**** **** ****
A/N: It's me again! Thanks to Eh, Man for trying to give me some indents. Even if they don't show up, her thorough beta-ing is much appreciated. And about the Latin quote? No one says it. It's just like how those eighteenth-century authors used to put "finis" at the conclusion of the novel. That sort of idea.
Also, does anyone know of any skills Marian's ever been given besides swordsmanship? That's really cliché of me, and I know it, but I just couldn't think of another. I was interested if there were any other classical talents she had.
Anyways, that's about all I have to say for now! Hope you guys enjoy! Long chapter this time around.
**** ***** **** The fever came a few days later, and it nearly got Robin. He was delirious for a fortnight, thrashing in his sleep and crying out for no reason. He screamed my name and begged for mercy in his nightmares, which were constant. He recognized no faces, registered not one voice. It was horrible! I stopped coming to watch them for a sennight because I could not stand to hear him wail.
Sara called it, "the sleep of the fever". Her sister had died of the fever, so she knew the symptoms well. She said, quite calmly, that it was like a permanent nightmare, shifting every few hours. Usually, it only occurred when your body was heated for a period of more than three days. And you recognized barely anything but your pain. Delirium would overtake you, and anything in reference to bad memories could get you howling. The one thing they agreed not to mention was my name. In the morning, Robin would whimper of burning, and by noon, he would be shivering with chills. But no matter how he felt, his body was constantly bathed in a pool of sweat, and his forehead was wild with fire. Will was a nervous wreck, head in his hands more oft than not. I highly doubt he got any sleep.
Sometimes Robin would cry for Will when he was half-delirious. His cousin would always come and sit cross-legged beside him, talking calmly of anything that had happened that day. Sometimes he'd try to stroke his hair or pull the broken fingers apart from each other, but Robin never wanted to be touched - at all. He would scream if anyone even tried to so much as brush his hair out of his eyes. Sara had to gag him when she put the poultices on his wounds, for the foresters were alert to the shrieking they heard every day, and drew near to camp. Robin only calmed when he was allowed to stare at Will from where he lay on the ground. For some reason, that comforted him, and he would fall asleep. Sara was puzzled by this behaviour. I could tell she thought something odd about this illness, because she would stare at Robin in a curious way when he begged for Will. Finally, she cornered Will and forced him to answer her questions. "Why does Robin always ask for you?" "You tell me, dove. You're the healer." "When someone falls into the sleep of the fever, they usually don't know what's going on, and they're very frightened. So they scream for someone they feel safe around, or someone who protects them." "There. See? You answered your own question." Sara raised an eyebrow. "My sister screamed for my mother and father. Why does Robin ask for you?"
He blinked inquisitively at her. "I have no idea." Sensing that the interrogation would continue, he walked briskly away from her. "And I'm a Norman." She followed right behind him, arms crossed impatiently.
He frowned. "Why do you have to know?" He was fiddling nervously with the bark of a nearby tree, trying to pry it away from its hold. She grabbed his hand gradually, and leisurely forced it into her own, gently bending the fingers so that they nearly fit inside her own fist.
"Because I need to gather information for my healing," she replied, resting her head against his shoulder and smiling coyly. Now, Will must have shown desperate self-control with his reply, because he evidently wanted to kiss her and give in. I was definitely going to have to remember Sara's tactic. "Nay, he wouldn't want me to tell you."
She kissed the side of his face. "I love you, Will." She smiled demurely again, arching both eyebrows. Will frowned. "You can't tell him I told you." "I wouldn't dream of it."
"His father died when he was seven, and that beast was never very - how should I put this - 'nice' to Robin, so it wasn't 'run to father', it was 'run FROM father'. His mother married the lord of Locksley when he was nine." "And?"
"His mother was Lady Elizabeth, formerly of Norwell. But she married a forester, Robin's father, so my family disowned her in a way. Not formally, of course. But once the forester was gone, she was welcomed back - if she came without the baggage." "Robin was the baggage." "Exactly. And, being the inhuman and unnatural creature she is, she left her nine-year-old son to fend for himself. And guess the only person in the whole shire that thought there was something wrong with that?" "You, my love. But why would someone wealthy as the Lord of Locksley want to marry a used woman?" "She'd already had eight boys, even if Robin was the only one who survived. He figured she'd bear him a son to inherit his estate. Besides, she'd have been his fourth wife. He just wanted a legitimate heir, not a pretty or rich spouse." "Pretty desperate, eh? Must've been the disgrace of the shire." Will smiled. "Obviously." Sara returned his smile. "Well, that explains why Robin only wants you around." She kissed him on the lips this time, though she had to get on her tiptoes to reach him. She made a move to walk away, but paused a moment. "Will? Did - Did his mother have any children with the Lord of Locksley?"
Will grinned maniacally and shook his head. "Nay, and now the old bastard's going to pay for it. Even on his deathbed he was sure he'd gotten her pregnant. Right before he died he wrote that any children of the woman should inherit his estate - those exact words." He laughed shortly. "But he didn't specify that they had to come from him."
Sara's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious? Robin could inherit Locksley? Our Robin - the lord of Locksley?" "Once his mother dies, and she's ill at the moment." "Does he have any idea?" "Of course not. Only the nobility know of it, and they don't exactly want a peasant inheriting that much land." "Why don't you tell him?" "Because he'd try to find a way not to inherit, knowing him."
She smiled again. "I can always get my information from you." Sara WAS an extremely good healer, especially for someone as obstinate as Robin. She could be positively brutal - tearing the dead skin off of Robin's burns until he screamed for her to stop - and the next moment extraordinarily gentle - stroking Robin's hair for five hours straight until he finally nodded off. Of course, the latter act of compassion could have been due to that fact that Robin was delirious and begging her not to beat him. She put all her herbal remedies to use, but eventually, it took both her and Friar Tuck to establish a decent cure. That really upset her, because that meant the dogs would be around. Even Robin and John, who had the most patience, couldn't stand those giant hounds. Only Will loved them. They were his darlings; he and Tuck both thought the nasty beasts to be delightful. I thought they were abominable. So Sara and Tuck worked for three days straight amongst the beasts, trying to figure out which herbs did what. They finally ended up with some strange combination of lungwort, marjorjam, and lemon balm, along with a lot of strange somewhat olive things only Sara knew the names of. And even then they weren't sure it would work. For three days, they argued over whether it had too much of this or too much of that, until Will finally told them fiddling wasn't going to cure Robin any sooner that simple trial and error. It worked.
I was in ecstasy for days afterwards, knowing that Robin's fever was going down. Of course, no one could be sure if it was Robin's stubborn immune system or the foul-smelling cure, but he was still healing. No one at Whitby could understand my sudden shift from the routine moodiness I was famous for to the angelic patience and humility that was usually of Aedre. It was discovered one morning when Sara was getting ready to sit on Robin's shoulders so that she could cool his forehead off with some cold cloths. She went to grab him and spread the alarm (Robin's screams had made a marvellous cock crow for the lazy outlaws), but he didn't even move when she touched him. Instead, he smiled faintly at her and murmured a greeting. Of course, Sara managed to ruin it by screaming for everyone to come see, and all of the outlaws immediately ran over to watch him. They all laughed and clapped at the brilliance of Sara and Tuck, oblivious to the growing alarm on Robin's face. It wasn't until he tried to stand up and run away that they noticed he was nearly swooning. David got the worst wake-up call, as Robin managed to collapse and lurch right into him. That cut the celebrations short, especially when Will threatened to break the nose bridge of anyone who disturbed his cousin again. But my spirits weren't dampened at all! My Robin was healed! Of course, there was still the matter of the bruises and welts, but as long as the cursed fever wasn't there, everything seemed idealistically perfect. Of course, the true sign that he was better was that he began to ask who was doing this and if so-and-so had worked on their archery. If the worry was back, Robin was back.
Obviously, the first thing to do once he was better was to wash his hair and face, both of which were less than attractive. And that made me horribly lonely inside, because they were all laughing and pretending not to recognize him after he was clean, calling him "Will" and "John", or even "Nan". (That last one was Sara's idea) And sitting curled in my tree, I was suddenly so distant from them, friendless and unwelcome. For the first time since my spying had begun, I truly felt like an intrusion upon their pleasure.
It wasn't until he began to walk that I remembered my precarious position. After about a month or so of healing, Robin still had a little trouble staying upright for long periods of time. He usually had to lean against trees or cling to someone's shoulder in order to stay standing. I have to admit, it was rather pitiful. But progress was golden. Every step made my heart jump with happiness.
And then it happened.
Robin had been walking on his own for a while, hobbling around on his staff. Will still watched him as if he were going to fall any moment. Sara insisted that he rest more and walk less. The scars on his back would never fade, but she promised they would heal with time - if he rested. It hurt to look at them, since Robin walked around without a shirt on for a sennight after the fever, as Nan was still scrounging for fabric for a new one to replace his torn old one. I had been the one in charge of buying the fabric before, which was usually a bad lot of green, but now they had no idea where to get their wool.
By the time the event came, he had been wearing his patched tunic for two days. Nan was quite proud of her accomplishment, though it was too long, and the sleeves were too short. Robin claimed that she'd done a splendid job of it, calling it a wonderful piece of clothing.
I had just climbed down from my tree, prepared to go home, when I heard heavy footsteps. And like the brilliant person I am, I froze, leaving just enough time for Will's head came through the greenery. He took one look at me and flung the point of his sword at my throat. "Give me one good reason not to kill you right now," he hissed, "and keep it quiet." "Will - what did I do to you?" It was pathetic, I know. "What did you do?" His voice rose in hatred and disbelief. "Sure, I hurt Robin, but I didn't exactly harm you." I cringed. Aye, extremely pathetic. "He doesn't trust me anymore, you wicked girl! That you stole from me! I had a right to his trust. I'd never betrayed him the way you did." He was advancing, so I retreated. It wasn't working. There were too many trees in Sherwood. Cursed greenery. "But when he looks at me ---- He never tells me anything! Do you know what you've done? I should kill you now! He doesn't trust any of us! He CAN'T trust anyone! That is reason enough to murder you!"
I hated hearing Will's laughing voice twisted into a venomous hiss. We remained there for what seemed liked days, but was probably only minutes; Will was torn between murdering me and saving his soul, and I was struggling between the need to kill him for my own sake and the need to spare him for Robin's.
There was another barely audible clumping from some ways off. Will cursed under his breath. And there was Robin. "Will?" he called, "Sara wonders if ---"
His mouth lay open; hanging useless from his slackened jaw, tongue still against his teeth. His body, rigid with pride before, had drooped helplessly; bearing all weight against the staff he dragged himself along with. "Will, how - how did she come here?" he whispered, eyes flung open widely.
The sword held to my throat twitched. "I don't know," Will replied cautiously, keeping a watchful eye on me, the other watching his cousin anxiously.
Robin stared around him for another eternity, and then froze. "The loophole," he murmured, staring straight at me, "You told me about the loophole."
Will smiled wickedly. "Well, she won't be telling anyone else about it, now, will she?" he sneered. And he pulled the sword back, preparing to strike.
"Will, don't!" Robin screamed, and he almost fell of the staff. Wincing in pain, he stood straight again.
But Will showed no pity. His eyes were brimming with too much anger. "Robin, you cannot still feel anything for her! Not after what she --" "Will! Listen to me! I killed a forester! And you see how desperately the sheriff wants my head because of it! If you were to kill a noble --- Will, not even I could hide you in Sherwood." He was struggling to stay upright, but the staff wobbled dangerously. Will swore. "But she knows! She knows where our camp is, you idiot! We'll have to move if she lives, and we can't -" "Then we'll move." "Nay! Robin, it is easier to kill the disloyal thing now!"
I trembled. Please spare me. I feared the ruthless look in Will's eyes. He had grown up sure that it was his duty to protect Robin - from his parents, the bullies, the other foresters, the sheriff, and now - ME. And I really don't think he would have any qualms about killing me if I posed a threat to his self-appointed charge.
Will glowered at Robin. "Besides, no one could pin it to me," he snapped.
Robin held out a broken hand in supplication. "That is all very well, Will. But if they can find no murderer, they will name me her killer."
Will froze, sword moving ever so slightly from my neck. That was true, and he wouldn't hurt Robin, even if it meant he could kill me. "The - the price on your head would be ---" "Will, even those we help would be after me."
Will swore. "But, Robin ---" He was almost whining.
Robin shrugged. "Will, we have always been at her mercy," he murmured, watching me with fear from the corner of his eye.
Will's brow was still furrowed. Then he smirked. "Sara's awfully good at throwing those knives," he sneered, eyes lethal in their scrutiny of me, "It would be quite a pity if one of those daggers were to land in the back of your darling father." Robin started, but I noticed that he did not protest this implication.
If it had been the sheriff threatening me, I would have insulted his manners. But it was Will, who, firstly, didn't give a dunghill about his manners, and secondly, would cut my tongue out if I spoke. I only nodded obediently. He drew the sword slowly across my neck, only barely breaking the skin. "Mind that you don't forget," he murmured, smirking, and then backed up.
I tried to beg Robin with my eyes, watching him in that innocent expression I had perfected over years of playacting in order to escape a lady's usual strictures. He managed to meet my eyes for a few moments, but soon, his eyes wandered back to his feet. Will, catching my tactic, bellowed and charged at me with the sword. I screamed as loudly as I could and ran from that spot, praying a forester would show up and stop me. Will's mocking laughter rang after me. By the rood, how I ran. I was sure my legs would fall off when I came back to Whitby. The wind swept around me, trying to compensate for human affection. I stared at my surroundings - the manor home that housed my father, the serfs who toiled until death, the servants who performed more important tasks, and the cold wet grass that fingered my ankles with gentle scratching sounds. The sky was predicting rain again, to the surprise of none. But only I could feel the storm that was already brewing. I waved timidly to one of the serfs, whose hands were bleeding from pushing the plow all morning. I paused. How tired I was. I wanted only to sleep. But my conscience overcame me, and I traveled down to the fields the serfs plowed. My friend blanched and held up his hands in innocence. I rolled my eyes happily at him and stepped over to the overseer. Our serfs were not too fond of him. Neither was I. "Sir, tell them they may go in for the night," I ordered. The overseer raised one eyebrow. "Are you sure, milady? I have not received orders from milord." "You did not receive orders to put them to work, either," I snapped. Of course, he knew without being told that they were to work each day, but it still made a nice comeback. And the exhausted serfs smiled gratefully. How little they expected. Didn't they know that I could free them, but I chose not to?
"Aye, milady, yet ---" I glowered at him, and pushed him behind me. In a loud voice, I proclaimed, "You may all leave your work for today!" feeling my lips twitch when they grinned, "No matter WHAT this fool over here says." I jerked my thumb in the direction of the overseer. They laughed and trailed over to their shacks.
My father was sitting by the fire when I came in. I smiled at him. "Marian," he said, smiling as if my presence made the world go round.
I walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "Hello, Father. How are you?" I asked, seating myself in the chair beside him.
"Fine, love, fine," he replied. His gnarled fingers were locked tightly around the arms of his chair. I smiled.
"That's wonderful. Any news from the town?" He nodded slowly, staring at his feet. For a man of over forty, my father was quite strong. "My sister is marrying, darling. And she wishes for us to attend. Would you like that?" "I suppose, Father. Is this your sister, Lucy, by chance?" Lucy was actually my father's half-sister. After all, the girl was a few years younger than me, and gorgeous. They could not have come from the same two people. "Aye. She's very pretty, so it comes as no surprise that she has found a man to adore her." "Might I bring Aedre with me?" "Of course. It is a rare day you two are not seen together."
I smiled and nodded. "When will the event take place?" I asked sweetly. He smiled in return. "A fortnight's time and it will be here. Your own, I fear, is much father into time," he told me, trying to console a heart hat needed no consolation on that matter. I was hardly looking forward to a lifelong shackle of the Church that would bind me to the fat pig known as Richard for all of eternity. But my father didn't know that. He was too sweet to believe that anyone could truly loathe someone they were engaged to. There was no question of his love for my mother. But her affection was questionable. I must have taken after her, because everyone else in my family seems so disgustingly kind. My older brother, Andrew, had been just like Father, always smiling and understanding. I mean, everyone appreciates kindness, but there is a level at which it's inhuman! And there was compassionate Aedre, and my deceased cousin Mildred. Mildred had been the homeliest girl I had ever laid eyes on, but was so benevolent she ended up in an extremely wealthy marriage and completely in love. Too bad the fever carried her off.
The door flew open, and Aedre came storming into the room. She had been outside very often these days, talking to none other than Edward. The both of them got along wonderfully, and I had high hopes of their marriage. But it was highly unlikely. Firstly, Edward was an oldest son, and destined to marry the best his parents could find - moneywise. Secondly, Aedre had barely any dowry, because she was the first daughter in a family of five. Her family had sent her to Whitby after hearing about "her unruly cousin, whom, rumour has it, neglects each and every one of her duties as mistress of the household". Oh, please Aunt Matilda. We'd take Aedre in without the charming insults.
Aedre STORMED. Peaceful, saintly, patient, humble Aedre stalked into the room like --- well, like me. She flung her cloak onto the ground and stomped towards my chambers, muttering darkly to herself. I followed her with my eyes, awaiting the usual smile and wave, but she hardly noticed that anyone else was in the room. Highly unusual for selfless Aedre. Bobbing my head at my father, I rose from my chair. "I must see what bothers Aedre," I murmured.
I followed her when she stalked into my room. "Aedre!" I called, "Wait!" She whirled around, eyes narrowed ferociously and fists clenched by her side. But when she saw it was me, she grimaced in what I thought was an attempt at smiling. "Hello, Marian," she said, voice breathy with exhaustion. I raised both eyebrows. "Something bothering you, Aedre?" I asked. She sighed and ran fingers through her hair irritably. "Edward," she muttered. "What exactly did he do?" I continued. She sighed and sat down in a chair. "I - well, we were talking about the sheriff, and I happened to mention that I was at the hanging."
I seated myself beside her. "Aye?"
"Well, Edward told me that he'd been there as well. And I mentioned how sorry I felt for Robin. I mean, just looking at him made me want to cry. No one deserves to be treated like that." I smiled. Aedre was always so utterly compassionate. She barely even knew Robin and she felt like crying because he had suffered. Like I said, saint material.
"And?" I pried, still widening my eyes compassionately.
Aedre sniffed. "Well, Edward shrugged and said that 'the soulless villain' deserved it! That's what he said! And he completely meant it! I even told him that Robin hadn't meant to kill that forester. I told him the whole story! And he said that Robin was a fool liar spilling out tales to confuse simple-minded maids like myself!" She howled in frustration. "That demon imp in the shape of a man!" "But I thought you liked him." "I did - I do, but, oh, Marian, you can't say things like that! That wasn't true!" "But he might have been told that it was." I was trying to make her rational. "Anything that can howl in pain does not deserve to be beaten so that it does. Even the most simple can understand that." "Well, Aedre ---" I personally believed that punishment was occasionally necessary. She shook her head vehemently.
"Nay! Mari, nay! Robin deserves none of that! His face - oh, Marian, no one deserves that! Not someone as kind and innocent as Robin." "Well, Aedre, in Edward's eyes he was a criminal - a thief. Edward knew only what the sheriff's propaganda told him."
Aedre crossed her arms defiantly and blew hair out of her face. "Well, I told him the truth," she snapped bitterly, glaring at the stone wall in irritation. "That should have been enough to convince him, if he truly loved me like he said he did." A faint smile flickered across her features as she thought of that proclamation.
"He said he loved you?" I cried, too exultant to care that my tone of voice would probably give my father a heart attack. If Edward loves her, then maybe, just maybe, they could wed and ---
"Aye, but I am quite sure that he lied," she grumbled, "else he'd be here now, begging my forgiveness." I smirked.
"Well, Aedre ---" I thought of all the times I'd told Robin he was a petulant child and stormed off, and then been too stubborn to ask forgiveness, because he'd called me an obnoxious spoiled wench. "Sometimes our pride gets in the way," I told her. She sniffed.
"Did you happen to insult him on the matter?" I asked. She looked at me, and her lips twitched.
"I -I called him a sadistic monster who dips his face into every soiled puddle that even the animals shy away from."
I burst into laughter. Just THINKING of perfect, ladylike Aedre howling that at someone was just unthinkable. She began to giggle, managing to uphold a delicate air that my raucous laughter could not match.
"Anything else?" I pried, still clutching my sides in laughter.
Aedre smirked. "I told him that I desired we be better strangers, and that his kisses were Satan's own children."
I laughed loudly again. Oh, by God's Hands. She blushed. "And then I said that he was not worth another word from my lips, or else I'd call him a knave. Then I stormed away." "And? Did he offer any reply to this?" "He claimed I was too mean to have my name repeated, and that I was a dirty little harlot with more hair than wit!"
I burst into laughter. And I thought Robin and I were awful to each other. Aedre frowned irritably at me for a few moments, and then her lip began to twitch. I only encouraged this by clutching my sides as I giggled. She snorted, smiled, and then began to giggle infectiously.
"Mari!" she whined, laughing as she said it. Her head landed on my shoulder and she propped her feet onto a loom. "I suppose I should forgive him, eh?" she asked, grinning delightedly up at me. I nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. "We women must forgive the men their faults, no matter how numerous they are," I replied, "Besides, whom else are we going to make fun of when they're gone?"
Aedre giggled. "After all, he DID say he loved me, you know." She beamed in satisfaction.
"Aedre!" someone outside was screaming my cousin's name. She sat up, swinging both legs onto the floor. I peered at her and shrugged. She smiled slightly and sprang upward. The day had been rather warm, so I had left the window open. Also, the shutter was wrecked anyways, and barely kept the wind out despite itself. Richard had broken it when he was drunk. I love when he comes to visit with ale on his breath; he comes so close to killing himself. Pity he didn't fall out.
So, with the shutters open, Aedre could easily lean outside. "What are you doing here, Edward?" she sneered. He sighed. "I - I thought over what you said," he murmured. We were on the second floor, but it was still quite easy to speak normally.
"What?" Aedre snapped, "About your being a sadistic monster?"
Edward frowned at his feet. "Well, nay, milady. I instead thought of, pardon the expression, the excuses you made for the outlaw." "He has a name! Only Richard calls him that!"
At the idea of being in any way similar to Richard, Edward blanched. "I apologize, milady," he murmured. Well, it appeared as if timid Aedre had some hold on him. "Aye, you apologize," she called, "but are you repentant?" Was that sarcasm? From Aedre?
Edward sighed. "I warn you, lady, I am not very good at this," he began, watching his feet make nervous scuff marks in the dirt, "but aye, I do regret my words to you - heartily." Aedre smiled benevolently. "And I mine," she replied. I personally would have made him grovel. But Aedre was a heck of a lot nicer than I. Edward's head jerked up, and he grinned. Aedre turned to me. "Excuse me, Mari, but I need to reward Edward for his contrition." She winked, giggling, and rushed out the door.
A minute later, I watched through the window as she leapt into his arms and smothered him in kisses and apologies. Envy crept up my spine and darted into my heart like an ill-intentioned spider, trying to bite me with its jealous venom. And I believe it succeeded in destroying me, for I wished with all my heart that I could be forgiven. *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
A/N: Poor Marian, eh? Actually, she's rich. (can't resist a bad pun, y'know) Anyways, thanks so much for your reviews! You have no idea how stupidly happy I get over them. Lol.
A/N: It's me again! Thanks to Eh, Man for trying to give me some indents. Even if they don't show up, her thorough beta-ing is much appreciated. And about the Latin quote? No one says it. It's just like how those eighteenth-century authors used to put "finis" at the conclusion of the novel. That sort of idea.
Also, does anyone know of any skills Marian's ever been given besides swordsmanship? That's really cliché of me, and I know it, but I just couldn't think of another. I was interested if there were any other classical talents she had.
Anyways, that's about all I have to say for now! Hope you guys enjoy! Long chapter this time around.
**** ***** **** The fever came a few days later, and it nearly got Robin. He was delirious for a fortnight, thrashing in his sleep and crying out for no reason. He screamed my name and begged for mercy in his nightmares, which were constant. He recognized no faces, registered not one voice. It was horrible! I stopped coming to watch them for a sennight because I could not stand to hear him wail.
Sara called it, "the sleep of the fever". Her sister had died of the fever, so she knew the symptoms well. She said, quite calmly, that it was like a permanent nightmare, shifting every few hours. Usually, it only occurred when your body was heated for a period of more than three days. And you recognized barely anything but your pain. Delirium would overtake you, and anything in reference to bad memories could get you howling. The one thing they agreed not to mention was my name. In the morning, Robin would whimper of burning, and by noon, he would be shivering with chills. But no matter how he felt, his body was constantly bathed in a pool of sweat, and his forehead was wild with fire. Will was a nervous wreck, head in his hands more oft than not. I highly doubt he got any sleep.
Sometimes Robin would cry for Will when he was half-delirious. His cousin would always come and sit cross-legged beside him, talking calmly of anything that had happened that day. Sometimes he'd try to stroke his hair or pull the broken fingers apart from each other, but Robin never wanted to be touched - at all. He would scream if anyone even tried to so much as brush his hair out of his eyes. Sara had to gag him when she put the poultices on his wounds, for the foresters were alert to the shrieking they heard every day, and drew near to camp. Robin only calmed when he was allowed to stare at Will from where he lay on the ground. For some reason, that comforted him, and he would fall asleep. Sara was puzzled by this behaviour. I could tell she thought something odd about this illness, because she would stare at Robin in a curious way when he begged for Will. Finally, she cornered Will and forced him to answer her questions. "Why does Robin always ask for you?" "You tell me, dove. You're the healer." "When someone falls into the sleep of the fever, they usually don't know what's going on, and they're very frightened. So they scream for someone they feel safe around, or someone who protects them." "There. See? You answered your own question." Sara raised an eyebrow. "My sister screamed for my mother and father. Why does Robin ask for you?"
He blinked inquisitively at her. "I have no idea." Sensing that the interrogation would continue, he walked briskly away from her. "And I'm a Norman." She followed right behind him, arms crossed impatiently.
He frowned. "Why do you have to know?" He was fiddling nervously with the bark of a nearby tree, trying to pry it away from its hold. She grabbed his hand gradually, and leisurely forced it into her own, gently bending the fingers so that they nearly fit inside her own fist.
"Because I need to gather information for my healing," she replied, resting her head against his shoulder and smiling coyly. Now, Will must have shown desperate self-control with his reply, because he evidently wanted to kiss her and give in. I was definitely going to have to remember Sara's tactic. "Nay, he wouldn't want me to tell you."
She kissed the side of his face. "I love you, Will." She smiled demurely again, arching both eyebrows. Will frowned. "You can't tell him I told you." "I wouldn't dream of it."
"His father died when he was seven, and that beast was never very - how should I put this - 'nice' to Robin, so it wasn't 'run to father', it was 'run FROM father'. His mother married the lord of Locksley when he was nine." "And?"
"His mother was Lady Elizabeth, formerly of Norwell. But she married a forester, Robin's father, so my family disowned her in a way. Not formally, of course. But once the forester was gone, she was welcomed back - if she came without the baggage." "Robin was the baggage." "Exactly. And, being the inhuman and unnatural creature she is, she left her nine-year-old son to fend for himself. And guess the only person in the whole shire that thought there was something wrong with that?" "You, my love. But why would someone wealthy as the Lord of Locksley want to marry a used woman?" "She'd already had eight boys, even if Robin was the only one who survived. He figured she'd bear him a son to inherit his estate. Besides, she'd have been his fourth wife. He just wanted a legitimate heir, not a pretty or rich spouse." "Pretty desperate, eh? Must've been the disgrace of the shire." Will smiled. "Obviously." Sara returned his smile. "Well, that explains why Robin only wants you around." She kissed him on the lips this time, though she had to get on her tiptoes to reach him. She made a move to walk away, but paused a moment. "Will? Did - Did his mother have any children with the Lord of Locksley?"
Will grinned maniacally and shook his head. "Nay, and now the old bastard's going to pay for it. Even on his deathbed he was sure he'd gotten her pregnant. Right before he died he wrote that any children of the woman should inherit his estate - those exact words." He laughed shortly. "But he didn't specify that they had to come from him."
Sara's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious? Robin could inherit Locksley? Our Robin - the lord of Locksley?" "Once his mother dies, and she's ill at the moment." "Does he have any idea?" "Of course not. Only the nobility know of it, and they don't exactly want a peasant inheriting that much land." "Why don't you tell him?" "Because he'd try to find a way not to inherit, knowing him."
She smiled again. "I can always get my information from you." Sara WAS an extremely good healer, especially for someone as obstinate as Robin. She could be positively brutal - tearing the dead skin off of Robin's burns until he screamed for her to stop - and the next moment extraordinarily gentle - stroking Robin's hair for five hours straight until he finally nodded off. Of course, the latter act of compassion could have been due to that fact that Robin was delirious and begging her not to beat him. She put all her herbal remedies to use, but eventually, it took both her and Friar Tuck to establish a decent cure. That really upset her, because that meant the dogs would be around. Even Robin and John, who had the most patience, couldn't stand those giant hounds. Only Will loved them. They were his darlings; he and Tuck both thought the nasty beasts to be delightful. I thought they were abominable. So Sara and Tuck worked for three days straight amongst the beasts, trying to figure out which herbs did what. They finally ended up with some strange combination of lungwort, marjorjam, and lemon balm, along with a lot of strange somewhat olive things only Sara knew the names of. And even then they weren't sure it would work. For three days, they argued over whether it had too much of this or too much of that, until Will finally told them fiddling wasn't going to cure Robin any sooner that simple trial and error. It worked.
I was in ecstasy for days afterwards, knowing that Robin's fever was going down. Of course, no one could be sure if it was Robin's stubborn immune system or the foul-smelling cure, but he was still healing. No one at Whitby could understand my sudden shift from the routine moodiness I was famous for to the angelic patience and humility that was usually of Aedre. It was discovered one morning when Sara was getting ready to sit on Robin's shoulders so that she could cool his forehead off with some cold cloths. She went to grab him and spread the alarm (Robin's screams had made a marvellous cock crow for the lazy outlaws), but he didn't even move when she touched him. Instead, he smiled faintly at her and murmured a greeting. Of course, Sara managed to ruin it by screaming for everyone to come see, and all of the outlaws immediately ran over to watch him. They all laughed and clapped at the brilliance of Sara and Tuck, oblivious to the growing alarm on Robin's face. It wasn't until he tried to stand up and run away that they noticed he was nearly swooning. David got the worst wake-up call, as Robin managed to collapse and lurch right into him. That cut the celebrations short, especially when Will threatened to break the nose bridge of anyone who disturbed his cousin again. But my spirits weren't dampened at all! My Robin was healed! Of course, there was still the matter of the bruises and welts, but as long as the cursed fever wasn't there, everything seemed idealistically perfect. Of course, the true sign that he was better was that he began to ask who was doing this and if so-and-so had worked on their archery. If the worry was back, Robin was back.
Obviously, the first thing to do once he was better was to wash his hair and face, both of which were less than attractive. And that made me horribly lonely inside, because they were all laughing and pretending not to recognize him after he was clean, calling him "Will" and "John", or even "Nan". (That last one was Sara's idea) And sitting curled in my tree, I was suddenly so distant from them, friendless and unwelcome. For the first time since my spying had begun, I truly felt like an intrusion upon their pleasure.
It wasn't until he began to walk that I remembered my precarious position. After about a month or so of healing, Robin still had a little trouble staying upright for long periods of time. He usually had to lean against trees or cling to someone's shoulder in order to stay standing. I have to admit, it was rather pitiful. But progress was golden. Every step made my heart jump with happiness.
And then it happened.
Robin had been walking on his own for a while, hobbling around on his staff. Will still watched him as if he were going to fall any moment. Sara insisted that he rest more and walk less. The scars on his back would never fade, but she promised they would heal with time - if he rested. It hurt to look at them, since Robin walked around without a shirt on for a sennight after the fever, as Nan was still scrounging for fabric for a new one to replace his torn old one. I had been the one in charge of buying the fabric before, which was usually a bad lot of green, but now they had no idea where to get their wool.
By the time the event came, he had been wearing his patched tunic for two days. Nan was quite proud of her accomplishment, though it was too long, and the sleeves were too short. Robin claimed that she'd done a splendid job of it, calling it a wonderful piece of clothing.
I had just climbed down from my tree, prepared to go home, when I heard heavy footsteps. And like the brilliant person I am, I froze, leaving just enough time for Will's head came through the greenery. He took one look at me and flung the point of his sword at my throat. "Give me one good reason not to kill you right now," he hissed, "and keep it quiet." "Will - what did I do to you?" It was pathetic, I know. "What did you do?" His voice rose in hatred and disbelief. "Sure, I hurt Robin, but I didn't exactly harm you." I cringed. Aye, extremely pathetic. "He doesn't trust me anymore, you wicked girl! That you stole from me! I had a right to his trust. I'd never betrayed him the way you did." He was advancing, so I retreated. It wasn't working. There were too many trees in Sherwood. Cursed greenery. "But when he looks at me ---- He never tells me anything! Do you know what you've done? I should kill you now! He doesn't trust any of us! He CAN'T trust anyone! That is reason enough to murder you!"
I hated hearing Will's laughing voice twisted into a venomous hiss. We remained there for what seemed liked days, but was probably only minutes; Will was torn between murdering me and saving his soul, and I was struggling between the need to kill him for my own sake and the need to spare him for Robin's.
There was another barely audible clumping from some ways off. Will cursed under his breath. And there was Robin. "Will?" he called, "Sara wonders if ---"
His mouth lay open; hanging useless from his slackened jaw, tongue still against his teeth. His body, rigid with pride before, had drooped helplessly; bearing all weight against the staff he dragged himself along with. "Will, how - how did she come here?" he whispered, eyes flung open widely.
The sword held to my throat twitched. "I don't know," Will replied cautiously, keeping a watchful eye on me, the other watching his cousin anxiously.
Robin stared around him for another eternity, and then froze. "The loophole," he murmured, staring straight at me, "You told me about the loophole."
Will smiled wickedly. "Well, she won't be telling anyone else about it, now, will she?" he sneered. And he pulled the sword back, preparing to strike.
"Will, don't!" Robin screamed, and he almost fell of the staff. Wincing in pain, he stood straight again.
But Will showed no pity. His eyes were brimming with too much anger. "Robin, you cannot still feel anything for her! Not after what she --" "Will! Listen to me! I killed a forester! And you see how desperately the sheriff wants my head because of it! If you were to kill a noble --- Will, not even I could hide you in Sherwood." He was struggling to stay upright, but the staff wobbled dangerously. Will swore. "But she knows! She knows where our camp is, you idiot! We'll have to move if she lives, and we can't -" "Then we'll move." "Nay! Robin, it is easier to kill the disloyal thing now!"
I trembled. Please spare me. I feared the ruthless look in Will's eyes. He had grown up sure that it was his duty to protect Robin - from his parents, the bullies, the other foresters, the sheriff, and now - ME. And I really don't think he would have any qualms about killing me if I posed a threat to his self-appointed charge.
Will glowered at Robin. "Besides, no one could pin it to me," he snapped.
Robin held out a broken hand in supplication. "That is all very well, Will. But if they can find no murderer, they will name me her killer."
Will froze, sword moving ever so slightly from my neck. That was true, and he wouldn't hurt Robin, even if it meant he could kill me. "The - the price on your head would be ---" "Will, even those we help would be after me."
Will swore. "But, Robin ---" He was almost whining.
Robin shrugged. "Will, we have always been at her mercy," he murmured, watching me with fear from the corner of his eye.
Will's brow was still furrowed. Then he smirked. "Sara's awfully good at throwing those knives," he sneered, eyes lethal in their scrutiny of me, "It would be quite a pity if one of those daggers were to land in the back of your darling father." Robin started, but I noticed that he did not protest this implication.
If it had been the sheriff threatening me, I would have insulted his manners. But it was Will, who, firstly, didn't give a dunghill about his manners, and secondly, would cut my tongue out if I spoke. I only nodded obediently. He drew the sword slowly across my neck, only barely breaking the skin. "Mind that you don't forget," he murmured, smirking, and then backed up.
I tried to beg Robin with my eyes, watching him in that innocent expression I had perfected over years of playacting in order to escape a lady's usual strictures. He managed to meet my eyes for a few moments, but soon, his eyes wandered back to his feet. Will, catching my tactic, bellowed and charged at me with the sword. I screamed as loudly as I could and ran from that spot, praying a forester would show up and stop me. Will's mocking laughter rang after me. By the rood, how I ran. I was sure my legs would fall off when I came back to Whitby. The wind swept around me, trying to compensate for human affection. I stared at my surroundings - the manor home that housed my father, the serfs who toiled until death, the servants who performed more important tasks, and the cold wet grass that fingered my ankles with gentle scratching sounds. The sky was predicting rain again, to the surprise of none. But only I could feel the storm that was already brewing. I waved timidly to one of the serfs, whose hands were bleeding from pushing the plow all morning. I paused. How tired I was. I wanted only to sleep. But my conscience overcame me, and I traveled down to the fields the serfs plowed. My friend blanched and held up his hands in innocence. I rolled my eyes happily at him and stepped over to the overseer. Our serfs were not too fond of him. Neither was I. "Sir, tell them they may go in for the night," I ordered. The overseer raised one eyebrow. "Are you sure, milady? I have not received orders from milord." "You did not receive orders to put them to work, either," I snapped. Of course, he knew without being told that they were to work each day, but it still made a nice comeback. And the exhausted serfs smiled gratefully. How little they expected. Didn't they know that I could free them, but I chose not to?
"Aye, milady, yet ---" I glowered at him, and pushed him behind me. In a loud voice, I proclaimed, "You may all leave your work for today!" feeling my lips twitch when they grinned, "No matter WHAT this fool over here says." I jerked my thumb in the direction of the overseer. They laughed and trailed over to their shacks.
My father was sitting by the fire when I came in. I smiled at him. "Marian," he said, smiling as if my presence made the world go round.
I walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "Hello, Father. How are you?" I asked, seating myself in the chair beside him.
"Fine, love, fine," he replied. His gnarled fingers were locked tightly around the arms of his chair. I smiled.
"That's wonderful. Any news from the town?" He nodded slowly, staring at his feet. For a man of over forty, my father was quite strong. "My sister is marrying, darling. And she wishes for us to attend. Would you like that?" "I suppose, Father. Is this your sister, Lucy, by chance?" Lucy was actually my father's half-sister. After all, the girl was a few years younger than me, and gorgeous. They could not have come from the same two people. "Aye. She's very pretty, so it comes as no surprise that she has found a man to adore her." "Might I bring Aedre with me?" "Of course. It is a rare day you two are not seen together."
I smiled and nodded. "When will the event take place?" I asked sweetly. He smiled in return. "A fortnight's time and it will be here. Your own, I fear, is much father into time," he told me, trying to console a heart hat needed no consolation on that matter. I was hardly looking forward to a lifelong shackle of the Church that would bind me to the fat pig known as Richard for all of eternity. But my father didn't know that. He was too sweet to believe that anyone could truly loathe someone they were engaged to. There was no question of his love for my mother. But her affection was questionable. I must have taken after her, because everyone else in my family seems so disgustingly kind. My older brother, Andrew, had been just like Father, always smiling and understanding. I mean, everyone appreciates kindness, but there is a level at which it's inhuman! And there was compassionate Aedre, and my deceased cousin Mildred. Mildred had been the homeliest girl I had ever laid eyes on, but was so benevolent she ended up in an extremely wealthy marriage and completely in love. Too bad the fever carried her off.
The door flew open, and Aedre came storming into the room. She had been outside very often these days, talking to none other than Edward. The both of them got along wonderfully, and I had high hopes of their marriage. But it was highly unlikely. Firstly, Edward was an oldest son, and destined to marry the best his parents could find - moneywise. Secondly, Aedre had barely any dowry, because she was the first daughter in a family of five. Her family had sent her to Whitby after hearing about "her unruly cousin, whom, rumour has it, neglects each and every one of her duties as mistress of the household". Oh, please Aunt Matilda. We'd take Aedre in without the charming insults.
Aedre STORMED. Peaceful, saintly, patient, humble Aedre stalked into the room like --- well, like me. She flung her cloak onto the ground and stomped towards my chambers, muttering darkly to herself. I followed her with my eyes, awaiting the usual smile and wave, but she hardly noticed that anyone else was in the room. Highly unusual for selfless Aedre. Bobbing my head at my father, I rose from my chair. "I must see what bothers Aedre," I murmured.
I followed her when she stalked into my room. "Aedre!" I called, "Wait!" She whirled around, eyes narrowed ferociously and fists clenched by her side. But when she saw it was me, she grimaced in what I thought was an attempt at smiling. "Hello, Marian," she said, voice breathy with exhaustion. I raised both eyebrows. "Something bothering you, Aedre?" I asked. She sighed and ran fingers through her hair irritably. "Edward," she muttered. "What exactly did he do?" I continued. She sighed and sat down in a chair. "I - well, we were talking about the sheriff, and I happened to mention that I was at the hanging."
I seated myself beside her. "Aye?"
"Well, Edward told me that he'd been there as well. And I mentioned how sorry I felt for Robin. I mean, just looking at him made me want to cry. No one deserves to be treated like that." I smiled. Aedre was always so utterly compassionate. She barely even knew Robin and she felt like crying because he had suffered. Like I said, saint material.
"And?" I pried, still widening my eyes compassionately.
Aedre sniffed. "Well, Edward shrugged and said that 'the soulless villain' deserved it! That's what he said! And he completely meant it! I even told him that Robin hadn't meant to kill that forester. I told him the whole story! And he said that Robin was a fool liar spilling out tales to confuse simple-minded maids like myself!" She howled in frustration. "That demon imp in the shape of a man!" "But I thought you liked him." "I did - I do, but, oh, Marian, you can't say things like that! That wasn't true!" "But he might have been told that it was." I was trying to make her rational. "Anything that can howl in pain does not deserve to be beaten so that it does. Even the most simple can understand that." "Well, Aedre ---" I personally believed that punishment was occasionally necessary. She shook her head vehemently.
"Nay! Mari, nay! Robin deserves none of that! His face - oh, Marian, no one deserves that! Not someone as kind and innocent as Robin." "Well, Aedre, in Edward's eyes he was a criminal - a thief. Edward knew only what the sheriff's propaganda told him."
Aedre crossed her arms defiantly and blew hair out of her face. "Well, I told him the truth," she snapped bitterly, glaring at the stone wall in irritation. "That should have been enough to convince him, if he truly loved me like he said he did." A faint smile flickered across her features as she thought of that proclamation.
"He said he loved you?" I cried, too exultant to care that my tone of voice would probably give my father a heart attack. If Edward loves her, then maybe, just maybe, they could wed and ---
"Aye, but I am quite sure that he lied," she grumbled, "else he'd be here now, begging my forgiveness." I smirked.
"Well, Aedre ---" I thought of all the times I'd told Robin he was a petulant child and stormed off, and then been too stubborn to ask forgiveness, because he'd called me an obnoxious spoiled wench. "Sometimes our pride gets in the way," I told her. She sniffed.
"Did you happen to insult him on the matter?" I asked. She looked at me, and her lips twitched.
"I -I called him a sadistic monster who dips his face into every soiled puddle that even the animals shy away from."
I burst into laughter. Just THINKING of perfect, ladylike Aedre howling that at someone was just unthinkable. She began to giggle, managing to uphold a delicate air that my raucous laughter could not match.
"Anything else?" I pried, still clutching my sides in laughter.
Aedre smirked. "I told him that I desired we be better strangers, and that his kisses were Satan's own children."
I laughed loudly again. Oh, by God's Hands. She blushed. "And then I said that he was not worth another word from my lips, or else I'd call him a knave. Then I stormed away." "And? Did he offer any reply to this?" "He claimed I was too mean to have my name repeated, and that I was a dirty little harlot with more hair than wit!"
I burst into laughter. And I thought Robin and I were awful to each other. Aedre frowned irritably at me for a few moments, and then her lip began to twitch. I only encouraged this by clutching my sides as I giggled. She snorted, smiled, and then began to giggle infectiously.
"Mari!" she whined, laughing as she said it. Her head landed on my shoulder and she propped her feet onto a loom. "I suppose I should forgive him, eh?" she asked, grinning delightedly up at me. I nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. "We women must forgive the men their faults, no matter how numerous they are," I replied, "Besides, whom else are we going to make fun of when they're gone?"
Aedre giggled. "After all, he DID say he loved me, you know." She beamed in satisfaction.
"Aedre!" someone outside was screaming my cousin's name. She sat up, swinging both legs onto the floor. I peered at her and shrugged. She smiled slightly and sprang upward. The day had been rather warm, so I had left the window open. Also, the shutter was wrecked anyways, and barely kept the wind out despite itself. Richard had broken it when he was drunk. I love when he comes to visit with ale on his breath; he comes so close to killing himself. Pity he didn't fall out.
So, with the shutters open, Aedre could easily lean outside. "What are you doing here, Edward?" she sneered. He sighed. "I - I thought over what you said," he murmured. We were on the second floor, but it was still quite easy to speak normally.
"What?" Aedre snapped, "About your being a sadistic monster?"
Edward frowned at his feet. "Well, nay, milady. I instead thought of, pardon the expression, the excuses you made for the outlaw." "He has a name! Only Richard calls him that!"
At the idea of being in any way similar to Richard, Edward blanched. "I apologize, milady," he murmured. Well, it appeared as if timid Aedre had some hold on him. "Aye, you apologize," she called, "but are you repentant?" Was that sarcasm? From Aedre?
Edward sighed. "I warn you, lady, I am not very good at this," he began, watching his feet make nervous scuff marks in the dirt, "but aye, I do regret my words to you - heartily." Aedre smiled benevolently. "And I mine," she replied. I personally would have made him grovel. But Aedre was a heck of a lot nicer than I. Edward's head jerked up, and he grinned. Aedre turned to me. "Excuse me, Mari, but I need to reward Edward for his contrition." She winked, giggling, and rushed out the door.
A minute later, I watched through the window as she leapt into his arms and smothered him in kisses and apologies. Envy crept up my spine and darted into my heart like an ill-intentioned spider, trying to bite me with its jealous venom. And I believe it succeeded in destroying me, for I wished with all my heart that I could be forgiven. *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
A/N: Poor Marian, eh? Actually, she's rich. (can't resist a bad pun, y'know) Anyways, thanks so much for your reviews! You have no idea how stupidly happy I get over them. Lol.