Arrow To The Heart (De Bron Saga)

Katherin
e

Vickery

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Arrow to the Heart

by Katherine Vicke
ry

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                              Historical Romance

Copyright 1997 by Kathryn Kramer

**
Formerly titled Lady Outlaw

Notice: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method, constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

For Mark Penn, whose fascination with Robin Hood and
Sherwood Forest inspired this story. Thank you, my friend…...

The Flame or
the Arrow

The flame or the arrow, which shall it be?

The flame pulls towards you,
the arrow towards me.

The flame of love
burns with passion and fire,

Yet the arrow flies free
with my own soul’s desire.

The flame or the arrow, which is it to be?

Be it the flame or the arrow
, the choice is for me!

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Robin Hood is said to have been a legendary outlaw who lived in the greenwood, dined on the king's deer, was skilled as an archer, robbed from the rich to give to the poor and teased and tormented both Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham. Ballads and tales tell of his band's compassion for the poor and oppressed, their narrow escapes from the sheriff's men, and their chivalry towards women. Robin Hood is first mentioned in the records of
Yorkshire in 1230, where there is a reference to a "Robertus Hood fugitivus". The first literary reference to him by name  appears in
The Vision of Piers Plowman
, written in 1377, when a drunken chaplain speaks about the "rymes of Robyn Hode". Unlike King Arthur, Robin was a man of the people with whom ordinary folk could identify.

Though details of the legend vary considerably, popular belief is that Robin Hood was particularly active while King Richard I was in captivity in
Austria and John was in England plotting to steal his crown. Songs and legends of Robin Hood and his band of merry rogues have charmed readers for more than five hundred years. He was said to live in Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire but tales also are related about his whereabouts in Barnsdale in southern Yorkshire. 

A medieval outlaw was a man repudiated by the law, either for reasons of politics or because of a crime. He was cast out from the community, left with no defense against his enemies except his courage, strength and wits. Forced to hide away in the forests, he had to make his living by illegal hunting and by robbery.  Often such outlaws surrounded themselves with other outlawed men to form a well-organized marauding band that blatantly rose up against the law.  The medieval age was a violent time, but though he was an outlaw, Robin Hood was said to be adamantly loyal to his king.
             

Richard I, often called "the Lionheart," is chiefly remembered for his exploits in the
Holy Land, his quarrel with his ambitious brother John, and his association with the legendary Robin Hood. Richard shared some of his father's administrative capacity but his true skill was on a battlefield. His obsession with fighting led him to the Holy Land. Richard, a Norman by descent, upbringing and interest, was concerned with England only as a source of money and supplies for his Crusading adventure.  For this purpose he sold, often to the highest bidder, bishoprics, great offices of state, and claims to feudal jurisdiction.  He also sold charters to towns. Despite his faults, however, he was popular with his subjects.  He was a heroic figure, a determined leader, an educated man who could joke in Latin and embarrass the archbishop, and at the same time a man who could while away the hours in his Austrian prison writing songs.  He was a fierce fighter, a leader men could follow whose severity made him a king to be feared, yet he proved to have a generous spirit for forgiveness as well, as seen in his forgiveness of his wayward brother John.

Prince John (who later was to become a king) has furnished many a moralist with an example of an evil-doer.  He was said to be a bad king, a false friend and a wicked uncle, faithless and untrustworthy. His treachery to his brother Richard was an ill omen for his own reign. History says that he was cruel and pitiless in the execution of his immediate will and lacked any conception of a far-seeing policy.  Nevertheless his legendary (or real depending upon your point of view) fight against Robin Hood has made him one of the focal points of the legend of
Sherwood Forest.

The tale of Robin Hood comes from the gathering together of many tales of brave deeds which over the years have been accredited to one man. In reality, however, the Robin Hood legend is a combination of stories of bold men of courage and the women who loved them. He is the symbol of good against evil and greed. The result is one of the favorite legends of all time--full of jaunty adventure and colorful history.  And so it is that two young lovers are swept up in the legend; he a follower of Prince John and a knight hoping to reclaim his family's former glory, she a determined lady anxious to defend her country's rightful king by the only method she knows how--by joining Robin Hood's men.

PART ONE
:  A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

England, 1193

“That power, which erring men call chance.”

-   John Milton
Comus

Chapter One

It was dark in the forest.
Eerie. The moon hovered high above, staring down at the earth  like a gigantic eye, moving in and out of the clouds that threatened to snuff out its dim silver light. Gnarled tree branches reached out like mammoth hands from the shadows as if to grasp the three horses and riders daring to disturb the solitude of the night. The wind groaned as it whipped about Kendrick de Bron's face as if warning him  not to approach.             

"Go back! Go back!" it seemed to say.
It was as if the forest had eyes, as if he was being watched. But by who?

"I like this not at all, my Lord.
”

“Nor I….” Kendrick replied.

“Shouldn't....shouldn't we turn around?"  The voice of his servant quaked slightly with fear as he looked anxiously from side to side.

“Turn around?”
For just a moment Kendrick
was
tempted to turn back, to forget this folly and return to Normandy, the land that had sheltered him the last five years. Instead, he forced himself to say, "No, we will go on."

He was no coward. Moreov
er, this homecoming was long overdue. Prince John, who ruled during his brother's absence, had need of allies.  It might well be Kendrick’s only chance to regain the English lands taken from his family. If he was clever and able to align himself with the acting ruler he might well profit from his long journey.

"
And King Richard be damned……" he mumbled.  He had little reason to give him any loyalty after what he had done.  Not content to wait for his inheritance, nor to allow his father, Henry II to enjoy his declining years in peace, Richard had joined in an alliance against Henry not once but several times. Kendrick, his uncle Geoffrey de Bron, and every one of Kendrick's cousins had followed their consciences, aligning themselves with the rightful king. They were rewarded when Henry was victorious in crushing the revolt of his sons. 

The old, disheartened king had taken to
the field once too many times, however, and in the end was defeated when Richard and Philip of France had united. Henry, who had at first put up a spirited defense, suddenly had taken ill. Accompanied by only a few retainers, he had left his army and retreated to Chinon, the heart of Angevin lands.

Richard and Philip had overrun
Normandy and Maine and forced the sick king to travel to Ballan where they compelled him to accept humiliating terms. He was to do homage to Philip for all his French lands and to place himself in Philip’s hands while Richard was to inherit all the Plantagenet dominions, including England. Henry was carried back to Chinon in a litter, where the next day, he learnt that John, his favorite son, had likewise deserted him. He had become delirious.  Shortly thereafter, death ended an existence that was no longer endurable for the great and wise ruler.

“So much for his sons’ hono
r….,” Kendrick grumbled.

The de Brons' loyalty to Henry II during his fight against his rebellious sons was remembered by Richard when he took his crown.  The de Bron lands, held since the Norman conquest, were deemed forfeit. Though Kendrick and his uncle had loyalty served
England in the capacity of advisors for several years, they now found themselves at odds with King Richard.  Kendrick was particularly considered "dangerous" by the  new King because of his outspoken views. The de Bron family had been declared unwelcome in England and exiled in disgrace. 

“But Richard is absent now.
England’s cunning wolf has snapped at the crown like a bone and now holds the power….”

Would the Prince likewise be as harsh
as Richard or could his need for friends be used to Kendrick's advantage?  Would he remember the family whose property was so cruelly wrested away?  Could he be talked into giving the lands back?  Or would he, too, offer retribution? Kendrick had to take the chance that the ghosts of the past had been buried.  If he failed the results might well be harsh. John had imprisoned a great many men who angered him, men who did not see things exactly his way.

It doesn’t matter. I have to take the chance. I must convince the prince that I am bound to him in loyalty!
Kendrick thought as he guided his mount through the trees and up the rutted pathway. 

Indeed, a
great deal had happened in the last few months, threatening John's grip on the crown. Surely he must  be more than just a little bit wary about his slipping power and the possibility of his brother’s return. At first it had appeared that Richard would be gone for several years on his crusading adventure, leaving John in control, but the siege of Acre had been accomplished much more quickly than had first been anticipated. Acre was reclaimed, the banner of the cross once more floating over its walls. It appeared that total victory was in sight and with it would come Richard's return.  John clearly had his back against the wall. Cornered men were easier to bargain with.

But can I pretend total ca
maraderie when I loath the man who would be king?
he wondered. Kendrick could not forget that John too had taken part in the rebellion against his father and had sided with his brother on the matter of punishing the de Bron family.  In truth, Kendrick held no particular admiration for either of Henry's sons.  Neither Richard nor John was fit to walk about in their father's shoes, as his Uncle Geoffrey would say. It would take a great deal of skill to work his way into John's favor, but Kendrick had faith that he was up to the task. Befriending John was the only chance he had of obtaining the de Bron lands again.  His task must be accomplished before the return of Richard.

"I will succeed!"  He set his lips in a hard line of obstinacy and squared his chin.  He would
not even contemplate failure. Bastard born or not--son of Reynard de Bron and a beautiful villein who had died giving him birth--he was a de Bron, fully accepted as such. De Brons had always been winners.  Feeling more at ease he nudged his horse onward.

Suddenly a whistling sound tore through the air tearing
Kendrick's cap from his head. "BiGod!" He turned--startled, fully alert to danger as are those men forced to live in its company. With a swiftness that bespoke of an athletic and well disciplined body he gripped his sword. "Who's there?" His eyes darted left and right, lifting to the branches of a tree.  There perched on a limb, bow drawn and ready, was an archer, his form looking ghostly in the shadows.

"There is a fee for ridi
ng through this forest, my lord," called out a treble voice. The mocking note matched the young man's insolent stance, Kendrick thought dryly.

"A fee?"  Kendrick eyed the trees warily
, wondering just how many lay in wait.

"Your purse.  For
sooth let us hope it to be a fat one."  There was a long pause and when Kendrick showed no sign of budging even an inch, the voice called out, “Throw down your sword.”

“No!” To do so would be the greatest foolishness. “I do not give in to thieves.”

“Tut, tut, t
ut, what a shame that your stubborness will be costly.” Immediately the young archer had restrung his bow and was now taking aim at Kendrick’s  short, rotund servant. “Methinks he will have little cause to thank ye when he feels the prick of this in his over-padded hide.”

Seeing the total look of stark fear on Humbley’s face caused Kendrick to comply. He didn’t want to see his servant harmed. Still, once it had clattered to the ground, he couldn’t help but look at the weapon longingly.

“Good…good…” Not satisfied, however, with rendering Kendrick weaponless, the archer pushed on. “Now, get down off your horse, lest
you
want to feel the sting of my arrow.”

Kendrick stared intently at the young outlaw, wondering if he should make his move now. The boy must be quite young, he reasoned, or a runt, for he was not overly large. In hand-to-hand combat he could be easily bested. Even so, he handled the longbow with a skill that had to be admired. Having handled bows quite often himself, he knew how heavily it must weigh in the lad’s hands. “I
will
fight you.”

“And you will lose. My bow, you see, gives me every advantage. Now, down….down….”

"Go to the devil!”

I would reconsider if I were you, lest you become a pin cushion.  Now, throw down your sword."  When Kendrick still did not concede to the demand the archer gave him a warning look, pulling ever tighter on the s
tring.  "I am true with my aim. And quick to restring my bow. I can and will shoot you all before you can even blink thrice.”

Kendrick sincerely d
oubted that boast. Still, unless he wanted to put the others at risk, he had to be careful. The boy had little to lose by killing them.

"Oh, please, my lord, do as he says.  I think....I think he means it." The second of Kendrick's servants was bes
ide himself with nervousness. Hurriedly he complied, jumping from his horse in a manner which sent him tumbling to the ground. The other servant seemed too petrified to budge.

Though primed for a fight
, Kendrick slid from his horse. Perhaps it was the look in the archer's eyes which warned him not to trifle here. He was not afraid of a boy, but if arrows were unleashed one of his servants might come to serious harm. He didn't want that on his head. They had been good and loyal servants and deserved his consideration.

"God's te
eth but you are annoying, boy. Nevertheless I will obey." Flinging his leg over the saddle he slid down from his mount. He stood glowering at his adversary, defiant and stubborn.

The sound of laughter teased Kendrick
's ears.  "You are obedient!"  The archer put down his bow for just a minute, quickly taking it up again when Kendrick took a step towards his fallen sword. "Don't tempt me, you jack-a-napes. Skewering such as you gives me great delight."

Kendrick wondered how young the lad was
, for his voice had not yet changed and seemed rather high pitched for one so daring. "And spanking wayward boys amuses me,” he taunted.  “Shall I?"  He took another step forward, then another, but halted when an arrow went whizzing over his head.

"
Next time I'll clip your ears. I warn you." The archer pulled another arrow from his quiver and positioned it threateningly.  "Now stay where you are."

Kendrick complied, taking quick note of the archer.  The boy's garb was a motley shade of brown, the hosen and tu
nic patched in several places. No doubt the lad was a peasant and as such more in need of his purse than he.  Having come from Saxon, peasant stock himself on his mother's side, Kendrick felt a tug of sympathy. It was difficult to say what this lad had suffered under Norman hands.

“Boy….”

The word quickly caused the archer to stiffen. His voice was shrill as he said, “I do not want to talk. I want your gold.”

Kendrick shrugged. He'd give up the purse.
In truth it held very little money. The bulk of his wealth was well hidden in his servant's tunic, a ploy well-seasoned travelers learned very quickly.

"
There’s little gold, but if you want my purse you shall have it," he said generously, flinging the leather pouch toward the tree where the archer hid himself. "There, I have paid the fee."

"Not completely!"
Swinging down from the branches of the tree by way of a vine, the lad moved into action before Kendrick even had time to react. Picking up the purse, he used it to give Kendrick's horse a slap on its behind, sending the animal galloping out of the woods.

"BiGod!"
Anger raged through Kendrick's veins. "You overbold puppy!" The purse was one thing, the horse another. It was cold and he had a long way to go. He didn't relish the thought of walking, or worse yet riding double with one of his servants.

"A w
alk will do you good, my lord. It is pleasant at this time of early eve." Once again the young archer laughed, the sound spilling from his mouth with unrestrained gaiety as he seemed to imagine the scene. 

"A walk!"  Kendrick gritted his teeth
, vowing vengeance. He'd seek this boy out and turn him across his knee. The lad was greatly in need of discipline.

"Aye, a walk."
The idea seemed amusing to the lad for he laughed again, then recovering from his chuckling bowed.  "But lest I forget my manners, thank you for your purse and the people of King Richard thank you too."

Kendrick's mouth grimaced in
to a look of complete disgust. "And I suppose you are going to tell me that it will be the people who benefit from this...this robbery."  He sincerely doubted it. The lad would pocket every last coin.

"Believe it or not 'tis so!"  Holding up the purse the archer shook it, listening to the jingle.  "I rob from the rich and give to those in need."

"Ha!" Kendrick had heard that before. Crossing his arms across his chest he matched the lad's defiance. "No doubt all outlaws say that, but I call them liars."

For a fleeting moment there was a flash of anger in
the blue eyes staring at him. "No man calls me liar, my lord." In punishment, Kendrick was ordered to strip. He gave up his cloak, tunic and boots into the archer's hands. "Also for the poor!" the archer exclaimed. “Now, start upon the pathway before I change my mind about being so lenient.”