Malton, North Riding of Yorkshire, the previous day
"Sir Walter, I cannot allow you to escort me all the way to Filey. My friends and I will be fine from here, I promise you."
Marian knew that her words were falling on deaf ears, and she wasn't quite sure that she minded. Walter had proved to be an amiable companion, both witty and articulate, and devoid of any intent. Although his initial offer had been an escort as far as York, during which time he kept both Marian and Eve in comfort as well as thoroughly entertained, he had been reluctant to leave them once they had traversed the capital.
Pausing for a time at the Hen and Feather Inn, where Walter treated them to venison stew and ale, they were regaled with stories of outlaws on the road to Filey by the rotund landlord, who eyed both Marian and Eve with a glint in his eye. As a result, Walter insisted on taking them straight to Filey Manor's door.
It wasn't a great surprise. Marian had told him the entire story, including the reason for her journey across Yorkshire; it had been difficult not to. He was such a good listener, commenting in all the right places with all the right answers, and she had wanted to give something back for his kindness and hospitality. After all, it hadn't been his duty to pick them up from the side of the road and assist them, yet he had.
Walter was a curious and sociable type, and appreciated gossip in any form. As Lord of Doncaster, he regularly mixed with the noble set of the shire, and, on occasion, the neighbouring shires. As a result, he was an acquaintance of Robin's from their younger years, and had first-hand knowledge of Bridlington's drunken antics and boorishness. However, Walter liked to keep himself apart from the bad behaviour of his peers, preferring instead the company of the fairer sex, who appreciated his sensitivity, eye for beauty, and informal conversation. His romantic nature and good looks meant that he was never short of female company, but he had yet to marry.
Walter's own titbit of gossip of the moment was the information he had received from Bridlington and his entourage upon meeting them outside Doncaster. He was quite perturbed to find that Marian was already aware of Bridlington's plan to burn down Filey Manor, yet became gleeful when she imparted the knowledge that she was on her way to help stop him. Walter was good friends with Robert and Eleanor of Filey and was incensed to discover the reason behind Bridlington's nefarious plans. He had known Roana since she was a child, and couldn't blame the girl for turning Bridlington down. The man was vile.
His mind made up, and his belly full of venison and ale, Walter was filled with enthusiasm as they progressed along the road from York to Filey. They soon forgot the landlord's stories of outlaws on the open road, imbued as they were with alcoholic cheer, and were therefore surprised when there came the sound of loud voices ahead of them, and the carriage shuddered to a reluctant halt.
"What's happening?" Eve said, fearfully, as Walter fell abruptly silent.
Walter held up a beringed hand. "Never fear, fair ladies. Let me see what is happening.."
The door to the carriage was wrenched open and a dirty, bearded face appeared in the gap.
"M'lord. M'ladies." The newcomer grinned at them, exposing a mouthful of rotting teeth. "Step outta the carriage, please. This is an ambush."
Marian's heart sank in dismay. Outlaws, and grubby, ruthless ones at that. There was no doubt in her mind that these miscreants would take their horses, and what little money her father had given her to cover the journey. Inwardly, she cursed herself for accepting Walter's offer. If they had continued on horseback, they may have had a better chance of avoiding the outlaws. But hindsight could be annoyingly smug.
Stepping down from the carriage, she looked around, taking stock of their surroundings. They were on a deserted stretch of road with a small lake to one side and a copse of trees on the other. The outlaws must have been waiting in the trees for any unwitting passerbys.
There were six of them, all men, and all covered in grime. Two of them, a stocky, older man, and a tall, gangly youth, had apprehended Averey; the youth had a dagger to the big man's throat while the older man held his hands behind his back. Averey looked apoplectic, his face red with anger. Walter's attendant was unconscious on the ground with a red welt on his forehead, and the carriage driver was also being held at knife point by a weaselly-looking man. Walter's two guards were on the ground further back along the road, presumably dead. Their horses were nowhere to be seen.
"What 'ave we 'ere, then?" The bearded man, who appeared to be their leader, approached Walter, Marian, and Eve. He stopped before Walter and gestured to him. "Jewellery, m'lord."
A young boy of no more than thirteen, if that, scurried over and held out a cloth sack, indicating with a nod of his head that Walter should place his treasured belongings within.
"Really? My jewellery?" Walter looked dismayed. "But these rings were handed down to me by my grandfather. Do you have to take them all?"
Marian glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His flamboyant nature was shining through, and she hoped it wouldn't be to his detriment. She could hardly imagine outlaws like these having much patience for theatricals. She nudged him with her elbow.
Sighing, loudly, Walter began to remove his rings and drop them into the sack. The bearded man, satisfied that he was following orders, moved on to Marian and Eve.
"What 'ave you two got for me?" He leered at them, looking them both up and down. "Pretty ladies like you must 'ave something for us lonely outlaws."
Shuddering inwardly, Marian raised her chin, bravely, and looked him in the eye. "We have nothing for you. As you can see, we come only with the clothes on our backs. No jewellery, no coin. Nothing."
The man stepped closer to her until he was up in her face, his breath pungent. "Is that so? I guess you'll have ter pay me for yer safe passage along this road in another way, then. Whaddya reckon, lads?"
The men jeered, and Marian recoiled.
"Don't be so disgusting!" She made to back away from him, but he grabbed her arm, roughly, while another man moved forward to seize Eve. Averey let out a roar and began to struggle against the men who were restraining him, and, suddenly, there was a tumult of activity on all sides.
There came a number of zipping sounds, and men began to fall, silently, around them. At the same time, two figures emerged from the copse of trees and began to run at them, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Shocked, Marian attempted to gather her senses, looking around. Her attacker and Eve's assailant were on the ground, an arrow each protruding from their backs. There was another outlaw on the ground by the carriage horses, and the young boy had taken off in the other direction, leaving his cloth sack in Walter's triumphant hands. Averey had overpowered the youth with the dagger, and the other man was being chased away by a familiar-looking figure in green brandishing a sword and shield.
"Much?" Marian said in amazement, then quickly glanced to the side to see Djaq helping Walter's attendant to his feet. Another figure was sauntering towards them from the copse of trees, carrying a Saracen's bow atop his shoulders.
"Robin of Locksley!" Walter exclaimed in delight. "You turned up at exactly the right moment."
"Hello, Walter, you old dog!" Reaching him, Robin clapped him heartily on his back, then quickly turned to seek out Marian.
"Robin!" Her face beaming, Marian launched herself into his arms, ecstatic to see him. "Thank God you're here."
"Oof! Careful, Marian," Robin laughed, but embraced her eagerly, wrapping his arms around her. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh. Your back!" Marian tried to draw away, aghast. "Is it still bad?"
"It will need re-stitching," Djaq spoke up. "But I do not have a needle or thread until we get to Filey."
Stood next to Averey, she looked tiny yet unafraid. Much, positioned on his other side, regarded him in open disbelief, his mouth agape, until he spotted Eve and his face lit up.
"My dear fellow, you are hurt?" Walter looked concerned.
"It's nothing, Walter. Just a few lashes on the back, courtesy of the Sheriff of Nottingham." Reluctantly, Robin released Marian, wincing. "However, spending all day in the saddle is not helping the healing process."
"I know an excellent physician," Walter announced. "You have just saved my life and my jewellery. Let me repay the favour."
"I appreciate the offer, my friend, but we have to be somewhere," Robin replied, ruefully.
Walter rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. You have to rescue your uncle's manor house from Bridlington. Marian told me everything."
Robin shot Marian a look, eyebrows raised, and she shrugged. "We can trust Walter."
"Of course you can, Locksley." Walter looked affronted as he regarded Robin. "We've known one another for many years, and have I ever let you down?"
"Well, no," Robin said, slowly, crossing his arms.
"Then trust me like your fair lady does," Walter appealed, with a gracious grin. "I have a friend at Malton Castle who has a marvellous physician. We can make our way there, get your back seen to, and you can all sleep in a decent bed before your quest to save Filey tomorrow."
Walter presented his plan with aplomb, and Robin listened with interest only to shake his head, regretfully, at the end of the speech. "I'm afraid we are in a race against time. If Bridlington gets to Filey before us..."
Walter cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, but he won't. I have it on very good authority that Bridlington and his entourage are heading home first, to Bridlington. He will hit Filey tomorrow."
Robin looked at Marian, who nodded, reassuringly. "We met them on the road. Walter spoke to William and the Sheriff. Luckily, Eve and I were in the carriage, out of sight."
Robin turned back to Walter, who spread his hands out in supplication. "I would not put Robert, Eleanor, or the lovely Roana in any undue danger. They will be fine until tomorrow, and you need stitches. What use will you be to your men in such a state? Rest up, and leave for Filey early in the morning. I won't take no for an answer."
Bridlington Hall, East Riding of Yorkshire
Alice wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself as she gazed out of the open window at the North Sea, glittering burnt-orange beneath the setting sun. The view from Bridlington Hall, positioned as it was near the cliff edge, looking out over the village below, and, past that, the open sea, was spectacular. It almost reminded her of home. Almost, but not quite.
A wind was whipping up, bringing with it the scent of salt and fresh fish, and Alice braced herself against it, refusing to let it win. She had grown up with the wind in her hair and the sand between her toes, and there was nothing she found more comforting than the sight and sound of the waves crashing on the beach. Only, on that particular evening, it wasn't working.
A door opened behind her, and a maid bustled into the room, making straight for the window.
"My lady, you'll catch yer death! Let me close that for yer and stoke the fire. Your bath should be ready now."
She lay a warm hand on Alice's arm, and Alice looked at her in bewilderment.
"Oh, it's Alice, ma'am. I'm no lady. Just Alice. I'm a maid too, you know."
The maid paused to look at her, her eyes sharp as a tack beneath her hat, and smiled. "Be that as it may, my girl, but yer accompanyin' Sir Guy as his consort, which makes yer a huge step above a mere servant."
Alice returned her smile, but hers was tainted with melancholy. She sighed. "Aye, you're right. I should be happy with my place in life right now."
"But you're not?" The woman looked at her, kindly, and Alice shook her head, sadly. "I can't say I blame yer, young miss. Is it yer man?"
"Oh, no. No. He's more than fine," Alice mustered a faint smile at the thought of Guy.
"So, it's Sir William, then." The maid gave a knowing nod and moved to the fire, picking up the poker. "Don't let him bother yer, my girl. He's nothing but brandy an' piss, that one. This poker has got more brains than 'im."
Alice stared at her, and, slowly, the corners of her mouth began to turn up until they were both laughing. Trying to quieten their merriment only made it all the more hilarious, and they had tears running down their faces by the time they managed to get themselves under control.
"Feeling better, now, lass?" The maid asked, wiping the corners of her eyes on her apron. Alice nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Good. The name's Mary. You come t'find me if you need cheering up again."
There came the sound of someone clearing their throat, and both women whipped round, guiltily. Guy was stood in the doorway, tall and dark in the dimming light. His eyes rested on Alice, and the ghost of a smile played on his lips.
"Oh, my lord. I'm nearly done," Mary gasped, and turned back to the fire. Once it was burning merrily in the hearth, she turned down the bed, added a fleece to the mattress from a chest beside the window, and, curtsying, departed. Throughout it all, Alice and Guy stood stock still, staring at each other, until Alice broke the spell, bidding Mary goodnight.
After the door had closed behind her, Guy moved farther into the room, beginning to loosen the lacing at the neck of his tunic.
"It was nice to hear you laugh, my lady," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "I haven't heard it in quite some time."
"I'm sorry, my lord." She moved to intercept him, shooing his hands out of the way so she could remove his tunic herself. Without the leather jacket that he usually wore, he appeared less intimidating, more human, and she loved these moments, when they shed all layers and embraced the intimacy of their relationship. She had never been so much herself with anyone before, until she had met Guy. "Join me for a bath?"
He gave a slow, lopsided grin and closed the gap between them, taking her face between his hands and kissing her, passionately, before backing her onto the bed. By the time they made it to the bath, the water had cooled, yet they spent time washing each other before moving back to the bed, huddling together under the fleeces until they had warmed again, which didn't take long. The fire was crackling in the hearth and the room had heated nicely.
"The Sheriff has sent Bradshaw on to Scarborough Castle with news of Bridlington's plans tomorrow," Guy said, stroking his fingers up and down Alice's arm, which was lay across his chest. "Hopefully, Prince John will object."
Alice raised her head from his shoulder to look at him, hope in her eyes. "Will it work?"
"I expect so," Guy said. "Prince John was furious when he heard that Devereux had ordered the barn to be burned down. He likes to have final say on all burnings."
Alice's brow furrowed very slightly. "But how can we be sure?"
Guy leaned forward to kiss the end of her pert nose. "Don't worry. We'll be there. If I have to, it will give me great pleasure to stop Bridlington myself."
Alice nodded in satisfaction. "I hope Lady Roana is already there," she murmured, settling her head on his chest.
Guy stilled. "She knows?"
Alice paused while she considered her answer. He wasn't aware that she had gone to the forest the day before to warn Roana and Robin. She hadn't deliberately withheld the information; he had been busy with the Sheriff and so hadn't queried, or even noticed, her absence. She hoped he wouldn't be angry.
Without looking at him, she said, "Yes. She had to know. I'm sorry, Guy."
"You went to Sherwood?" he said, his voice a rumble against her ear.
"Yes, Guy. I went to the forest, and then I went to Locksley." She lifted her head again to look him in the eye. "They're my friends, Guy. My family. I had to warn them."
He nodded, his glance smouldering yet with a glimmer of compassion, and ran his hand through her flame-red hair. "I know you did, my love. And you did well."
Alice eyed him, queryingly, and he smirked, gathering her closer again and running a hand down her body to hook her leg over his. "It means Hood will already be there, making our job a whole lot easier. I reckon Bridlington will have a fight on his hands."