The following months brought unease and unrest, though it did not seem to strike Knighton quite as sharply as those estates and settlements further afield. As such, villages and the less pragmatic barons they served were bludgeoned with rigid taxes and the population of Knighton and its nearby villages grew. Skilled workers set up shops, attracting trade, journeymen and, from time to time, wives for them all.
Knighton thrived quietly. Marian released prompt payments to the regent with her father's seal and made sure Sir Edward's clothes were modest but impeccable when he left for council meetings. At his insistence, Knighton made no firm affiliations, but Marian curtseyed and made sure to feed the knights in black well when they stopped to water their horses.
Every so often, Sir Guy arrived with them. When he did, she made sure there was stew and ale for his men. For Sir Guy, there was pie and carrots or roast with potatoes. She poured ale while Sir Edward approved fretfully.
"Lady Marian, you have an excellent larder."
"Thank you, Sir Guy. Our good work affords a few rewards." He wasn't wrong, but it might be more accurate to say she maintained the larder. Not a morsel was wasted, he just wasn't there for the days when the manor house ate little more than porridge. Marian was careful with her household affairs. The years with all the grown men gone had been hard and lean and she was not so careless as to let it happen again.
He set his cup down with an appreciative nod towards Sir Edward. "I see there are greens on the table today. Summer is coming and my men are asking if your generosity might be offered again?"
Marian set down her knife. "To which generosity do you refer? We sent scores of bread loaves stuffed with meat trimmings to the afflicted just last week."
Marian had heard reports of black knights scorching a house in a village where the failure to pay taxes had been marked for punishment. The house had been a refuge for orphans, already traumatized by loss, and hunger gnawed at troubled little bellies faster than most. Marian's maids and groundsmen had swooped in with food and relocated the children as best they could. A few were even serving at Knighton now.
Sir Guy straightened at the careful reproach. "The village chose not to pay their share. They knew the consequences."
Cooly, Marian lifted her cup and swallowed a mouthful of watered wine. "I hope you aren't suggesting those children deserved to be starved, uprooted, and nearly killed," she said.
Sir Guy sighed but remained still. When he finally spoke his words were low and careful. "It was not what was intended. We had no way of knowing the house was for orphans."
Marian's mind flared. It would be easy to scoff and abuse him for cruelty, but a moment of self righteous indulgence would cost her more than a guest. Besides, he was not his own master- the new sheriff had all of Nottingham Derbyshire and Sir Guy had the task of bringing the countryside to heel.
She had her opening, and would not play it foolishly. She set her hand near his on the table and leaned forward.
"You could ask me," she said softly. "If you have questions, ask me."
For a moment, no longer than a blink, his eyes widened. Information, Marian knew, was the key to everything and if she was any judge, Sir Guy knew it as well. A man in his position should take every advantage available.
As should a woman in hers.
Sir Guy looked down to their hands. His fingers twitched. "I will take your offer under advisement, Lady Marian."
She'd baited the hook well and had her nibble, so she gave a tiny nod to her father.
"Sir Guy," Edward of Knighton began, "do you recall the little festival we host every year?"
"I am not likely to forget it," Sir Guy answered readily, clearly pleased to change topics, though his eyes drew back to their hands.
"It promises to be the largest in many years, what with all the resettling."
"My men have talked of little else all year. Your hospitality was extraordinary, Sir Edward."
Marian withdrew her hand and poured a measure into Sir Guy's cup. "We still find our numbers uneven. If you can find some dozen or so men under your command…"
"Well behaved men?" Sir Guy said with a smile.
She grinned. "Just so. Can such men still be found in your ranks, Sir Guy?"
"With the right incentive I am sure I can find suitable men." Sir Guy leaned back and raised his cup to his lips. "And I may bring some questions for you."
Marian glanced towards her father, who gave her a nod. "Perhaps we should save further discussions for the festival?"
…
There was little preamble to Sir Guy's approach. Once the blessing of the feast concluded, he'd walked directly to the pits and tables and brought back a basket of her favorite things. A bundle of flowers, tied with a bit of aged ribbon, was even tucked between a sausage and an apple tart.
"My lady," he said with a bow, then laid out a blanket for her to sit on. He first offered a bit of roasted pheasant and Marian delicately pulled strands of juicy meat from it. When only the bone remained, Marian examined his collection and took a berry from a small bowl nestled by the flask of wine.
"You made fast work of that, Sir Guy," she remarked. The berry was tart, but it cut the warmth of the day radiating up through the blanket.
"I may have asked my men to clear my path."
"For shame," she said, and shook her head. "But at least they didn't do everything for you. We'll have you courting like a proper lord soon."
The moment the words were out Marian feared he would misunderstand. With the right hand of the sheriff who was the right hand of the prince, a misstep could be very bad indeed. But, rather than annoyed, he only looked thoughtful for a moment, and a smile played at the corners of his eyes.
"Who would you have me court, once I am bettered?"
Relieved, Marian tapped her chin theatrically. "My maid Bess has talked of little but you since last year's feast. I'm certain she would renounce her widowhood for a trifle from you."
Guy laughed softly and looked deep into his cup. "While your maid is no doubt a fine woman, I'm afraid I have developed an appreciation for… diplomatic women."
With little more in her hands than a morsel of sausage and a jest that had fallen flat, Marian swallowed over her thickened throat and decided to parry.
"You've obviously never had to arrange a lady's wardrobe," Marian teased. "But surely you'll find her in Prince John's court, then? I suppose you've taken a liking to our more refined cousins to the South? If not, I'm sure we could yet find a handsome woman to decorate your halls."
He barked a bitter laugh. "My halls, indeed." Guy drained his cup and reached for the flask of wine, but did not drink. Instead he drew a deep breath and poured carefully, his humor seemingly restored. "You are too wise to be decorative, Lady Marian. A woman like you is wasted here at Knighton."
How dare he. A compliment and insult delivered in the same breath. It rather reminded her of Robin. "I am hardly wasted, sir. I oversee the management of the estate. I distribute food and alms twice a week and," she lowered her voice, "I take care of my father, and I provide him… council."
"Don't think I hadn't noticed." Guy was thoughtful, then he refilled her drink slowly. "But think of how much more you could do, my lady, if you were better situated," he said.
The rest of the meal passed quietly. Marian, unprepared to dwell on Sir Guy's implications while sharing a tart with him, smiled at passing friends and tenants. Marian danced lightly and traded partners, whirling with the other women to the thump of drums and the trills of pipes.
Sir Guy did not dance, but he watched.
When the festivities wound down, Father Mayson shooed lusty couples away from the shadows, again reminding the merrymakers that the day was blessed. Sir Guy's horse was called for and Sir Edward and Marian gathered to see him off.
The men exchanged pleasantries as the horses were readied and Marian stood by, acutely aware of the calculated moves they'd made all day. All year.
"Sir Edward, I look forward to seeing you at council next week." He bowed and motioned for a man to bring his horse forward, then he turned to Marian. "My lady, look for a messenger tomorrow. I will send an invitation to Nottingham castle in return for your generosity."
Marian curtseyed and formulated her answer. She would keep the upper hand. "Knighton is a place of welcome. Our generosity is freely given."
Sir Edward, satisfied with her answer, made his excuses and was drawn away to tend business. Sir Guy watched his back as he went, and bent to take Marian's hand.
"Please consider my invitation, my lady. I would like to show you how generous I can be." He kissed her hand, then let her fingers slip between his. A trail of shivers crept up her arm like a pleasant itch.
Hours after he rode away, the trails were still spreading.