Page 54 of An Earl for the Archeress

“Mount up!” called Nottingham, adjusting his coif over his flow of raven hair.

His soldiers complied, and Mariel looked on helplessly. When was Robert going to make his move? Or would he allow the whole of the woods to catch fire and perish before he finally decided to intervene? His instructions had been clear: wait until he told her to come down from the tree. But who was going to console the old man who had been so kind as to help her? Who was going to help him move his belongings farther from the fire so they didn’t also catch flame? For they were at great danger of igniting with a stray spark. Where was he going to go? How could she sit still and wait for Robert when she knew not when he was going to act?

They had done nothing while Nottingham and Crawford terrorized an old man, stooped with age and grieving over the loss of his woman. She hated her father. And she hated Nottingham, too.

As soon as the entourage turned to leave, she searched for Robert and found him in a tree. He was looking at her instead of at Nottingham or the old man. She couldn’t read him, for he wore his mask again. But she knew he scrutinized her. And she knew from his posture he was tense, like a coil being held closed, about to snap open.

She looked back at the old man, at Nottingham and her father lumbering down the road, as if returning from a successful hunt, then glanced back at Robert again. Except Robert had vanished. She turned her head in each direction, searching amongst the trees, but couldn’t find him. And then in a swoop of ropes, Robert and John, hooded in their dark green masks, swung down from the branches to block Nottingham and Ayr’s path.

“Good day, fine gentlemen!” Robert boomed, landing and skipping to a halt. “And a better day still when you hand over that hefty purse at your hip!”

Nottingham’s face tightened and Ayr reached for his sword, drawing it free. Of course. Her father only spoke with his steel.

“You rabble…” Nottingham said. “How in the hell did you and your greedy buzzards find me again so soon?”

“We’ve eyes throughout the forest, man,” Robert said.

“Sadly for you, after yesterday’s confrontation, I travel with an armed contingent today.”

“Ah, but you see? You still haven’t learned anything of import. Remember? No terrorizing of innocents?”

“And you’re still stuck in your ideals. When one lives on another’s land and uses his resources, they owe in rents.”

“Ah yes, my good man, but when you, the master in charge, make it impossible for any man to succeed in your demands, you, sire, are a tyrant. King Richard was never bothered by this man, keeping to himself in a woodsman’s cottage. And therefore, you will hand over your ill-gotten coin, taken out of the very mouths of starving babes and desperate mums and old, crippled men, and peasants with their pregnant wives, and then you will go on your way. And do try not to accidentally harm anyone else along your journey. I know it may be difficult for you.”

“Such cheek…” Nottingham said. “Too bad it’s not as amusing as you intend it to be.”

“No. It’s a truth,” Robert said. “Last chance, man, to comply. The charities are ever thin with the many patrons you send to their doorsteps. Don’t make me unburden you. For you know I will. Time and again, I best you.”

“Let’s end this ridiculous waste of time,” Crawford said to Nottingham.

“Agreed,” de Wendenal said. “Men? Dispatch them and let’s be on our way.”

The audacity. Mariel scowled. Not that she felt Nottingham was worthy of any respect, but her father felt it his place to make the demand to Nottingham on his own territory. And yet, despite the pointless conversation between Robert and Nottingham that she knew full well was only customary preamble to a skirmish, the old man had sunk back to his knees while the flames lapped over the thatching of his home, heat emanating even to where Mariel still sat perched. His mournful cries squeezed her heart and his agony compelled her.

She turned back to the face-off just as six soldiers jangled forth. Except two more men, Will and Alan, she deduced, also decked in dark green the color of the pine needles and hooded to hide their faces, swung from the trees side by side, dragging a rope in each hand that draped around the group of soldiers. Then, still swinging from their own ropes, they looped in opposite circles so that they switched sides, winding the rope around Nottingham’s men as they sailed back to lower branches on their respective trees.

“Why you… What is the meaning of this?” thundered Nottingham, lunging forward as the soldiers were cinched together. They toppled from their horses, which scattered away. Robert and Jonathan whipped loose three arrows by the fletching, nocking them in succession, and turned to aim at the other soldiers who came forth.

Letting them sail, most were used as a warning and two of them pierced the soldiers’ cloaks, pinning them to the nearest tree. And yet true to Robert’s philosophy, no one was injured.

And then an arrow lodged in Robert’s arm. Mariel held in a strangled cry, for fear of giving herself away. Robert winced and grunted with pain, but still managed to return an arrow to the soldier behind Nottingham. It pierced the joint of the soldier’s chain mail in his neck. Nottingham twisted in his saddle, attempting to steer his mount out of the confusion.

Crawford lifted his sword, kicking his mount forward to bring it down on Robert. Without thought, Mariel descended the tree, one branch at a time, careful not to jostle loose her quiver upon her hip and send her only means of weaponry to the ground. She watched the skirmish as she slid against the trunk, her bow in hand, but John met her father’s threat by throwing up his quarterstaff to deflect the blow meant for Robert.

Robert grinned a devilish smirk. “Oh, William. We meant you no harm, but alas, you’ve drawn blood and now you must pay.”

The other soldiers were already cantering forth when Mariel, landing on the forest floor behind her tree trunk, noticed David ease himself from under the woven tarp of forest undergrowth. He crept up behind the soldiers who sat unaware of his presence, then in succession, slapped their mounts with the flat of his sword. The animals spooked, whinnied, reared, and bolted, taking their riders with them, except for one who tumbled off. The old man watched in horror, and Mariel ran to his side as he cowered beneath her, as if she and Robert’s men were bent on robbing him of the very shirt on his back.

She took his hand.

“Rise up. You have nothing to fear from these men,” she said.

He stared at her, and she glanced at Robert, who was no longer grinning but watching her with alarm. His anger at her presence was palpable. She finally stopped to consider what she’d done. Nottingham was rounding on her, as was her father, both ignoring the soldier who had tumbled to the earth as their sights narrowed on her. Her blood drained away. Her father’s eyes were narrowing on her with both disbelief and rage. He would see her punished and returned to Castle Ayr, and she would never see Robert again.

The fear in Robert’s eyes was heavy, and Mariel instantly regretted revealing herself. But it was too late to hide. Her father kicked his horse forth, abandoning his altercation with John’s quarterstaff, fury settling on his brow.

“Mariel, ye little bitch. I’ll have yer head… Finally,” he snarled.