Lion Heart

  The worst of the pain passed, and Bess curled against my chest, crying free. “Damn him,” she whispered. “Damn him for leaving me like this. Leaving me alone to do this.”

  I squeezed her wrist harder. “You’re not alone. You have a whole family outside that door. And in,” I added, looking at our hands. “He left you with a whole damn family.”

  She kept on crying, but she nodded, and I reckoned that were good enough.

  “You’ve got a long while to go, Bess,” the woman near her knees told her. I reckoned she were the midwife. “Rest if you can between the pains. And you—” she said, nodding to me. “Don’t let go of her hand. When she needs to squeeze, she needs to squeeze hard.”

  I nodded, like this were a solemn duty. It were, to me.

  The midwife passed me cloths soaked in cool water, and I patted them on her neck, her forehead, cooling the sweat. She relaxed a little, tangled against me. “Hush,” I said to her. “Rest. I’m not leaving you.”

  Bess nodded.

  I never knew how long a birth could take. How much punishment it gave the mother. Bess labored for hours and hours, such pain that she screamed and cried and I were surprised there were still water in her to cry and sweat. The pains started with minutes between them and grew closer until it never broke, just kept coming and coming and coming. She cried and hurt so much that I cried with her. It weren’t my arm—though that were red and sore in her grasp—it were the strangeness of it.

  Pain never meant much to me. It weren’t the beginning or the end—it were an ever-moving mark that never served a purpose, never bore a reason, never changed things except to make people more afraid.

  But this pain—I cried with her and I cursed God for His cruelty. I thought He meant to take Bess from us—surely this amount of pain weren’t natural, weren’t expected, even though the midwife stayed calm throughout. I thought Bess were dying, and I were meant to hold her hand and watch because Death and I knew each other so well.

  But then the baby started to come, and the pain started to mean something. Every push Bess gave became an inch closer to new life as the little one struggled to get out of her body.

  The head came first, and it were a quick thing to pull it out once the shoulders appeared, like a strange and humbling magic, from Bess’s body. The midwife caught the baby in clean linen, toweling off blood and mess. She cleaned the face, and the tiny eyes didn’t open and the mouth didn’t move.

  “Sarah?” Bess whined. “Sarah?”

  “Hush,” the midwife said. Holding the baby in the linen, she swatted the rump.

  And the tiny, perfect thing screamed. It screamed so loud and hard its lips trembled and shook.

  The midwife laughed. “Bess, you have a beautiful, healthy baby girl.”

  Bess burst into tears as the midwife passed the bundle up. There were a fleshy cord tying the two together, and the midwife motioned to me. “Perhaps you and your knives could be of service?” she asked.

  Silent and wide-eyed, I moved forward, away from Bess, my body hot and sweaty where she’d been pressed against me. I drew one of my knives, burning it in the fire to make the wound clean. I felt utterly strange at having a weapon so close to a brand new thing, and the midwife showed me where to cut.

  In a breath it were done, and the tether that bound the two of them together became something less easy to see, less easy to touch. But it were there nonetheless, as she stared at her daughter and her daughter quieted, looking back up at her through bare-open eyes.

  I stood before them, lost, captivated, as the women cleaned and piled things to hide the blood and the muck and all the things that had come out of her that no one wanted the men to know about. She just stared at the little baby, and the midwife showed her how to feed her.

  “Scarlet?” Bess asked soft.

  Nodding, I stepped closer. “Will you bring her out? I don’t want the menfolk in here just yet.”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice rough. Bess held her up a little but she weren’t strong, and I picked up the baby, holding her at arm’s length and staring at her as she stared back at me. The midwife laughed and took her from me, holding her like a loaf of bread I were meant to cradle.

  “Like this,” she told me, putting her into my arms.

  I followed her instructions, but the baby turned and wiggled until she were in the crook of my arm, against my breast. The midwife smiled. “Just like that. Make sure to hold her head,” she told me, positioning my other arm.

  “I’ve held babies before,” I said. “She’s just . . . tiny.”

  The midwife beamed at me and nodded me toward the door.

  One of the women opened it for me, and all the men were there, looking like they hadn’t moved in hours, big broad shoulders and tall heads overfilling the space. I knew I were meant to look for Much, but I saw Robin first, and he came close, grazing his fingers on her little cheek and looking back up to me.

  He kissed me, and I knew how it could be. Us, with a family, with little babies just like this. Our family.

  “Is that . . . ?” Much breathed beside me.

  I pulled away from Rob, showing Much the baby. “Your daughter,” I told him.

  His throat worked as he looked at me. He didn’t deny that it were his. The way he looked at her, even if John were the father, she were Much’s daughter. “Let me hold her,” he told me.

  I nodded, and Much slipped his arm along mine, catching her up in one hand and using his other arm to hold her underneath. He nodded at the door, not looking away from his daughter. “Open the door, Scar,” he murmured.

  “She doesn’t want—” I started.

  He grinned at his daughter, then glanced up to me. “Let me go be with my wonderful, miraculous wife, Scar,” he said.

  I opened the door for him.

  Rob caught my hand and tugged it. “Come on. You need some rest,” he said, kissing my temple.

  Taking his hand, I let him pull me away from the other people, but I stopped him when we were alone. “I don’t want to go back to that room, Rob.”

  He stared at me. “Will you tell me why?”

  Nodding, a small sigh escaped me. “I just—later. I will tell you later. Is that enough?”

  He kissed me again. “Yes.”

  There weren’t any other rooms without people in them. Rob took me outside into the late morning, to the stables, nodding to the stable hands.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered to me. “But I come up here to think sometimes. It reminds me of the Oak, in a way.”

  I wanted to tell him his secrets were safe with me, but he knew that already. And I were too tired to form the words. He led me to a ladder and we climbed up it slow.

  There were a door in the hayloft to pitch hay down from, and Rob opened it, letting the sun and fresh air in as he arranged bales and loose hay. He brought me to it, kissing me and pulling me down to lie on his chest.

  I laid my cheek on his chest, drowsy, bare able to keep my eyes open. “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you too,” he told me, threading his fingers through mine.

  CHAPTER

  I woke up only a few hours later. It were still daylight and Rob were breathing deep beneath me, chest rising and falling under my cheek, his heartbeat drumming light and steady in my ear.

  “I can tell you’re awake, you know,” he told me.

  I lifted my head, and he opened his eyes. “We have to get to work, don’t we?” I asked.

  His nose nudged along my cheek. “I’m more interested in you telling me these secrets. Particularly the ones keeping us from sleeping in a bed.”

  I pushed off him, sitting up.

  He sighed, sitting up too. “Work it is, then.”

  We joined the rest of the shire in the city, laboring along just like we’d done before. As we got to houses that were ruined but still half standing, we had to get the bigger men to do most of the work. Most of the women went to cook and prepare food, look to the little ones, and tend to
a hundred other tasks that had to be done now that the knights were with us and stronger men could do the bulk of the hardest work.

  Robin set them all to tasks, and I watched, as I’d become a bit useless too. My muscles were sore and I felt the grime of days of sleeplessness and sweat and pain upon me. I went to see Bess. She smiled when she saw me, and I sat by her on the bed. The tiny little girl were in her arms, silent and sleeping.

  “She’s peace itself,” I said.

  Bess laughed. “Until she starts wailing for something. Sometimes I don’t know what she wants. But she’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  She blinked her eyes open like she knew we were talking about her, and she looked at her mum, then over at me. Her eyes watched me steady. “The most beautiful,” I told her. “What’s her name?”

  She sniffed. “I wanted to call her Hannah, but Much—he insisted we call her Maryanne.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It was John’s mother’s name,” she told me soft. “He wanted her to have a piece of him to hold on to. Always.” A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it off. “And we both liked the closeness.”

  “Closeness?”

  “Maryanne,” she said, smiling. “Marian.”

  A warm rush swept through my body. I’d never heard my given name sound so beautiful, so lovely before. “Maryanne,” I whispered. I touched her cheek, and she blinked but kept staring.

  “She likes you,” she told me. “Do you want to hold her?”

  I nodded, earnest.

  She handed her to me, and it were easier to take her than yesterday. My hands were still a little sore, but I didn’t mind the soft weight. She wriggled a bit and settled into me, shutting her eyes again.

  “It’s strange,” Bess said with a sigh, leaning back. “To see you as a noble lady, and with a baby. A year ago I wouldn’t have known such a thing could happen with Will Scarlet, the village rascal.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I wasn’t a rascal.”

  “You had a lot of ladies sighing after you. The lot of you did. Everyone fancied they were in love with one of you.” She laughed. “I remember telling Ellie at Tuck’s that I thought Robin must have been of the wicked sort, the way he looked at you.”

  I laughed too. “Easy to say that now! Rob and I couldn’t tell how we felt about each other; how could you?”

  She shook her head. “Do you remember that night when Gisbourne came to Tuck’s, and he was looking for you lot?”

  “When he killed that boy,” I said soft.

  “And nearly killed Much,” she breathed. “And you shot up into the trees like a squirrel and Rob were on the ground. He were right near me and he looked—” She shook her head. “That look, I’ve never seen the like of it. I was sure that he loved you then, boy or not. You can’t look like that at someone—worry about someone like that—without loving them true.”

  I sighed. “He does love me. I just don’t know if that will ever be enough for us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  My shoulders lifted, and Maryanne opened her mouth and shut it. “John were the first one who told me love isn’t enough. You have to choose that person, over and over again, every day. And Rob—we don’t choose each other first, not like John chose you. John put you above everything else. And I don’t know that Rob and I will ever do that.” I shivered. “I don’t know that I can do that.”

  She smiled. “John told me that. It was what finally got me to agree to marry him—he told me he’d choose me, every day. Of all the women he’d ever been with, he’d choose me. Day after day. Moment after moment.” She shook her head. “But the bad things—you don’t choose those, Scarlet. You deal with them. And if I’ve only ever listened to one moment of everything Much has ever said, you two make each other strong. Strong enough to make choices that the rest of us can’t make.”

  “What if we had a family?” I whispered, looking at Maryanne.

  Her hand fell on my knee. “Then maybe we would get the chance to protect you,” she told me.

  I left her when Maryanne slept, and Bess wanted to sleep as well. I shut my eyes as I closed the door, trying to hold on to the feelings that I had while I had that baby in my arms, to tie them round my heart in some secret way.

  “My lady,” someone called.

  I opened my eyes to see one of the Nottingham knights there. He were tall, red bearded, and without his armor. “Yes?” I asked.

  “There’s a problem in the forest, my lady,” he said. “I was told to fetch you.”

  “The forest?” I asked, frowning and going with him. “Do we need horses?”

  “It’s just beyond the city gates, my lady,” he said, bowing his head. “I don’t believe so, unless you would prefer.”

  “No, we can walk,” I said. “Take me there, please.”

  He bowed his head again. “My lady.”

  We walked through the main street, and I smiled at him. “I know you’ve just arrived,” I told him. “But I’ve seen how dedicated you are. You and your fellows must have cleared four houses yesterday.”

  He didn’t look at me. “It’s my duty, my lady. I’m happy to serve.”

  I nodded. “Still. I want you to know your service matters, and that it’s appreciated. Most knights I’ve met are not so hardworking.”

  He looked at me for a moment and nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

  I saw Rob, meeting his eyes as I walked past. He smiled, and I smiled too, following the knight.

  We were almost at the gate when I saw Essex coming in. I frowned. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  He frowned back, looking at me and looking behind him. “What do you mean?”

  I glanced at the knight. “I was told there was a problem in the forest.”

  “If there is, I don’t know of it. Do you want my aid?”

  “Certainly—” I started.

  “It’s for your eyes only, my lady,” the knight said.

  “What exactly is the matter?” Essex demanded, scowling at my knight.

  “It’s a woman,” the knight said. “From the village. A woman . . . problem.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” I muttered. “Is someone else having a baby?”

  “You do seem to be popular with your people,” Essex allowed me. “New though you are to the title.”

  “New to the title, but I am hardly new to the people,” I told him with a shrug. “But I hope they don’t start to think me a midwife,” I said, scrunching my nose. “I have many skills but this is not one of them.”

  To my surprise, he smiled a bit. “Return soon, my lady. Unless you would still like an escort?”

  I looked to the knight; if a woman felt uncomfortable with a man there, I wouldn’t betray that. “No. I’ll be well enough, but thank you.”

  The knight looked grim at Essex, and Essex gave him a good scowl in return.

  We walked out through the open gate, heading into the forest. We seemed to be walking straight in, rather than off toward Edwinstowe.

  “Where are we going?” I asked the knight, glancing back behind me to where he stood.

  “Just a little farther, my lady,” he said.

  I turned forward again, and just as I did I heard the whisper of metal sliding.

  Turning back once more, I gasped and ducked as the knight swung his heavy blade at me. I ducked and he swung wide, and I ran past him, trying to grab at my knives. With my hands covered, I couldn’t draw them out.

  He turned and raised his sword again as I yanked at the bandages, tearing one with my teeth. He swung his blade toward me again, and I dived behind a tree. The metal bit deep into the wood, and I earned a moment.

  The tear were enough to unravel the bandage on my full hand, and I grabbed for a knife as he came at me again. He lunged at me, and I crossed my body to push the sword off with my good hand, leaving me off balance.

  He saw this and grabbed for my hair, but I were quick and he didn’t get me. He tripped me at the same moment, though, his foot hookin
g round mine while I tried to escape him.

  I fell hard to the forest floor, and his sword thrust down, glinting in the afternoon sun.

  Rolling to miss it, I got my hands under me to push up, but his foot smashed down on my back, pressing my face into the dirt.

  “Stay,” he growled.

  A roared yell came from behind us, and the knight—if he were such—turned. I heard metal scrape on metal, and I scrambled to my feet to see Essex fighting him, swords flashing bright.

  “Stay out of this!” the knight yelled at Essex.

  Essex hammered a hard blow. “What is this?” he demanded.

  The knight moved fast, parrying and lunging, forcing Essex back. “No business for an earl,” he returned.

  “You are a traitor,” he accused. “Trying to harm your lady!”

  “She’s not my lady,” the knight snapped. “I owe allegiance elsewhere.”

  “To whom?” Essex demanded, but I already knew, and the knight wouldn’t tell Essex that.

  Essex were excellent. He had perfect form, and a practiced speed and precision most nobles were far too lazy to develop. I already knew the knight were quick and skilled, but they were a surprising good match.

  With a hard blow, Essex disarmed him, and without a moment’s breath, ran him straight through. My breath stopped and I covered my mouth.

  “My lady, are you hurt?” Essex asked. He pulled his sword out and the man fell; Essex bent down and used the man’s tunic to wipe his blade clean before he sheathed it. “My lady?”

  “No,” I said quick, shaking my head. “Let’s get back to the wall.”

  He nodded, and I walked to him and we went to the gate. I looked back once, seeing the man’s body lying in the woods.

  Once the gates were shut tight behind us, Essex kept walking, but he turned to me.

  “If you ask me if I’m hurt once more, I swear I’ll flatten you,” I warned him, walking faster.

  He glanced at the gate, then back at me. “You’re bleeding,” he told me.

  I touched my face. The side of my face were scratched up good, and the skin above my eye were cut. I swore, and he looked at me. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” I grunted. “Don’t look at me like that. I think you’ve rather discovered I’m a different sort of girl than Isabel.”