Page 45 of An Earl for the Archeress

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She had no idea how Robert did it. How he spoke with such confidence, even in the face of uncertainty or impending raids, and then made the results he was looking for happen. But they rode that afternoon for Huntington, a fattened boar with tusks as deadly as daggers in the cart Will had delivered, and Mariel smiled.

Robert rode high in the saddle, a boyish smile on his lips the entire time. Not once did he mention their attack on Nottingham, even though she sensed his satisfaction. He was proud of his accomplishments and his proven prowess. He’d made the final kill to the boar’s neck. The day’s successes provided not only for his people, but also for the downtrodden, and she felt her heart widen to him further. That, and she sensed the man had shown off just for her, if she were to judge the look of pride he flashed her when the hunt was done. Such a smile was endearing.

He felt her scrutiny and cast his hazel gaze toward her, his brow furrowing slightly in question. Mariel looked forward again, rocking in the saddle with her mount’s lumbering gait. She remembered Charlotte’s words, He isn’t how you describe. No doubt, being unable to do a thing about his mother’s death was rooted in Robert’s benevolence now. The vulnerable were safe and provided for in his care, a way to make amends for a time when he was once powerless.

And now, his coat removed and his tunic sleeves rolled up to the elbows, blood staining the billowing fabric from the minor injuries the pig had managed to inflict, he looked at home. His hair, loose from its tie, hung in tangled waves over his ears and cheeks, his jaw unshaved, and his sword belt cinched about his waist with his bow slung over his shoulder, accentuated his physique. The hunt had been terrifying. Mariel had hunted before, yes, but she had never been on a hunt like this one. Such animals were practically nonexistent in Scotland. She had only heard tales. Not to mention, boar hunting was a male endeavor requiring several people to safely manage. It meant something that Robert had wanted her to participate.

“You know, Robert, you could never have taken that beast down without Elmer’s arrows,” John said. “She is skilled in the saddle.”

Robert glanced sidelong at John’s goading. Mariel smiled. She had quickly gathered that this sort of hunt was a test of a man’s mettle, and both men had been determined, since the poor pig’s death, to claim responsibility for the victory.

“Indeed,” Robert replied. “Without her precision, you wouldn’t have gotten as close as you did, my friend. In fact, I remember seeing you run away at the beast’s first charge.”

“Boast all you like, Robert, but it wasn’t even that big. I’ve taken down larger ones. It should embarrass you that you had to fight so hard.”

John glanced her way, sending her a wink. Robert noticed the wink and he glanced at her, seeming to gauge her reaction. She looked forward, toward the grand castle coming into view. As if I wish to see them posturing over me.

Robert recovered and laughed. “You’ve nary a scratch, Little John. I’d hardly say you got close enough to get your hands dirty. I practically killed it myself.”

John shook his head. “It’s not quite rutting season yet. That beast was as docile as a spring maiden. Hardly a test of skill—”

“For goodness sake.” Mariel rolled her eyes, smiling. “Both of you would have made a sloppy approach and kill if it weren’t for me taking shots and keeping it distracted. Honestly, one, if not both of you, would have been gored. ’Twas an effort on all our behalves. We can all claim the victory.”

Both men grinned at her, chuckling.

“Yes, indeed, Elmer, it was our win together,” Robert said. “John just so happened to throw his knife into the fray and Will gets a cut of flank for showing up with the cart. A vital apparatus for which he must be rewarded.”

Will feigned a courtly bow as he steered the reins from the cart’s bench. “Glad I could be of assistance.”

Mariel rolled her eyes. “You men.”

“For all your male expertise, it’s clear you’re not a man, Elmer,” John scoffed, inducing laughter from Robert and Will. “You cannot have several winners, woman. Only one.”

“That’s the only way you can tell she’s not a man?” Will said. “You must be blind, then.”

She shook her head as the men exchanged more good-natured insults. But she had arrow-shot the beast while maneuvering her horse in a wide berth around it with only her knees. She had shied away from the actual killing. Successful boar hunts were bragging rights, obviously. Which was fine, because although Robert teased mercilessly, he had insisted in all seriousness that she stay in the saddle and remain vigilant in the event the beast overpowered them and they needed to flee.

Robert and John had used their blades to take the beast down, rather than swords or arrows. Their pursuit had been fascinating to watch, almost like a dance. They’d known each other’s moves, taking turns distracting the animal so the other could lob an attack, until Robert had administered the final cut. Clearly, the two men had a friendship that ran deep, and Mariel hated that she seemed to be in the middle of it.

Dinner was a boisterous affair. It always seemed to be at Huntington, for there was always abundance and all were welcome to partake in the great hall. And she was seated beside Robert. On the dais. In her trousers and old tunic and stockings that she could feel were thread-worn. Among Anna and Charlotte in their finery, beads, and jewels. Not once did Robert seem to care, as he boasted further with John and Will, and looked out over his people satisfying themselves on venison and today’s boar.

He seemed to suddenly perk up. She followed his gaze across the hall. The peasant man from the woods and his pregnant wife, whom they had ridden that early morn to vindicate, had entered uncertainly. Robert stood, and the hall hushed a degree.

“Come forth, man!” Robert hailed, motioning them forward and wiping his face with his napery.

The man did so, his wife gripping his arm. Both looked unsure. Robert dropped the napkin onto his trencher and finished chewing his bite, withdrawing a small purse from his pocket.

“My lord,” the man said, bowing beneath them. “You wish to speak to me?”

“I do,” Robert replied. “Rise up and accept this pouch for your grievance brought to me yestereve. You’ll find your cottage vacant again, though I bid you remain the night and return on the morrow when your wife is rested. A guardsman will be ready with a cart in the morn, to spare her poor legs the burden.”

The man gaped at the purse being held out to him, and his wife covered her mouth. “Husband…we’ve never held so much coin.”

The man shook his head. “My lord, I cannot accept such a—”

“You’ll accept it, or you’ll offend me.”