the Castellan said. ‘Some of them have served with me two-score years. And we haven’t always stood watchdog at your gates. Together we’ve fought Franks in the northern forests, dug Picts out of their mountain fasts. We’ve marched through Baltic blizzards, Vandals snapping at our heels. I will tell you this: not one of those men is a coward.’
Lord Delbosque started spluttering a reply. The Castellan raised a hand, cut him short.
‘It’s simple enough, as far as I can see. You have left yourself just two options, each as ignoble as the other. Come to me when you’ve made your decision. I will see it done, for our fathers’ sake. But there the chain is broken. I will never take an order from you again.’ The Castellan turned, dragging his lame leg he clomped from the cloister and was gone.
Lord Delbosque pushed one fist to his forehead. ‘Craven.’ He said. ‘They jump at every shadow, fearing it’s him. Do they think I’m made of the same soft stuff? I’ll show them. The Delbosque element is fire, and I intend to prove it.’
At first Robin thought the earl was talking to himself, but then he noticed there was a third man in the cloister. He moved into the light, his cane clicking on the cobbles. A stooped, silver-haired figure who Robin didn’t recognize.
‘The Castellan was wrong,’ the old man said. ‘There is a third option. There is Sir Bors.’
‘Never.’
‘But sire, at least consider. He could be here in three weeks. Four at most. If we can only hold our nerve until then. In hisletter he mentioned them both. He said the boy too is—’
‘Never! I don’t care what Sir Bors wants. I don’t care about their damned war. What is the boy to me? I’ll send him his head in a sack! But if he ever again mentions my daughter …’
Marian stiffened at Robin’s side. She tugged at his cloak. He slid with her away from the edge of the roof. Below them the conversation had paused, and when the earl spoke again it was so quiet Robin could barely hear.
‘How could she allow it? Was she unaware?’
The old man made some answer that was unclear.
‘And what of the boy, should it come to that?’
Again, the reply was too soft to hear.
‘Leave me now, Hapax. Make the preparations. We must be ready, either way.’
A door creaked. Silence. After a while more footsteps moved away and they knew Marian’s father had gone.
‘Who was that other man?’ Robin whispered.
‘Hapax Gaul. The Chamberlain.’
‘And who were they talking about? Who is Sir Bors?’
‘Never heard of him.’ She looked back towards the cloister, scowling. ‘I hate not knowing what’s happening. But in any case, it’s his concern, not ours. This time tomorrow we’ll be far from here. It’s too dark to set off tonight – those clouds are getting thicker. We’ll leave at first light. Agreed?’
They clambered down from the chapel and slipped back into the Lost Lands and they climbed into their tower, the way they had done a thousand times, and the way they would never do again.
IV. Desperate Measures
T hey sat in their chamber, wide awake. Marian hugged her knees, her knapsack fully packed between her feet. Robin gripped his shortbow and his quiver. They waited and they waited and finally the first fingers of grey light reached into the tower.
Marian went to the window. ‘The storm is
still
building,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a monster. We shouldn’t set out in the middle of a tempest, should we? But the moment it passes we’ll be on our way. We won’t wait a moment longer.’
They sat again in silence. After a while Marian reached out to him and locked her fingers with his. ‘I know it’s going to be sad,’ she said. ‘Leaving our home. I’m not ready to go either, not really, no more than you are. And what’s more, I’m scared. But I know it’s the right path, and the time to begin.’
She squeezed his fingers tighter, leaned closer. ‘And just imagine it … think what lies ahead!