Bound by Honor

Despite the critical words, John’s voice was easy and casual, indicating that he wasn’t particularly angry or disappointed with Will’s most recent failure to clap Robin in chains and toss him in the dungeon. There were times when Will suspected that John, for all his fury and blustering at the band of thieves, might also find their continued freedom useful in some respect.

After all, if coin disappeared, it could always be blamed on them, even if it happened to end up lining John’s own coffers instead of in the hands of the bandits.

Yet, more important, John did not like to look the fool-and Robin Hood’s continued elusion of the sheriff and his men accomplished just that. Will did not like to look the fool any more than the prince did, but he had little choice in the matter.

“The man and his band become more bold as the days go by, my lord,” Will replied. He glanced out over the rows of tables that lined the hall. The gentry sat nearest the high table, where the most choice and freshest of foods were served. As one moved to the rear of the hall, the diners became more simple and mean, ending with the lowliest of serfs and villeins in the very back.

“He is too clever to capture in the forest. Methinks a trap ought to be set for the man. Something that will lure him from the safety of the trees.”

Will calmly broke a corner of bread from the trencher and chewed on it, trying to keep his mind on John’s words rather than his eyes searching the hall.

“An archery contest, and mayhap a day of jousting, would be in order,” continued the prince. “ ’ Twill draw him out, for Robin Hood is known for his skill with the bow.”

“He is a most skilled archer,” Will agreed. “He did, after all, skewer the cloak of Lord d’Arlande, pinning him betwixt hand and waist against a tree trunk.”

“Drawing nary a drop of blood in the process, the lickspittle. An’ from some perch in a tree,” John added, with a combination of disgust and wonder. “Did he not also pin your man-what was his name?-to a wagon he was robbing?”

Will picked up his goblet of wine. “Aye, three arrows and-”

“God’s blood,” said John suddenly. “And wherever did that vision appear from?”

The note of deep interest . . . almost reverence . . . in John’s voice caught Will’s full attention and he put his cup down and looked at the prince. His mouth parted and lips shiny with grease from the pheasant, John appeared quite taken.

Will’s fingers tightened, though he kept his face blank. He knew without looking what-or, rather, who-had caught the Angevin’s attention. It was inevitable.

And now he had to tread very carefully. “Ah, so you have seen Marian of Morlaix,” Will said casually. He reached for his wine again, the metal of his goblet cool and textured beneath his grip. “She is quite the comely bitch. I had the misfortune of coming upon her in the wood today after Robin Hood had taken her off during the robbery.”

“Is that so?” John said, but his eyes remained fixed on Marian. “Misfortune?”

Will didn’t have to look directly out into the hall to know where she sat now, for he’d seen a glimpse of that brilliant coppery hair shining in the torchlight. He kept his attention on John instead of the woman. “He left her in the wood and that was the cause of his escape this day. I dare not leave a gentlewoman alone in the forest to chase after him, as he well knew. So I was forced to bring her back to her escort. By that time, Robin’s men had taken what they desired and had all disappeared.”

“So he took her off into the wood, did he?”

“ ’ Twas merely a diversionary tactic, my lord,” he said. “I’m certain he meant to draw me and my men into the wood after him to rescue Lady Marian.”

“Lady Marian,” mused John, his voice hollow as he lifted his goblet to drink. “I’ve never seen such hair. The color of flame, ’tis. And a face to go with it. Alabaster skin, full lips just right for sucking cock-”

“And the temperament as well,” Will added, disregarding the fact that he’d interrupted his liege. “I’d like nothing better than to take that in hand.”

“Indeed.” For the first time, John seemed to hear what Will had said. “Do you know the lady?”

“I fostered with her father at Mead’s Vale. She tormented us most handily, and hid behind her father’s hauberk when we would have had our revenge. Even then she showed the sign of becoming a most annoying, mouthy woman.” He closed his own mouth at that point, acutely aware that his companion’s mother had long been criticized for the very same faults-and more.

“Damme, and she is a widow too,” John said, rich speculation in his voice. “ ’ Tis almost too convenient.”

Even the prince would be hard-pressed to excuse the deflowering of one of his wards, but a widow was the easiest fruit to pluck. No male family members to cry dishonor, and no maidenhead to broach.