Hawksmaid (10 page)

“
A
LL RIGHT
, L
ITTLE
. W
HAT
does the code say for the word
sparrow
? What would that be?” Robin was bent over the small piece of parchment that Marigold had flown back to the mews with. He had nearly exploded with excitement when Scarlet came into the tree hollow shouting, “A message! A message from our Maid Marian!”

“How do you spell it now?” Little asked.

“S-P-A-R-R-O-W,” Robin said.

Little took the code key. “It's more than just one word. Let's see.” Little wrinkled his brow and scratched
letters with a twig in the dirt. “Oh, by the saints!” He exhaled softly.

“What is it?”

“The abbess. Double
r
translates to double
b
—she's there at the castle. Wait, let me see the rest of that.” Little leaped up and snatched the parchment from Robin. Looking between it and the code key, he began scratching madly in the dirt. The other three boys hovered over his broad shoulders. “It says that the abbess is at the castle. She be the sister of the sheriff!”

“I knew she was no-good scum from the first time I ever laid eyes on her,” Scarlet blurted.

Little continued. “Marian says that the Bishop of Ely is coming and most likely Prince John.”

“That we knew already,” said Scarlet.

“Listen to this. They're putting on a great feast. Mummers and all.”

“Mummers!” Scarlet said excitedly.

“That's what she says.”

“She says she thinks she knows where to find the secret cabinet, but she's been polishing silver and gold goblets for more than a day.” Robin's eyes opened wide as Little John translated the code more rapidly now.
“She says that she is sure that Richard is on his way home.”

Now the boys' faces turned radiant.

“Then it's true.” Little John looked up. “What we suspected is true.”

The boys all broke into a huge cheer. Slapping one another's shoulders they hooted and hollered.

“I knew she'd come through. I knew our Marian would come through!” Robin said, his eyes dancing like two blue stars in the dimness. “Now I have an idea.” His face became very serious.

“What's that?” Scarlet asked.

“You're part of it, Scarlet. We have to get someone into the castle to help Marian. Scarlet, you're the perfect person. You're a juggler.”

“Aaah!” the two other boys said at once.

“Brilliant! Robin, just brilliant!” Rich said with a hush of admiration.

“But what do you say, Scarlet? Can you get into the castle?”

“Of course. I just have to find out which troupe of mummers is going. Most likely the Plowboys from east of Nottingham; I've played with them before.
Shouldn't be a problem. They always need a good juggler. And, of course, the ladies do love me.” Scarlet grinned.

“I'm sure you'll quickly become a favorite of the abbess!” Robin replied.

T
HE GREAT HALL WAS
decked with banners, and hundreds of candles gleamed along the walls. There were heralds in velvet and gold cloth who marched into the hall with their horns to announce the honored guests. The guests were followed by their pages and squires, all turned out in their finest livery. It was a glittering array of plumed hats, gold and silver cloth, and velvet robes trimmed in fur. The women wore gowns with jewel-encrusted bodices. These were the lords and ladies who had survived by swearing allegiance to Prince John. Marian had never seen anything like it. And, in a country so poor that most people were starving, Marian
marveled at a table laden with so much. Even in better times at the Fitzwalters' castle for St. Stephen's feast—the beginning of the celebration of the twelve days of Christmas—there had not been this much. There were two large boars and at least a half dozen suckling pigs. There were roasted swans with their feathers reattached, haunches of venison, and chicken with marybones, the marrow bones of veal and lamb. How Marian longed for a marybone. They were so rich that they were a meal in themselves.

One course after another was on the table, a dozen or more in all. Marian stood behind one of the footmen, who himself stood behind the guests on the east side of the long table. Her job was to fetch whatever he told her to bring. The footmen poured the wine and made sure every plate was kept full.

There were forty or more people at the table, including Prince John and the men and women of his court, including Sir Guy of Gisborne. Marian, of course, was not attending them in any way, but her footman, Edgar, served the Bishop of Ely. Edgar was not the brightest of footmen. Marian was surprised that the abbess had appointed him to attend this distinguished guest who, next to the prince, was the
most significant person at the feast. The Bishop of Ely sat between Friar Tuck and the abbess. The Bishop of Hereford sat nearby, next to the sheriff and his wife. Every time the Hereford bishop lifted his wine goblet, Marian could see the blaze of the Star of Jerusalem. It incensed her. But she could not let her anger distract her. She must pay attention to Edgar, who was rather sloppy in his service and less than attentive. Marian had to remind him several times to refill the Bishop of Ely's goblet as well as Friar Tuck's.

The understeward gave the signal indicating that it was time for the dessert. It was a chestain, or chestnut pudding, sprinkled with blawn powder. Just carrying it in whetted Marian's appetite, for the scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar were irresistible. It had been so long since she had tasted such treats.

The mummers would perform soon. The footmen had been instructed to extinguish most of the torches and candles, for the mummers themselves would be juggling with fire and spinning flame wheels as part of the performance. As Edgar stepped away to perform this task, Marian had a clear view of the abbess. The ring she wore was quite large. It appeared to Marian to resemble the type of crusader ring known as the Cross
of the Holy Land, which was a locket mounted on a band and designed to carry a relic.

The great hall darkened. The shadowy figures of the mummers could be spotted taking their places. In the dark sliver of time, between the torches' extinguishing and the first mummers rushing in with their lighted juggling, Marian saw the abbess flick open the ring on her finger. Everyone else's attention was now riveted on the jugglers' fire clubs that were whizzing through the air like comets. But Marian froze as she saw the abbess take a pinch of a powdery substance from the ring and sprinkle it on top of the Bishop of Ely's trifle. Amid the flashes of the fiery clubs, the oohs and aaahs of the audience, Marian realized what had just occurred.
The abbess is poisoning the Bishop of Ely.

Marian realized that if the bishop ate it he would be doomed, yet she felt paralyzed. What was she to do? Edgar had not yet returned to his post and she had been left to hold the silver wine decanter. Soon the bishop would take his first bite. She stepped forward tentatively. What could she do? Her mind was blank. Then she felt herself trip. “Oh, Deus Vult!” she swore. She was crashing into the table. The pitcher slipped from her hands. There were yelps from the abbess, who
jumped up, as well as from the bishop and Friar Tuck.

“Oh, forgive me! I don't know what happened, your grace.” And that was the truth. Marian didn't know what had happened.

“No harm done! No harm done!” Friar Tuck said, quickly using his sleeve to help to mop the bishop's robe. The accident had not seemed to disturb the audience, who were entranced by the mummers' increasingly daring stunts.

“Who are you, you clumsy girl?” The abbess was in a rage.

“It's nothing, good lady, nothing. Don't fault the child. She meant well, I am sure. No harm,” Friar Tuck said immediately.

Precisely
.
No harm,
Marian thought as she looked down at the bishop's plate.

“No harm,” repeated Friar Tuck. “Now why not clear that plate away, my dear. Throw out the trifle—no one wants wine-soaked trifle—can't taste the blawn powder—the best part.” He chuckled and patted his own ample belly. “Bring the bishop a fresh one.”

“Oh, no need. I have had quite enough,” the bishop said, turning to the abbess. “Superb feast, Abbess. Superb.”

But Marian was not looking at the abbess, who had for all appearances turned to stone. She was looking at Friar Tuck. She knew exactly what had happened: Friar Tuck had tripped her. His right foot was splashed with wine.

“I suggest,” the abbess said coldly, “that this serving girl be retired for the rest of the evening. I cannot tolerate an ox as a maidservant. The only oxen in the great hall are roasted and served with apples.” She narrowed her eyes and talked directly at Marian.

Marian felt herself grow faint. She wavered a bit.
I have to get out of here.
She was still clutching the silver pitcher as she ran from the great hall into the lesser hall of the castle where the mummers were practicing their next tricks.

A
S
M
ARIAN ROUNDED THE
corner, she slammed into a tall figure in a red cloak. “Scarlet!” she gasped. Scarlet clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her off to a shadowy corner.

“You're here!” she exclaimed when he removed his hand.

“Yes, Marian, and so are you. Fancy us meeting like this! Don't have much time. About to go on with the second round of jugglers. What is it?”

“I'm in trouble!”

“Well, I probably will be soon. What's that you got?” Scarlet looked down at the pitcher she was clutching to her chest.

“Oh, good heavens, I forgot to take it back to the kitchen.”

“Why take it back? Bet it could fetch a fine price.”

Marian blinked. He was right, of course. “Take it!” She tried to shove it into his hands.

“No, you take it. I have to perform. But where else is there treasure?”

“Look, hardly time for treasure. The abbess just tried to poison the Bishop of Ely and I…well I…managed to stop it. She's furious. I've got to get out of here.”

Marian looked over her shoulder. She caught sight of the abbess storming into the hall. “She's after me! I have to go.” She ducked behind Scarlet, and as she ran she heard an angry voice boom.

“Has anyone seen a serving girl carrying a silver pitcher? She is called Marian.”

“Oh, yes. I saw her.” Scarlet stepped forward. “I passed her as I left the great hall. She was on her way to the kitchen, she said.”

 

Marian had just sent Marigold back to the Fitzwalter castle and packed up her own small bundle of clothes with the silver pitcher wrapped in a spare kirtle. She was leaving her quarters when she heard footsteps mounting the staircase. Now she pressed herself against the wall.
Would that I could fly, too!
she thought as the sound of footsteps grew louder. A shadow sliced across the pool of yellow light cast by the candle.
She's coming for me now!

And then the abbess was there on the staircase just a few steps below where Marian stood.

“Oh!” the abbess said in a mocking voice. “Not simply a spy but a thief as well.” She nodded at the bundle Marian held. The silver handle of the pitcher was clearly visible.

But not a murderess!
Marian thought.

Marian stood frozen.

“Lost your tongue, did you?” The abbess's lips pulled back into a rictus that looked like a skull trying to smile. The abbess slowly started to advance upon her.

“You know what the sheriff does to thieves, don't you?” The abbess raised her rather thick eyebrows as if awaiting a response. Still Marian said nothing. Then
brightly the abbess chirped almost with merriment. “Their hands! Yes, first offense only one hand. Usually, he just has the swordsman chop off the left if one is right-handed. He's quite merciful. Second offense, the right hand goes. Third offense…well, we shouldn't talk about that, but what's a thief without his—or should I say, her—eyes?” The abbess paused. “And spies…yes, spies would certainly be out of business with no ears.”

She is dismembering me as I stand here!
And with each slice of the abbess's tongue, she took a step closer to Marian.
I have to stop this!

Without thinking, Marian slung her bundle in a wide sweeping arc and knocked the candle over. A sheet of flame leaped down the steps, igniting the rushes and dried grasses that covered the floor. There was a piercing shriek. Marian turned and ran up the spiraling staircase. There was no way down except the garderobe!
Not again!
Marian slipped into the portal of the garderobe and then began her descent.
Fire or dung? Not much of a choice,
she thought miserably.

M
ARIAN'S FATHER SAT SLUMPED
in a chair and stared at her as she stood before him. She had just returned from Nottingham. Her father had not said a word.
Of course he doesn't recognize me,
Marian thought.
I smell like a dung heap.
But there was a distant, foggy look in his faded eyes. His lips began to tremble and move, but no sound came out. Meg stood tensely by his side. “Who are you?” Lord William spoke in a tremulous voice.

“It's Matty, Lord William. Your daughter, Matty.
Remember,” Meg said, “she's been gone for a bit. She got herself a job in Derby.”

“Yes, Father, it's me, Matty.” For more than a month she had been called Marian, but hearing her father's voice, she was Matty again. She went over to him and dropped to her knees. “I know I'm all dirty. But, see, I did bring back some money.” She dug into her bundle, careful not to reveal the silver pitcher, and brought out two handfuls of coins. “I earned these, Father.”

“Oh, your mother won't approve of a lovely maiden touching coins. Oh dear, she'll be very upset when she comes down for supper.”

Marian cast a desperate glance at Meg.

“He's been like this since day before yesterday,” Meg whispered.

“Meg, where is my real daughter? This girl, I think, has come to help you in the kitchen. Is Michaelmas coming? We'll need extra help. Yes, you know how Lady Suzanne is.”

Marian got up from her knees and backed away. She'd have Meg heat some water for her to wash. Perhaps tomorrow he would recognize her, she thought tiredly. But first she had to get to the mews and see if Marigold had returned.

The birds knew her despite the odors of the garderobe. They seemed happy that she was back, although she could tell that the boys had taken excellent care of them. Every perch had been scraped and sanded. There were new rushes on the floor.

When she went back downstairs, Meg had hot water ready. As Marian sat in the wood tub, washing, Meg said, “Lord William must have taken a seizure like Hodge.”

“Oh, dear Meg. I am so sorry.” Marian was filled with sadness and not just for her father. “It must be so lonely for you here now.”

“Well, you're here now, dearie. Won't be quite so lonely. How was Derby?”

Marian looked up suddenly. “Meg, it wasn't Derby, it was Nottingham. I went and worked right in the sheriff's castle.”

“You didn't!” Meg gasped. “Now you've given me such a shock, I'll take a fit like your father and old Hodge.”

“I did it for all of us. I can't explain just yet. But, Meg, I am in a bit of trouble. It would be best that you not tell anyone that I was working in Nottingham castle.”

“Yes, but you told us that you were going to Derby. Why, Derby's almost out of the shire.”

“I lied.” She looked steadily at her kind old nursemaid.

Tears sprang into Meg's eyes. “There only be one reason why a lovely girl like you comes home smelling like dung. You did it for all of us, as you said. God bless you.”

“You'll keep it a secret, won't you?”

“Of course, Matty. But what was the trouble that you got into?”

“It's best you don't know. But if anybody comes here asking where I've been, just say I've been here tending my father who's been taken ill.”

“Don't worry, dear. Don't worry. And if anyone asks me where I got these coins, I'll say that Robin Hood gave them to me.”

Robin Hood?
Marian was about to say, when at that moment they heard a pounding on the door. Marian hopped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a heavy blanket before the door flung open.

“Rob—” Marian blurted. “Fynn!”

Meg planted herself right in front of him. “Matty ain't decent, Robert Woodfynn. Ye got no business in
here when she be half naked.”

“It's all right, Meg. I'm more covered with this blanket than I am in my kirtle and cloak.”

“So you got out all right! Scarlet said a fire broke out.” He looked nervously at Meg.

“Don't worry, she knows,” Marian said. “But how did Scarlet get out and back so fast?”

“He stole one of the sheriff's men's horses.”

“Really!” The blanket dropped from her shoulder as she gave a start. Meg plucked it up and covered her shoulder, muttering about what Lady Suzanne would say if she saw her daughter now.

Robin grinned and took a step back, blushing slightly.

“Wait here. Let me get dressed. I'll be back quickly. I have something to show you.”

“Yes, that's what Will said.” He cocked his head toward Meg as if to warn Marian.

“It's all right. She won't mind.”

“Won't mind what?” Meg asked. But Marian was already racing toward the spiraling stairs to the mews.

When she returned, she was holding the silver pitcher.

“By God's precious heart, what have you done, Matty?” Meg asked.

Marian set down the pitcher on the table and walked over to Meg, who could not take her eyes from the gleaming vessel. “I stole it. 'Tis true, Meg, but Rob—Fynn—will take it and sell it. And watch, the money he gets for it will come back to the people.”

“She's right, Mistress Meg. And Scarlet managed to filch a goblet or two when he wasn't juggling. So there'll be more!”

“What in the name…” Meg put her hand to her brow as she looked at the two young people. After a moment, she threw her hands in the air and declared, “I don't want to know.” Her face was proud and troubled as she left the room.

Marian clapped her hands. “It was worth it, wasn't it, Robin, me being the maid and all that.”

“It certainly was, and from what I understand you managed to save a bishop's life as well.”

“Yes, but there is another one I have not settled my score with yet,” Marian said darkly.

“Oh?” Robin lifted an eyebrow.

“I'll explain tomorrow. Let's meet at the cave in Barnsdale.”

“We're not at the cave anymore. We more or less live at the blasted oak.”

“The one near Sherwood? But it's so far. Why not the cave?”

“It's better. And we've made platforms like the tree houses in Barnsdale. None as nice as the one you made in the weeping willow.”

“I had to make it by myself because you kept me out, remember? But how did you come back and tend the birds?”

“Well, we already had some horses. So that made it easy. And I got a fine little cob pony you can ride. You see, while you were away—”

“But I was only away for a bit over a month.”

“A lot can happen.”

“So that's why you had to find a new hideout because they know about you in Barnsdale?”

“Yes, and they'll never expect us right under their noses in Nottingham. It's a good place. We're safer than the sheriff in his castle. For you see we know where he is, but he doesn't know where we are. It's like they say in chess—‘A knight on the rim is dim,' since it can only attack half the squares from the edge of the chessboard than it could from the center. Better
to be in the center.”

But are we knights or outlaws?
Marian wondered.
Or outlaw knights, perhaps
? She took a deep breath. “I guess we're…um…true outlaws now,” she said softly.
“Outlaws.”
The word rang in her head. Her pulse quickened. “Robin,” she said softly.

“Yes?”

She decided she couldn't wait until tomorrow to tell him. “There's something I saw when I was at the castle. Something I want back.”

“Want back?” he asked with a trace of confusion. “Something of yours?”

“My—score—I told you it's unsettled with the Bishop of Hereford. It's the bishop's ring.”

“His ring? The bishop's ring? I don't understand.”

“Not the ring of his church office. No. The stone in my mother's pendant, the Star of Jerusalem, he now wears in a ring. I plan to steal it back, Robin Hood. We're outlaws after all.”