Mark of the Black Arrow by Debbie Viguié Page B

Unblemished Blade, the Lion of England. The gathered dancers parted before him as he walked to the raised area at the back of the hall, set for the king’s table.
    It wasn’t until he passed that Marian noticed the cardinal walking several paces behind her uncle, his shoulders stooped, his head bowed. It seemed to her as if he walked like a man who had lost something dear.
    Richard climbed to the stage. Honey-brown eyes swept the crowd until they found her. He gave her a strange little smile. She returned it through her confusion. Turning away, he raised his arm, even though he already had everyone’s rapt attention.
    “I have one announcement,” he said. His voice boomed across the now silent hall. Everyone held his or her breath again, as they waited to find out the true reason they had been summoned that night.
    “There is danger in the Holy Land,” the king continued. “The Holy See is calling for men to free the precious city of Jerusalem from a darkness that threatens to overtake it.” His hand dropped. “I will heed his call. Within the fortnight I set sail east. Tonight I call upon every lord and free man to join me in this Holy Crusade for the sanctity of our very faith.”
    The crowd remained silent, stunned now. Marian looked around, noting the surprise on all the different faces. No one moved. No one spoke.
    Slowly Robin’s father climbed to his feet and raised his cup.
    “Let me be the first to pledge a hundred men, all the resources of Longstride Manor, and my own sword, your Majesty.”
    Across the room Robert Longstride leaped upon the bench he shared with his friends. “I go with my father! Two Longstride swords for the king!”
    Richard smiled. “Thank you, old friend.”
    Robin stepped forward. “But the both of you can’t go…”
    “Don’t prattle.” Lord Longstride cut him off with a sharp gesture and a glare. “Sit down. Now.”
    Robin’s eyes, so full of merriment moments before, turned dark again with anger. Without another word he turned and strode out of the hall. As he did so, Marian’s heart skipped a beat. To leave an official announcement by the king, without Richard’s permission, was unthinkable. She glanced quickly at her uncle, hoping that he wouldn’t mete out a swift and terrible punishment.
    To her surprise, Richard didn’t seem the least fazed by the insult. Instead he continued scanning the faces of all the others present. One by one, several other lords stood and pledged their services to his Crusade. Within moments half the room was promised to board the boats and cross the ocean.
    Locksley climbed to his feet, making a show as if the effort cost him dearly.
    “Sire, this is madness,” he said, his voice strained. “You must turn from this path.”
    “I will not.” Richard’s face hardened.
    “But what occurs half a world away is not the concern of Englishmen,” Locksley pressed. Murmurs of assent rose around the room. None loud, nor clear, but a buzz of agreement.
    “Do you think evil stops unchecked?” Richard replied. “Do you believe that once the sacred relics of our faith have been despoiled, ransacked, and blasphemed, that the infidels will be sated?” His voice was a rumble of thunder now. “No! They will continue to spread, destroying any holy place they can find. Evil knows no bounds, lest righteous men find a way to constrain it.”
    Locksley shook his head. “I will not pledge my support to this.”
    “You spineless cur, your father would have!” Lord Longstride shouted. He leaped forward, clearing the table before him in a spatter of plates and food, lunging at Locksley. Suddenly the two men were locked with each other and rolling on the ground. The room filled with the
chang
of dress armor on the marble tile, and the dull, meaty thuds of fists. Marian watched Robert striding across the room to his father’s aid, and breathed a prayer of thanks that Robin had left.
    “Enough!” the king roared.
    The two men froze.
    Richard lifted