Christmas 1183 by Ness Ayton
First published in "Longbow III" eons ago…….many eons ago………
"I always knew we'd fall for each other" – The Betrayal
The great house at Leaford rang with the sound of happy voices as the Earl of Huntingdon and his son rode under the stone archway into the courtyard. Immediately they found themselves amongst the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations. Reining in their horses to avoid a cartload of logs, they became aware of a high pitched voice calling "Marion! Marion" followed by "Drat that girl, where is she?"
A plump, motherly woman emerged from a doorway in one of the towers and almost ran under the horses' hooves. The Earl caught the reins of his son's mount as it shied and glared at the woman. Recognising his features, she blushed and dropped a graceful curtsy.
"Oh my lord, I'm so sorry, but I'm looking for the Lady Marion. You haven't seen her perchance?"
"No, Margaret, we haven't," the Earl replied with a smile, "Have we Robert?"
His son, however, wasn't listening; he'd caught sight of a pale face, streaked with dirt and framed by a mass of unruly, auburn curls, peeping over the top of a barrel. Large, green eyes regarded him solemnly and there was a quick shake of the head before the face disappeared into the shadows. Robert turned to his father.
"Pardon my lord?"
"I said we haven't seen the Lady Marion."
"Oh…..no, we haven't. At least, I've never seen her."
As the two continued across the courtyard to the stables, Robert turned in his saddle and spotted the bewitching auburn haired apparition ascending a series of stone steps as fast as her young legs would carry her. Her dress, with a tear along the hem and muddy stains, indicated she had been about unladylike business.
Nine year old Robert smiled to himself as he dismounted and followed his father into Richard of Leaford's house for the first time. The main hall was the centre of all the hubbub and Robert sensed happiness and goodwill radiating from all those present. As he and his father made their way across the rushy floor, the rafters rang with laughter and carols. The servants had their hearts fully in their work for the festive season.
On the dais, at the far end of the spacious chamber, stood the owner of the estate. Richard of Leaford was an imposing sight in his maroon robes and, for a moment, Robert felt a sense of awe in his presence, until he remembered that his father outranked their host. Approaching the dais, Robert turned this way and that, attempting to take in everything that was going on. He was also trying to see if the illusive girl was anywhere around; but, if she was, it would have been difficult to spot her amongst all the activity.
"And this is my son, Robert."
The younger Huntingdon was startled from his distraction and jumped when he realised that he was being introduced to Sir Richard.
"My lord," he acknowledged, bowing formally.
Richard laughed.
"Welcome to Leaford, young Robert," he said softly. "I'm sorry that mu daughter isn't here to greet you. She's somewhere about but no one seems able to keep track of her comings and goings. She needs a mother's hand. Margaret is willing but Marion is too headstrong for her to deal with." He offered a small, sad smile. "But I mustn't burden you with my problems. Martin!"
A wizened creature approached the dais.
"Martin, show the Earl of Huntingdon and his son to their rooms."
The man bowed and, for one fleeting moment, Robert had the impression that Martin was going to topple over, so bent and ancient did he seem. As he prepared to follow the servant, Robert became aware that Sir Richard was still talking to his father.
"Gisburne and his whining brat are coming as well. I'm sorry, there was nothing I could do about it………the Sheriff's wishes."
"I'm sure it won't spoil Christmas for us," the Earl assured him. "Come, Robert." Father and son followed Martin out of the hall.
Robert noted with pleasure that their quarters were in the south tower. He had been given the small dressing room adjacent to the bedchamber his father was to occupy. Presently the servant who had been appointed to him stoked the fire then proceeded to unpack his charge's clothes. As the garments were laid out Robert looked with pride at the gold jerkin his mother had given him as his present; he was sure that he would be the grandest person in the hall when they sat down for the Christmas meal on the morrow. This feeling helped to alleviate the sadness which he felt at his mother's absence on this visit.
Suddenly the Earl poked his head around the blue curtain separating his son's room from his.
"Robert!"
"Yes father?"
"I'm going to rest for a while. The journey was more tiring than I'd thought it was going to be."
"The snow didn't help," Robert observed.
"No it didn't," his father agreed. "You may go and explore the house if you like; don't let me stop you. But do behave yourself, Robert; you know you can be a little troublesome at times." Father and son smiled at each other.
"Thank you," Robert said as he walked from the room.
Once the door was closed behind him, however, he started to skip happily down the winding staircase until he overbalanced on one of the bends and hit his elbow hard on the stone wall. Rubbing the bruise and biting his lip to stop its quivering, he made his way into the minstrel gallery above the dais. Leaning on the balustrade he watched all the comings and goings below him.
A sudden loud disturbance drew his attention to the hall entrance. Sir Richard, who had been supervising the spitting of a pig, abruptly turned towards the noise with something akin to a grimace.
"Richard! Richard! Where the devil are you?" A large man strode into the room. Gazing about an inane grin etched its way across his ruddy complexion. Robert noted that the visitor's nose was bright red. As soon as he had attributed that aspect to the weather, he further noticed that the man's eyes were very bright – he'd been drinking too much. Presently a thin, gawky boy came to stand miserably behind the man.
Sir Richard stepped forward.
"Welcome to Leaford, my Lord Gisburne," he greeted quietly. "And welcome to you, Guy."
"I'm cold," was the boy's only reply to the cordial greeting.
Initially Robert had felt sorry for Guy; obviously he had an unpleasant and overbearing father. His pity, however, evaporated at hearing the boy's ungracious reply. Clearly the son was as obnoxious as his father – and someone to be avoided.
Sir Richard guided his newly arrived guests to the fire burning in the hearth.
"Warm yourself, Guy," he offered in a much more charitable tone than Robert felt he would have used. Meanwhile Edmund, Lord Gisburne draped himself round Sir Richard's shoulders in a manner that made the young Huntingdon cringe with loathing. Thank goodness my father doesn't have anything to do with these two, he thought.
"Where's Lady Gisburne?" Richard enquired solicitously and Robert stretched further over the balustrade in hopes of hearing the slurred reply.
Edmund leaned heavily against his host with half closed eyes. Realising his father was incapable of speech, Guy finally muttered,
"Taken to her bed."
"I am sorry," Richard responded genuinely. He gestured towards two servants. "Ralph, Alan escort Lord Gisburne and his son to their rooms." The men half carried, half dragged their charge from the hall. Guy followed, his head drooping to his chest in embarrassment.
Shuddering Richard warmed his hands by the fire then turned to look about the hall whereupon he caught sight of Robert dangling over the balustrade and gave him a cheery wave. The fair haired boy waved back and then wandered from the gallery, down and out into the courtyard.
Robert's mind was awash with what he'd seen; he'd heard tales of Gisburnes. A normally good natured and fair minded boy, his sense of rightness had been appalled by the rudeness he had witnessed and this, in turn, coloured his judgment of Edmund and Guy.
Walking in a half daze, Robert was surprised to find himself at the stables. Deciding to see if his horse had been well cared for, he entered the building. He quickly spotted the girl, whom he had seen earlier, dragging a large bale of straw across the floor. Her face was even filthier than before. On seeing the young lord, she gave her curls a flounce.
"Help me!" she commanded.
"Please," Robert amended stubbornly. For a moment he believed she would actually throw a tantrum at having been corrected.
After eyeing the blond youth the girl hung her head solemnly.
"Please," she lisped in a coy reply.
Moving forward Robert took the bale from her.
"Where to?"
She indicated a small, grey pony half hidden by his father's horse and instructed him to carry the hay to its stall.
"They never give him enough straw," the girl explained.
Robert dropped the bale on the floor and collapsed across it, panting.
"Oh?" he managed to gasp at last.
"Thank you," she offered, indicating that she really did have good manners. "And thank you for not telling on me earlier."
"Am I right in thinking that you're Marion?" Robert inquired, sitting up.
"Lady Marion of Leaford," she announced proudly.
Bending down she piled the straw round her pony and Robert began to help her; being so absorbed in their task neither noticed Margaret's sudden entrance into the stables.
"There you both are," she spat, causing Robert and Marion to jump. "It's time to eat. The pair of you had best get washed and changed. Really! I've never seen anything like it." Clucking like a mother hen she escorted the two dirty, but happy, children back to the house. In an antechamber adjoining the great hall, Margaret saw to it that both children gave themselves a more than adequate scrub down.
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. More snow had fallen in the night and lay fresh and crisp on the fields and trees surrounding Leaford. The courtyard, however, had already been churned into a dirty mixture of mud and slush by the time Robert awoke. Scrambling from his bed, he proceeded to pull his clothing on as quickly as possible. Looking out of the window he spied a large stag crossing the fields. As he watched, the noble animal stopped, turning to gaze at the manor and, for an eerie moment, Robert felt that the creature was scrutinising him, delving into his very soul. The moment, however, was brief for something startled the stag and it quickly left, lightly skimming the ground as it bounded into the cover of the trees.
Tiptoeing quietly through his father's room, Robert made his way downstairs where he encountered Marion.
"Merry Christmas, Robert," she whispered.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered back.
"Going out?"
"Yes, I'd love to."
With a great deal of effort they lifted the bar which held the heavy door closed. Pushing against the thick wood beams they suddenly found themselves tumbling down the steps to land in a heap amongst slush and wet straw. Having brushed themselves down, Marion led the way to a small door in a wall at the back of the house.
"Open it," she told Robert.
He pushed it open to discover a small courtyard where no one had yet set foot; the snow was as pristine as when it had fallen. Small bushes beside the wall were decked with swatches of flakes and every now and then a gust of wind would send a flurry to the ground.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Marion breathed in an awestruck voice. Robert could find no words and just nodded in agreement. Turning to him, a mischievous grin lit up the whole of her face.
"Shall we?" she suggested.
Totally entranced by the young girl, Robert nodded again and they both flung themselves onto the snow, rolling and screaming with delight. It was Marion who did most of the screaming; Robert considered himself a little too old for that sort of behaviour but he did enjoy rolling round and feeling the crisp snow against his body. At last they sat up and surveyed the destruction that they had wrought on the peaceful scene. Suddenly, Marion grabbed a great handful of snow and launched it at Robert. A snowball fight immediately ensued.
Robert soon found that Marion was no respecter of persons as she tried to push snow down his neck. Grabbing her by the waist, he managed to tumble her over and then, with a quick roll, he was away. Coming to a kneeling position, he watched her squirming on the ground and couldn't help thinking how like a ginger kitten she was. Finding oneself in opposition to her would certainly mean feeling her claws. He was grateful that she obviously regarded him as a friend.
Taking a handful of snow, he threw it at her. Marion squealed and leapt to her feet, running to hide behind a large holly bush. Forming another ball of snow in his hands, Robert pursued her. Suddenly a noise behind him made her turn and, thinking that Marion had somehow managed to work her way to the other side of the yard, he let fly.
A muffled curse met his startled ears as he realised that the person who had received the snowball was none other than Guy; he'd heard the laughs and shouts and, hating to be left out of anything, had opened the door to see what was going on and, in that instance, he'd found out.
Guy was not blessed with a good sense of humour and viewed the attack, inadvertent as it so obviously was, as an affront to him and his family. With an expression that spoke as loud as thunder, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the courtyard, leaving a bemused Robert staring after him.
The soft sound of falling snow made Robert turn back to the holly bush and he saw Marion extracting herself from the prickly leaves. She ran over to him and slipped her small hand through his arm.
"He won't forget or forgive that," she said, looking up into his face.
He glanced down and saw with surprise that she looked worried.
"I can take care of myself," Robert told her stoutly, convinced in his own mind that Guy would see the funny side of it after a while.
Unfortunately Robert was wrong. Hours later Guy had still not seen the humour and, despite the festivities going on around him, spent most of the day stalking Robert, intent on revenge.
Totally absorbed in their preparations for the evening feast the servants and guests were unaware of the trouble brewing between the boys and the children were left to do as they pleased. Eventually Robert grew so cross with the unwarranted persecution that he threw a punch at Guy's face, drawing blood and making him more irritated than before.
Escaping down a corridor that led behind the kitchens, Robert came to the staircase of the great north tower. Running swiftly up the steps he found a door that opened into a small chamber. He could hear Guy behind him and propped a chair in front of the door before running to the window. The drop was too great for him to jump and he felt trapped as his only alternative would be another confrontation with Guy.
Suddenly Marion appeared in the yard below. Leaning precariously out of the window he shouted to her. She looked all around then finally turned her small heart-shaped face up to his.
"What are you doing up there?" she called.
"I hit Guy."
"That was silly."
"Yes, I know it was, but he was really annoying me."
"He does that to a lot of people; but that doesn't explain what you're doing up there."
"I ran away from him. He chased me and I found myself in here. I can't jump, it's too high."
"Yes, you'd break something," she agreed.
"And if I leave the room I'll have another fight; so I'm trapped."
"I see the problem." Marion looked about. "Stay there," she finally called out and darted off.
"Well, I don't think I can go anywhere," Robert mused to himself as he sat back and waited.
Eventually a sound like distant thunder impinged itself on his hearing and he looked out of the window again. By this time, however, Guy had discovered his hiding place and was beginning to beat on the door. The chair moved ominously. Wishing Marion would return quickly, Robert soon noted the cause of the thunder as he friend reappeared leading a scruffy horse hitched to a cart full of straw. Marion carefully positioned the cart under the window. Robert watched her with bated breath; one wrong move and that small body would be crushed beneath the weight of horse or cart or both. But Marion knew what she was doing and, once she was happy with its position, she looked up at Robert again.
"You can jump now," she told him. "The straw will break your fall."
Without hesitation or any thought of the dangers, Robert jumped into the cart just as the door burst open and Guy fell into the room.
As Robert lay atop the straw, completely winded, Marion scrambled in and regarded him anxiously.
"Are you all right?"
"No…….breath," Robert managed to gasp.
She wiped the fair hair gently from his eyes just as a face appeared over the edge of the cart.
"What are you doing with my father's cart?" a voice demanded.
Robert struggled to sit up and found himself looking straight into the eyes of a dark haired peasant boy who appeared to be about the same age as himself. Being a serf, the boy would certainly understand his being persecuted.
"I'm escaping from Lord Gisburne's son, Guy," Robert replied with as much dignity as he could muster. The effect was slightly spoiled, however, because Marion chose that moment to put straw down his neck and he found it necessary to scratch. Though the other boy smiled, Robert noticed it didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh that's all right then," the young serf said. "You're welcome."
All three children looked up at the window and saw Guy watching them. He was shaking with rage and then suddenly disappeared from view.
"He's coming to get us," Robert observed.
"Not if I can help it," Marion announced firmly and rushed off.
While she was gone the two boys regarded each other solemnly, feeling a strong sense of familiarity about the other that neither could explain. At last Marion returned and the strange moment was broken.
"I told father," she explained simply. "Guy will have to stay in his room for the rest of the day. His father's sick so he won't know."
Robert breathed a sigh of relief.
"Does that mean he'll miss the feast?"
"I doubt it. Father will probably relent as long as Guy promises to behave himself."
"He will," Robert assured her. "But it won't mean anything. He'll just want to be at the feast."
"I suppose so," Marion replied quietly.
"But to spend Christmas in your room….." Robert continued wonderingly. Impulsively he put his arm around the tousled bundle leaning against the cart and planted a small kiss on her cheek. "Well done," he praised. "You know I'd hate to be your enemy. You realise that I'm in your debt now?"
"A time may come," she told him earnestly.
"Can I take the cart back now?" the dark haired boy asked. "My father's the miller and he needs it."
"Of course you can have it back," Robert replied, leaping off. "And thank you."
The children wandered back to the stables where Matthew the Miller was wondering where his horse and cart had gone. After admonishing his son roundly for taking it, he and the boy quickly unloaded the straw. Marion and Robert watched them at work. Marion had wanted to explain that the loss of the cart had been her fault but the boy, in quietly accepting the scolding, prevented her from doing so.
As the miller prepared to drive off Marion turned to young Huntingdon.
"At least Guy's out of the way for the rest of the day," she observed quietly.
Immediately the boy on the cart turned and leaned over the side, looking at her strangely.
"Nothing's forgotten," he warned, "Nothing is ever forgotten."
As the cart rolled away Robert turned thoughtfully to Marion.
"How strange; that's exactly what I was going to say."
Marion smiled at him.
"Come on," she wheedled. "It must be nearly time to eat and I'm starving. You'll have change though. Have you looked at yourself lately?"
Robert crossed over to a frozen puddle and looked at his reflection. Pulling straw from his hair he acknowledged that his appearance was deplorable and he laughed.
"All right," he told Marion. "Let's go and eat. Race you to the hall."