Chapter Twelve
Lord Arthur of Shropshire lovingly caressed his most favourite thing in the entire world; and you may be surprised to learn that it wasn't Charlotte.
Alchemy was Lord Arthur's purpose in life, the very reason that he had been born. He loved nothing more than to mix chemicals and watch the results, or experiment with exotic materials. It made him feel so… alive. That was why he was so attached to his book of secrets, which he had been collecting since he was twelve.
The Sheriff snorted in disgust as he watched Arthur practically prance from one side of the room to the other; busy mixing potions, stirring hot tubs of liquid and measuring out his precious materials. Pathetic. It was nearly as bad as watching Gisborne swoon over his beloved peasant-sympathising leper.
* * *
Allan waited impatiently outside the alchemy room, beginning to doubt that the plan was such a good idea after all. He didn't mind lying his way out of something, it was just the running part he hated. Especially the running part…
Charlotte stood patiently beside him, lost in her thoughts. 'I wonder how Ewan is. Is Isaac enjoying his time as a squire? Is Caleb taking his medicine . . . ?'
Marian stood beside Charlotte, thinking about Robin. 'I wonder how things would have turned out if he hadn't run off like a naïve little boy to his glorified war? It is childish to wonder about such things, but where would we be now? Certainly not in this mess.'
Sir Guy stood beside Marian, studying her features. When she glanced at him, he exuded nonchalance; or at least, he hoped so. 'One day she will be mine!' he kept reminding himself.
Eventually Arthur cried "Ah-ha!" and every head turned in the direction of the door. Arthur emerged with a huge grin on his face, followed by a gleeful Sheriff.
"I trust that it was successful, my lord?" Sir Guy enquired, hoping for the best. The best meant a happy Sheriff and a happy Sheriff meant time off, which meant more time to pursue Marian…
"What do you think, you idiot?" was the Sheriff's brash reply.
* * *
"What was it that you have so cunningly created?" Charlotte flattered Lord Arthur, trying to squeeze some useful information out of the self-obsessed man, who was particularly cocky and pleased now that he had accomplished his goal. They were standing out in the external hallway, watching the sun set.
"Alchemy is a difficult science, my dear. No woman would be able to comprehend the wonders that we alchemists unravel." Lord Arthur puffed his chest out like a peacock.
"No, sir," Charlotte replied, exasperated, "but what do your creations do?"
"Do!" Arthur cried, momentarily offended. "One liquid will melt iron, the next is a substance to rival Greek fire and the last is one of my own discoveries, which I cannot reveal to the likes of you. A woman would not understand."
"Forgive me, my lord," Charlotte said suddenly, stroking his arm. Arthur immediately calmed down.
'A liquid to melt iron?' Charlotte thought to herself. 'A substance to rival Greek fire? Surely this information should be passed on to Robin…"
* * *
Allan A Dale tucked a stray lock of hair behind the servant girl's ear, crooning meaningless romantic words as he did so. The girl lapped up the affection, smiling and giggling the whole time.
"So if I ever need your help, I can rely on you, love?"
"Of course!"
"I knew that I could trust someone as wildly beautiful and intelligent looking as you, Annie sweetheart." With that he was gone, leaving Anne with a pounding heart and stars twinkling before her eyes.
"Excellent," Allan muttered as he whipped around the next corner, only to have a hand sneak over his mouth and a dagger at his throat.
"Stay very still," a muffled voice ordered. That voice was familiar…
"It's me, Marian!" Allan insisted, but Marian couldn't hear.
"Hold your tongue or loose it!" Marian hissed. They heard footsteps approaching, so Marian dragged Allan into the shadows. Two guards strolled past, talking about nothing in particular. Only after they had gone did Marian take her hand away from Allan's mouth, but she pressed the dagger further against his neck in warning.
"It's me, Allan A Dale!" Allan hissed. Marian sighed in relief.
"I thought you were a foul guard chatting up an innocent servant girl," she explained, her voice a mere whisper. "How did you know it was me?"
Allan turned to face Marian, who had a hood over her head and a blue scarf over her mouth. "I dunno, actually. Just luck, I suppose," he replied.
"What were you doing?" Marian asked, her tone suspicious. Allan grinned.
"Planning my escape."
"Oh." Marian raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, have you seen Charlotte since this afternoon?"
"Nope."
"Bother," Marian cursed, clenching her fists. "That girl is going to get us all in trouble. I wish she would tell me where she was going."
"Sometimes I don't think she knows herself," Allan replied.