Ten Minute Tales : The Bloody Earl of Chester by Nicky Galliers

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The Bloody Earl of Chester
by
Nicky Galliers

Ich can nouht parfytliche my pater-noster as the priest hit syngeth; ich can rymes of Robyn Hode and the, erl of Chestre. ~ Glutton in Piers Plowman by William Langland c.1362

Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire, 1339

He was standing waist deep in the lake, water lapping about him, ripples still circling. Water ran from his skin, leaving droplets that clung and beaded to form little jewels that sparkled as the dappled sun danced across him.

   ‘My clothes are on the bank,’ he said, pointing to the pile of linen and wool next to a pair of black leather riding boots.

     ‘So they are,’ Marian replied, not even looking.

     Had he turned away, had he moved further back into the water, Marian may well have wandered away and left him to climb from the lake and dress. But he didn’t. He held her gaze, unwavering, those deep blue eyes steady, challenging almost. Or so it seemed to Marian.

     What had she to lose? She was waived anyway, and he had rescued her, so where was the harm? But, if she thought too hard, she would not do it and she would flee, embarrassed and red-faced like a child.

     If he was surprised that she stepped off the bank and into the water that came to the knees of her hose, he didn’t show it. Neither did he move when she went deeper, closer to him, until she stood with the water half way up her chest, her clothes now soaked. She wiped away the glistening beads from his shoulders, watching as they trickled down his arms.

      Maybe he should have stopped it there, but he didn’t. He let her play, let her explore the patterns the water made on his skin, ran a finger tip over the pendant that hung around his neck - a silver arrow head. When she lifted her chin and closed her eyes, he did the only thing he could - he kissed her.

Three days earlier

‘Bloody earl of Chester,’ John muttered under his breath but it wasn’t the earl that the group were facing. They knew that because the richly dressed man draped in the large, ornately carved chair was the under-sheriff of Nottingham.

       ‘That isn’t him,’ Marian whispered out of the side of her mouth.

     ‘I know that,’ John bit back, scowling, ‘but he’s at the bottom of all this.’

      Well, of course he was. They were there - standing in the Great Hall of Nottingham castle, chained, and dishevelled from an unknown time spent in the oubliette in the caves beneath - because of the earl, Robin Hood’s intractable enemy. His liveried men had captured them after they had tripped into a trap and had dropped them into the cave and slammed the grille shut.

      ‘So, what have we here?’ said the under-sheriff from his huge chair. One leg was hung over the arm and he swung it to and fro to underline how relaxed he was. Marian wanted to throttle him.

      ‘You know,’ Robin said from one end of the chained line. ‘Otherwise, why are we here?’

       The under-sheriff bristled. ‘I know who you are, fool,’ he snapped, his insouciance slipping.

       Marian turned her head away, bored already with the bickering. And they said women were bad!

        A movement in the shadows to the side of the hall, where the fires and candelabras didn’t spill their light, caught her eye. She peered, trying to see into the gloom and made out what she thought was a figure standing still, leaning on the wall where the blackness was thickest, but he was there, a slightly lighter shade than his surroundings.

       A cry brought her attention back to the under-sheriff. Robin was straining at his chains and shouting while the under-sheriff had straightened on his ridiculous chair.

        ‘No, take me instead,’ Robin was howling while guards appeared at his side to restrain him further.

       ‘Those are my terms,’ the under-sheriff said tetchily, his composure gone. ‘You can all go free, but you must leave the woman.’

        Robin continued to protest, but it wasn’t his decision. Marian looked down the line of outlaws, at John, her favourite, Much, Will, Edwin, Robin Hood himself. Their lives were worth more than hers; they had abilities she lacked and could do more good for the people of Sherwood than she ever could. And it would be swift, her death. She was female and even the most evil sheriff or earl would not torture a woman for sport. She hoped.

         ‘I’ll stay,’ she said aloud, causing the under-sheriff to stare at her and Robin to still for a moment. ‘Let them go, I’ll do as you demand and stay.’

        Robin turned his ire on Marian and she sighed, exchanging a glance with John. Robin’s sense of honour was strong, but it could be tedious.

         ‘I’ve made up my mind,’ she insisted, ‘and that’s an end to it.’

         The liveried guards of the earl of Chester had to drag Robin from the Hall as hard as they had had to drag him into it when they arrived. The others went willingly enough, and only John looked genuinely anxious for her. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said over his shoulder and above the clanking of the chains before he vanished with the others from sight. The guards all followed and closed the doors behind them. The under-sheriff clambered off the chair and, having cast a final sneer of contempt towards Marian, stalked to a door to the rear of the Hall and disappeared.

Marian was alone.

        Still chained, she stood still for a few moments. Then, feeling braver, she looked around her, daring to shift her feet, heavy in her shackles, and turn around. The hall was empty. Her eyes darted to the side of the room where she had seen the figure. She had forgotten all about him.

     There was nothing there. The shadow was even and deep, unbroken, unlifted by any brighter presence. Empty.

       She turned back. The chair was occupied.

       ‘Sweet Jesu!’ Marian gasped, leaping backwards in shock. She became entangled in her chains and she fell backwards in an untidy heap, her hands pulled to the ground one side as the weight around her wrists held her down.

       She watched, fear rising, threatening to choke her, as the figure rose and made its way towards her.

       He - for it was obviously a ‘he’ - didn’t look intimidating, if you took him out of context. Dressed all in black, yes, in a tunic that was designed to make the most of a physique that was wiry and vigorous, the waist trim, the chest well muscled, and hose that encased defined legs, the muscles obvious in the curve of the black leather riding boots. His hair was also black and fell across his face so he had to shake it away from his eyes. What colour they were, Marian couldn’t tell. But a man dressed all in black, stalking across the flags while she lay on them, helpless, well, that was frightening. Her heart beat so loudly she wondered that he hadn’t heard.

        He knelt down by her side then reached for something in his belt.

       Marian whimpered. A knife. He was drawing a knife and he would kill her where she lay. Who would be tasked with mopping up her blood? Would they wonder at how it came to be there, who it belonged to? And what would happen to her body, burned? Hurled into the Trent?

       What he pulled from his belt jangled and despite her fear, she lifted her head to peer.

         ‘What’s that?’ she asked, staring at his hand.

          ‘Keys.’

          ‘Keys? To what?’

         There was a sigh, the kind given to slow children who took too long to grasp a simple idea, but from a fond parent who was far from angry. It was followed by a chuckle before the chains were lifted and unlocked. They fell to the floor with a clang and Marian was able to sit up again. She rubbed at her wrists while her ankles were likewise released. The man sat down on the cold flags, his arms draped around his updrawn knees.

          ‘Who are you?’ he asked, his tone curious, with no hint of hostility.

          ‘Marian. My name is Marian.’

          ‘No other name?’ Marian shook her head. ‘Are you waived?’

          Marian nodded, ‘But Robin Hood cares for me, as do the other men.’ Her eyes widened at the look the man cast her and she hastily added, ‘Like brothers, just brothers. That is all.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it. Robin Hood’s list of misdemeanours is long enough without adding fornication to it.’

          ‘He wouldn’t,’ Marian insisted, then realised how her words could be interpreted and blushed. The man chuckled again. ‘Who are you, anyway? Why did you release me? What do you want to do with me?’

        ‘So many questions,’ he replied, still grinning. Marian wondered what she had done to cause him such amusement. She wanted to resent him and his laughter, but he had unfettered her, and he was handsome. The eyes, she saw now, were blue.

      ‘Don’t answer, if you think your noble arse is so above mine.’ What had she to lose by being rude? Her life hung by a thread anyway.

        ‘My name is Edward,’ he said, a grin twisting his lips, ‘and I am in the service of the crown. I released you because the crown wished it so.’

       ‘You serve the king? And what does he want with me? I’m nothing.’

       ‘I am instructed to release you and ensure your escape from the castle. We will have to be devious, there are guards everywhere.’

      He got up, swiftly and elegantly, and held a hand to her to haul her to her feet. He took her elbow in his hand and guided her to a door she hadn’t seen, hidden in the gloom not far from where she had first seen him. Through it she was pushed, and then he was ahead of her, leading her along a dark passage and down, into the bowels of the castle and the caves beneath.

Sherwood was large, and Marian couldn’t ride, so their flight on just the one horse was steady rather than dramatic. Initially suspicious, Marian found her fears subside with every hare or game bird brought back by Edward with the help of a bow. It wasn’t the great, long weapon that Robin wielded, few could manage one of those, but he had obvious skill nonetheless, and she was certain he could also handle the heavy, shiny sword that he carried in a pack on his saddle. She felt safe, protected.

       And now she found herself stood in a lake, kissing a man who was still a stranger, but one who made her feel warm. One she wanted to kiss. She admired Robin, had craved his attention when given so fairly to all, wished she were special for him; but she had not wished this from him, this intimacy. And neither had Robin made her heart beat so fast.

         Edward pulled away, no regret on his face, but he was rueful and Marian’s heart slowed. He rolled his lips and his tongue swept over them, tasting her again.

              ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

              ‘Why shouldn’t you?’

          He stepped around her and caused great waves when he walked back to the bank. He didn’t get out but sat on the grassy edge. He was still naked, she thought he had probably forgotten - he seemed very comfortable in his own skin.

             ‘I am married.’

            The water grew cold and Marian shivered. Stranded out in the lake, she had to wade back in water-logged boots that weighed as much as her chains. She hauled herself out onto the bank, slipped on the wet grass and fell into a heap, spattering herself in mud. She cursed under her breath.

        Beside her, Edward chuckled but, when she looked, he was sober once more, his shoulders sagging. He met her gaze.

        ‘I was married at fourteen, and as much as we suit, it wasn’t my choice.’

             ‘You don't have to explain.’

             ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I want to.’

        ‘I suppose you nobles are the same, you, the sheriff, the earl of Chester. You all use us for your own entertainment.’

           ‘I’m sorry,’ Edward said, and he sounded so contrite that Marian found she couldn’t be angry.

             

The easy camaraderie that had grown between them was spoilt, but only for the first few hours after the kiss. Edward returned to his usefulness and Marian softened. It wasn’t as if he had forced her, after all, and he hadn’t promised anything.

    Another roasted hare, another night spent sleeping while he stood watch, and she considered the kiss an enchanting but impossible dream, and she couldn’t hold that against him.

       On the ride, she in front, he with an arm wrapped around her waist, he asked, ‘What has the earl of Chester done to you?’

        ‘Do you mean me personally, or me as part of the outlaw group?’

        ‘Both, maybe?’

       Marian shrugged and nearly toppled from the horse. ‘I suppose he’s done little to me, but he has been Robin’s enemy for, well, years. Robin held up a train of wagons heading from Newark to Chester and that seemed to have started it. It was before I joined, and he doesn’t like to talk of it.’

       ‘Hardly seems fair to demonise a man for protecting his own,’ Edward said. His breath was warm in Marian’s ear and it was not helping her come to terms with him being forever out of her reach.

        ‘You would say that, you are one of them.’

        ‘You’ve said that before - why do you think I’m noble?’ Edward asked.

        ‘Look at you,’ Marian said. ‘So neat and tidy, and you said you are in service to the crown. Only nobles work for the king. And you carry a sword.’

        ‘I carry a bow as well.’ She felt Edward’s amusement rumble through him. ‘The king employs all sorts. He values loyalty above all, and courage. And he uses them wherever he finds them.’

           ‘And you have demonstrated both?’

           ‘I hope so.’

The last night on the road was spent very much like the previous three, in an improvised camp with game, caught by Edward, roasted over a fire. Marian was very aware that this was the last night she would spend in his company. She had luxuriated in the attention, someone with no more to concern themselves with than her and her wellbeing. She struggled to remember her mother, the only person who had ever given her such care. She had died when Marian was still very young and she was a hazy memory at best. The outlaws protected her, fed her, clothed her, but she was not the centre of anyone’s existence as she had been for these few days for Edward.

       ‘You are quiet tonight,’ Edward asked. The sound of his warm voice eased her from her self-absorption. Of course she wasn’t anyone’s beloved, who could love her? She was lucky to be alive and she owed that to Robin. She said as much to Edward while she stared into the dying remnants of the fire.

      ‘You are worthy of love, and don’t think differently,’ he said softly to her.

      ‘You don’t love me, so you can’t know.’ Feeling she had revealed too much bitterness, she added, ‘I have nothing to offer anyone.’

       ‘Loyalty and courage, remember?’

     Marian snorted. ‘That only matters if I were to meet the king. And I don’t expect him to love me.’

      When she dared to look up from the fire, Marian could not account for Edward’s expression, the softness, the regret, and the challenge.

Marian drew on the reins to bring the horse to a halt.

         ‘What is it?’ Edward asked.

       ‘We’re nearly there,’ Marian said coolly. ‘We should walk the rest of the way.’

       Edward dismounted and lifted her down. His hands lingered on her after her feet were on the ground causing Marian to draw in a deep breath to still her heart. Her insides turned liquid and she wanted to cry.

        Her eyes closed as his lips touched hers again. Lighter and more brief than the first kiss, it affected her as deeply. It gave her some satisfaction that he was not unmoved.

     ‘In twelve years of marriage, you are the closest I have come to breaking the vows I made before God.’

        ‘I’m not sorry,’ Marian said boldly.

        ‘Good.’ His smile grew once more. ‘Don’t apologise for what you feel.’

        ‘And may I admit them, my feelings?

        Still close, he stroked her cheek with his fingers. ‘To me, always.’

        ‘But I’ll never see you again.’

      He breathed more deeply, not a sigh but a steadying breath. ‘If you wish it, you will.’ He looked away as if he had already regretted the offer, and he stepped away.

       Marian didn’t have time to miss him - a noise alerted her to someone approaching in the undergrowth, less stealthily than they should.

         ‘John!’ she exclaimed as the giant appeared from behind a bush.

       ‘Sweeting, you’re back!’ he exclaimed, and she was lost to her outlaw friends, able to ensure that Edward was being swept along, before she disappeared into Little John’s embrace.

Camp was as she remembered it, but it had only been, what, two weeks, since she’d left. Everyone was there, though Robin was not in sight. Marian introduced Edward and he was feted as being the one to save her from the clutches of the evil earl of Chester. Did she see his lips twitch with amusement, or was she misinterpreting pleasure at returning her safely? It bothered her, but she couldn’t say why.

      ‘Robin will be back soon,’ Will explained as they sat around the fire. ‘He’s visiting Edith Cottar in Rufford.’

      They continued to chatter and many questions were asked of Edward and Marian about their escape through the caves, and the drama filled the time until there was movement at the edge of the camp and Robin came into view.

       Marian had always thought him handsome, but beside Edward he was quite plain, homely, she thought, not elegant or polished. He was also shorter.

       ‘Marian, you’re back,’ he gasped, then rushed to embrace her tightly. Once her heart would have sung at his touch, but not now. ‘How?’

      Around her, the other outlaws clamoured to introduce him to her rescuer. Marian watched with delight as John led Edward forward to Robin and a circle arranged itself so all could see.

      The two men met in the centre, but the outpouring of gratitude from Robin never came. He was still, his face devoid of emotion. But no, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, fear, anger? Unease, certainly. Marian couldn’t understand it.

         ‘He saved me, Robin, from the earl,’ she insisted.

      ‘No, he didn’t,’ Robin snapped, not taking his eyes from Edward. All the men began to talk at once, demanding Robin explain himself.

       Edward, however, was calm and a small smile played the corners of his lips. ‘Hello, Robin,’ he said into the confusion.

       Robin’s jaw clenched. ‘Ask your saviour,’ he said tightly to Marian, ‘who he is.’

       Marian, along with her friends, stared, not understanding what he meant. They gaped, bewildered, at their leader.

     Edward, for his part, had not lost his cast of amusement. He looked around the group, his blue gaze lingering on Marian.

       ‘What does he mean?’ she asked him as others clamoured for answers from Robin.

        ‘I haven’t lied to you,’ he said rather than answer her question.

        ‘Why would you have lied to me?’

       The noise around them rose. As if she was the only one there, the only one who mattered, he spoke to her and only her. And what he said utterly confounded her.

       ‘My name is Edward, and I am the earl of Chester.’

© Nicky Galliers

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