Free Robin Hood by David B. Coe Page A

leaving their horses to the White Tower's grooms. Within the tower walls, men and women rushed in every direction, as if preparing for a wedding or a feast.
“What is this?” Godfrey asked one of the grooms.
“M'Lord! King Richard returns from France, M'Lord.”
Godfrey looked at Belvedere again, his mind reeling. Richard was dead. That was what Loxley had told them, practically with his dying breath. They hurried toward the water gate, pushing their way past a growing throng. Still unable to see, they climbed the saddling stones to get a better view.
There on the Thames, already at the dock, was the king's ship.
“Did Loxley deceive us?” Belvedere asked, keeping his voice low.
Godfrey shrugged, his eyes fixed on the vessel.
T HE SHIP HAD been secured, the gangplank swung out and positioned so that Robin could disembark. One of the servants who had accompanied the king's equerry handed Robin the box that held Richard's crown. The equerry himself then stepped forward and draped over the box a cloth bearing the Plantagenet leopards. Robin stepped onto the plank, feeling hundreds of pairs of eyes upon him, and walked down to the dock.
     
For Robin, though, this was no longer an act. He could see Eleanor clearly now. Her face was lined, but her eyes remained clear and brilliant, like blue gems. They were fixed on him. While others in the crowd continued to search for Richard, she did not.She marked Robin's approach, saw what he carried, and already she grieved. For an instant, it seemed that her knees buckled. The color had drained from her cheeks and she briefly closed her eyes and appeared to whisper a prayer.
Then she was watching him again, composed somehow. Robin couldn't help but admire her strength.
He stopped just in front of her, holding the box before him. Eleanor pulled the cloth from the box, opened it, and removed the crown, which gleamed in the sunlight. Her hands were steady, her expression impassive, save for the mournful look in her eyes.
She turned to John and said, “Kneel.”
Shock registered on the young man's face as he finally seemed to understand what had happened and what it meant for him. He slowly lowered himself to one knee.
Eleanor placed the crown on his head. “I wish you long life, my son,” she said.
She then knelt in turn and every person on the dock followed her example, kneeling with rustles of silk and brocade that made the air around them hum, as if charged.
“The king is dead!” Eleanor announced, her voice as clear and loud as a church bell. “Long live the king!”
All around them the crowd repeated the words. “Long live the king!” They said it a second time, their voices growing louder. The third time, they shouted it, the sound building to a crescendo that threatened to topple the White Tower itself.
John looked around him, still pale, but seeming already to warm to his new office. “Rise!” he commanded, his voice carrying over the dock.
The people stood once more, murmured conversationssweeping through the assembled masses. The Lionheart was dead; John was their king.
The young girl standing with John took his hand, her gaze drawn again and again to the golden crown he now wore.
The queen consort seemed to have reached the limits of her endurance. She leaned on the knight beside her for support, and looked deathly pale.
“You!” the king said. “Come closer.”
It took Robin a moment to realize that John was speaking to him.
Robin stood and approached the king. John was eyeing him closely.
“I don't know you,” John said.
“Robert Loxley, Sire, of Nottingham.” The lie came easily to Robin's lips. Speaking to Eleanor of Aquitaine had nearly been more than he could manage, but John was another matter.
The king nodded. “Welcome, then. Forgive me. I don't know any of you; you've been at war so long.”
“We have, sir.”
“And how did my brother die?”
“By exposing himself to danger, sir,” Robin said. “As was his way.”
“As was his way,” John