Lion Heart (12 page)

She shook her head. “You think you're the first to call me silly?” she asked soft. “Or foolish, or naive, or sheltered. Protected, perhaps. I have two older brothers. I've heard all of it before. That they stand for me against the bad things in this world. That they swallow it so I will not know its taste. And maybe that's so. Maybe I'm lucky in that regard. But I have spent a lifetime watching people scoop up the pain for other people. And sometimes it's genuine, and kind, and noble. But sometimes I see them do it because they are terrified of what they might be without that pain to glorify them, Lady Marian.”

I felt her eyes on me, but I didn't look at her.

“Sometimes it's harder to be bright when you feel the darkness inside you. Sometimes the very hardest thing is to let the pain go.”

I shook my head, and walked past her.

CHAPTER

I went back to my room and made sure my things were gathered. I wanted to leave as soon as Eleanor's new knights arrived. In a dress, in stone walls, with the blood of a man who were just trying to feed a family on my hands—I didn't know myself. I needed to ride. I needed to move.

Eleanor were there, waiting for me.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“No,” she told me. “Your speech is abysmal, your manners are worse, and we have roughly two days to change all that so that you can charm the nobility.”

I crossed my arms. “How does any of that matter?”

Eleanor's brows lifted, drawing her chin up with them. “Marian, John never won the nobles. They don't like him. Some of them fear him well enough, but nothing warmer. Their memories of Richard are distant and
dimming. If you can win them over, you will win your war before anything is ever fought. And since I believe you intend to head for Nottingham the moment one of the aforementioned lords appear, I will do what I can.”

I didn't move forward.

“Forget it all, if you like. Richard certainly does when it pleases him. But you will know what I have to teach.”

Drawing a breath, I moved into the room.

It were an abbey, and there weren't anything in the room but a bed and a kneeler, so I sat beside her on the bed.

“Good,” she said. “Now, you have a natural ability that John never had. You care about people. You listen to them. He's spent so much of his life wondering why no one pays him more mind that he forgets to listen to others.”

“You want me to listen.”

“Yes. Which includes not interrupting me, my girl. In my life, I've discovered people want two things—to feel important, and to feel useful. Take my knights for example. They would give their lives for mine, and they do it because they feel they have the ability to do so, and because they know their sacrifice would save my life. Important, and useful.”

“That isn't always true,” I told her, frowning. “People want all sorts of things. Love. Forgiveness. Hope.”

“But all things come straight down to appreciation and purpose, Marian. We want our love acknowledged, returned, and we want it to make some kind of difference. We want it to change something. We want the exact same from forgiveness and hope.”

I closed my mouth.

“Make people feel important,” she told me. “And give them a way to serve a purpose. The purpose may not be to you—I'm hardly speaking of sending someone to fetch you a cloak—but a real purpose. What is your purpose, my dear?”

My shoulders lifted. “I don't know.”

She touched my chin. “You do. Why can't you go to Ireland? You put it so beautifully yesterday.”

“Because all I know how to do is fight to protect the things I love,” I told her, confused. “But I don't understand.”

“That is a purpose many, many people can see themselves reflected in. If you make room for others to serve that purpose in their own way, you will be able to win the nobles and the people alike.”

I shook my head. “I don't understand, Eleanor. All along, Prince John has hurt me because of my connection to Rob, and the way the people love him. That won't protect me.”

“Oh, my girl,” she said soft. “You don't see how the people
love
you
, do you?”

Shaking my head again, I admitted, “It's not me, Eleanor. It's always been Rob. He's captured their hearts from the first, and the shine just rubs off.”

She smiled like she knew something I didn't, and nodded. “Very well, I'll allow you your wild misconceptions for now. But the common people are by far the harder feat—listening to them, knowing what they want and helping them get it—those are difficult things. Nobles are easier. And once you win them, John won't be able to hurt you, because you're not only a woman, a person they are trained to protect, but you represent their own power. If a prince can lash out at you, he can harm any earl, any lord without warning. And they will protect their own just as you will.”

“They are hardly trained to protect women,” I said with a snarl. Prince John enjoyed hurting me, and de Clare, the heir to the Earldom of Hertford, took his own sick pleasure in my pain.

“Small men will always hurt things that are weaker than them,” Eleanor told me. “But they betray themselves in so doing. Richard would never hurt someone like that because he doesn't have to.”

Weaker things.
I would never be counted as such.

I pushed my shoulders back. “If this will stop small men, very well. Teach me what I need to know.”

Three days after we arrived, we received our first answer to Eleanor's call. It were a small company of knights, headed up by the Earl of Essex.

He walked into the cloisters where Eleanor sat and I stood behind her, washed in the sun. He were a tall man dressed in blue, a color that reminded me of Rob. He were young and dark-haired, a quick sharpness in his step that spoke of a fast, sure-footed fighter.

He knelt before Eleanor, letting his cape sweep over his shoulder to pool on the ground.

“My lady Queen. Lady Norfolk, Lady Margaret,” he greeted. A courtier—that were the only way he'd know their honors so well. His eyes flicked to me, and my chin raised.

“May I introduce Lady Huntingdon,” Eleanor said, gesturing her hand at me.

He looked sharp to Eleanor.

“Huntingdon,” he repeated. “I thought those were Prince John's lands.”

“My Richard thought to see his daughter better taken care of,” Eleanor said.

My blood rushed faster. I knew she'd do this—she told me that invoking Richard's name would help my cause, that we needed nobles at our side before the news of my life and creation reached John—but still. Hearing my father's name spoke as such so plain, so clear, it brought iron to my bones.

His eyes dashed to me again, and it weren't with
warmth. It were a look of danger, but he bowed his head. “My lady Huntingdon,” he greeted.

“My lord Essex,” I returned, bowing my head.

“My lady Queen, I have brought you a company of knights to answer your call. Your lack of protection was a disgrace to us all, and I will see you safely conveyed,” he pledged her. He dashed his head down.

“Thank you,” she said. She touched her bruised cheek, and he lifted his head to watch her, a sad, vulnerable smile on her face. “It is such a welcome relief.”

“Does the vagabond that did that to you still live?” he asked, his voice a low half growl.

I looked at the ground, but Eleanor's cool fingers slid around my arm. “No,” she said. “My granddaughter saved my very life.”

She took my half hand in hers, and I saw his eyes go to it.

“You're Marian Fitzwalter,” he said, standing.

I pulled my hand away from Eleanor. “I was.” Though true in a strict sense, I'd never once called myself “Marian Gisbourne,” and I weren't about to speak the words now.

He frowned. “I have heard much of your . . . deeds, my lady,” he said.

Eleanor did not seem surprised. “She and my son's wife, Isabel, seemed to have much in common at Nottingham. They both have a tremendous concern
for the common people.” She paused. “I'm surprised that didn't come up in your many walks together at the palace.”

“She's a
thief
,” he said, glaring at me.

“She's the daughter of a king,” Eleanor snapped back. “And the lady of an earldom. She may have played at being common, but she has always been royal.”

I didn't note the effect this had on Essex. Her words struck at me—were that true? All this time, Scarlet had felt like my true self, and Marian felt like a dress that never quite fit. What if it were the other way around? What if Scarlet were the falsity all along?

“Marian,” Eleanor said, tugging at my hand. “Are you feeling quite well?”

Nodding quick, I squeezed her hand. “Yes, Eleanor.”

She held on to my hand but looked at Essex. “She has been recovering,” she explained. “Most recently from saving all of our lives in that dreadful episode, but before that from Prince John's unlawful detainment of her.”

“Unlawful?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“The king pardoned her actions, but John would not release her. I am quite displeased with him,” she said grave.

Essex frowned.

“Perhaps you would escort her for a short walk, your
Grace. It so helps her strength, and yet I don't like the idea of her walking alone in such a weakened state.”

I scowled. “Eleanor, I surely—”

“Very well,” Essex said, glaring now at me.

Eleanor nudged me, and Margaret smiled gentle at me as I walked around them, clamping my mouth shut tight to take his offered arm.

“Lead the way, my lady,” he said.

I drew a breath and led him.

We didn't speak for a long while. We left the cloisters through the arched walkways, and went out to the church garden that neighbored the graveyard. The sun ducked behind a cloud, and I envied its ability to do it.

I looked at his hard stone face and sighed. “Why did you agree to walk with me?” I asked.

“My queen asks, and I do her bidding,” he told me.