Chapter 11

Rowena was collecting her thoughts and trying her best to avoid thinking about Patrick’s arms and even Sir Roland’s muscular thighs that never failed to bring her to the edge of sanity with his physical demands. No, this was not a time for flighty dalliances; it was a time for careful planning and cautious steps to insure success in fighting the tyranny of the usurper’s unjust rule.

She was uncertain about the fate of Good King Richard, the lawful ruler of the land. Her suspicion was that he would not return to take charge once again. There were too many enemies in these latter days after the violence of the Crusades. His reported incarceration for ransom was the final straw of indignities to his royal personage and she feared it was not reversible with the deviousness and guile of the pretender King John’s entourage and mercenary minions. Her heart wanted to believe he would come back to save his people, but her skeptical mind was far too logical to disregard the closing window of opportunity of that optimal outcome.

Under the guise of returning to the convent for the purpose of making a Novena for prayerful contemplation of the impossibility of paying the ransom and relying on King Richard’s assumption of his royal duties, she took Patrick and Sir Roland with her to the convent walls and asked them to take up residence outside because the presence of two strapping males with virile instincts was far too compromising for the reputation of the good sisters.

The mother superior knew that Lady Rowena was back to organize a consultation with forces much older than the beginnings of Christianity in the post-Roman lands of the realm. The counterpoint to the Druid concepts of human evolvement sometimes drove her to impulsive responses but she wanted to gain guidance from the consensus of her fellow followers to determine the right path to take in this time of trouble. It was a lot quicker than she expected to come to the conclusion that King Richard’s return was too risky to depend on and that immediate action needed to be taken with regard to curtailing the activities of the usurper King John and his mercenary evil-doers sucking the lifeblood from the common folk and eliminating the well-intentioned Barons of the Kingdom. She exited the convent refreshed mentally and spiritually from her source of ancient learnings ready to proclaim her new outlook the result of her Christian beliefs and the moral guidance of Holy Mother Church.

Before they undertook the journey back to the deep reaches of the forest, she spent the night in the same room as the pair of male followers and rewarded each of them with her feminine charms in a way that satisfied them equally well and caused no friction or jealousy normally associated with male ideals of singular dominance. Roland was smiling as they saddled the horses for the return trip. Young Patrick was still sleeping as he was totally exhausted by Rowena’s urgent needs sparked by her newfound enthusiasm to reverse the course of history and reclaim the land for the good of the people and not for the enrichment of a select group of royalty.

They made fast time because the horses were well-rested and Rowena was anxious to start her new campaign of guerilla warfare against the taxmen of the district and return the tax money to the common folk to help them live their lives in a way that spoke of freedom and liberty and not a live of slavery under a master with little regard for their personal safety or meeting the needs of their self-actualization above the limitations of mere survival. She rode the horse gingerly because her seat was much afflicted from the repeated pounding received from two inspired knights with spunk to spare in a nocturnal setting.

Their rare stops along the way were met with devoted offerings from the common folk of food and liquid refreshment including the ale that Sir Roland drank like water consumed by normal folk. He never seemed to be tipsy no matter how much he consumed and she marveled at the way his fighting skills appeared to improve when he was well lubricated with the strong brew of the home-grown variety.

Rowena did her best to concentrate on her plans for intercepting the Sheriff’s collection wagon on its way to the castle of King John in only three day’s time. They had a history of great success with such operations but this time it would be out in open territory away from the sheltering arms of the forest and her spies had informed her that the guard was to be tripled for the arduous and filled with danger journey. In a way, she knew she had the advantage because the Sheriff did not know when or where she would strike and his men must follow limited routes to transfer the taxes to the vaults of the usurper King John.

A messenger from the coast delivered a letter from her contact in the court of the French king and informed them that there was doubt now that good King Richard had expired from his dreadful wounds sustained in prolonged battles in the Holy Land. She knew the convent that now sheltered his bones beneath their stone covered crypts of Saints and Royalty preserved for future generations to revere and worship in muted adoration. Her letter was addressed to her own mother superior to be transferred under the seal of the church and away from the prying eyes of King John and his despised minions.