Holy Warrior by Angus Donald Page A

house.
     
    ‘That was bravely done,’ said Robin, He was chuckling at my tale, but his mirth was nothing to Little John’s reaction: his big man’s laugh boomed out across the hall, drawing attention from scores of Robin’s men, and the tears were pouring down his cheeks as he slapped sturdy Owain on the back with glee. Even Sir James de Brus gave me a wintry smile.
    ‘And you have the ruby with you?’ asked Robin.
    ‘I have it,’ I said. And unbuckling my saddlebag, I pulled a cloth-wrapped lump from inside. Robin sent a servant for Marie-Anne and while my lord’s good lady waddled over to the table, bringing her lady-in-waiting Godifa with her, I unwrapped the parcel and pulled out the fruits of my larceny.
    ‘We must reward William with employment in your household,’ I reminded Robin.
    ‘Certainly, certainly, I can always use talent for mischief like his,’ he said but his eyes were fixed on the great jewel. It seemed to sparkle with a demonic light in the dim hall, glistening and malevolent, like a congealed drop of the Devil’s blood.
    ‘This belongs to you, my lady,’ I said and, lifting the jewel on its bright gold chain, I presented it to Marie-Anne, holding it in outstretched hands. She took it, but reluctantly. And then she turned to Godifa, a slim girl of about twelve years on the very lip of womanhood, who had grown up with Robin Hood’s outlaws, and who now served Marie-Anne as maid, companion and friend.
    ‘This is yours, Goody, surely you remember it?’ said Marie-Anne, placing the gold chain around the girl’s neck. ‘It was your mother’s, and you kindly lent it to me, and then I foolishly lost it when I was held captive by Sir Ralph last year.’ She was smiling at the girl. ‘I think you are old enough for it to look well on you now.’
    Goody gazed down at the bright gold around her neck and at the great red jewel nestling between the buds of her breasts. She looked up at me, shining with happiness: ‘What do you think, Alan, does this stone become me?’
    ‘You look beautiful,’ I said. And it was true. Her face had changed shape since I last saw her, only several weeks ago; it had become longer, less round and the cheekbones more prominent. Her hair was long and fine, its colour the exact same shade as the gold around her neck. I could clearly see the beauty that she would become in a few years. And so I said again: ‘You truly look wonderful.’ And then strangely, her face became flushed bright pink, and she slipped off the bench she had been sitting on, came over to me, kissed me on the cheek, muttering, ‘Thank you, Alan’ before pelting off to the solar, shouting rudely behind her to her mistress, as she ran from the table without a by-your-leave, that she must look directly into Marie-Anne’s silver mirror.
    ‘She’s still not quite tamed, that one,’ said Robin, with a rueful smile at me. ‘Still wild deep in her soul.’
    I knew Robin was right: the year before, after a catastrophe of fire and blood in which Goody’s parents had perished violently, she and I had been hunted like beasts by Ralph Murdac’s men through the remote places of Sherwood. We had survived the swords of mounted men-at-arms, attack by wild wolves and a madman who wanted to eat our flesh - and it had been Goody who had dispatched the lunatic with a brave dagger thrust through the eye. She had a strong, savage flame in her soul, which I knew would never be extinguished.
    ‘She’ll need a husband soon, Alan. Perhaps you are the man lusty enough to tame that wildcat,’ said Little John, and gave one of his great, hearty big-man guffaws.
    I glared at him: ‘Goody is a child,’ I snapped. ‘I think of her as my sister, under my protection, and I will not hear talk like that about her. From anyone!’
    Little John looked astounded by my outburst but he said nothing in reply. Marie-Anne spoke then - as always, her tact in a difficult situation smoothing the rough waters: ‘We all thank