The Wayward One (Chapter Four)
Title: The Wayward One (Chapter Four)
Author: glorious_clio
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none; pre-series
Summary: Marian stays behind after Robin abruptly breaks their engagement and goes off to the Holy Land. What happens to those left behind? This is not a romance.
Characters: Marian, mentions of Robin, OC's
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood. Crossposted at ff.net.
I ain't missing you at all
Since you've been gone, away
I ain't missing you
No matter, what my friends say
o0O0o
Marian spent most of her time in bed for now. Recovering. Resting. Going out of her mind with boredom. Sara fussed and fretted over her, which was nice, until it was irritating. Marian was not one who enjoyed being mollycoddled.
In all the time she was ill, all the time she was convalescing, she had only one letter from Aldith. It was quite formal, and not a word was scandalous. No clues as to how the wedding night was, or how things progressed. Marian was a bit hurt. Marian wrote back saying that the wedding had been wonderful, but she had been quite sick. Not an intimate word between the two of them.
One morning, it was not Sara who had brought Marian her medicines, but Matilda.
"What brings you here?" Marian asked. She had not relapsed, Marian hoped. Please let there be no more fever dreams of Robin.
"Sara asked me to, though you do not need much more nursing, Lady Marian. At least not physically, though your heart still seems broken," Matilda said knowingly. The healer had delivered both her and Robin into this world; knew them inside and out.
"Where is Sara?" Marian demanded, overlooking those last few words out of Matilda's mouth. Hide it better, Aldith said in her mind.
"Her daughter is ill - she has taken a turn for the worse," Matilda said, sitting on the bed.
"What is wrong?"
"Lady Marian, I know your heart is in the right place, but know that Sara and I are doing the best we can."
"But Sara has been so good to me, there must be something I can do!" Marian insisted.
"Trust me. There is nothing you can do to help Maudlin. Poor thing."
Marian frowned, and continued to frown over Matilda's nursing.
Not long after nightfall, after her father's snores rumbled down the corridor to her room, Marian came to a decision.
Matilda said that Marian was well. Heartbroken, but well. Robin had gone off to war, and now, she could do the same. Doing battle against sickness. She had defeated her own, after all. She could be a healer like Matilda.
Marian got up and pulled on her trousers and a tunic, belting it, and pulled on a heavy cloak.
Then she had to sit down for a minute, to catch her breath.
Not quite recovered, then. After a few minutes her head stopped swimming. Marian collected her medicinals and stole downstairs (not trusting herself notto fall off the roof), and to the outer buildings.
Arriving at the one she knew to be Sara's, Marian knocked tentatively, suddenly reluctant to intrude on Sara's privacy.
Without even giving Marian time to think, Sara swung the door open.
"Lady Marian!" she said with surprise, curtsying quickly.
Marian offered her a skin bag. "Matilda came to see me, she said your little girl was sick, and that I was well. I was wondering if you might need this?"
"You foolish girl," Sweet Sara said kindly, inviting her inside. "You are paler than the moon. Come in and rest yourself."
"Thank you," said Marian, stepping inside.
Sara settled her down next to the meager fire before looking around. It was a tiny house, only one roof, and no loft. There was one other stool next to the fire, and Marian spied a trunk and a small bed pushed against the wall.
In the bed, bundled up, was a someone, of whom Marian could only see a sallow face and lank yellow hair.
"Hello," Marian whispered to the person who must me Maudlin, Sara's sick daughter.
"Who are you?" the child inquired.
"This is the Lady Marian," Sara introduced. She helped Maudlin sit up so she could visit properly.
"Hello," greeted the girl.
"Matilda told me you were ill," Marian said softly. So I thought I would pay you a visit, to cheer you up?"
"Will you tell me a story?" the Maudlin asked.
"What about?" Marian replied.
"Oh, anything," Maudlin answered.
"She will pester all day for a story she has not heard," Sara said, fetching up some darning to occupy her hands.
"Do you know any about King Arthur's most loyal foster-brother, Kay?"
Maudlin shook her head.
"Kay is my favorite of all the knights of the Round Table," Marian confessed. It was this Kay that she had named her horse after. "When King Arthur was just a boy, he was the squire to a knight called Kay..." Marian spun some new yarns for the girl, using her voice in a way that she had never done before. As she told the tale, she could not fail to take in the level of poverty the cook and her daughter lived in. While they certainly had necessities, they did not have the niceties that Marian was accustomed to. Employees of her father's, who had championed the rights of those less fortunate than himself. Even Robin had so many ideas to help the poor and went the extra mile for any man, woman, or child, arguing for their welfare despite their birth. It seemed so strange that Marian should have so much, when they had so little. Marian had done nothing to deserve more than Maudlin, bundled in raggedy blankets.
At the end of the tale, Marian had decided not to go to war against illness.
She decided to go to war against poverty.
She was not immediately decided on her course of action. But she knew that she was getting nowhere in the Counsel of Nobles.
Marian braved the smell to visit the tanneries in the caves under Nottingham castle to commission a mask. She collected every piece of black clothing she owned and cobbled it together to make an outfit. And as she visited further and further away from Knighton Hall, she looked for a horse to ride. Kay was too recognizable. Marian eventually realized her best course of action was to switch horses all the time.
She did not take weapons at first, but she ran into the Sheriff's guards with greater and greater frequencies, so could not afford to take chances.
She reveled in every moment of her her work.
For the first time in ages, she was free. She was not even Marian under the mask. She was some force for good, some embodiment of the freedom she wished the Shire still possessed. She did not name herself, but compared herself to the Nightjars - nearly silent, nocturnal birds that were brown, gray, and black. They were summer visitors who nested in the ground, then cartwheeled through the sky at night. (She certainly was not a show off, like those robin red-breasts.)
Around the same time that the fledgling Nightjar began to fly, the Sheriff conjured an ally.
Sir Guy of Gisbourne, some unknown knight arrived at Locksley Hall to keep the lands of the Earldom in Robin's stead. The Sheriff argued that the steward, Thornton, could hardly do a competent job, as he was simply a peasant.
Marian saw it as it was - a power play. The Lands and Estate of the Huntingdon's were some of the richest, if not, the richest in Nottinghamshire. And now the man that everyone saw through as the Sheriff's lackey was in clear control. And he made his presence known.
Marian's gut burned. If Robin had not left, they would be married and this would not be a problem. Even if her father had been ousted as Sheriff, she and Robin could have easily, and legitimately, held Locksley Hall.
Sir Guy of Gisbourne (where was Gisbourne? Somewhere in France? Was he a second or third son, whom must seek employment elsewhere, away from an older brother's estate?) was cold and unapproachable, and never argued with the Sheriff. He did as the Sheriff bid, when he bid.
He had a possessive streak, stalking around Nottinghamshire as if he owned the whole place.
He seemed a weak man, and all the more dangerous for it. To say he worried Marian would be an understatement.
o0O0o
"That dress is... very becoming." Gisbourne always addressed her in a strange tone, somewhere between possessive and aloof.
She wanted to tell him that she does not usually wear dresses, that most of the time she wears trousers. Even at night. Especially at night. She wondered what Robin of Locksley would say to that.
Careful...
"Thank you, Sir Guy."
"Only, the color... Lady Marian, are you unwell?"
"No, Sir Guy, only tired." Being out until all hours will do that.
"You do not need to come to the Council of Nobles meetings, you know. If they tire you so."
"Oh, but I must!" she insisted, flushing. How to explain?"In these trying times, we must protect the people who work for us."
"I do not understand your passion, Lady Marian, and I believe it is misguided," Sir Guy told her in his best superior manner. He had to have been practicing.
"What are you talking about?"
"The poor - why should you care so much? You are not poor. I cannot see how it affects you."
Yes, she thought, Father does not pay extra taxes to spare our villagers. You are right, I have no heart and I do not pay attention to the suffering of other people. Marian shrugged his comment off, choosing silence over responding. She never would have let Robin get away with words like that, but then, Robin would never take such advantage of anyone, taxes or no. He was too chivalrous, and took protecting weaker people much more seriously than Sir Guy did.
"Perhaps all you need is a husband and children to look after," Guy argued.
Marian said blankly, "Yes, because that is all every woman needs to be satisfied."
He grinned at her.
Marian's eyes widened. Sir Guy of Gisbourne did not understand her at all.
Author: glorious_clio
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none; pre-series
Summary: Marian stays behind after Robin abruptly breaks their engagement and goes off to the Holy Land. What happens to those left behind? This is not a romance.
Characters: Marian, mentions of Robin, OC's
Disclaimer: I do not hold any ownership over the BBC's version of Robin Hood. Crossposted at ff.net.
I ain't missing you at all
Since you've been gone, away
I ain't missing you
No matter, what my friends say
o0O0o
Marian spent most of her time in bed for now. Recovering. Resting. Going out of her mind with boredom. Sara fussed and fretted over her, which was nice, until it was irritating. Marian was not one who enjoyed being mollycoddled.
In all the time she was ill, all the time she was convalescing, she had only one letter from Aldith. It was quite formal, and not a word was scandalous. No clues as to how the wedding night was, or how things progressed. Marian was a bit hurt. Marian wrote back saying that the wedding had been wonderful, but she had been quite sick. Not an intimate word between the two of them.
One morning, it was not Sara who had brought Marian her medicines, but Matilda.
"What brings you here?" Marian asked. She had not relapsed, Marian hoped. Please let there be no more fever dreams of Robin.
"Sara asked me to, though you do not need much more nursing, Lady Marian. At least not physically, though your heart still seems broken," Matilda said knowingly. The healer had delivered both her and Robin into this world; knew them inside and out.
"Where is Sara?" Marian demanded, overlooking those last few words out of Matilda's mouth. Hide it better, Aldith said in her mind.
"Her daughter is ill - she has taken a turn for the worse," Matilda said, sitting on the bed.
"What is wrong?"
"Lady Marian, I know your heart is in the right place, but know that Sara and I are doing the best we can."
"But Sara has been so good to me, there must be something I can do!" Marian insisted.
"Trust me. There is nothing you can do to help Maudlin. Poor thing."
Marian frowned, and continued to frown over Matilda's nursing.
Not long after nightfall, after her father's snores rumbled down the corridor to her room, Marian came to a decision.
Matilda said that Marian was well. Heartbroken, but well. Robin had gone off to war, and now, she could do the same. Doing battle against sickness. She had defeated her own, after all. She could be a healer like Matilda.
Marian got up and pulled on her trousers and a tunic, belting it, and pulled on a heavy cloak.
Then she had to sit down for a minute, to catch her breath.
Not quite recovered, then. After a few minutes her head stopped swimming. Marian collected her medicinals and stole downstairs (not trusting herself notto fall off the roof), and to the outer buildings.
Arriving at the one she knew to be Sara's, Marian knocked tentatively, suddenly reluctant to intrude on Sara's privacy.
Without even giving Marian time to think, Sara swung the door open.
"Lady Marian!" she said with surprise, curtsying quickly.
Marian offered her a skin bag. "Matilda came to see me, she said your little girl was sick, and that I was well. I was wondering if you might need this?"
"You foolish girl," Sweet Sara said kindly, inviting her inside. "You are paler than the moon. Come in and rest yourself."
"Thank you," said Marian, stepping inside.
Sara settled her down next to the meager fire before looking around. It was a tiny house, only one roof, and no loft. There was one other stool next to the fire, and Marian spied a trunk and a small bed pushed against the wall.
In the bed, bundled up, was a someone, of whom Marian could only see a sallow face and lank yellow hair.
"Hello," Marian whispered to the person who must me Maudlin, Sara's sick daughter.
"Who are you?" the child inquired.
"This is the Lady Marian," Sara introduced. She helped Maudlin sit up so she could visit properly.
"Hello," greeted the girl.
"Matilda told me you were ill," Marian said softly. So I thought I would pay you a visit, to cheer you up?"
"Will you tell me a story?" the Maudlin asked.
"What about?" Marian replied.
"Oh, anything," Maudlin answered.
"She will pester all day for a story she has not heard," Sara said, fetching up some darning to occupy her hands.
"Do you know any about King Arthur's most loyal foster-brother, Kay?"
Maudlin shook her head.
"Kay is my favorite of all the knights of the Round Table," Marian confessed. It was this Kay that she had named her horse after. "When King Arthur was just a boy, he was the squire to a knight called Kay..." Marian spun some new yarns for the girl, using her voice in a way that she had never done before. As she told the tale, she could not fail to take in the level of poverty the cook and her daughter lived in. While they certainly had necessities, they did not have the niceties that Marian was accustomed to. Employees of her father's, who had championed the rights of those less fortunate than himself. Even Robin had so many ideas to help the poor and went the extra mile for any man, woman, or child, arguing for their welfare despite their birth. It seemed so strange that Marian should have so much, when they had so little. Marian had done nothing to deserve more than Maudlin, bundled in raggedy blankets.
At the end of the tale, Marian had decided not to go to war against illness.
She decided to go to war against poverty.
She was not immediately decided on her course of action. But she knew that she was getting nowhere in the Counsel of Nobles.
Marian braved the smell to visit the tanneries in the caves under Nottingham castle to commission a mask. She collected every piece of black clothing she owned and cobbled it together to make an outfit. And as she visited further and further away from Knighton Hall, she looked for a horse to ride. Kay was too recognizable. Marian eventually realized her best course of action was to switch horses all the time.
She did not take weapons at first, but she ran into the Sheriff's guards with greater and greater frequencies, so could not afford to take chances.
She reveled in every moment of her her work.
For the first time in ages, she was free. She was not even Marian under the mask. She was some force for good, some embodiment of the freedom she wished the Shire still possessed. She did not name herself, but compared herself to the Nightjars - nearly silent, nocturnal birds that were brown, gray, and black. They were summer visitors who nested in the ground, then cartwheeled through the sky at night. (She certainly was not a show off, like those robin red-breasts.)
Around the same time that the fledgling Nightjar began to fly, the Sheriff conjured an ally.
Sir Guy of Gisbourne, some unknown knight arrived at Locksley Hall to keep the lands of the Earldom in Robin's stead. The Sheriff argued that the steward, Thornton, could hardly do a competent job, as he was simply a peasant.
Marian saw it as it was - a power play. The Lands and Estate of the Huntingdon's were some of the richest, if not, the richest in Nottinghamshire. And now the man that everyone saw through as the Sheriff's lackey was in clear control. And he made his presence known.
Marian's gut burned. If Robin had not left, they would be married and this would not be a problem. Even if her father had been ousted as Sheriff, she and Robin could have easily, and legitimately, held Locksley Hall.
Sir Guy of Gisbourne (where was Gisbourne? Somewhere in France? Was he a second or third son, whom must seek employment elsewhere, away from an older brother's estate?) was cold and unapproachable, and never argued with the Sheriff. He did as the Sheriff bid, when he bid.
He had a possessive streak, stalking around Nottinghamshire as if he owned the whole place.
He seemed a weak man, and all the more dangerous for it. To say he worried Marian would be an understatement.
o0O0o
"That dress is... very becoming." Gisbourne always addressed her in a strange tone, somewhere between possessive and aloof.
She wanted to tell him that she does not usually wear dresses, that most of the time she wears trousers. Even at night. Especially at night. She wondered what Robin of Locksley would say to that.
Careful...
"Thank you, Sir Guy."
"Only, the color... Lady Marian, are you unwell?"
"No, Sir Guy, only tired." Being out until all hours will do that.
"You do not need to come to the Council of Nobles meetings, you know. If they tire you so."
"Oh, but I must!" she insisted, flushing. How to explain?"In these trying times, we must protect the people who work for us."
"I do not understand your passion, Lady Marian, and I believe it is misguided," Sir Guy told her in his best superior manner. He had to have been practicing.
"What are you talking about?"
"The poor - why should you care so much? You are not poor. I cannot see how it affects you."
Yes, she thought, Father does not pay extra taxes to spare our villagers. You are right, I have no heart and I do not pay attention to the suffering of other people. Marian shrugged his comment off, choosing silence over responding. She never would have let Robin get away with words like that, but then, Robin would never take such advantage of anyone, taxes or no. He was too chivalrous, and took protecting weaker people much more seriously than Sir Guy did.
"Perhaps all you need is a husband and children to look after," Guy argued.
Marian said blankly, "Yes, because that is all every woman needs to be satisfied."
He grinned at her.
Marian's eyes widened. Sir Guy of Gisbourne did not understand her at all.