Maid of Sherwood

Chapter One

"Did you know Nottingham Castle has ghosts you can see?" When Marian shook her head, Will continued. "They look like little boys and play tricks on everyone they do not like."

"How can you be sure they actually exist?" To Marian's knowledge, Will Scarlett had never been beyond Sherwood Forest, let alone to the castle. She pushed her way through the overgrown English oaks and into a small clearing. The tall green grass had been trampled flat, as though by horses' hooves. Her hand involuntarily dropped to the scabbard at her waist. Rumor had it the sheriff's men refused to enter the woods surrounding Nottingham Castle; the woods were thick and lush even during the harshest winters but she was not willing to take a chance. Men travelling through Sherwood had vanished without a trace and Marian was not sure only outlaws were at fault.

Will followed her, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Of course the ghosts exist. James travelled to the castle nearly two weeks ago and heard them screaming on the battlements."

"It is nonsense," Marian declared. She took her hand off the worn leather scabbard and pushed a stray curl of hair behind her ear. "Next you will be telling me you believe in the fairies, too." She turned to face him.

"Something is odd about this forest, Marian. You cannot deny it, and fairies make sense. What else could keep the forest so green all year around?"

She crinkled her nose at him. "I will believe in fairies when I see the ghosts for myself."

The tall seventeen year old laughed. "The day your mother allows you near Nottingham Castle..."

"Is the day you will join Hood's band of Merry Men!" Marian finished. It was an old joke between them. Beatrix du Luc, with bloodlines dating all the way back to Queen Guinevere and King Arthur; loyal subject of King Richard, would never dream of allowing her daughter anywhere near a castle where Prince John held court. "Want to go in further?"

Will tugged at the wispy beard sprouting from his chin. "Aunt Constance has chores for me to finish."

"Well, I am going," Marian declared. "If I go home now, Mother will make me try on the May gown again, even though the seamstress is coming tomorrow."

"Does she still want to find you a husband?"

"It is all she ever talks about." Marian raised her voice in a fair imitation of Mother's. "'Marian, dear, if you wear nothing but breeches, you shall never find a husband worthy of your bloodlines.'" Her voice dropped. "What she cannot understand is that I do not want the husband she chooses." She thought of her bedecked and bejeweled mother and grimaced. "All she cares about is what ribbons best match her eyes. I can only imagine the man she would choose for me."

"At least she loves you," Will said forlornly. "It could be worse. You could not have a mother."

Marian placed on hand on her friend's shoulder. "I am sorry, Will. I wish there was something I could do."

"Until there is proof the sheriff killed her, no-one can do anything. I hope someone, somewhere, gives that fatherless son of a goat everything he deserves."

A gruff voice spoke from the tree line. "Want to 'elp with that?"

Marian and Will whirled, swords pulling free from their respective sheaths as they scanned the empty clearing.

An enormous man pushed his way past branches hanging heavy with green-brown moss. His arms were corded with muscle and he held a large quarterstaff in one giant hand.

"Who are you?" Will demanded, pushing Marian behind him.

Marian yelped, shoved his arm down, and stepped forward to stand at his side.