Bound by Honor

’Twas ripe for an ambush from a band of thieves, and she was glad of the six sturdy men-at-arms who accompanied her small caravan. They would have reached Ludlow Keep by vespers, but a broken wheel on her wagon had delayed them. If it had been one of the other wagons, with her clothing and belongings, she would have gone on ahead and allowed them to follow. But, alas, hers was the only wagon fit for a lady to ride in-although she would just as easily have ridden asaddle. Her longbow and arrows had been packed deep inside a trunk of clothing, but she had a dagger handy.

If the tales were true about the band of thieves led by a man called Robin of the Hood, she might very well need that blade. Even in Normandy, Marian had heard stories of the outlaw who stole boldly from rich travelers and then distributed the wealth among the villeins and townspeople-likely after keeping a good portion for himself.

And the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, who was rumored to be just as blackhearted and brutal as Prince John, his bosom companion, had been unable to lay his hands on the band of outlaws or its leader. A rich caravan with the niceties of the widow of the rich Lord Harold of Morlaix would likely prove too much of a temptation for them. But there was no help for it, for the road to Ludlow ran through the king’s Sherwood Forest.

It was hard for Marian to believe how much her homeland had changed since her father died-King Henry was now gone, and the new king, Richard, had hardly taken the crown when he left on Crusade. His mother, Queen Eleanor, had been traveling with him to the Holy Land, but was now making her way back to neglected England.

Upon her father’s death, Marian and her mother had been sent from the small barony of Leaford to live in Normandy, where her mother had remarried. After the old king died, Eleanor had been released from prison and reassembled her own court. As the daughter of a man who’d been faithful to his liege, Marian had been sent to the dowager queen’s court, where she’d become a trusted favorite of the queen. There she remained until she was wed to the much-older Harold three years ago.

With her husband’s death only six months past, she acquired a portion of his estates. Thus, at the age of twenty, Marian had become a wealthy woman whose marriage could be used for political alliance. Five months ago, the king had ordered her to the queen’s holdings in Aquitaine to await the queen’s imminent return from the Holy Land . . . and a decision about a future husband.

Now that Eleanor had been back in Aquitaine for some months and renewed her friendship with Marian, she’d had her own purposes for sending Marian on to her younger son’s court: to spy on her son in advance of the queen’s own arrival.

Marian had heard rumors of what John Lackland’s court was like, and they had left her wondering whether she had more to fear in the forest or at her destination.

No sooner had she those thoughts than the wagon lurched to a halt.

“What ho!” came a shout from Bruse, her master-at-arms.

Marian sat up, ignoring the stifled shriek of her maid, who’d done nothing but hold her prayer beads and move her lips soundlessly during the entire journey. Her heart pounding, she looked out the window again just as a loud thump came on the roof above her, followed by a second and third. Ethelberga, the maid, gave a full-blooded shriek and dived to the floor, screeching in English about how they would all be dead in mere moments.

Marian forbore to point out that it was unlikely anyone would be killed, even as she pulled the dagger from her sheath. The thieves would merely want to relieve her of her valuables, and, in the very worst-case scenario, take Marian off for ransom. She hadn’t heard of this Robin Hood killing anyone, and in any case a thief wouldn’t be foolish enough to harm a gentle-born woman. Although, she thought, looking wryly at Ethelberga, mayhap they might be induced to put the lady’s maid out of her misery if she didn’t stop wailing.

The thump on the roof turned to low, rhythmic thuds as the person-or persons-moved about up there.

“Stand off!” came another shout, followed by a sharp whiz that she recognized as an arrow’s flight. A soft twang followed as it embedded itself in a target close enough for her to hear it.

Marian couldn’t see what was happening, but she suspected she knew. The thieves had surrounded the two carts and now held the men-at-arms from moving. Most likely, they were holding them off with arrows nocked into their bows, ready to fly at any moment. The one she’d heard had probably been an accurately charged warning shot.

At least two of the thieves had landed on her roof, likely jumping down from a tree. But surely six chain-mailed men would be enough of a deterrent for a ragtag band of thieves, unless they were particularly good archers. The shouts had settled into silence, and despite her certainty that she wouldn’t be harmed, Marian’s heart pounded in her chest.