But today, on this bright and sunny morning in late September, William de Wendeval was particularly aware of the fear and dislike emanating from behind doors and stable walls, for he saw it through the eyes of those who rode with him.
Most of the ladies of the court were intimidated and avoided him. Some of the men respected his father and had known Will himself before he became sheriff, but since his association with John they’d become cool and reserved. Will felt their defection more acutely than the coolness of the women, for some of the noblemen that had withdrawn their friendship were men that he’d particularly liked. And as for women . . . well, there were plenty of maidservants willing to part their legs for a bauble or coin, and they were far less likely to have possessive husbands or a need to be wooed.
The hunting party had ridden from the keep’s stables through the bailey area, which was enclosed by massive, high walls topped by crenellations, and then over its surrounding moat. That had brought them to the narrow streets of the little town that sprawled beyond, protected by its own walls.
Now, as they neared the raised portcullis of the village’s gate, the sound of hunting horns filled the air. The horses pricked up their ears and increased their gait as the dogs began to bay in enthusiasm.
Although he’d arranged the activity, John had declined to join them this morning. He’d been lethargic of late (as evidenced by the early end to his night last evening), and sent them off without him with the instruction to bring back a boar and some harts for dinner.
For a moment Will had expected to be asked to stay behind as well, but John was distracted by a traveling metalsmith who claimed to have word from the king’s army in Jerusalem. Will suspected the man merely wished to show the prince his wares, but he took the opportunity to slip from the morning meal before John could speak to him.
Now that they were leaving the town, Will let Cauchemar loose, ready to feel the wind on his face. They were the first to cross the bridge out of town. For a man trained to battle-and one who preferred riding, jousting, and hunting to indoor activities-the role of sheriff during a time of relative peace could be stifling. Today, he meant to unleash the energy and frustration that had been building inside of him, particularly for the last sennight.
He hoped Robin Hood wouldn’t be so foolish as to make an appearance today, for it would truly try his patience.
Cool shadows and the pleasant smell of damp soil and leaves enveloped him as he entered the woods, and not for the first time he envied Robin Hood his freedom to roam the forest. Mayhap “freedom” was a poor choice of word, for the man was a wanted outlaw . . . yet despite that, he did have liberties denied Will, who must fulfill his duties and retain his honor.
Will yearned to go deeper into the trees, to let go and ride on forever, away from duty and honor and green-eyed ladies . . . but of course he could not, so he turned Cauchemar in a wide circle and cantered back to join the others.
As he approached, a gay laugh caught his ear and pulled his eyes to Marian, who rode in the middle of the group. This day she wore a green gown lushly embroidered with gold and white along its wide sleeves and a wide hem that fluttered along the side of her mount. Beneath this gown the tight arms of her bliaud were light blue, as was the veil pinned to her brilliant hair. Only a narrow swatch of the copper tresses showed at the top of her forehead, for the rest were bundled demurely up and behind, rounding generously beneath the veil.
A lot of hair, she had. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hands.
He looked forward to seeing it unbound, swirling around her hips, in all its fiery glory. ’Twas only a matter of time until he did.
Marian hadn’t hunted for more than a year, and she was eager to be in the woods. The hounds had scented something already, and with answering shouts of excitement, the party started off. She rode next to Sir Roderick, who’d looked at her in surprise when he saw the longbow and quiver she wore over her shoulder. She’d had to assure him she had no intention of using them for a boar.
“Of course I shouldn’t use this flimsy weapon for a great beast like that,” she said, laughing with the delight of the day. “ ’ Tis only for a hare or mayhap a deer if should I be so fortunate as to spy one.”
“But you will stay far from the boar in any case,” Roderick cautioned.
“I shall indeed, for I value my own neck!” She laughed again.
At that moment, the dark figure of William de Wendeval emerged from the shadows of the forest, cantering in their direction after having galloped off ahead of the group moments ago.
