CHAPTER Sixteen
Gisbourne didn’t bring me to the chambers we shared. He went up, straight to the prince’s chambers. Gisbourne entered without being announced; the
prince were awake, in a heavy brocade mantle, the princess in a chair facing away from me. Gisbourne pushed me in front of him and I stumbled, catching
her chair to stand. The girl jumped out of the chair and stared at me, but it weren’t the princess; it were one of the young ladies that had attended
the princess in the market, in nothing but her underdress and a mantle.
“Out,” Prince John ordered her. She looked at him, pale and wide eyed.
“My lord?” she questioned.
“Out,” he repeated, glaring at her.
She looked at all of us and ducked her head and scurried.
“Sit,” Gisbourne said, pointing to the chair under my hand.
“No,” I said, standing straight.
“She can stand if she wishes,” the prince said, looking at me. “It makes little difference.”
I stared at him. It weren’t so simple as saying it were his evil heart what made him ugly—Gisbourne had the same such heart and I still knew he looked
well. The prince were different, like gazing into the eyes of a snake; there were a beauty there, but the only thing it had ever been used for were
terrible things, and it made the prettiness terrible too.
“Do you have any idea the ways you have vexed me?” he asked, turning away from me to the window. He opened it, and I could see him watching something.
“You and your lover.”
“What have you done with Robin?” I asked, my voice rushing higher than I wanted. I stepped forward but Gisbourne grabbed me back and pushed me into the
chair. I cast about; there were a knife by a tray of cheese on a small table too far from me. There were heavy cups in my reach. Gisbourne’s knife were
tucked into his belt now, not far from me.
“He’s simply in the stocks. If he doesn’t freeze to death by morning, I’ll deal with him then.” Something caught his eye outside and he sniffed,
then looked back at me. “But you. You are a problem.”
He ran his eyes over me, then looked at my face. I didn’t move none.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on here?” he asked, spreading his arms. “Do you?”
“You’re feeding my people rotten food. That’s all I need to know.”
He looked fair worried. “No, my dear. No. We are on the brink of civil unrest; with Richard away and England splintering at the helm, they need someone
strong to lead them. Someone beloved. Someone to unite everyone. Someone to bring them back to the faith of the Crown.”
“Faith of the Crown? You make yourself a false idol,” I spat.
“No. They will make me into an idol, Marian. They will worship me.” He sighed. “But only if you stop telling people that I’m doing very bad things.
It’s my turn to be the hero, not yours.” He waved a hand, not even looking at me as he said, “Gisbourne. Kill her.”
I leapt from the chair, grabbing a cup and sliding sideways, making myself less to aim at. “Oh you can try, love,” I growled at him.
Gisbourne just stood there like a lump. His jaw were awful tight, like every muscle had been twanged like a bowstring. “No. My lord prince.”
“No?” Prince John snarled.
Gisbourne pulled the knife from his belt and handed it to Prince John. “No. I’m not killing her.”
Prince John looked at the knife handle like it were poison. “You know why I cannot spill her blood,” he sneered.
“I will not dishonor my name, your Highness. And I will not take that curse upon me, even to spare you from it.”
Prince John’s chest began to rise and fall faster and faster. “You disloyal scum,” he growled. “I do not fear God,” he said, snatching the knife and
turning to me.
“Like hell,” I snapped. “Come at me with that and I’ll break your pretty face, your Highness.”
“Gisbourne, hold her at least, would you?”
The door opened rough and fast, and Eleanor strode in with fair surprising speed for such a woman. I thought I saw the pretty girl that were half dressed
in the hall behind her, but I couldn’t be sure. “John.”
Prince John looked to his mother, his lip curling. He didn’t lower the knife. “Mother.”
“Put the knife down.”
“Mother—”
“If I wanted a discussion, I would have asked you a question. Put the knife down.”
“I will punish her for what she’s done!” he roared.
Eleanor folded her hands calmly in front of her. “You will not kill her. If I have prevented you and your brothers from killing each other for the past
twenty years, I will prevent you from doing this. Royal blood is sacrosanct, John. I will not allow you to kill the girl in cold blood.”
The knife lowered marginally. “You never seemed to mind murder and bloodshed when my dear brothers raised war against Father.”
She lifted her chin. “Oh, I suppose hurting her will win you a kingdom?” she asked.
His sneer folded slowly into a frown. “She must be punished. Severely.”
“Go to the window,” Eleanor said, still standing calm in the center of the room, like all the energy and life in the place were coming from her alone.
Prince John rolled his eyes like a willful child but he went. “What am I meant to be looking at, Mother?”
“Tell me what you see.”
“I see a criminal in the stocks.”
Robin.
“And?” she questioned.
He huffed out a sigh. “And a considerable amount of people around him. Servants. Lesser nobles.”
“And what are they doing?”
“I’m not a child!” he snapped at his mother, whipping his head round. “Don’t make the mistake of treating me as such.”
“You are a child,” Eleanor said, stepping forward, her voice like steel and fire. “You are a pouting bully and in danger of being held in my esteem as
the stupidest of my sons. Isabel gave you such a grand opportunity tonight. A coup d’etat. An idea, by the way, that your wife stole from her.” Her
long, elegant hand thrust out like a bowstaff to point at me. “Feed the people and they will love you. Helplessly and eternally. And what do you do, my
stupid, stupid son? You squander the opportunity and make them hate you.”
“How dare you speak to me—”
“Silence.” She paused a moment, but he stayed quiet. “Who else do you see out there?” she asked. “Who of the highest ranking nobles beneath you—a
man just beneath the shades of royalty—do you see standing beside him?”
He looked out again, resting his hands on the window ledge. His chest began to rise and fall again, and he turned from the window with a wail fit for the
tantrum of a five-year-old. He grabbed the nearest table and threw it toward me, and Gisbourne grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the way. It hit the
stone fireplace and shattered, and soon cloths and coins and cups followed behind, a storm of small things smashed to bits.
Gisbourne pressed me to the wall, his big body over mine as the prince raged. He didn’t look at me, his head over my shoulder, his chest breathing
against mine. Soon the screams turned to words, and Prince John swore profusely, mentioning Winchester’s name several times.
Gisbourne jerked and grunted, and I knew something hit him in the back. I didn’t dare look at him. I couldn’t much confess to know anything of what was
going on, but I knew he defied the prince for my life, and I didn’t want to know why. I didn’t much have space in my heart to care for another tortured
man.
For a few breaths, things stopped flying cross the room and the cursing ceased. “Are you quite finished?” Eleanor asked.
Gisbourne eased up on me, and no sooner did he step away than the prince pointed to me and yelled, “You stupid bitch! You did this!”
“You will fix this,” Eleanor said. “John. John. You will fix this.”
“I will kill all of them,” he snarled.
Eleanor slapped him. “John. You will go out there and say that your orders have been wildly misinterpreted. You will say you have come to thank Robin
Hood for championing the people and protecting them from the gross misconduct of those serving you. You will say he is cleared of any wrongdoings tonight
or any night past; you will invite him to participate in the tournament as the people’s representative.”
I couldn’t much help myself; I gasped.
Prince John scowled. “Why would I ever do that?”
“Why would he do that, Marian?” Eleanor asked, fixing me with her stare, sharper than my knives.
“I-I don’t know, my lady.”
“Then why did you so sharply inhale?”
I looked to Gisbourne, but his face held nothing for me. “Because Rob would stand for the people, fair and true. None of these other men care a whit
about the people, but Rob—he does. It would change everything.” I looked fast from the prince to Eleanor.
“Precisely. You must give the people what they want, John,” Eleanor said. “If you ever hope to be your brother’s heir.”
Prince John looked out over the crowd again, his shoulders rolling with muscle and anger. “Fine,” he grunted. “But I still get to punish her.”
Eleanor let out a breath. “You cannot kill her.”
“I won’t kill her.” He glared at me. “She fancies herself a thief. I will punish her as one.”
His eyes drifted to my hands.
I jerked back, but Gisbourne caught me, and a scream tripped and caught in my throat. He dragged me forward and I fought him hard as horror dawned sick
and dark in my stomach. Gisbourne caught up some rope from the bed that had been a victim of the prince’s wrath and lashed my good arm to the chair
before forcing me into it. I kicked and kicked, but he tied me to the chair, gripping my good wrist and not looking at me.
“You are certainly within your rights to punish her,” Eleanor said, raising her chin a little and folding her hands in front of her. “But you will
not.”
The prince laughed. “I will, Mother.”
“Really?” she asked. “You are a prince, and you are so undone by the actions of one small girl that you will punish her severely? Richard would have
been too busy to notice, much less make a spectacle of such a small crime.”
The prince rolled his eyes. “Fine, Mother. I won’t hurt her.”
She nodded and stepped toward the door, and my blood rushed fast and cooling like summer rain. My breath came again.
The door shut and I looked to the prince, who hadn’t unlashed me from the chair.
He were studying me close, looking at me in a way I didn’t much like.
“Let me see her broken hand,” the prince said, and Gisbourne looked at him.
“My lord?” he asked.
“Let me see her hand,” the prince repeated, and Gisbourne took my hand, unwrapping the bandages, tearing it off where he needed. Gisbourne showed it to
him and stretched it out painful. I screwed my eyes shut, desperate not to make a noise.
“Mother’s right,” he said. “Taking the whole hand would be too noticeable.” He chuckled. “How many times has she run from you, Gisbourne?”
He hesitated.
“Gisbourne?” Prince John asked.
“Too many,” Gisbourne said.
“Yes, but twice she made promises, yes? Once to be trothed to you, and then to be your wife, and she ran from you.” Prince John said it like it were a
delicious secret, something he loved. “Two fingers, then.”
Prince John went and got the knife, and my heart ran fast and slipshod in my chest. He went to the fire and put it in the low, hot part of the flames and
my feet scraped on the ground, trying to find a foothold to push, to kick, to fight.
I didn’t move an inch.
Breath rushing faster, I looked to Gisbourne, but he wouldn’t look at me. I jerked at my bonds until my skin tore and bled, and Gisbourne clamped his
hands down on me.
I knew Rob were out in the courtyard below the window. I knew if I cried out he’d hear me, and he’d know, and he’d fight and he’d hurt to try and
help me when he couldn’t.
The prince turned toward me, holding the knife, hot and glowing dull. “I can’t stop you,” I told him, trying to keep the tremble from my voice at how
fast my breath were coming. He smiled at me. “But I swear, if you do this, I will visit this back upon you tenfold. Christ may well have turned the
other cheek, but I won’t. Remember this act, because you’ll be cursing it for a damn long time to come. I will make you pay for what you do, your
Highness.”
“Rruff,” he barked at me. “Your pup has quite the mouth on her, Gisbourne. Hold her hand flat.”
“Not her ring finger,” Gisbourne said harsh and low as the prince gripped the two smallest of my fingers. “That ring will stay in place.”
The prince chuckled and moved to my pointing and middle finger, and I shuddered.
With one last look out the window, I shut my eyes again and curled my lips over my teeth.
Water washed down my face, but I never once cried out. It were some sort of judgment from God, for I felt every cut and crack as they did it, but when it
were done, and Prince John pressed a knife hot from the fire to sear the wound shut, only then did my world go black.