Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel Part 11

It took me a moment to remember Guy were Gisbourne's given name.

"I'm not a heathen," I ground out, careful to say the words right. Christ, I were out of practice with this. "And you bare seem to know what the word means. I make no apologies for the way I talka"I only started doing it because n.o.bles and men with power and heavy fists don't bother with a lowborn churl, and I chose safety over fancy words when it came to the streets of London. And I don't look the part of some n.o.ble truss, but I spend my life trying to help people that can't help themselves. People hurt by the cruelties of their lords. Say that I'm a heathen like I don't serve G.o.d, but all you're doing is making yourself look the fool."

Her face went fair sour. "Oh, this is how you help people? From up here on your high chair in your expensive furs, watching your husband tilt?"

"Perhaps I ought to be lower," I told her, standing. I dipped to Eleanor. "My lady queen."

I heard Isabel make some t.i.ttery noise behind me, but I turned my cheek from her and walked down from the dais.

Stepping from the stage for n.o.bles felt good, but there weren't nothing normal about walking through people in skirts, in fine clothes, watching them step away from me to let me pa.s.s. I couldn't fade to shadows; I couldn't not be noticed. I hated it.

"You look a little lost."

I turned to see Much steps from me. He smiled under a big farmer's hat in his crooked, half-sure way, and I hugged him.

He hugged me tight with a laugh. "John and Rob are awfully boring without you around."

I mussed his hair with a laugh. "I'm certain they are. So what do you reckon, will someone make me a widow today?"

We went and leaned on the fencing that were meant to keep the common folk from the grounds. We were low, back, and to the side, and from there the whole thing looked vicious and fierce, less like a game and more like G.o.ds stomping about for notice.

"I doubt it," he said, honest as ever. "Gisbourne is a very good fighter."

I rubbed my still swollen lip. "I know."

"He slept, you know," Much told me. "Last night, whole way through."

This thrilled my heart like a holy fire. "It's fair strange, talking about Rob like he were an infant or such."

"It's good news."

I s.h.i.+vered. "It's perfect news."

"I'm scared for you, Scarlet," he told me, nudging closer. "Those bruises aren't all from Rob that night, are they?"

"No." I slung a grin his way. "When were I ever afraid of a little bit of purple?"

"I'll find a way to help," he promised. "I'll find a way to make sure you're not alone."

"I'm well enough, Much. Needn't fret," I told him. "Are the menfolk well?"

He nodded. "Yes. Hugh Morgan's trying to make one of the knights wed Aggie after some improprieties, which is entertaining, but the food is almost gone. We won't last till Christmas, much less the rest of the winter."

"You should see the feasts they have here. It's enough to make you sick."

He smiled at me. "It doesn't take much to make you sick, Scar."

It were meant to be funny, so I laughed.

"What's it like, being one of them?"

"A n.o.ble?" I asked. He nodded. "I'm not, I don't think. I don't talk right. I for certain don't look right. They all think I'm off and mad and contrary."

His grin sloped sideways in a silly way. "You are all of that."

"Are we talking about me?" John asked, coming up my other side and wrapping his arm round my back. "Look at the little lady we have here," he laughed, looking at my clothes. "Where's your knife?" he asked.

I frowned, shrugging him off, but I showed him the one I hid along my back.

Much laughed. "But where's your second knife?" he asked.

Leaning on the rail again, I said, "My boot. But ladies ain't supposed to show their ankles."

John guffawed at this, leaning beside me and tucking his hat down low, and Much did to match. I wouldn't never tell them as much, but with them on either side were the closest I felt to right in the past days.

Th.o.r.esby were next up, and getting himself onto the horse he looked frail and old. He weren'ta"he were bare older than my father, and I remembered my father strong and young. But his armor were too big and his face were too grave, and my chest were strapped tight with fear for him.

The herald blew his horn and called out Th.o.r.esby's name, and Wendeval's came up behind it. I sucked in a breath.

"Not good?" John asked, raising his brow to me.

"If you knew how to joust, he would be a fair likeness to you," I told him. "I saw Wendeval last night. He's a big bruiser."

John scowled. "I'm not just a bruiser," he muttered.

The horn blew again and the horses launched forward. Th.o.r.esby didn't sit well, didn't hold the lance well, didn't move well. "Christ," I hissed. "It's a d.a.m.n wonder he's riding in a straight line."

"And this is our champion," John said.

I hit him.

They crossed lances, and Th.o.r.esby's lance glanced off Wendeval's shoulder, shooting up and launching from his hand.

Wendeval's lance struck Th.o.r.esby's ribs, ringing with the impact but glancing rather than holding. His lance dropped, and pages ran out to get the fallen weapons.

The riders trotted back to their places and were handed up another lance.

"He's going to lose," John said.

"Shut it," Much snapped at him as the horn blew.

John shrugged, and my fingers curled into the wooden fence as the horses' strides shook the ground. Wendeval's form were stronger, better, his arm high and lined to his shoulder, his body balanced over the horse.

Th.o.r.esby, if anything, looked worse.

Several more pounding hoofbeats and they met on the field. Wendeval leaned out and struck, his body like a strange, stretched version of John throwing a punch. Th.o.r.esby moved late, the lance hurtling toward him overfast, like he were fixed and couldn't much move.

The ball head of the lance struck dead in the center of Th.o.r.esby's armor, not with the clangs that the glancing blows made but with a low, hard boom.

The horse thundered on, but Th.o.r.esby were still, hanging in the air for breath after breath as his horse charged forward without him. Then his body twisted, light flashed from his silly, useless armor, and in a spinning mess he clattered to the ground, a still, twisted heap.

I ducked under the fence and ran.

Th.o.r.esby weren't moving when I got out there, a healer a breath behind me. Th.o.r.esby's arm were tucked under him at an ugly angle, and he uttered a groan.

My heart lurched to life in my chest. Jesus. He were alive.

The healer rolled him over and started checking him, and I sat by, kneeling on the frozen ground as more people cl.u.s.tered round. The crowds parted for Lady Th.o.r.esby, and I stood to meet her.

She were looking at her husband. "It's done, Scarlet," she whispered to me. "He can't fight with his arm like that." She glanced at me, her blue eyes full of water. "And I won't ask him to."

A cold, empty chill snaked round my spine to pool in my belly. I gripped her hand. "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

She gripped back. "Find some other way, Scarlet. You always do."

Her hand fell from mine, and she went forward with her husband. The crowd s.h.i.+fted and moved as my chest went tighter. Gisbourne would be sheriff, and all these people a all these people would suffer for it.

There wouldn't never be no relief, for none of them. Certain not for me.

"Scar?" John said low, catching my arm. "You all right?" He pulled me over to the side, and I went, leaning on the fence as the people started to clear from the field and Th.o.r.esby were carried off it.

"He's done," I told them. "We're done."

"You'll find another way, Scar," Much said.

My hands trembled with the d.a.m.ned desperate need to push him till he lost his feet. "Me," I growled, but I were dangerous close to wanting to cry. "It can't always be me. I can't figure it out."

"Scara"" Much said soft, touching my arm.

"Scar," John grunted, raising his chin. I looked past Much and frowned.

"I don't think Gisbourne would appreciate his wife mixing with the common element," de Clare said, walking close, his armor clattering and making me jump, though it looked fair foolish on him. "It doesn't look good for a man of his, well, uncertain stature." De Clare were inches away, and with my back against the fence the s.p.a.ce felt oversmall.

I slid my sore hand behind me, keeping it from him, but even though every muscled bit of me were screaming to step away from him, I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't never run from a bully.

"His wife's fair common herself," I said. "And between the two of us, you're the only one looking foolish."

De Clare's lip curled. "You brazen little animala"" he started, but John laughed. John were leaning on the fence with me and Much, looking easy enough, but his jaw were bunched with muscle and his neck looked like a sailor's rig with all the lines running to and fro. "Something amuses you?" de Clare asked John.

"Begging your pardon, my lord," John said with a dash of his head. "By all means, keep talking. I would dearly love to see your face when you see how Ia"and all these menfolk behind mea"take to you insulting her."

De Clare smiled at John. "Yes, I'm sure you're quite interesting to tangle with." He sneered. "Quite the brawler. Don't worry, you lowborn churl, she may be safe out here with your kind of rabble. But I can find her in the castle, alone, vulnerable. I can do whatever I want to her, and you won'ta""

He stopped yapping, most because there were John's fist cras.h.i.+ng into his muga"the one bit of him that weren't covered in s.h.i.+ny metal. And, like a toy, he spun a mite bit and fell back, dropping onto the ground.

"John, go," I told him as everyone began to look over. "Well put, but go."

He smiled and grabbed Much, and the townfolk stood and covered them as they went. The n.o.bles were all looking over and staring at me.

"Marian?" someone said, and it took a breath to realize it were meant for me. I turned and Gisbourne were there, in only a bright chestplate, his black hair wild and wet. He reached over the fence and pulled me to him, and even with a giant beam between us, it were surprisingly close in a way I didn't much like. "Did he touch you again?" he snarled.

"Why, he threatened her life!" someone said. "Her life and all her future progeny! Awful!"

I turned to the voice and saw Allan there, looking overbright in a red cape. I frowned at him.

"And one of the townsfolk stood up for her, he did. The beloved jewel of Nottinghams.h.i.+re. Never fear, my lord Leaford, for no true harm would come to her while these good people can prevent it."

Gisbourne glowered at him. "You sound Irish, minstrel."

He gave an elaborate bow. "Well spotted, my lord Leaford."

"Then how have you any idea what these people will do?"

Allan sprang up, unruffled. "Tis clear, my lord. Your wifea"and for certain yourself, by your nearness to hera"is adored by these people." He bowed again.

Gisbourne grunted an oath under his breath. Other men were helping de Clare up, and he were muttering without making much sense. Gisbourne shook his head and ducked under the fencing.

"What are you doing?" I breathed, stepping back from him.

Muscles in his jaw rolled like wagon wheels, and he stepped forward, taking my arm. "Come, Marian. I'll see you back to the dais."

"Gisbourne," Winchester called, coming from the n.o.ble's side. "You're up in the lists. I'll escort your wife, if you wish."

Gisbourne swept down his head so beads of sweat flew off. "Your Grace."

Winchester ducked under the fence. He had no armor on, and his arm were warm as it held mine. "Not tilting today, your Grace?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I have all the favor, money, and glory I require. I don't see the point in it. Besides, then how could I rescue young ladies?"

I looked back at de Clare, who had just bare found his feet. "Who or what were you rescuing me from?"

"A treacherous walk back to the dais, clearly. And myself, from boredom. I did so enjoy seeing de Clare flat on his back. Your friend has excellent aim."

"You have no idea," I told him. "It is fair strange that I've found myself unable to do my own defending."

"You have a broken hand," he told me. "And yet I'm sure, without so many men eager to prove themselves around you, that knife you have along the small of your back would have been marvelously well employed. Your seat, my lady."

We had reached the dais and my empty chair. He held my hand until I were settled into it, and I stared up at him, fair shocked.

He bowed over my hand. "My lady. Your Highness," he said, and I turned.

Eleanor inclined her regal head to him. "Winchester."

Winchester left, and I drew a breath. I didn't much know what to say to a queen.

"You have many friends," she noted. "It seems they are a more common equivalent of my loyal knights."

Looking at Isabel's seat, I sighed. "I reckon I have more enemies than would-be knights."