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t. “I wonder how the prince found out what Sherwood was planning?” the Marshal mused.
“Aye, I wonder,” he said softly.
Fáelán almost thought he saw the earl smile.
The sound of thundering hooves drew their attention to the window, and stepping nearer, they watched the prince’s men gallop off, their horses throwing clod of mud in the moonlit night.
“What was the message you delivered?” Fáelán asked. “What’s made him ride off like he’s been stung by a bee?”
The Marshal flicked the tip of his drawn sword impatiently as he took a turn around the sacked room. “’Twas a missive from the French king Philippe.”
Fáelán looked up slowly. “What did it say?”
He swung about. “You think I read the prince’s messages?
“Nay. I think you order your men to.”
That earned another reluctant smile from the grey-bearded Marshal. “The French king reports King Richard has been captured en route home from the Holy Land. He will be ransomed back to us for a kingly, beggaring sum, no doubt.”
Fáelán smiled and resheathed his blade with a steely swipe. “So my brother was right.”
The Marshal looked at him sharply. “So you have seen Tadhg?”
“What makes you say that?”
The Marshal gripped his arm. “He was here, wasn’t he? Where is he now?”
Fáelán just looked at him.
“I swear to you, Rardove, I wish him no ill will. Indeed, the opposite, I intend to reward him greatly, for I, too, have had word from the king. Your little brother is held high in high esteem by our king.”
“He isn’t my king.”
“I need to find him, greatly. He has…something Richard greatly desires.”
“Does he?”
The Marshal’s gaze grew close. “Do you know what he intends to do with it?” He dipped his stocky frame forward and lowered his voice. “The treasure he carries?”
Fáelán glanced at him, then whistled through his teeth. The others, in this room and up in the musician’s gallery above, turned. Fáelán lifted his arm and made a swirling gesture with his finger, and Rowan and Máel, laden with Sherwood booty, began making their way out the door.
He looked back at the Marshal. “I believe that you wish to reward Tadhg, and so I will tell you this: he went west.”
The Marshal’s face lighted. “He is going home.”
“After the handling of some business.”
A few beats of silence, then the Marshal muttered, “Accursed Irishmen.”
Fáelán smiled. “Aye, that we are. But as for treasure…methinks the only one you will find on him by the time you get there will be his woman.”
“A woman?” The Marshal looked startled. “He has a woman in this adventure?”
“Aye. The sort who does not mind adventure. Might even revel in a bit of it.”
The Marshal’s eyebrows went up, . “That is a rare breed.”
