25. Laurel
LAUREL
It was my turn to report to James.
I had given him all my current knowledge, but no matter how much effort I had expended during the week to glean new information, James already seemed to know everything I told him. Worse, he knew it from Baron.
I tried not to let my irritation show, but it sat hot and unpleasant beneath my ribs as James nodded along to my report with the polite patience of someone who had already heard the whole story.
I had worked for those scraps. I had scrubbed floors, emptied chamber pots, charmed guards, sorted through rubbish, and smiled at Prince John until my cheeks hurt.
Yet every bit of information I uncovered had already been neatly delivered by Baron, who apparently had better access, better results, and probably better handwriting too.
It was infuriating. If Baron was so skilled at spying, why was I even here?
“Little John planned the annual tournament,” James informed me once my report was finished. “It starts next week.”
I perked up despite myself. That coincided with festival week, when all servants were given a temporary leave of absence.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed—a few days away from the castle, filled with contests, familiar faces, and enough noise to drown out the thoughts I refused to keep having.
It might cheer me up and get my mind off of…
No.
I did not even want to think about him.
“Who all will be there?” I asked nonchalantly.
James smiled in a way that told me he knew exactly why I had asked.
“Mostly the families in Sherwood, myself, you if you come, and Lincoln. Obviously, your father’s group is too far away, and Philip’s army doesn’t celebrate festival week, so Dale and Will Scarlet can’t get away.
And I believe Baron said he was too busy with work. ”
Good.
I didn’t want to be around him anyway. He would probably criticize whatever I did or else continue to not look at me.
He was too busy, of course. Baron had to juggle being the Merry Men’s saintly informant with being one of Prince John’s closest advisors.
How noble. How self-sacrificing. How utterly irritating.
Maybe I would find someone new to be with.
Someone honorable and who treated me with respect and didn’t act like I was a reckless child who needed to be managed.
I could find someone who would look at me and not make me wonder which pieces of him were real and which were remnants of the man he used to be.
That would show Baron.
“He really is doing some noble things, you know,” James said. “Baron.”
I stiffened.
“He’s been sending gold back to the villagers he stole from. He won’t even let me tell anyone who it’s really from. He always says to tell them it’s from Robin Hood.”
I didn’t say anything.
James often told me stories like that now, about how Baron had made sure a widow had her wedding ring returned to her, or how he had given up his own salary to replace what had been taken from villagers.
Every story was meant to reassure me, I was sure of it, but they only reminded me of what I had lost by ending things with Baron.
They reminded me that I had loved him for reasons I couldn’t entirely dismiss, no matter how angry I remained.
But I had also heard stories from the servants too—stories about Baron attacking those who stood up to him, or about how he stole everything from poor peasants.
Everyone was terrified of him, and maybe they had reason to be.
I didn’t know what to believe anymore. One moment, I remembered the man who had protected me for months and who was an excellent cook.
The next, I saw Walter’s damaged hand and remembered how he was prepared to whip one of his men to death.
I wanted something, anything, to take my mind off my current predicament.
I wanted to get away.
“I’ll go,” I told James. “I’ll go to the tournament.”
I needed a mount to get to Sherwood Forest and back in a reasonable amount of time.
The stable boy, Conrad, the one Aalis was still madly in love with, was not a bright lad by any standard.
All I had to do was get him out of the way without arousing suspicion, and I could borrow one of the horses for long enough to make the journey.
Borrowing was a much nicer word than stealing, and as I fully intended to return the animal, it wouldn’t actually be stealing.
I walked back to my lonely bed while the other servants chattered excitedly about their plans for festival week.
Their voices filled the corridor, all laughter and eager anticipation.
Some spoke of games while others talked of dances, food stalls, and minstrels.
I should have shared their enthusiasm. Instead, I felt as though I was standing just outside the merriment, watching everyone else enjoy the sort of simple happiness I couldn’t quite reach.
“Isn’t it exciting, Isabella?” a perky voice came from behind me.
I pivoted and found myself face to face with Aalis. I hastily rearranged my expression into one of enthusiasm. “Yes,” I squealed, clasping her outstretched hands.
Aalis jumped up and down, overcome with excitement.
I couldn’t match her level of giddiness, but I did my best to look as though I might attempt it if properly encouraged.
She hooked her arm through mine and began walking down the corridor toward the servants’ quarters.
“What are your plans for the week, Izzy?”
“I’m going home to visit my family,” I said. “They’re in Barnsdale.”
“And…?” She nudged me in the ribs, her eyebrows bouncing in a way that warned me exactly where this conversation was headed. “Anyone else?”
“Who else would I visit?” I asked, confused.
Aalis heaved a sigh of exasperation. “Honestly, Izzy. Sometimes I think you have no interest in boys at all. Isn’t there someone special you want to see? Didn’t you say you had someone back home?”
Oh, right. Cue the stupid obsession with boys.
Although, I reminded myself, hadn’t that been exactly what I was doing? At least until I came to my senses and stopped thinking about Baron.
“Oh, yes, there is,” I said, adding a giggle that sounded convincing enough to satisfy Aalis.
Her eyes lit. “Who?”
I cast my mind around quickly and settled on Peter, Little John’s son, who was my age and safe enough to mention. “His name’s Peter.”
Aalis sighed dreamily. “Well, it isn’t as good a name as Conrad, but it’ll do.”
Conrad.
A plan clicked into place so neatly that my brain must have been working on it all day without telling me.
“What are your plans?” I asked Aalis.
She shrugged. “Stay here. There’ll be minstrels and games and food. One year they had an acrobat who could flip across all the tables.”
“Festivals are more fun with company,” I commented lightly. “Do you think Conrad will ask you to go with him?”
Aalis sighed again. “I wish. But he’s so shy and I can’t ask him. That would be too forward.”
“He already asked you to the tournament dance, didn’t he? What if I happened to mention to him that you were hoping he would ask you to attend with him? You know, give him a nudge in the right direction?”
Aalis beamed. “I’d like that. But don’t make it sound like I really, really want him to ask. Just slip a comment in casually.”
“Don’t worry, Aalis,” I said slyly. “I think all he needs is a minor distraction, and he won’t be able to resist you.”