Lion Heart

The shaking stopped with a metal grunt, and the cart began to move again.

 

After a few moments, I heard the portcullis shudder closed behind us. As we rode out, I knew we were near the ocean. I could feel it in my bones, and I could smell the salt in the air, laced with peat smoke, like I had fallen into the ocean blue of Rob’s eyes. It were as if Robin were there, behind me, beside me, just out of my sight, but when I turned to look at him, there were only darkness.

 

 

 

I nodded off at one point, and woke as we were slowing down. I tugged the sheet down careful so I could see out a tiny sliver.

 

We were in the woods, on a path wide enough to hold the cart. I couldn’t see anyone else. “David?” I called.

 

“Stopping for the night, my lady. Are you comfortable there or would you prefer the ground?” he asked.

 

I tugged the sheet down so I could breathe easy. It weren’t a matter of being comfortable; in three months I’d barely moved, and I were weaker than I could ever remember being. I didn’t much want to move.

 

Shivering a little with cold, I wrapped my hand around the sword. Having the means to defend myself at last, more than anything, helped me sleep.

 

 

 

When I woke again, the cart were moving, swaying in a way that were sleepy and gentle and made opening my eyes again difficult.

 

It were just past dawn, the sky still rich with blushing like the young thing it were. I loosed my fingers from the sword, stretching them from the grip I’d had through the night.

 

I looked around, wanting to sit up. We were on the road with people round us, though, and I didn’t dare, nudging the sheet up over my face again.

 

There hadn’t been overmuch in the way of food for the past few months, but I were growing hungry in true, and as the cart rolled on, I kept checking to see when we might be clear enough for me to speak. After more than an hour, we passed a fork in the road that left us traveling alone.

 

“David?” I called, tugging the sheet down. “David?”

 

I sat up, stretching my arms and back.

 

“David?” I called again, and a scream answered me instead.

 

I grabbed the sword and twisted round to see a man not David falling off the saddle. Chucking off the sheath, I jumped from the side of the cart, landing in the dirt with my worn, tattered boots, lunging for him.

 

“Christ on a cobnut!” he yelped, ducking behind the horse. “Lady thief, stop this madness!”

 

“Allan?” I cried, stopping. “What in God’s name is going on?”

 

He peered round the horse. “Good Lord, you’re even scary when you’re dead.”

 

“I’m not dead!” I shouted.

 

“Well, I didn’t know that before!” Allan shouted back.

 

“What did you do, Allan? Where’s David?”

 

“I only knocked him out,” Allan said. “He’ll be just fine.”

 

“What are you doing here?” I asked him. “I’ve been out of prison for bare hours. How did you find me so quick?”

 

His shoulders lifted. “I’ve been ordered by our fair sheriff to find you,” he told me. “And I found you. And I thought—I thought I’d found you too late,” he said, and for a moment he didn’t look his teasing, foolish self. He looked weary and sad. Then he stepped forward and hugged me, straight off my feet.

 

“Oof,” I grunted. “Allan—Allan, put me down.”

 

“Yes, lady thief. I just—” He stopped, looking up. “God is great and powerful and loves to mock mortals like—”

 

He never finished the sentence as David slammed into his body, bearing him to the ground. He raised a knife over Allan’s neck.

 

“No!” I yelled. “David, stop!”

 

David froze, looking at me, and Allan whimpered. “My lady, this man—”

 

“There has been a terrible misunderstanding,” I told him. “Please get up.”

 

David jumped off him, and Allan struggled to his feet as I caught sight of a gash on David’s head. “Allan!” I cried. “Did you do this?”

 

“The goddamn coward hit me with a rock,” David grunted, touching the wound.

 

Allan shrugged. “I don’t have a very strong punch.”

 

David glared at him, crossing his arms. He looked around. “My lady, we should get you off this road if you hope to remain dead.”

 

“You’re trying to be dead?” Allan asked, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Better dead than murdered,” I told him. “We need to get to the queen mother. Can you help us get to London?” I asked.

 

Allan puffed a little. “Of course I can. But I rather think we could move a little faster if you’re alive. If he looks a little less like a knight.”

 

“Fine,” I told him. “Then I need to wash. Have you lot seen a river or well or anything?” I asked.

 

“A river about a mile back,” David said.

 

I nodded. “Can you two find clothes and food, and I’ll meet you?”