White Knight (Marian, Robin Hood BBC, PG-13) Part One
Title: White Knight (Pt 1)
Author: ctquill
Fandom: Robin Hood BBC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, death, language.
Prompt: #61: Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world. -- Jane Addams (1860-1935), founder of the settlement house movement in the United States. Laid the foundations for social work as it is now practiced. Her writings and speeches influenced the later shape of the United Nations. Second woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize, and the first American woman to win it.
Summary: Marian is presented with an opportunity, but the price may be too high. Set just after 2x11 and during 2x13.
Author's Notes: Expect historical inaccuracy. A huge thank you to jagnikjen and roh_wyn for beta reading. Any changes I've made that have messed this up are entirely my own fault. Thanks to the participants of the rewatch at roh_fics and to allthingsrobin's transcripts at Hoodwinked. I used both sites for reference. This version of Robin Hood belongs to Tiger Aspect and the BBC.
The chains clink as I move. I am no longer a warrior. No longer a lady. Just another of the sheriff's caged pets.
It is cold at night here, bitter cold. Did Robin shiver at a Crusaders' campfire in the sands nearby? Did he fight in these streets, spill blood on the stones above my head? Or was he miles from this town while I watched our England change around me? Now it is I who burn during the day and freeze at night under these foreign stars and he who waits in the place where we grew up. Waits forever, under England's richer soil.
I cannot sleep and these are the thoughts that assail me each night. I have little left to give my homeland. Little I can do for her people and king, though I set myself the impossible task of saving them.
I am no longer a spy. No longer betrothed. No longer a daughter. Or a rebel in a mask. I have but one remaining shred of power and with it one last, desperate hope. One thing left to me that could be of any use.
I am a woman.
I play my last card. The look in his eyes...But when the door opens again it is not he, returning to claim me for a union forged in blood and death.
I have failed. The last power I had is undone. The last thing I could offer is unwanted. I have nothing left but the dark and cold, the grip of iron around my wrists. The silence. I wish it were so still inside my head.
Where is Allan? Did I send him to his death? Or did he simply ride away from all this when he discovered he had arrived too late? And Robin...but I know where he is. It may be that I will join him soon. Not even that is in my control. Vaisey will have his way, with all of us. There is no justice in this world.
Is there more I could have done to prevent this? Should I have been more cautious, not less? But I swore I would hold nothing back, after the last time...
*
“Lady Marian.”
It was the way he spoke her title that raised the first alarm. She stopped. His position, blocking the doorway with his arms folded, gave her little choice.
“May I help you?” she said in her frostiest manner, with a twitch of an eyebrow to indicate her surprise that a man of his station would accost her in this way.
“I think that should be the other way round, don't you?” He eyed her up and down slowly, as if she were a tavern wench. “Considering your precarious position.”
“What are you talking about?” She did her best to sound merely annoyed, but the warning screamed in her head now. He was one of the senior guards, the sort of man the sheriff would send for her if he'd caught wind of the charade Guy and Allan had pulled off yesterday. But he couldn't know. He couldn't suspect. Neither of the men would have been so stupid as to give him reason…
“Sir Guy is expecting me,” she tried. “If you'll excuse me.”
He moved to block her. “Sir Guy just left on an errand for the sheriff, as you well know-being so very close to him and all. You want to have a private word with me, my lady. Because right now, I'm the man who decides whether you live or die.”
He pulled his mail shirt up a little to reveal the scorched leather mask shoved into his belt.
With an effort, she kept her composure.
“Is that-? It looks like the Night Watchman's. Surely you should take that to the sheriff?”
“Oh, you wouldn't want me to do that, seeing as I know who it belongs to.”
“I'm sure the sheriff will reward you handsomely for that information,” she said as she surveyed the corridor for escape routes. “I do not see why you have brought it to me first. Unless…” She feigned a gasp. Lowering her voice, she leaned in closer. “Matthew-are you trying to tell me that you are the Night Watchman?”
His sword flicked out, forcing her to take a step back.
“I'm not Gisborne. Don't play me for a fool. I'm not blind, either. After he failed to hang you for your unnamed offense, I followed his lackey and saw him throw certain items of clothing into the fire. The mask was all I could save by the time he left.” He shook his head. “I knew Gisborne was infatuated, but I never thought he would go this far. So-do you still want me to tell the sheriff what I know?”
“What do you want?” Marian said quietly.
“That's better.”
He kept the sword close to her chest. She didn't dare reach for her dagger. She searched the corridor for advantages and found none.
“There's something I need returned to me. I want you to go and get it.”
“What sort of something?”
“You'll know when you see it. It's being kept in a convent a day's journey from here. Took me long enough to locate it, and now I can't get in-no men allowed in the cloister, you see.”
“And I take it the nuns would not return it at your request?”
“They were very…unhelpful. But I know which-”
“Marian?”
Allan. Thank God it was him. She prepared to move as he came around the corner, but Matthew didn't so much as twitch.
“Did you want something, Allan?” she said, trying desperately to catch his eye, to warn him without provoking Matthew into taking action. Their positions were suspicious, but the sword was between them, hidden from view.
Allan stopped.
“Everything all-”
Matthew moved faster than she had anticipated. Allan never stood a chance. The blade pressed to his throat, pinning him against the wall.
“Drop your weapons,” Matthew said. “Both of you.”
Marian reluctantly released the hilt of her dagger.
“I could call my men right now. It would spoil my plans, but it would be the end of both of you. Do as I say.”
“He knows about yesterday,” Marian said quietly.
Wide-eyed, Allan drew his sword and let it fall to the floor. Marian tossed her dagger after it. She could have thrown it at Matthew instead, but he was watching her closely.
He continued as if the interruption had never happened, as if this was an everyday conversation that didn't contain swords. “Thank you. As I was saying, I know which nun has been charged with it. It's most likely kept in her cell. You can get in without arousing suspicion, find it and steal away with it. Unseen, you understand? You must not get caught.”
“I am no thief,” Marian said coldly.
“He is, though.” He leaned a little harder on his sword. Allan flattened himself against the wall. “Your co-conspirator. You can take him with, if you want.”
“Don't I get a say?” Allan croaked.
“No. If the Lady Marian wants your help, she can have it.”
“If I don't…?” Marian continued for him.
“Then I'll just kill him right now.”
Matthew smiled. Allan shut up.
“And I seem to remember you stealing Gisborne's money from Locksley Manor. Not to mention what you must have been getting up to with your lover.”
Marian inadvertently touched her left hand, as if the ring was still there, condemning her.
“My-? I have no idea what you're talking about.”
He smirked at her.
“So that's the one thing Gisborne doesn't know? Of course, he wouldn't have been so quick to save you from being strung up if he knew you were just stringing him along. And with Robin Hood, no less. Save your protests. Months back my men saw a couple who looked remarkably like Hood and Lady Marian, in her wedding dress, kissing in view of the city gates. I told them to keep quiet about it. I thought it would come in handy someday. And I've been watching you ever since.”
Marian's heart punched her ribs. She sought some way out, some words that would at least buy her time.
“I-I cannot be gone for more than two days. Guy will return and wonder where I am. What am I to tell him then?”
“He won't be back just yet. He's in Lincoln, arranging a meeting between Prince John and the sheriff. Black Knights business.”
“No, he isn't,” Allan protested. “He's just taking a couple of days to check up on the outlying farms, make sure they're being honest about their taxes. He told me himself.”
“And he tells you everything, does he?”
“Of course,” Allan said unconvincingly.
“But he left you behind?”
“Well, he wanted me to stay and keep an eye on Marian.”
“That may be what he told you, but I know for a fact he's in Lincoln. Prince John is stopping there for the night on his way to London. The sheriff will meet him to discuss their plans.” He addressed Marian again. “You have no friends here today, my lady. It's the perfect time for you to take a trip.”
“Perhaps you should just deliver me to the sheriff now,” Marian said in a firm voice. “We'll see who he believes. I am not afraid of death. I have died before.”
She prayed that they were both bluffing, that he wanted his treasure more than he wanted the sheriff's goodwill.
Matthew's eyes narrowed.
“Liar,” he said softly. “But I see you're reluctant to accept my hold over you. So I'll sweeten the deal. Not only do I keep your secret, but I give you something that would mean the end of Sheriff Vaisey and his plans for the present king.”
Marian studied him, looking for the lie.
“Even if such a thing existed,” she said, “why would you have it and why would you give it to me?”
Matthew shrugged. “Vaisey's not going to win any lord of the year awards, is he? Truthfully, it doesn't make much difference to me who the sheriff is-I have my own plans for my future. But it matters a great deal to you. So you get me what I want and I'll do the same for you.”
“You must want this very badly.”
“Oh, I do. But think what you get out of doing this simple little favour for me.”
She was silent for a moment. Allan's eyes urged her to accept the deal and find a way out later. She wasn't quite ready to give in, though.
“What is it? This destructive secret?”
“A letter. I heard Vaisey discussing it with his scribe-the one who had such an unfortunate fall from the battlements. Apparently it details their plans for putting John on the throne. Vaisey was having a…firm response drafted to the man who wrote it.” He chuckled, which made her think the response had not only been a letter. “He threw it in the fire, but was called away. I'm good at saving secrets from the flames. Oh, and don't think I was stupid enough to hide it in the castle. So you go to the convent, and then meet me. Not here, where your tame outlaw can have me in range of his bow. Lincoln, in the gate guard's tower, midnight tomorrow. That doesn't give you time to enlist Hood's help.”
“Or carry out your demand. I cannot-”
He dragged Allan away from the wall so that he could lean over her, too close with a naked blade between them.
“You will,” he said softly, though there was nothing soft in his face. “Or both of you die. Return empty-handed and I'll dig your graves myself.”
“Very well.” She could still see the bulge of the mask under his clothes. She met Allan's eyes, willing him to stay silent.
He didn't, of course. But all he said was, “Must be some treasure.”
“You'll see soon enough.” Matthew kept the sword at his throat. “After you, my lady.”
He allowed Marian to retrieve her dagger, but left Allan's sword behind. She could have run from him at any point on the way to the stables, but she didn't think it worth Allan's life.
If they knew Vaisey's plans for Richard they could stop him once and for all, assuming he hadn't changed them after seeing the letter. Assuming the letter really existed.
There was something different about Matthew. He behaved like a lord among the other guards. She realised that since Joe Lacey and the other men she'd grown up around had all gone, one way or another, she hadn't bothered to find out much about their replacements. They were just the sheriff's mailed fists, not men with histories and loved ones.
“Do you have the means to blackmail everyone in the castle?” she said over her shoulder.
“A good many,” Matthew replied casually. “The letter isn't for blackmail, though. I'm not suicidal. I just…collect useful items and save them for a rainy day. According to you, Nottingham and England are having a plague of those of late. Well, I'm offering you a rain cape.”
“How very generous of you.” Her words came out sharp as pins.
He laughed.
“Cheer up. Do exactly as I say and everyone wins.”
*
Rain pattered on the roof of the carriage. Marian would have preferred to ride-the small space and jolting of the wheels over stones made her feel unpleasantly helpless-but Matthew wouldn't hear of it. He had introduced the carriage driver as his son Ronald, a big man carrying too much weight and a sour expression.
“To help you find what you're looking for,” Matthew said. “After we tracked it to the convent, Ronald went to ask for its return, but the blasted nuns turned him away. Their servants would not help us either, although one of them gave him the name and description of the nun who guards it. He will be your guide.”
And jailer.
Ronald barely glanced at Marian and Allan as they climbed into the carriage. Matthew slammed the door. Marian heard a bolt on the outside slide home. There was one window, small and barred. She had a feeling the carriage was used for the transport of law-breakers too important to be dragged behind a horse. It was bare enough inside. She felt every cobblestone through the wooden bench.
Within minutes they left Nottingham behind.
“What now?” Allan said quietly.
Marian stared out as Sherwood filled the horizon. “We could escape,” she said.
“Make a run for it? Yeah, I'm sure we could get that door open and there's only one of him. And you don't have to go back to the castle. But where would I go? Do you know how easily Matthew or one of his guards could get to me? I can't go back to Robin, Will said as much.”
She had called Allan a brave man once, when all he had been was a liar and a traitor. But she couldn't bring herself to call him coward now.
“I can no more run from this than you can.”
“Robin would-”
“The Night Watchman is my problem, not Robin's. But that's not my chief concern. If Matthew genuinely has evidence that could destroy the Black Knights and protect King Richard, we need to be cautious. If I or Robin try to steal it from him, or force him to hand it over...” She shook her head. “It is too risky. I do not like the situation. But it may be a way to help England.”
“You know it's probably a hoax, don't you?”
“Yes.” The trees were shrinking, taking her allies with them. “I just can't take the chance that it isn't.”
“Well, it's not like we have a choice now, is it? But, not being funny, Matthew could still get us both killed once we've brought him his treasure. Shouldn't we have a plan or something? Some sort of insurance?”
“You risked your life for me yesterday, Allan. I won't let anything happen to you now because of that. Trust me.”
He was silent for a minute. She had spared his life and he had helped to save hers. Did he think that meant nothing to her?
Then he leaned back on the bench and folded his arms.
“So you're not going to duck out of this and go back to the forest?”
No,” she said. “There'll be opportunity enough for that later, if need be. For both of us.”
He looked skeptical.
*
She had fallen asleep after they passed the river. Allan shook her awake.
“Marian,” he whispered, his eyes bright in the gloom of the carriage. “We've stopped.”
The rain was a steady roar outside. She couldn't see much of the view through the window past it. She sat up.
The door opened, spilling wetness and the smell of crushed grass inside.
“We're here,” Ronald said.
They climbed out. The convent stood in isolation atop a hill. The lake below would have reflected its stone walls and bell tower, but the surface was blistered grey by the rain.
Ronald stuck his hands under his arms and shifted from foot to foot. The cold had turned his nose purple.
“Her name is Sister Catherine,” Ronald said. “She'll be a little younger than you, pale and small, reddish hair. It should be in her bedroom. Don't try anything stupid. Don't run out on us. Don't, whatever you do, get caught.”
Marian wondered how the servants had known the colour of the nun's hair. Someone must have spied on her in her room. She found the idea disturbing and the irony of that did not escape her.
“They'll know it was us when they discover it missing.”
“But you'll be long gone by then. You'd better be.”
He jerked his head towards the convent and gave Allan a shove when he didn't start moving fast enough.
“I hear France is nice this time of year,” Allan muttered as they sloshed their way up the hill. “Not so many blackmailers, either.”
“So find yourself a ship,” Marian snapped. She was already soaked and shivering. The churned mud track was crusted with slush and ice lurked in the potholes. Allan looked like a drowned rat. She knew he wouldn't leave Nottingham, no matter how much he grumbled. His greedy little soul had been ensnared by Guy's promises and he seemed unwilling to break free.
And what of you? You can't seem to escape the man either. And now that you've seen that you were right about him, that when he thinks for himself he can be a better man...where does it end? When will you leave, or tell him the whole truth?
She shook her head, scattering rain and uncomfortable thoughts.
“You're really going to do this, then?”Allan glanced at her sidelong. “You're going to steal from a bunch of nuns on the off-chance that one of the sheriff's guards will help you take him down?”
“According to Matthew, it isn't theft, but salvage,” she said stiffly. She pulled her sodden cloak tighter around her, but she knew that couldn't hide her misgivings from him. “You don't need to come to my assistance tonight, you know.”
“What, to have come all this way to do nothing? Pass up the chance to rob a nun's bedroom?”
She knew that grin only too well. She sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”
*
The convent gates opened reluctantly, but a half-drowned noblewoman and her husband's servant who had been beset by outlaws on the road could not be refused. Allan was sent to the staff entrance. The nuns led Marian into the cloister.
“You may change your clothes and dine with us,” the abbess said. Her voice rang from the stone walls. “Then I will have two of our men take you the rest of your way by cart.”
“Oh, you're terribly kind,” Marian replied. “But it is such a long journey still and my manservant and I need to rest. Could I possibly impose upon your hospitality for one night? My man could simply sleep in the stables.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the nun said, “Very well. You may have one of the unoccupied cells for tonight and travel on in the morning. But I warn you, my lady, it will not be luxurious. We seldom have guests.”
“It will be quite sufficient for me, Mother. Thank you.”
Dressed in a simple but wonderfully dry gown, Marian sat beside the abbess in the dining hall. The nuns did not speak during meals, and she received many disapproving looks when she said, “I must thank you again. I knew this was the right place to come to for help. In fact, only a month ago an acquaintance told me that this convent took her in last year-it would have been late summer-and kindly gave her shelter before she resumed her journey.”
She saw the abbess and several other nuns stiffen, but it was the reaction of a young woman across the hall that caught her attention. She dropped her spoon. When she picked it up, her hand was trembling. Marian sipped her soup.
“I remembered her story when we found ourselves stranded in this area. You are making a habit of saving travellers in distress.” She gave a little laugh.
The abbess smiled thinly. “Quite,” she said. “Please, my lady, we observe silence during meals.”
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry.”
At the end of the meal the abbess turned to her again. “What was the name of your acquaintance, my lady? I can't seem to recall a guest at that time. Perhaps it was a different convent after all.”
“Lady Gweneth of York,” she said at random, with half an eye on the young nun across the room. The woman was ignoring her, but the tension in her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“I cannot recall,” the abbess repeated. “I suppose it is possible.”
She rose and the rest of the nuns followed suit.
“We will return to our cells to prepare for Compline now. You may attend the service if you wish.”
“I am exhausted, Mother. If you don't mind, I will retire.”
“Of course.”
The young nun was the first out of the hall. Marian was the second.
The corridor was now lit with a few cheap candles. The nun's habit dragged on the cold stones.
“Sister Catherine,” Marian called. The nun turned.
“Yes?” She sounded hostile.
That had been easy.
“Will someone please see to it that food is taken to my servant as well?”
“No need. He'll eat in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, but the woman did not return it. She made a show of turning back to the hall, but when she heard the nun's footsteps hurrying away-at a greater pace than seemed necessary-she followed her. The passages were shadowy and Marian picked up her skirts to move in silence. She watched from around a corner to see which room the nun entered. Once the door had closed she hastened to her own cell before the other nuns found her loitering in the wrong corridor. She did not think it was common for a nun to lock her door, and not with such force as Sister Catherine had employed.
*
The door swung open onto the moonlit courtyard. Shadows shifted and Allan was there, cloaked in wool and the scents of cold earth, horse and straw. She closed the door carefully behind him, shutting out the chill. The candle flame surged as if trying to free itself from its wick, dipped so low she was afraid it would go out, then settled.
“This way,” she whispered.
Voices drifted from the chapel, raised in song.
Allan kept a lookout while she bent over the door handle. She found the whole situation ridiculous. What could the nuns really do to her if they caught her?
“Need some help with that?” Allan said after a minute.
“I've got it, thank you,” she replied coldly. He chuckled. He wasn't taking this seriously either. If he hadn't been afraid of Matthew, she had no doubt he'd have abandoned her.
One more twist of the pin and the lock gave. She eased the door open.
“Awfully handy with that for someone who said she's not a thief.”
She gave Allan a withering look. He grinned and pushed past her into the room.
“Let's see what this treasure is, then.”
They both stopped short. The room was bare but for a bed, a chest and a crib. The crib was occupied.
“Someone's been a bad nun,” Allan said at last. The baby stirred and began to grizzle. “Odd place to keep your valuables, too.”
“It has its advantages.” Marian started for the crib, seeing the baby notice them. “If intruders come in-” She hadn't been fast enough. The baby opened its mouth and wailed. “-that happens.”
She snatched up the child and tried to hush it. Allan hastily checked in the chest and under the bed, but the baby was howling now despite Marian's best efforts.
“Give it here.” He held out his hands. Marian eyed at him dubiously. He grimaced.
“Robin told you about the time I turned Guy's kid upside down, did he? What can I say-it's an old family trick.”
“That explains a great deal.”
“Oi! Anyway, I've learned better. I know how to hold him.”
He did, too. Seconds after she handed the baby over it had quieted.
“No-one ever said infants had good taste,” Marian muttered. She remembered that the same thing had happened with Robin. Perhaps she should reconsider any plans for motherhood.
She searched the room briskly while Allan cooed over the child. She even checked under the baby blankets. Apart from the nun's sparse possessions, she found only a toy in the corner of the room that must have been thrown from the crib.
“Nothing.”
Allan looked just as baffled as she felt.
“Wrong nun?” he suggested.
A tap at the shutters startled them both. Feeling Allan's grip tighten, the baby began to cry again.
Marian cracked the shutters. Ronald's face loomed alarmingly out of the dark. She obeyed his urgent gestures and opened the shutters all the way. He dragged himself in over the sill, almost sticking in the narrow opening. She pushed the shutters closed again quickly before someone saw the light.
Ronald gripped Marian's arm hard to steady himself, with scant regard for propriety, or pain. He was breathing heavily-and beaming.
“You have him! Wonderful. You were taking so long, I thought-”
Allan stared at Ronald, then at the child in his arms. “What?”
“You came for the baby?” Marian was too shocked to try to shake Ronald off, so he continued to lean on her, his rank breath gusting on her neck. “We're supposed to kidnap a child?”
“Not kidnap. Save! Give him to me, quickly, they mustn't catch us...”
He pushed away from Marian and reached for the baby. Allan hesitated, shifting his weight back, away from Ronald's eager hands. Marian caught hold of Ronald's sleeve. He barely glanced at her. Lunging forward, he wrested the baby from Allan, who had to surrender the child or participate in crushing him. Triumphant, Ronald pressed the squirming babe to his chest.
“We're rescuing him,” he said. “This is my uncle.”
Author: ctquill
Fandom: Robin Hood BBC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, death, language.
Prompt: #61: Nothing could be worse than the fear that one had given up too soon, and left one unexpended effort that might have saved the world. -- Jane Addams (1860-1935), founder of the settlement house movement in the United States. Laid the foundations for social work as it is now practiced. Her writings and speeches influenced the later shape of the United Nations. Second woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize, and the first American woman to win it.
Summary: Marian is presented with an opportunity, but the price may be too high. Set just after 2x11 and during 2x13.
Author's Notes: Expect historical inaccuracy. A huge thank you to jagnikjen and roh_wyn for beta reading. Any changes I've made that have messed this up are entirely my own fault. Thanks to the participants of the rewatch at roh_fics and to allthingsrobin's transcripts at Hoodwinked. I used both sites for reference. This version of Robin Hood belongs to Tiger Aspect and the BBC.
The chains clink as I move. I am no longer a warrior. No longer a lady. Just another of the sheriff's caged pets.
It is cold at night here, bitter cold. Did Robin shiver at a Crusaders' campfire in the sands nearby? Did he fight in these streets, spill blood on the stones above my head? Or was he miles from this town while I watched our England change around me? Now it is I who burn during the day and freeze at night under these foreign stars and he who waits in the place where we grew up. Waits forever, under England's richer soil.
I cannot sleep and these are the thoughts that assail me each night. I have little left to give my homeland. Little I can do for her people and king, though I set myself the impossible task of saving them.
I am no longer a spy. No longer betrothed. No longer a daughter. Or a rebel in a mask. I have but one remaining shred of power and with it one last, desperate hope. One thing left to me that could be of any use.
I am a woman.
I play my last card. The look in his eyes...But when the door opens again it is not he, returning to claim me for a union forged in blood and death.
I have failed. The last power I had is undone. The last thing I could offer is unwanted. I have nothing left but the dark and cold, the grip of iron around my wrists. The silence. I wish it were so still inside my head.
Where is Allan? Did I send him to his death? Or did he simply ride away from all this when he discovered he had arrived too late? And Robin...but I know where he is. It may be that I will join him soon. Not even that is in my control. Vaisey will have his way, with all of us. There is no justice in this world.
Is there more I could have done to prevent this? Should I have been more cautious, not less? But I swore I would hold nothing back, after the last time...
*
“Lady Marian.”
It was the way he spoke her title that raised the first alarm. She stopped. His position, blocking the doorway with his arms folded, gave her little choice.
“May I help you?” she said in her frostiest manner, with a twitch of an eyebrow to indicate her surprise that a man of his station would accost her in this way.
“I think that should be the other way round, don't you?” He eyed her up and down slowly, as if she were a tavern wench. “Considering your precarious position.”
“What are you talking about?” She did her best to sound merely annoyed, but the warning screamed in her head now. He was one of the senior guards, the sort of man the sheriff would send for her if he'd caught wind of the charade Guy and Allan had pulled off yesterday. But he couldn't know. He couldn't suspect. Neither of the men would have been so stupid as to give him reason…
“Sir Guy is expecting me,” she tried. “If you'll excuse me.”
He moved to block her. “Sir Guy just left on an errand for the sheriff, as you well know-being so very close to him and all. You want to have a private word with me, my lady. Because right now, I'm the man who decides whether you live or die.”
He pulled his mail shirt up a little to reveal the scorched leather mask shoved into his belt.
With an effort, she kept her composure.
“Is that-? It looks like the Night Watchman's. Surely you should take that to the sheriff?”
“Oh, you wouldn't want me to do that, seeing as I know who it belongs to.”
“I'm sure the sheriff will reward you handsomely for that information,” she said as she surveyed the corridor for escape routes. “I do not see why you have brought it to me first. Unless…” She feigned a gasp. Lowering her voice, she leaned in closer. “Matthew-are you trying to tell me that you are the Night Watchman?”
His sword flicked out, forcing her to take a step back.
“I'm not Gisborne. Don't play me for a fool. I'm not blind, either. After he failed to hang you for your unnamed offense, I followed his lackey and saw him throw certain items of clothing into the fire. The mask was all I could save by the time he left.” He shook his head. “I knew Gisborne was infatuated, but I never thought he would go this far. So-do you still want me to tell the sheriff what I know?”
“What do you want?” Marian said quietly.
“That's better.”
He kept the sword close to her chest. She didn't dare reach for her dagger. She searched the corridor for advantages and found none.
“There's something I need returned to me. I want you to go and get it.”
“What sort of something?”
“You'll know when you see it. It's being kept in a convent a day's journey from here. Took me long enough to locate it, and now I can't get in-no men allowed in the cloister, you see.”
“And I take it the nuns would not return it at your request?”
“They were very…unhelpful. But I know which-”
“Marian?”
Allan. Thank God it was him. She prepared to move as he came around the corner, but Matthew didn't so much as twitch.
“Did you want something, Allan?” she said, trying desperately to catch his eye, to warn him without provoking Matthew into taking action. Their positions were suspicious, but the sword was between them, hidden from view.
Allan stopped.
“Everything all-”
Matthew moved faster than she had anticipated. Allan never stood a chance. The blade pressed to his throat, pinning him against the wall.
“Drop your weapons,” Matthew said. “Both of you.”
Marian reluctantly released the hilt of her dagger.
“I could call my men right now. It would spoil my plans, but it would be the end of both of you. Do as I say.”
“He knows about yesterday,” Marian said quietly.
Wide-eyed, Allan drew his sword and let it fall to the floor. Marian tossed her dagger after it. She could have thrown it at Matthew instead, but he was watching her closely.
He continued as if the interruption had never happened, as if this was an everyday conversation that didn't contain swords. “Thank you. As I was saying, I know which nun has been charged with it. It's most likely kept in her cell. You can get in without arousing suspicion, find it and steal away with it. Unseen, you understand? You must not get caught.”
“I am no thief,” Marian said coldly.
“He is, though.” He leaned a little harder on his sword. Allan flattened himself against the wall. “Your co-conspirator. You can take him with, if you want.”
“Don't I get a say?” Allan croaked.
“No. If the Lady Marian wants your help, she can have it.”
“If I don't…?” Marian continued for him.
“Then I'll just kill him right now.”
Matthew smiled. Allan shut up.
“And I seem to remember you stealing Gisborne's money from Locksley Manor. Not to mention what you must have been getting up to with your lover.”
Marian inadvertently touched her left hand, as if the ring was still there, condemning her.
“My-? I have no idea what you're talking about.”
He smirked at her.
“So that's the one thing Gisborne doesn't know? Of course, he wouldn't have been so quick to save you from being strung up if he knew you were just stringing him along. And with Robin Hood, no less. Save your protests. Months back my men saw a couple who looked remarkably like Hood and Lady Marian, in her wedding dress, kissing in view of the city gates. I told them to keep quiet about it. I thought it would come in handy someday. And I've been watching you ever since.”
Marian's heart punched her ribs. She sought some way out, some words that would at least buy her time.
“I-I cannot be gone for more than two days. Guy will return and wonder where I am. What am I to tell him then?”
“He won't be back just yet. He's in Lincoln, arranging a meeting between Prince John and the sheriff. Black Knights business.”
“No, he isn't,” Allan protested. “He's just taking a couple of days to check up on the outlying farms, make sure they're being honest about their taxes. He told me himself.”
“And he tells you everything, does he?”
“Of course,” Allan said unconvincingly.
“But he left you behind?”
“Well, he wanted me to stay and keep an eye on Marian.”
“That may be what he told you, but I know for a fact he's in Lincoln. Prince John is stopping there for the night on his way to London. The sheriff will meet him to discuss their plans.” He addressed Marian again. “You have no friends here today, my lady. It's the perfect time for you to take a trip.”
“Perhaps you should just deliver me to the sheriff now,” Marian said in a firm voice. “We'll see who he believes. I am not afraid of death. I have died before.”
She prayed that they were both bluffing, that he wanted his treasure more than he wanted the sheriff's goodwill.
Matthew's eyes narrowed.
“Liar,” he said softly. “But I see you're reluctant to accept my hold over you. So I'll sweeten the deal. Not only do I keep your secret, but I give you something that would mean the end of Sheriff Vaisey and his plans for the present king.”
Marian studied him, looking for the lie.
“Even if such a thing existed,” she said, “why would you have it and why would you give it to me?”
Matthew shrugged. “Vaisey's not going to win any lord of the year awards, is he? Truthfully, it doesn't make much difference to me who the sheriff is-I have my own plans for my future. But it matters a great deal to you. So you get me what I want and I'll do the same for you.”
“You must want this very badly.”
“Oh, I do. But think what you get out of doing this simple little favour for me.”
She was silent for a moment. Allan's eyes urged her to accept the deal and find a way out later. She wasn't quite ready to give in, though.
“What is it? This destructive secret?”
“A letter. I heard Vaisey discussing it with his scribe-the one who had such an unfortunate fall from the battlements. Apparently it details their plans for putting John on the throne. Vaisey was having a…firm response drafted to the man who wrote it.” He chuckled, which made her think the response had not only been a letter. “He threw it in the fire, but was called away. I'm good at saving secrets from the flames. Oh, and don't think I was stupid enough to hide it in the castle. So you go to the convent, and then meet me. Not here, where your tame outlaw can have me in range of his bow. Lincoln, in the gate guard's tower, midnight tomorrow. That doesn't give you time to enlist Hood's help.”
“Or carry out your demand. I cannot-”
He dragged Allan away from the wall so that he could lean over her, too close with a naked blade between them.
“You will,” he said softly, though there was nothing soft in his face. “Or both of you die. Return empty-handed and I'll dig your graves myself.”
“Very well.” She could still see the bulge of the mask under his clothes. She met Allan's eyes, willing him to stay silent.
He didn't, of course. But all he said was, “Must be some treasure.”
“You'll see soon enough.” Matthew kept the sword at his throat. “After you, my lady.”
He allowed Marian to retrieve her dagger, but left Allan's sword behind. She could have run from him at any point on the way to the stables, but she didn't think it worth Allan's life.
If they knew Vaisey's plans for Richard they could stop him once and for all, assuming he hadn't changed them after seeing the letter. Assuming the letter really existed.
There was something different about Matthew. He behaved like a lord among the other guards. She realised that since Joe Lacey and the other men she'd grown up around had all gone, one way or another, she hadn't bothered to find out much about their replacements. They were just the sheriff's mailed fists, not men with histories and loved ones.
“Do you have the means to blackmail everyone in the castle?” she said over her shoulder.
“A good many,” Matthew replied casually. “The letter isn't for blackmail, though. I'm not suicidal. I just…collect useful items and save them for a rainy day. According to you, Nottingham and England are having a plague of those of late. Well, I'm offering you a rain cape.”
“How very generous of you.” Her words came out sharp as pins.
He laughed.
“Cheer up. Do exactly as I say and everyone wins.”
*
Rain pattered on the roof of the carriage. Marian would have preferred to ride-the small space and jolting of the wheels over stones made her feel unpleasantly helpless-but Matthew wouldn't hear of it. He had introduced the carriage driver as his son Ronald, a big man carrying too much weight and a sour expression.
“To help you find what you're looking for,” Matthew said. “After we tracked it to the convent, Ronald went to ask for its return, but the blasted nuns turned him away. Their servants would not help us either, although one of them gave him the name and description of the nun who guards it. He will be your guide.”
And jailer.
Ronald barely glanced at Marian and Allan as they climbed into the carriage. Matthew slammed the door. Marian heard a bolt on the outside slide home. There was one window, small and barred. She had a feeling the carriage was used for the transport of law-breakers too important to be dragged behind a horse. It was bare enough inside. She felt every cobblestone through the wooden bench.
Within minutes they left Nottingham behind.
“What now?” Allan said quietly.
Marian stared out as Sherwood filled the horizon. “We could escape,” she said.
“Make a run for it? Yeah, I'm sure we could get that door open and there's only one of him. And you don't have to go back to the castle. But where would I go? Do you know how easily Matthew or one of his guards could get to me? I can't go back to Robin, Will said as much.”
She had called Allan a brave man once, when all he had been was a liar and a traitor. But she couldn't bring herself to call him coward now.
“I can no more run from this than you can.”
“Robin would-”
“The Night Watchman is my problem, not Robin's. But that's not my chief concern. If Matthew genuinely has evidence that could destroy the Black Knights and protect King Richard, we need to be cautious. If I or Robin try to steal it from him, or force him to hand it over...” She shook her head. “It is too risky. I do not like the situation. But it may be a way to help England.”
“You know it's probably a hoax, don't you?”
“Yes.” The trees were shrinking, taking her allies with them. “I just can't take the chance that it isn't.”
“Well, it's not like we have a choice now, is it? But, not being funny, Matthew could still get us both killed once we've brought him his treasure. Shouldn't we have a plan or something? Some sort of insurance?”
“You risked your life for me yesterday, Allan. I won't let anything happen to you now because of that. Trust me.”
He was silent for a minute. She had spared his life and he had helped to save hers. Did he think that meant nothing to her?
Then he leaned back on the bench and folded his arms.
“So you're not going to duck out of this and go back to the forest?”
No,” she said. “There'll be opportunity enough for that later, if need be. For both of us.”
He looked skeptical.
*
She had fallen asleep after they passed the river. Allan shook her awake.
“Marian,” he whispered, his eyes bright in the gloom of the carriage. “We've stopped.”
The rain was a steady roar outside. She couldn't see much of the view through the window past it. She sat up.
The door opened, spilling wetness and the smell of crushed grass inside.
“We're here,” Ronald said.
They climbed out. The convent stood in isolation atop a hill. The lake below would have reflected its stone walls and bell tower, but the surface was blistered grey by the rain.
Ronald stuck his hands under his arms and shifted from foot to foot. The cold had turned his nose purple.
“Her name is Sister Catherine,” Ronald said. “She'll be a little younger than you, pale and small, reddish hair. It should be in her bedroom. Don't try anything stupid. Don't run out on us. Don't, whatever you do, get caught.”
Marian wondered how the servants had known the colour of the nun's hair. Someone must have spied on her in her room. She found the idea disturbing and the irony of that did not escape her.
“They'll know it was us when they discover it missing.”
“But you'll be long gone by then. You'd better be.”
He jerked his head towards the convent and gave Allan a shove when he didn't start moving fast enough.
“I hear France is nice this time of year,” Allan muttered as they sloshed their way up the hill. “Not so many blackmailers, either.”
“So find yourself a ship,” Marian snapped. She was already soaked and shivering. The churned mud track was crusted with slush and ice lurked in the potholes. Allan looked like a drowned rat. She knew he wouldn't leave Nottingham, no matter how much he grumbled. His greedy little soul had been ensnared by Guy's promises and he seemed unwilling to break free.
And what of you? You can't seem to escape the man either. And now that you've seen that you were right about him, that when he thinks for himself he can be a better man...where does it end? When will you leave, or tell him the whole truth?
She shook her head, scattering rain and uncomfortable thoughts.
“You're really going to do this, then?”Allan glanced at her sidelong. “You're going to steal from a bunch of nuns on the off-chance that one of the sheriff's guards will help you take him down?”
“According to Matthew, it isn't theft, but salvage,” she said stiffly. She pulled her sodden cloak tighter around her, but she knew that couldn't hide her misgivings from him. “You don't need to come to my assistance tonight, you know.”
“What, to have come all this way to do nothing? Pass up the chance to rob a nun's bedroom?”
She knew that grin only too well. She sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”
*
The convent gates opened reluctantly, but a half-drowned noblewoman and her husband's servant who had been beset by outlaws on the road could not be refused. Allan was sent to the staff entrance. The nuns led Marian into the cloister.
“You may change your clothes and dine with us,” the abbess said. Her voice rang from the stone walls. “Then I will have two of our men take you the rest of your way by cart.”
“Oh, you're terribly kind,” Marian replied. “But it is such a long journey still and my manservant and I need to rest. Could I possibly impose upon your hospitality for one night? My man could simply sleep in the stables.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the nun said, “Very well. You may have one of the unoccupied cells for tonight and travel on in the morning. But I warn you, my lady, it will not be luxurious. We seldom have guests.”
“It will be quite sufficient for me, Mother. Thank you.”
Dressed in a simple but wonderfully dry gown, Marian sat beside the abbess in the dining hall. The nuns did not speak during meals, and she received many disapproving looks when she said, “I must thank you again. I knew this was the right place to come to for help. In fact, only a month ago an acquaintance told me that this convent took her in last year-it would have been late summer-and kindly gave her shelter before she resumed her journey.”
She saw the abbess and several other nuns stiffen, but it was the reaction of a young woman across the hall that caught her attention. She dropped her spoon. When she picked it up, her hand was trembling. Marian sipped her soup.
“I remembered her story when we found ourselves stranded in this area. You are making a habit of saving travellers in distress.” She gave a little laugh.
The abbess smiled thinly. “Quite,” she said. “Please, my lady, we observe silence during meals.”
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry.”
At the end of the meal the abbess turned to her again. “What was the name of your acquaintance, my lady? I can't seem to recall a guest at that time. Perhaps it was a different convent after all.”
“Lady Gweneth of York,” she said at random, with half an eye on the young nun across the room. The woman was ignoring her, but the tension in her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“I cannot recall,” the abbess repeated. “I suppose it is possible.”
She rose and the rest of the nuns followed suit.
“We will return to our cells to prepare for Compline now. You may attend the service if you wish.”
“I am exhausted, Mother. If you don't mind, I will retire.”
“Of course.”
The young nun was the first out of the hall. Marian was the second.
The corridor was now lit with a few cheap candles. The nun's habit dragged on the cold stones.
“Sister Catherine,” Marian called. The nun turned.
“Yes?” She sounded hostile.
That had been easy.
“Will someone please see to it that food is taken to my servant as well?”
“No need. He'll eat in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, but the woman did not return it. She made a show of turning back to the hall, but when she heard the nun's footsteps hurrying away-at a greater pace than seemed necessary-she followed her. The passages were shadowy and Marian picked up her skirts to move in silence. She watched from around a corner to see which room the nun entered. Once the door had closed she hastened to her own cell before the other nuns found her loitering in the wrong corridor. She did not think it was common for a nun to lock her door, and not with such force as Sister Catherine had employed.
*
The door swung open onto the moonlit courtyard. Shadows shifted and Allan was there, cloaked in wool and the scents of cold earth, horse and straw. She closed the door carefully behind him, shutting out the chill. The candle flame surged as if trying to free itself from its wick, dipped so low she was afraid it would go out, then settled.
“This way,” she whispered.
Voices drifted from the chapel, raised in song.
Allan kept a lookout while she bent over the door handle. She found the whole situation ridiculous. What could the nuns really do to her if they caught her?
“Need some help with that?” Allan said after a minute.
“I've got it, thank you,” she replied coldly. He chuckled. He wasn't taking this seriously either. If he hadn't been afraid of Matthew, she had no doubt he'd have abandoned her.
One more twist of the pin and the lock gave. She eased the door open.
“Awfully handy with that for someone who said she's not a thief.”
She gave Allan a withering look. He grinned and pushed past her into the room.
“Let's see what this treasure is, then.”
They both stopped short. The room was bare but for a bed, a chest and a crib. The crib was occupied.
“Someone's been a bad nun,” Allan said at last. The baby stirred and began to grizzle. “Odd place to keep your valuables, too.”
“It has its advantages.” Marian started for the crib, seeing the baby notice them. “If intruders come in-” She hadn't been fast enough. The baby opened its mouth and wailed. “-that happens.”
She snatched up the child and tried to hush it. Allan hastily checked in the chest and under the bed, but the baby was howling now despite Marian's best efforts.
“Give it here.” He held out his hands. Marian eyed at him dubiously. He grimaced.
“Robin told you about the time I turned Guy's kid upside down, did he? What can I say-it's an old family trick.”
“That explains a great deal.”
“Oi! Anyway, I've learned better. I know how to hold him.”
He did, too. Seconds after she handed the baby over it had quieted.
“No-one ever said infants had good taste,” Marian muttered. She remembered that the same thing had happened with Robin. Perhaps she should reconsider any plans for motherhood.
She searched the room briskly while Allan cooed over the child. She even checked under the baby blankets. Apart from the nun's sparse possessions, she found only a toy in the corner of the room that must have been thrown from the crib.
“Nothing.”
Allan looked just as baffled as she felt.
“Wrong nun?” he suggested.
A tap at the shutters startled them both. Feeling Allan's grip tighten, the baby began to cry again.
Marian cracked the shutters. Ronald's face loomed alarmingly out of the dark. She obeyed his urgent gestures and opened the shutters all the way. He dragged himself in over the sill, almost sticking in the narrow opening. She pushed the shutters closed again quickly before someone saw the light.
Ronald gripped Marian's arm hard to steady himself, with scant regard for propriety, or pain. He was breathing heavily-and beaming.
“You have him! Wonderful. You were taking so long, I thought-”
Allan stared at Ronald, then at the child in his arms. “What?”
“You came for the baby?” Marian was too shocked to try to shake Ronald off, so he continued to lean on her, his rank breath gusting on her neck. “We're supposed to kidnap a child?”
“Not kidnap. Save! Give him to me, quickly, they mustn't catch us...”
He pushed away from Marian and reached for the baby. Allan hesitated, shifting his weight back, away from Ronald's eager hands. Marian caught hold of Ronald's sleeve. He barely glanced at her. Lunging forward, he wrested the baby from Allan, who had to surrender the child or participate in crushing him. Triumphant, Ronald pressed the squirming babe to his chest.
“We're rescuing him,” he said. “This is my uncle.”