Bound by Honor

“A sharp-tongued one. I trow, the woman should be taught to keep her mouth closed . . . unless she has it otherwise engaged,” Will said with a meaningful laugh. He’d somehow picked up his eating knife and realized his fingers had curled tightly around it. Keeping his voice even, he continued. “I should like to take that task on myself, my lord. I’ve a desire to otherwise engage that impudent tongue.”

John turned to look at him again, his eyes so dark they appeared black. “And how does it happen that I have long urged you to find a field in which to rut, but now that you have set your eye on one, ’tis that of my own desire.” His voice, low and easy, nevertheless carried a warning note.

“My lord, I knew that woman when she was but a young girl, a tease and a tormentor. And it’s long been my desire to teach the lessons that I was never able to at that time. And aside of that, ’tis indeed a ripe field to plow. But,” Will continued boldly when he saw that the prince was about to speak, “mayhap I have a way that you might find pleasing as well. She is a fire-haired bitch, and ’twill be a task to tame her. If you set that task to me, I’ll take it gladly, my lord. Thus, none of her complaints can be directed at you, but at me instead. Then, I shall promise you a tame and willing woman to warm your bed when all the spite is gone from her. A well-trained and willing one in the stead of a surly, mouthy bitch.”

John had closed his mouth to chew on a particularly tough piece of fowl, if the way his jaw worked was any indication. A spark of interest had flared in his eyes and he reached for his goblet to drink, still chewing.

Will used his eating knife to spear the last bit of pheasant and bring it to his own mouth, keeping his attention firmly on the prince. He uncurled his fingers and let the small knife rest next to the trencher. And waited. Waited as if to learn whether he would be sent into battle on a cold gray morning.

“Aye,” said John at last. “Aye, ’tis a good plan, Will. There is only one stipulation I must insist upon.”

“What is that, my lord?”

“That whilst you are going about the taming of that luscious little cunt, you’ll provide me some entertainment.” John wiped his face with a small cloth. “I desire to watch.”

Marian found the great hall at Ludlow cramped, close, and smoky. All great halls were, to some extent, but it was worse here than usual. A royal court-even if ’twas only that of John Lackland-required numerous serfs to keep things running smoothly, countless pages and men-at-arms, and all the ladies and lords who curried favors. In a keep as small as Ludlow, the swell of people pushed at the very limits of the space.

She’d managed to find a seat in the second row, not far from the wall, where a torch burned down a pleasant circle of light. Though it was late September, fires blazed in two different fireplaces: a smaller one behind the high table, and a large one on the opposite wall. Dogs slunk underfoot, looking for their daily fare, while serfs dashed to and fro with their platters of food.

Marian glanced at the high table, where she caught her first glimpse of Prince John. He was a handsome man, with a neatly trimmed beard and fine clothing. His dark eyes seemed too small for his face, but they gleamed with interest and cunning as he conversed with the man next to him.

His companion had turned away momentarily as John gave an openmouthed guffaw, and was speaking to a page behind him, so Marian couldn’t see his face. She cast a quick look about the hall. Nottinghamshire’s sheriff was nowhere to be seen, for which she was unaccountably disappointed. Yet there were so many people crowded around the tables, she would not be surprised if he was there, but not visible to her. No doubt a man of his rank would sit closer to the prince, Marian thought.

“My lady, I heard you were set upon by that outlaw Robin of the Hood!”

The breathless question came from Alys of Wentworth, one of Queen Eleanor’s wards whom Marian knew from her days in the queen’s court. Though she was only eighteen, Alys had been sent as chaperone to deliver one of Richard’s very young wards to John’s court while the king and his mother were traveling to the Holy Lands.

Tonight, Alys was with two women who were only passing acquaintances of Marian’s from previous court visits. Finding Alys here, who not only had been a good friend but also had a reputation as an excellent healer, was a welcome diversion for Marian.

“Aye, he attempted a robbery of my wagons,” Marian replied.

“What was Robin Hood like? Was he as handsome as they say?” asked another of the ladies, who introduced herself as Catherine.

“He was friendly for a bandit,” Marian replied, noticing that some of the other nearby gentry had turned to listen. “No one was hurt, and he was quite gallant.” What else could she say? She wasn’t about to admit that he’d swept her up on his horse and stolen a kiss.

“And handsome?” Catherine pressed, her eyes dancing as though she knew something Marian didn’t.