that, and fallen asleep, when Mathilda was woken at dawn by Sarah the housekeeper. Even as she blinked her eyes into wakefulness, a mixture of the images that had plagued Mathilda's night time mind, her father, her brothers, and her own situation as a spy, continued to haunt her.

Led through to the kitchens, she found Robert already booted and cloaked, ripping off some hunks of bread and placing them in a saddle bag for the journey.

‘There are things you need to know, Mathilda. Come on girl, get some bread and ale in you, and follow me down to the stables. We have to make an early start.' Striding away, Robert called over his shoulder, ‘the groom has your horse ready, don't be long.'

Mathilda gulped down some liquid and tried to chew the crusty bread, but it seemed to grow in her mouth, and it took a huge act of will to swallow it down. She hadn't dared tell Robert that she hadn't ridden a horse since she was a small child, but had always travelled in the back of her father's cart with the pots, keeping them safe from the perils of breakage on the uneven road to Leicester market.

Hastily following her new master's retreating steps, Mathilda carried the remaining bread with her, and was soon being hoisted into the saddle of a chestnut palfrey, which she was relieved to see was shorter than she'd feared, with kind, docile eyes. A saddle roll hung off its harness, and she stuffed the bread inside in case hunger overtook her anxiety on the ride. As they trotted briskly out of the courtyard and onto the quiet road west, Robert drew in close to Mathilda's side. She was hanging onto the reins and her mount's mane for all she was worth. Robert raised his eyebrows as he observed her discomfort, but said nothing on the matter.

‘Before we arrive, you must know that my family's collaboration with the Coterels is at best a necessity, usually a financially rewarding one, but it is not, generally speaking, an alliance based on friendship. Money does the talking when it comes to John and Nicholas Coterel, perhaps even more than it does with Eustace. They afford us harbour within the Peak District sometimes, and we return the favour when required. Now and again we both agree that a local issue needs addressing and we work together to do just that.

‘Then there is the small matter of your position. You are supposed to be my close acquaintance, and it will be assumed that you will be aware of the details of Belers' death and its consequences. There are always consequences, Mathilda.'

She risked a glance away from her palfrey's neck to look at Robert. His face was handsome, and if it wasn't for the cruel streak that could flare up in him with no warning, she could, perhaps, truly like this man. The prospect unnerved her, and Mathilda quickly pushed it to one side. ‘Indeed, my Lord.'

‘That my family was involved in Belers' death is widely known. That it was Eustace that arranged it, you have probably guessed. But you should also know that I helped with the planning, as did Walter.'

Feeling his hot gaze on her, Mathilda carefully concealed her reaction, but her insides clenched as she waited for him to continue. ‘Belers had been a thorn in the side of the gentry in the region for some time. You need not know how the breaking point for action was reached, but you should be aware that we were paid to do the job by De Herdwyk and La Zouche. Remember their names, Mathilda, you will be asked for them by Coterel as proof that you come from me.'

‘De Herdwyk and La Zouche.' Mathilda repeated the names back at him.

‘The hunt for Belers' killers was widespread, for he was an important man. Leicestershire's sheriff at the time had no choice but to pursue us.'

‘Edmund de Ashby, my Lord?'
¹⁰

Folville was surprised, ‘You know his name?'

‘Of course, my Lord, he was the sheriff.'

‘Again you prove your worth, Mathilda.' Robert pulled his impressive jet-black mount closer to her more ladylike palfrey, and examined her more carefully as they proceeded at a slower pace, while the sun rose to its daytime position.

‘Thank you, my Lord.' Mathilda, feeling as if she was less likely to fall and hit the ground now they were proceeding at a walking pace, began to survey the landscape around her. This was unknown territory to her, and the world was beginning to stir, getting ready for the working day ahead.

Whispering, keeping a watchful eye on the wakeful villagers they passed by, Robert made sure they could not be overheard as he continued his account of the events of two years ago. ‘The authorities couldn't catch us, but they had to do something to illustrate their attempts to do so, however futile. A trailbaston was held in our absence and they took our lands in Reresby in punishment for conspiracy. And then we were outlawed.'
¹¹

Mathilda drew in a sharp breath. This she hadn't known to be true. She'd heard rumours, of course, but had dismissed them. In this case, at least, it now appeared she'd been wrong to do so. He'd been outlawed! That meant even being seen talking to him could put her in danger.

Seeing her fearful reaction, Robert continued, ‘Fear not, you are not vulnerable with me, for our outlawry was lifted with a pardon a year later. My brothers and I left the region for a while during its application, making contacts in Lincolnshire. We considered an arrest and payment for a quick pardon, followed by a short time in the service of the King, worthwhile for ridding the world of a scoundrel like Belers.'

Mathilda hadn't heard the last part of what Robert had said. Her breath had snagged in her throat. An outlaw! The balladeers songs of Robyn Hode she'd heard at the annual horse fair last year swam in her head. Robert was more like the hero of folklore with each new revelation.

‘There is more,' Robert's chin was thrust forward in defiance, ‘My family supported Thomas of Lancaster, a sturdy voice during the times of chaos.'

Mathilda said nothing, and in truth, knew nothing of this name beyond its connection to power.

‘His supporters are no longer welcome in this new England, and I have charges hanging over me on that score, although I've never been arrested over them, nor will I be!'

Robert sped to a trot now they'd passed through the last village for a while, having reached Charnwood Forest. ‘That is enough for now,' he called across to Mathilda, whose palfrey was bouncing her up and down mercilessly in the saddle, ‘keep close to me through the forest. Not too fast though, or we will draw too much attention to ourselves.'

Grace got up from her office desk to find a map of medieval Leicestershire. She wanted to plot Mathilda and Robert's route, and so add some colour to her description of their journey for her potential readers.

She was a little concerned that anyone of a non-historical bent would be either bored or confused by the last conversation between her lead characters, but it was essential to the plot. Or was it? She'd keep it as it was for now, but had the feeling her red pen would be crossing the mention of Lancaster out.

Grace was also worried about the fact she was now well outside of her proved fact zone. Mathilda was purely fictitious, and therefore so was the trip she was now on. Grace knew that the Folvilles and Coterels had both employed spies and messengers, and hoped that her desire to tell a good story wouldn't be ruined by the historical purists.

The Folville and Coterel families really had collaborated with each other on occasion, so the trip itself between their establishments must have been undertaken, possibly even by Robert de Folville himself.

Finding the relevant map, Grace traced the route from Ashby Folville to Bakewell that she imagined Robert and Mathilda would travel, and began to sketch in the details for her novel. Grace had finished what she was doing when her computer beeped at her impatiently, announcing the arrival of an email.

Totally understand about book. Is it all RH or Folvilles or something else?

Would like to meet and talk shop – maybe we could agree on subject for paper and aim to write it in the spring?

What you think?
I'm theoretically available every afternoon until Oct.

Best

Rob x

Chapter Fourteen

Daisy ran an eye over her notes. Guinea pigs, rabbits, gerbils, mice; all their feeding times and cleaning out requirements were listed neatly on the paper before her. As she flicked through the pages of information she'd written, all the relevant instructions seemed to be there, but Daisy had a nagging feeling she'd forgotten something. The three willing helpers recruited to look after her menagerie for the two days before the wedding, and for the duration of the honeymoon, would arrive soon to learn the ropes. Daisy wanted everything written down as a back-up, so that they didn't have to call her with a query while she was away.

Somehow time seemed to have speeded up to an impossible pace over the last few weeks, and the wedding, about which she'd been so laid back, was now causing her the occasional bout of butterflies.

Marcus, as calm and steady as ever, had told Daisy to chill, and that all was in hand. The hotel accommodation was sorted, the venue was booked, the officiant was arranged, the photographer booked, the reception menu had been agreed, altered, and agreed again, the cake was ordered, and the wedding organiser Marcus had insisted on was the type of woman who forgot nothing. Marcus's suit was ready at the hire shop, as was his brother's and best man Simon's, and apart from the final fitting the bridesmaid's and bride's dresses were ready.

All Daisy had left to do was find some shoes and her outfit was complete. Yet she couldn't help worrying as the final days of her independence slipped away.

Not that she was regretting her decision to marry Marcus. Not at all. But Daisy had managed alone for such a long time, and it all seemed to have happened so fast; it was going to be a learning curve, albeit a very exciting one, having to share every bit of her life with someone else. From nowhere unaccustomed tears pricked at the corners of Daisy's eyes. Wiping them away angrily, Daisy decided to phone Grace; she'd talk some sense into her.

‘Grace? Is this a good time?' Daisy had picked up the mobile without considering the time, or where Grace might be.

‘Sure, what's up? You sound weird.'

‘Sorry, Grace, I'm having a mini panic about the wedding. I am doing the right thing, aren't I?'

Grace, who theoretically had been working on her novel, but had in fact been mulling ideas over for the paper she might write with Rob, was glad of an interruption to her time-wasting, ‘Of course you are.'

‘It's just, well … I've managed alone so long.'

‘I know, Daze, but you love Marcus.'

Daisy sniffed down the phone, rummaging about in her dungarees pocket for a tissue, ‘I loved Daniel Harcourt, but I didn't marry him.'

Grace laughed, ‘Daniel Harcourt was a git. And anyway, you were only nineteen at the time. Thank goodness you didn't marry him!' An image of Mathilda popped into Grace's mind as she spoke. She was nineteen as well.
I wonder …

Daisy relaxed and began to giggle, ‘You're right … I guess.'

‘Come on, Daze,' Grace closed her eyes, temporarily shutting out the sheer Robin Hood-ness of her office, ‘Marcus loves you. You love Marcus. Your lives fit perfectly. He adores animals, and so do you. He works shifts, so you'll have the luxury of time apart as well as time together. You're a lucky woman, so sit back and enjoy it all.'

‘Thanks, Grace. You're right. I knew you'd sort me out.'

‘By telling you what you knew already?'

‘Yup!' Daisy, her irrational outburst already swept aside, carried on, ‘By the way, have you heard from the nice, intelligent, interesting Dr Franks again?'

Now it was Grace's turn to sigh, ‘Sometimes, Daisy, I think you're a mind reader.'

‘Ah. So he is on your mind then?'