Confessions

Chapter 9



Once we had taken that first step and consummated our love, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. I found myself with child. Fortunately, distasteful though it was becoming to me, since his return from London, Robert had been coming to my chambers again recently. The problem was that every time he touched me, I couldn’t help comparing his ageing, flabby body to the body of my new lover, and as a result our unions were becoming more and more unsatisfactory. I was also fairly certain, because of his last failed attempt to sire an heir, that de Rainault was incapable of fathering children. However, my husband was preoccupied with the outcome of his visit to London, and so he didn’t seem to notice any difference in me.



It was easy then, to pass off the child I was carrying as de Rainault’s. As the months progressed, and I began to show some evidence of my burden, both of the men in my life were overjoyed. De Rainault began to lavish attention on me, convinced that this was to be his “son and heir, I think we’ll call him Robert,” and Guy was secretly delighted, knowing that the child was his. In our snatched moments together, he would place a hand on my stomach and smile a secret, almost timid smile.



The knowledge that he was to be a father seemed to thaw something in Guy. He was still irritable, and I knew, even if I chose not to find out the full details, that he was still cruel to those he considered to be below him. I know that his battles with the outlaws were still bloody, fierce and maddening, and that he was responsible for the deaths of many. My love was not an all-redeeming force for him, but the subtle ways in which he changed were noticeable, if only to me.



For instance, he seemed to grow more tolerant of the younger servants in the castle, and less likely to hit out at them, as he had been wont to do before. He also argued less with my husband, a sign that he knew truly that he was in a superior position. I never stopped to wonder, until now, whether or not Guy took a secret pleasure in the fact that he was bedding his master’s wife. I suppose he must have done, to be truthful, for status and position were very important to him, and Guy, in one sense, was committing the ultimate subversive act. However, I knew also that he loved me, and that was something I could never accuse my husband of, even though he made sure I was always provided for.



It couldn’t last, and the way in which it changed was brutal and devastating for all three of us, myself, my husband and my lover. There was nothing that could have been done to prevent what happened, it was the capricious wish of the fates that caused the tragedy, but there was no doubt that it had a huge impact on all at Nottingham Castle.



My husband had recently taken to having me with him once more on the visits to the villages and hamlets under his jurisdiction. I think it was partly a desire to show his blossoming young wife off to as many people as possible, but he had also noticed that I was quite a popular figure among the village folk. Of course, he didn’t completely understand why, but he perhaps wished to bask in some of that popularity in an attempt to bolster his own flagging reputation. The fact that I was beginning to show obvious signs of being with child was an added bonus for him.



On this particular day, in early November, I had accompanied my husband out to Edwinstowe, a small settlement north of Nottingham. He had heard rumours that it was becoming the new Wickham as far as involvement with the outlaws was concerned, and he wished to re-establish his power and authority over the settlement by visiting it and bestowing a little generosity on it. He had set out with me, and several bags of grain (these had been taken from another settlement west of the city, so in effect his generosity was false, but the Edwinstowe villagers weren’t to know that) as a gift to help the villagers through the approaching winter. I did make sure, eventually, that the village from where the grain was stolen was compensated for their loss.



This was a new tactic for my husband, and I liked to think that his brutality towards the people was becoming more dilute as a response to my own influence on him, but, as you can see, the gesture was still double edged. Anyway, we set out towards Edwinstowe and before long we had to cross the eastern third of Sherwood Forest. The day was calm, and the late autumn sunlight dappled the ground and made the forest look exquisite. I was taken by its beauty, but Robert wasn’t in the mood for my conversation, and merely grunted in reply. Guy wasn’t with us-the Sheriff didn’t feel that, as his steward had had such a hand in causing devastation to Edwinstowe and other villages, his presence on this particular mission of “generosity” would be entirely appropriate. Guy had been about to protest, he was becoming increasingly protective of our unborn child and me, but I had caught his eye just in time and he merely scowled. It was more important to me now than ever that our secret was kept, and we couldn’t afford any mistakes.



About a mile from Edwinstowe, just as we were nearing the southernmost reach of the forest, disaster struck. The outlaws attacked our party. This time, there were more than just the two that I knew from before; there was a dark haired man, and, to my shock and surprise, a beautiful auburn haired woman. To the left of them stood an exotic looking warrior and a younger man.



“Good afternoon, Sheriff, my Lady de Rainault,” the dark haired man spoke. He had a musical voice, and I sensed that he didn’t really wish to harm us. However, I also sensed that he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that if he needed to.



“Scum!” My husband exclaimed. “Let us pass.”



The dark haired man assumed a mock wounded expression. “Did you hear that John? The Sheriff called us scum.”



“Talk about the pot calling the kettle,” the big bear man responded. “Do you think I should teach him to mind his manners, Robin?” John shifted his staff a little in his large hands.



Ah, I thought, so this was Robin Hood. I straightened a little in the saddle. That meant that the woman with them must be the Lady Marion of Leaford, his Pagan bride. It was the first time I’d encountered the outlaws since Guy’s unfortunate beating at Scarlett and John’s hands. It made me nervous, but it was an intriguing situation.



“And where might you be going with that grain, my lord?” Scarlett spat each word from his mouth as if they were some offending bitter fruit.



“To Edwinstowe,” my husband replied. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”



Robin looked quizzically at my husband. “Don’t you have enough there, without robbing the people of Edwinstowe as well?” He asked.



“Fool!” Robert replied. “I intend no such thing. This grain is a gift for the scu-people of Edwinstowe.”



“Really?” John countered. “Well why don’t we do you a favour and take the grain to the village ourselves?” He stepped a little closer to the wagon.



“That won’t be necessary,” my husband said. “Now let us pass.”



Robin looked at his men and a message seemed to pass between them. “If you are sincere in your wish to deliver the grain to Edwinstowe, then surely you’ll have no objection if we accompany you?” He said amiably.



“And be seen in the company of wolfsheads? I think not!” Robert spat back. It was an error of judgement that would cost him dear.



“Very well,” Robin countered. “Will, John, Much, take the cart.” Robin’s men did as they were bid.



“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Robin said to my apoplectic husband, “but it’s important to make sure the grain goes where it’s intended, don’t you agree?”



Robert was not to be beaten that easily. As soon as Robin cam within striking distance, he drew his sword and attempted to draw Robin into combat.



What happened next is very hazy and indistinct to my mind. There was a melee, during which time many of our men were killed, and the outlaws took the grain. It was a poor judgement on Robin Hood’s part not to believe us, and an even poorer one on my husband’s part to cause a battle over it. Swords flashed, horses reared, and in the confusion, the mount I was on shied and fell. I remember the sensation of falling, and the horse tumbling onto me in its own fear. Irrationally, I also remember thinking that Rosa wouldn’t have responded quite to erratically to the confusion.



My screams, and the blood that seeped through my dress were enough to halt the fighting. My husband, who, by this time had dismounted and was parrying with Robin Hood, paused, dropped his sword and dashed over to where I lay.



“Guards!” He shouted to the few remaining soldiers we had. “Move this bloody horse, quickly!”



The outlaws, stunned by this development, ran to my aid, and John pulled the horse by its reins to its feet. I looked down at my lower body, and I knew that the baby I was carrying was dead.



“You wolfshead scum!” Robert cried, genuinely horrified by my condition. “If she dies, I will hunt each and every one of you until you are all dead!” In a gesture of absolute tenderness, he took me in his arms, and somehow mounted his horse. He cradled me to his chest all the way back to Nottingham, where I was seen by the best doctors in the city. The last thing I remember of the outlaws was their look of utter horror and disbelief.