Gisbourne glared at Robin, but Rob paid no mind. He were in his world, speaking to his bow like it were his heart. My skin ran over with gooseflesh.
Marshal raised his arm again.
I shut my eyes. I had done as much as I could, and this bit weren’t for my heart to decide. I shut my eyes and I made the sign of the cross and I prayed. I prayed for hope, for fortitude, for something that could defend my heart from breaking if Rob lost this. Something that could find a way to help him forgive himself if he couldn’t do it. Something that could stem the tide of blood that would flood out onto the people if we had to suffer another cruel sheriff. Something to keep warm the feeble hope that fluttered in me, that awful cruelty of hope that would never go out, no matter what I did.
No matter if Gisbourne won and I had to spend the rest of my life suffering and watching as those I loved suffered, I would still hope. I would hope for another chance like this, another day like this one.
Please, God. Defend my heart. Defend my hope.
A low gasp ran through the crowd, and I opened my eyes. Rob still had his arrow notched and ready; Gisbourne’s bow were lowered. Gisbourne’s shot were in the black, a thumb closer to center than his other shots. Rob’s target had narrowed to the size of a peach at eighty paces.
Shivers ran over my skin. I knew too well that the world were meant for cheaters to prosper in, that those who took advantage of the weak and defenseless sat comfy and warm in guarded castles. There weren’t no natural justice. There weren’t no way for Rob to win this, to scrape back from the switch of the arrows.
I didn’t shut my eyes again. I raised my chin and watched as Rob’s arm went tense and then loose as the arrow shot out from his bow, making its graceful arch over the snow-covered field. I lost it for a moment, a thin shot of black against the backdrop of trees, and then the thunk of it hitting the target drew my eye.
The first arrow wide. The next in the second ring.
And the last so close to center there were no question that it had to be the winning shot.
I ran, and Winchester didn’t stop me this time. I picked up my skirts with my one hand and flew over the snow, the Archangel’s own wings carrying me forward. People were breaking through the fencing and flooding the field, but I made it to Rob before any of them.
He dropped his bow and picked me up as I threw my arms around him. I were careful to keep my hurt arm up, but it hurt anyway and I couldn’t much care. Tears were overrunning my face and I buried it in his neck, my whole body shaking, though I weren’t sure if it were tears or joy or running what caused it.
“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.”
“You did it,” I told him. “You won. You did it, my love.”
He rubbed his face into my neck too, and I felt him shudder.
“Guards!” the prince roared, and we broke apart to see him flinging his arm this way and that. “Stop the rabble!”
Guards flooded forward, but Rob turned and spread his hands wide, and the people stopped running but started cheering. Rob raised his hands and lowered them, and the people grew quiet slow. “Please retake your seats,” Rob yelled when they were quiet enough. “I believe I have an oath to take!”
This drew cheers and whoops and unending clapping, but the people, with the prodding of the guards, took their seats again. Turning back to the nobles, I realized Gisbourne were gone from the field.
“Your champion!” the prince yelled.
I laughed, unable to keep it in as the happiness bubbled up in me. The people were cheering themselves hoarse.
“Kneel!” the prince called.
Robin knelt.
“Repeat this oath,” the prince said. The people went silent.
“By the Lord, I will to King Richard and the office of sheriff be faithful and true, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according to God’s law, and according to the world’s principles, and never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him; on condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve when I to him submitted and chose his will.”
Robin repeated it, his voice strong and powerful in the quiet. Snow drifted down on him, crowning his head and anointing his shoulders like holy blessings.
“Stand,” the prince commanded. Isabel came forward and presented a golden arrow on a velvet cushion, and Robin bowed low to her.
“Sheriff,” she greeted, nodding her head. “Collect your prize.”
Rob straightened up. His eyes met mine, hungry and wanting in a way that made my skin rush over with red. He took the arrow but looked the whole time at me. I could see it, then—our future together. That it could happen. That one day soon he might be able to look at me like that and I could kiss it right off his face, in front of all these people, the wife of Robin Hood—a true wife. A loved wife.
Rob broke our gaze and turned to the crowd, holding up his prize. The prince said something further about congratulations or some such, but it were lost.
Nottingham had its hero.
The prince announced that there were to be a feast that night, and the whole castle and courtyard would be open to the common folk. They had their sheriff, and he didn’t want there to be any more mistakes with his orders and generosity. I saw Eleanor nod slow while he said it, and I suspected his true motive were pleasing his mother.
The sun began to set, and I fair floated back up to the castle proper, going to the chambers I shared with Gisbourne eager, for once, to wear a dress. I wanted to try and look well for Rob that night; I wanted to dance with him and bask in the strangeness of this single happy moment.
Marshal raised his arm again.
I shut my eyes. I had done as much as I could, and this bit weren’t for my heart to decide. I shut my eyes and I made the sign of the cross and I prayed. I prayed for hope, for fortitude, for something that could defend my heart from breaking if Rob lost this. Something that could find a way to help him forgive himself if he couldn’t do it. Something that could stem the tide of blood that would flood out onto the people if we had to suffer another cruel sheriff. Something to keep warm the feeble hope that fluttered in me, that awful cruelty of hope that would never go out, no matter what I did.
No matter if Gisbourne won and I had to spend the rest of my life suffering and watching as those I loved suffered, I would still hope. I would hope for another chance like this, another day like this one.
Please, God. Defend my heart. Defend my hope.
A low gasp ran through the crowd, and I opened my eyes. Rob still had his arrow notched and ready; Gisbourne’s bow were lowered. Gisbourne’s shot were in the black, a thumb closer to center than his other shots. Rob’s target had narrowed to the size of a peach at eighty paces.
Shivers ran over my skin. I knew too well that the world were meant for cheaters to prosper in, that those who took advantage of the weak and defenseless sat comfy and warm in guarded castles. There weren’t no natural justice. There weren’t no way for Rob to win this, to scrape back from the switch of the arrows.
I didn’t shut my eyes again. I raised my chin and watched as Rob’s arm went tense and then loose as the arrow shot out from his bow, making its graceful arch over the snow-covered field. I lost it for a moment, a thin shot of black against the backdrop of trees, and then the thunk of it hitting the target drew my eye.
The first arrow wide. The next in the second ring.
And the last so close to center there were no question that it had to be the winning shot.
I ran, and Winchester didn’t stop me this time. I picked up my skirts with my one hand and flew over the snow, the Archangel’s own wings carrying me forward. People were breaking through the fencing and flooding the field, but I made it to Rob before any of them.
He dropped his bow and picked me up as I threw my arms around him. I were careful to keep my hurt arm up, but it hurt anyway and I couldn’t much care. Tears were overrunning my face and I buried it in his neck, my whole body shaking, though I weren’t sure if it were tears or joy or running what caused it.
“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.”
“You did it,” I told him. “You won. You did it, my love.”
He rubbed his face into my neck too, and I felt him shudder.
“Guards!” the prince roared, and we broke apart to see him flinging his arm this way and that. “Stop the rabble!”
Guards flooded forward, but Rob turned and spread his hands wide, and the people stopped running but started cheering. Rob raised his hands and lowered them, and the people grew quiet slow. “Please retake your seats,” Rob yelled when they were quiet enough. “I believe I have an oath to take!”
This drew cheers and whoops and unending clapping, but the people, with the prodding of the guards, took their seats again. Turning back to the nobles, I realized Gisbourne were gone from the field.
“Your champion!” the prince yelled.
I laughed, unable to keep it in as the happiness bubbled up in me. The people were cheering themselves hoarse.
“Kneel!” the prince called.
Robin knelt.
“Repeat this oath,” the prince said. The people went silent.
“By the Lord, I will to King Richard and the office of sheriff be faithful and true, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according to God’s law, and according to the world’s principles, and never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him; on condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve when I to him submitted and chose his will.”
Robin repeated it, his voice strong and powerful in the quiet. Snow drifted down on him, crowning his head and anointing his shoulders like holy blessings.
“Stand,” the prince commanded. Isabel came forward and presented a golden arrow on a velvet cushion, and Robin bowed low to her.
“Sheriff,” she greeted, nodding her head. “Collect your prize.”
Rob straightened up. His eyes met mine, hungry and wanting in a way that made my skin rush over with red. He took the arrow but looked the whole time at me. I could see it, then—our future together. That it could happen. That one day soon he might be able to look at me like that and I could kiss it right off his face, in front of all these people, the wife of Robin Hood—a true wife. A loved wife.
Rob broke our gaze and turned to the crowd, holding up his prize. The prince said something further about congratulations or some such, but it were lost.
Nottingham had its hero.
The prince announced that there were to be a feast that night, and the whole castle and courtyard would be open to the common folk. They had their sheriff, and he didn’t want there to be any more mistakes with his orders and generosity. I saw Eleanor nod slow while he said it, and I suspected his true motive were pleasing his mother.
The sun began to set, and I fair floated back up to the castle proper, going to the chambers I shared with Gisbourne eager, for once, to wear a dress. I wanted to try and look well for Rob that night; I wanted to dance with him and bask in the strangeness of this single happy moment.
