Lion Heart
Page 35
“A lot has happened,” I told him.
“Nottingham burned,” he whispered to me, his voice rough. “Nothing will be the same as it was yesterday. So whatever happened for us both, we’ll get there.” His hands slipped onto my back, pulling me closer to him, and his lips lightly pressed over mine, bolting me through with lightning. “Come back, and rest, and we will start again in the morning.”
Nodding, I let him lead me back to the camp.
Chapter 15
Rob were right—it started to rain not long after sundown, and the heavy pour felt like Thoresby Lake had swept up over me, pulling things off me. Memories. Feelings. Wounds and blood. I wanted it. I wanted the rain to take everything I were away from me and leave something else in its wake.
It forced all the people into the caves, and I went with the younger women, lying down on a stuffed pallet in an echoing room full of people.
I couldn’t sleep. Not with so many thoughts turning in my head, so many people and thoughts keeping me awake. I snuck out of the caves once the rain stopped, only to mount my horse and take the precious secrets in the saddlebags with me.
I went to Huntingdon House. After Prince John declared Rob’s father—the old Earl of Huntingdon—a traitor, Richard had given the lands to John and though he rarely came to this house, there were servants who lived there to maintain the place and keep the farmlands running. The properties I now owned made a tidy profit, and in the next few months I’d be a wealthy woman once it all started coming to me.
Riding up to the house were fair strange. I’d been there once before as a girl, and I remembered the road leading to it, but not the house itself. I’d been young.
The road led to a gate, and I saw two guards there, playing dice between them, not expecting any kind of company. They saw me and frowned, coming away from their game. “Move along, sir. The keep isn’t receiving visitors.”
“Good,” I said, dismounting. I fished in my saddlebag for the paper from my father, and it came out with SCARLET, 132. “This is my keep now. And I’m not a sir. I’m Lady Huntingdon.” I handed one the letter of creation.
They both gawped at the official paper with its loose hanging seals. They looked to each other, and to me.
I got back on the horse. “Open the gate, please. And send word out to all Nottinghamshire knights that they are to return to their garrison immediately.”
They obeyed.
Because I were a powerful lady now, and more than that, I were a princess. Like it or not, people would obey me now.
Servants hurried to prepare a room for me, to feed me, to offer their obeisance, and I sent them away, lying in a bed that didn’t feel like mine, and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I went to Nottingham early. I’d wrapped my hands, thick enough that the burns and cuts didn’t bother me. I wore fresh clothes—slightly crumpled from my saddlebags—and tied my hair back, still looking every inch a boy. If the servants in the keep noticed, they didn’t comment on it to me. I didn’t want to be the sort of lady that were feared, but at the moment, silence were easier than trying to earn their love.
I rode my horse to the castle. The rain had cleared much of the haze, but now there were a new smell, like water and death mixed together and left to rot.
“My lady!” David called, seeing me in Nottingham. “Where have you been? We couldn’t find you this morning, your horse—”
“Investigating my holdings in Nottingham,” I told him. I saw Rob at a distance. “I don’t—I have to find a way to tell Rob,” I told him. “It has to be me, not you.” I frowned. “Especially not Allan.”
He nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
Everyone that had been in the forest came, even Bess, bare any help at all in her state. It didn’t matter. This weren’t about pitching in, it were about being solid. United. Bricked up together like a wall so they could feel for a second like this might not be done to them again.
Of course, I wouldn’t let that happen. I could protect them now, like I should have before. I were Lady Huntingdon, and I answered only to the king. Prince John had no business here.
We started to tear down all the burned things that were wrecks. Wood that could be salvaged were separated from wood that couldn’t be. Every few houses, we found another body that had been trapped. The third one we found were a child, a little boy. When his mother found him, she broke apart. She dropped to her knees and picked him up, holding the misshapen, small charred body against her. His body made a sound like something cracked, and she wailed this horrible keening sound.
Women went to her. Some knelt in the rubble of her ruined house, some crowded behind her. They reached out their hands to touch her and pass on their love.
“Lully, lullay,” one woman began to sing.
“Lully, lullay,” the others answered.
“The falcon hath borne my make away,” they sang together.
Men joined in. We all knew the song from Mass, but it made me tremble to hear it here, outside the walls God watched over.
Monks came forward too.
“He bore him up, he bore him down. He bore him to an orchard brown,” they sang.
“In that orchard there was an hall
That was hanged with purple and pall.
And in that hall there was a bed:
It was hanged with gold so red.
And in that bed there lay a knight,
His wounds bleeding by day and night.
By that bedside there kneeleth a maid,
“Nottingham burned,” he whispered to me, his voice rough. “Nothing will be the same as it was yesterday. So whatever happened for us both, we’ll get there.” His hands slipped onto my back, pulling me closer to him, and his lips lightly pressed over mine, bolting me through with lightning. “Come back, and rest, and we will start again in the morning.”
Nodding, I let him lead me back to the camp.
Chapter 15
Rob were right—it started to rain not long after sundown, and the heavy pour felt like Thoresby Lake had swept up over me, pulling things off me. Memories. Feelings. Wounds and blood. I wanted it. I wanted the rain to take everything I were away from me and leave something else in its wake.
It forced all the people into the caves, and I went with the younger women, lying down on a stuffed pallet in an echoing room full of people.
I couldn’t sleep. Not with so many thoughts turning in my head, so many people and thoughts keeping me awake. I snuck out of the caves once the rain stopped, only to mount my horse and take the precious secrets in the saddlebags with me.
I went to Huntingdon House. After Prince John declared Rob’s father—the old Earl of Huntingdon—a traitor, Richard had given the lands to John and though he rarely came to this house, there were servants who lived there to maintain the place and keep the farmlands running. The properties I now owned made a tidy profit, and in the next few months I’d be a wealthy woman once it all started coming to me.
Riding up to the house were fair strange. I’d been there once before as a girl, and I remembered the road leading to it, but not the house itself. I’d been young.
The road led to a gate, and I saw two guards there, playing dice between them, not expecting any kind of company. They saw me and frowned, coming away from their game. “Move along, sir. The keep isn’t receiving visitors.”
“Good,” I said, dismounting. I fished in my saddlebag for the paper from my father, and it came out with SCARLET, 132. “This is my keep now. And I’m not a sir. I’m Lady Huntingdon.” I handed one the letter of creation.
They both gawped at the official paper with its loose hanging seals. They looked to each other, and to me.
I got back on the horse. “Open the gate, please. And send word out to all Nottinghamshire knights that they are to return to their garrison immediately.”
They obeyed.
Because I were a powerful lady now, and more than that, I were a princess. Like it or not, people would obey me now.
Servants hurried to prepare a room for me, to feed me, to offer their obeisance, and I sent them away, lying in a bed that didn’t feel like mine, and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I went to Nottingham early. I’d wrapped my hands, thick enough that the burns and cuts didn’t bother me. I wore fresh clothes—slightly crumpled from my saddlebags—and tied my hair back, still looking every inch a boy. If the servants in the keep noticed, they didn’t comment on it to me. I didn’t want to be the sort of lady that were feared, but at the moment, silence were easier than trying to earn their love.
I rode my horse to the castle. The rain had cleared much of the haze, but now there were a new smell, like water and death mixed together and left to rot.
“My lady!” David called, seeing me in Nottingham. “Where have you been? We couldn’t find you this morning, your horse—”
“Investigating my holdings in Nottingham,” I told him. I saw Rob at a distance. “I don’t—I have to find a way to tell Rob,” I told him. “It has to be me, not you.” I frowned. “Especially not Allan.”
He nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
Everyone that had been in the forest came, even Bess, bare any help at all in her state. It didn’t matter. This weren’t about pitching in, it were about being solid. United. Bricked up together like a wall so they could feel for a second like this might not be done to them again.
Of course, I wouldn’t let that happen. I could protect them now, like I should have before. I were Lady Huntingdon, and I answered only to the king. Prince John had no business here.
We started to tear down all the burned things that were wrecks. Wood that could be salvaged were separated from wood that couldn’t be. Every few houses, we found another body that had been trapped. The third one we found were a child, a little boy. When his mother found him, she broke apart. She dropped to her knees and picked him up, holding the misshapen, small charred body against her. His body made a sound like something cracked, and she wailed this horrible keening sound.
Women went to her. Some knelt in the rubble of her ruined house, some crowded behind her. They reached out their hands to touch her and pass on their love.
“Lully, lullay,” one woman began to sing.
“Lully, lullay,” the others answered.
“The falcon hath borne my make away,” they sang together.
Men joined in. We all knew the song from Mass, but it made me tremble to hear it here, outside the walls God watched over.
Monks came forward too.
“He bore him up, he bore him down. He bore him to an orchard brown,” they sang.
“In that orchard there was an hall
That was hanged with purple and pall.
And in that hall there was a bed:
It was hanged with gold so red.
And in that bed there lay a knight,
His wounds bleeding by day and night.
By that bedside there kneeleth a maid,
