Mark of the Black Arrow by Debbie Viguie

Author:Debbie Viguie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Marian swiftly made it back to her room, her head still reeling from everything she’d seen and heard. There was no use going to the cardinal with this—it would just be wasting precious time. Richard had entrusted her with the way to get hold of him, and she had something now that was sure to bring him home.

She sat at her writing desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and uncorking her inkwell. She dipped her quill in the ink, set it on the parchment, and began to write, recounting as bluntly as she could all that had happened. She was cautious about revealing her identity, and there were several coded ways she and Richard had used to communicate with each other over the years. So Marian wrote in a way that he would know it was she.

When at last she had finished she folded the letter and poured sealing wax upon it. She did not use her seal, though, knowing that, if her messenger was intercepted, it would be disastrous not only for her, but also for all those she cared about. She had no wish to see Chastity lying in a pool of her own blood.

To that end she thought long and hard about the messenger she would choose, as Friar Tuck had suggested. She couldn’t risk losing Chastity. There was another whom she had decided she could trust, and already had been testing in a few small ways.

She tucked the letter into her bodice and made her way stealthily back to the kitchens, where she secured an apple. Then she headed for the stables. Murther saw her approaching and hurried to meet her.

“Begging your pardon, Highness, we’re still clearing the stable of all the nobles’ horses. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Walk with me,” she said softly.

He looked confused for a moment, then nodded and fell into step beside her. Together they entered the stable and walked down to Merryweather’s stall. The horse was happy to see her, but happier still to see the apple that Marian held out for her. Fortunately, there was no one else at this end of the stable.

“Do you know the way to the docks?” she asked.

“A’course Highness,” Murther replied. “I was there when the king sailed for the Holy Land. Everyone was.”

She looked into his earnest, young face. He was loyal to the throne.

And he was so young.

She took a deep breath, turned, and pulled the parchment from her bodice. She turned back to him.

“Take my horse and ride there now. Find a man named Donthos and tell him that I have sent you. He will direct you from there.” She handed him the letter. “He is going to take you on a boat.”

Murther’s eyes grew wide, and he looked concerned.

“I’ve never been on a boat before.” He pushed the letter into the pocket of his jerkin. “Don’t they make you sick?”

She smiled at his naïveté, even as it panged through her chest.

“For some they do,” she replied gently, “but if you can ride a horse, you can ride the sea.

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