"One day you'll be beyond their reach. And they'll never be able to touch you again. Not ever."
"Far away… And they'll never catch me. Just as they've never caught Hood," Marian muttered, with a smile which was wistful, yet where Emma could already glimpse budding hope.
Arthen heaved a deep sigh, frowning upon both of them and speaking to Marian in a cautioning voice, "I am to blame. I filled your head with tales. Don't think foremost upon them. Instead, remember you're a true archer. No matter what they tell you."
Marian nodded.
"Thank you... both of you, Master and Mistress Archer," she said, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.
And, with Arthen's words in her mind, Emma glanced upon the slender archer as she drew away from them, straight as anarrow, with her head lifted in pride, and suddenly felt her earlier fear lift from her chest. As if in echo of her thoughts, Arthen spoke reassuringly, placing a comforting arm around Emma's shoulders. "She's young, but she's already strong-willed. I reckon she may prove too strong for them to break."
Arthen soon went to fetch Robin, whom they'd left in Maggie and John's care, but Emma lingered by one of the tents to talk to a good woman she'd chanced upon, who wished to inquire for lessons in fine embroidery for her daughter. She was a wealthy merchant's wife, and wanted her daughter to acquire embroidery skills since she could well afford the expense. Emma felt joyful of the request, and thanked Maggie in her mind, since it was due to Maggie that word of Emma's skill with a needle had spread even beyond their neighbourhood. She felt mightily pleased she'd acquired her first pupil when at last she parted from the merchant's wife, yet her pleasure seemed to vanish like smoke when she came upon the sheriff's son, just as she was making her way back to the stalls.
"Mistress Archer," the boy uttered with a handsome bow.
Emma guessed his age to be about fifteen or sixteen. Not yet a man, but already casting her brazen looks. She curtsied briefly before she walked by him, but knew he was following her with shameless dark eyes. Recalling how spiteful he'd been to his sister, she turned to cast him a steady glance of her own which she made stern and disapproving. He stared back at her, and for a while they locked gazes. He was the one to stare away first, and Emma had the sheer satisfaction of seeing the wicked, insolent boy walk away with a thwarted look upon his face. She stared after him for a while, as he was striding with his dark cloak pulled about him, although the day was warm and nearly stifling. Emma glanced pensively upon the dark cloak. It looked very much like the garment of the horseman who'd nearly trampled Robin that day.
"Are you certain it was him?" Arthen asked with a frown when later she spoke to him of her suspicions.
"I cannot say with certainty," Emma conceded.
Arthen sighed.
"It might have well been Gilbert. He's always been careless and spiteful of simple folk. So he would have thought nothing of trampling a little commoner boy."
Emma nodded in chagrin, recalling her former husband had not been much different from the sheriff's son.
"I taught him once," Arthen went on. "He's quick-witted and bold. Just as quick-witted and bold as his sister. Yet no match for her in skill or strength of will. And he knows it. I reckon this is why he hates her so."
"He may be young, but dangerous and wicked already. And well aware of the sway he has upon his father," Emma said, hoping that Marian would soon find a way to escape her spiteful brother.
“To think he might be the Sheriff of Nottingham one day,” Arthen muttered with darkened eyes.
Emma heaved a deep sigh, now holding Robin’s hand tight within her own. The child chuckled happily, as if his father had jested.
“Sheriff. Bad sheriff. Bad, bad, bad. Wicked sheriff,” he chanted, oblivious the people they were passing by had begun to cast them strange glances.
“Peace, son. Stop saying that,” Arthen rebuked, bending to speak to the child and wagging his finger.
Yet Robin laughed, unconcerned with his father’s warning, going on to chant the words he liked.
“Leave him be,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. “He’s only a child.”
“A most mischievous child, who’s already being spoiled rotten by his mother,” Arthen said with a shake of his head, but he was smiling as he did so.
“Not spoiled. Well-behaved and good-natured most of the time.”
“Utterly mischievous. Always playing the angel when he’s with his adoring mum. Aren’t you, son?” Arthen called out with a deep sigh.
Robin raised his limpid blue eyes to look at both of them, and his face was now so much like an angel’s that Emma burst out laughing, because, in truth, she’d come to know Robin far too well not to understand his father had a point.
“Robin and I will go home. It has been a long morning filled with excitement and he will be soon getting sleepy,” she said, turning to Arthen and knowing there were people in the crowd who now wished to speak to him and offer their praise for his pupil’s victory. “Stay awhile and savour your good fortune.”
Arthen started to shake his head, because he was not a vain man, but Emma urged him to linger and talk to those who wished to speak to him. She had come to understand their business depended much on other people’s praise. Besides, now that she had decided to do some teaching of her own and had received praise for her own skill in embroidery, she had come to understand common people were indeed more fortunate than noble folk in their lives. They could take pride in their own accomplishments and not rely upon the fame and awe which clung to an ancient name. She smiled to herself as she at last got home, knowing she'd found everything she'd wished for in her new life. It was a life which would never make her feel confined, and the bond she'd entered with Arthen was one of love she'd entered willingly. In truth, it was the kind of bond which would always make her feel free.
"Mum!" Robin said, now calling for her attention.
Emma glanced fondly upon the child, knowing he might not have been born of her womb but that he was and would always be her true child. Hadn't she stayed in this house because she'd known from the very first moment that Robin was the son she'd always been meant to have? Robin was her true son, just as Arthen was now her true husband, and nothing and no one could ever take that away from her.