Trouvaille: A Chivalric Romance, #1

By E. N. Stuart

In this captivating historical romance, follow the journey of a young girl who finds herself thrust into a world of danger and intrigue during the Dark Ages. Despite the challenges she faces, she remains determined to follow her dreams and forge her own path in life. With a cast of unforgettable characters and a vividly realized historical setting, this novel is sure to captivate readers of all ages. Filled with romance, adventure, and plenty of heart, this is a story that will stay with you long after you turn the final page. So if you're looking for a thrilling read that will transport you to another time and place, look no further than this captivating historical romance!

It's the time of Knights and Merry Men. Hardpressed and overworked to say the least. Mabel learns about the harsh life of peasants and serfs alike. She turns to Sherwood for its wealth. Yet even Sherwood can be unforgiving and even the mighty Robin Hood will be exposed. Through lucky finds and fateful turns, Mabel finds her way in this feudal system. This romantic historical fiction will captivate your senses. While sharing the reality of Medieval Europe and the truth behind Sherwood Forest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. N. Stuart
• Release date: Nov 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223147589

E. N. Stuart

E. N. Stuart, a literary virtuoso, embarked on her writing journey as a young author, unveiling her talent with the captivating debut, "Trouvaille." Evolving into a seasoned wordsmith, she now weaves enchanting tales of clean romantic fiction, transporting readers into realms where love blossoms amidst the purity of her narratives. Beyond the realm of fiction, E. N. Stuart delves into the profound as she pens insightful nonfiction works, sharing her experiences as a Doula and unraveling the intricacies of nutrition. With each turn of the page, she invites readers to join her on a thrilling odyssey through the heart and soul of her storytelling prowess.

Book preview

One

Igrip my skirts tightly , my knuckles turning white, clashing against the purple of my skirts. Deep breath, Focus. Find out when they plan to hang Allen Adale, that is my mission. I begin walking, searching for a sign. Allen was captured by the sheriff this morning. He will be hung if Robin can’t save him in time.

The moon hangs brilliantly in the night sky and a gentle breeze occasionally breaks the summer heat. Oil lamps give out an orange glow, lighting the streets. The sound of merry chatter fills the night. Hundreds of people in fine outfits gather in the center of the town of Nottingham to view a notorious Merryman. The air permeates with the heavy smell of grease and ale. My mouth waters yet my stomach feels like it’s turning. I must quit clenching my fist, it is important that I am not caught. Deep breath, act like you are a true noble-born daughter of the cloth. Which I certainly am not! The longer I stay here the more clear that becomes to me.

A crowd has gathered just in front of me and I work through it. People begin jeering and tossing unwanted food. The blood in my face drains at the sight I’m confronted with. Poor, poor, Allen! He is in thick, gaudy, chains, surrounded by three guards. His head hangs low and his Sherwood green shirt is in tatters exposing raw flesh. They have broken him! If you leave anyone in the sheriff’s hands for too long they will break or die. Oh! Poor Allen, he is not a violent man.

A large, portly man, who I assume to be the sheriff of Nottingham, stands up and proclaims, This is the famous Allen Adale! One of Robin Hood’s very own Merrymen ! Tonight we celebrate his capture with feasting! Tomorrow we hang him for his treasons! At dawn, we rise and by noon this foul criminal will be dead! HA! We shall laugh with mockery at Robin Hood who cannot protect his own! His loud proclamation echoes off the stone houses. The crowd roars their approval and the feasting takes up again.

I must leave this awful place at once! My head pounds with the information I have just received. I head towards the alley. It is lined with lit oil lamps, yet it is still dark and shadowy. Being nervous I’m probably just hearing things. But if I’m not mistaken I can hear the steady beat of footsteps behind me. Should I confront them or continue on. Could it just be another person leaving or it could be my imagination. I whirl around my hand hovering above the hidden knife in my dress.

A young lady such as yourself should not be wandering alone, especially on a night of such great feasting and drinking. A tall young man stood watching, waiting for my reaction. He is not much older or younger than I am. His outfit is white with red stripes where mine is purple with gold lacing on the front. My dress has lacy, white, cuffs and underskirts. He is wearing black tights and a large black cape. Our masks, however, match, deep navy in color and simple in working with no feathers. Mine is more feminine with a touch of lace.

I want to run, I want to flee, yet I catch his gaze and my feet stay planted. I instinctively feel as if he is trustworthy and intelligent against all practical reasoning. His eyes are the color of coffee, morning black tea with a splash of fresh Creme. With golden flecks that reflect the light, even in the dim light. Simply enchanting.

Fireworks began to hiss and burst with brilliant flashes of color and loud bangs ricocheting off of the stone walls. Before I can react, he takes a step forward seizing my wrist. He forces me to turn around and wraps me in his-too-large cape. He then picks me up and starts walking! What do you think you’re doing with me? Put me down! I shout, Be quiet! He whispers back. The thunderous fireworks continue to sizzle and hiss. I try to wrestle my arm away, but his grip is firm.

We continue to walk like this for some time, eventually, I am allowed to walk on my own instead of being carried. However, he still keeps my arm wrenched behind my back and his cape draped across my shoulder.

We end up in front of a small inn. You are to pretend that you are my wife, understood. He whispers the words, his jaw set in a firm look. No! I defiantly whisper back, glaring at him. I yank my hand again but cannot escape the grip of his rather large hands. You are so stubborn just listen to me! He angrily whispers. I spit my next words at him.Why would I follow you! He twists my arm and I let out a sharp yelp. You will do as I tell you or I’ll really give this arm of yours a twist! I know he isn’t lying, he is strong even if you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him.

I swallow down a retort in a gulp and nod. He releases my arm and we enter together. My captor boldly announces a request, We would like a room for the night. The barmaid at the counter moves towards us, What are ye’ willing to pay? My captor slides a bag of coins across the bar. Oh, Ye’ can follow me to yer room.

The barmaid takes the coins and leads us up a narrow set of stairs. She is heavy-set and has fiery red hair. The steps creak and groan with every step. My captor aka my pretend husband speaks up clearing his throat to sound higher than he is. Send your best page as soon as convenient. The maid nods in response to my captor’s request and shuts the door on us. We stand for a few minutes and listen to the sound of her footsteps as she descends the stairs.

What did you find out about Allen Adale? He asks in a hurried tone. I blink, I don’t even know who you are! What is going on? He frowns, The plan Odella , you know? I stare at him, You think the blank stares and unwillingness to cooperate would be answers enough! I state with a bitter tone.

Robin said that you would be difficult, I didn’t know he hadn’t told you. You were to figure out when they would hang Allen, then relay that information to me. I would then send it by message through a page to Little John who is waiting at Boars Head Brewery. From there Little John would tell Robin hood.

I shake my head, I wouldn’t put this over Robin Hood (even though Maid Marian and I are the only Dames in Sherwood) he still couldn’t trust me. I sit down on the only bed and let out a heavy sigh.I wish I could say that I’m surprised by this but, truly I am not.

He looks almost sad, I’m sorry then, I must’ve seemed like a brute. I appreciate the apology. Thank you, yet who exactly are you? In a flourish He removes his mask and cape, giving a mock bow, Mitch Achard, at your service. I smile, the last name reminds me of something, I don’t know what. I clear my throat, trying not to be charmed.

Right, back to business, they will hang Allen tomorrow at dawn.

His face loses the jovial expression and ashens in color. Right, of course. Page, page! Where is that page! He writes something on a sheet of paper. I need something to tie this with!

I carefully unbraid my hair and hand him my ribbon, Here use this. He takes it and ties the paper like a scroll.

A young boy in red livery runs up to the door, Yes sir? He is maybe ten or twelve years of age and has fiery red hair to match his uniform. He must be related to the maid who was working at the bar. Maybe her son or nephew.

Take this to the Boars Head and give it to the largest man there, you’ll know him when you see him. I’ll pay you when you return. The young boy runs off with the message, leaving Mitch and I alone again.

May I know your last name, Odella ? I nod, a little more than confused. My full name is Odella Fairburne . He rubs his cheek, Oh.

Two

For a while we just sit, him reading a scroll, and I brushing my hair. As anticipation spurs on boredom. I watch him move the scroll methodically with his hands, stopping every so often on a difficult phrase. His eyebrows would scrunch up and his face would become focused and sharp. His hair, which was too short to tie at the nape of his neck, would sometimes obscure his intense gaze.

I look away not wanting to stare or worse to be caught staring. I focus on thoroughly brushing my hair which reaches past my waist.

After some time of this Mitch speaks up, I don’t mean to pry, but haven’t you brushed your hair at least a hundred times?

I nod and reluctantly set down the brush, It helps keep my hair healthy by spreading the oil in my hair.

He looks up from his scroll and rolls his eyes, Why don’t you just cut it? I don’t need to brush my hair but once.

I laugh, We Dames like long hair, it becomes us nicely. Don’t you think? My voice drips with sarcasm, almost challenging him to say something stupid. He drops the subject.

I stand up and begin pacing the room. Where did you learn to read? Even though peasants have the right to read, most never learn. So I found it unusual that he would be reading.

Oh, my father insisted that I learn. I walk behind him and lean over his shoulder, Finances? What an odd and boring choice for a Merry Man. Before he answers there is a knock at the door. Yet he doesn’t move to answer it. Instead, he steals a look at a lock of my hair that has graced across his face and settled upon his shoulder. I move away and his mind snaps back to attention,

Come in! He stands up placing the scroll in my hands. The page and Little John come in.

The page looks frightened, poor thing must not be used to a large fellow following him. Little John! Mitch goes to hug Little John.

I interrupt their heartwarming (Not!) reunion, I think your little friend, here, I gesture towards the page, would like his pay. Mitch looks up and smirks, tossing a few coins into the little boy’s hand. Mitch! I nearly shout, That is barely enough to buy some bread. If you have that much money then give him more! Mitch then hands the page a small bag of coins, irked that he had been corrected in front of Little John.

Ah! She be right my fellow for we Merrymen  take from the rich! We have plenty more where that came from! Little John announces in his booming voice. He and Mitch burst out into hearty laughter as the page slinks off not wanting to lose any money.

I yell a thank you after the page, the poor boy is probably trying to make a living, like I am. Little John and Mitch go off to talk and get themselves a hearty brew in the words of Little John. Completely forgetting about our mission.

I sit and read the scroll, so conveniently left in my hands, for a while. It is filled with numbers and names, who paid what and when it was paid. The financial standing of several Lords and Nobles. I have never had the training necessary to understand this writing. I check for an author but all I can find is the name Edwards: a loyal servant to the crown.

When riotous yelling comes from downstairs, I begin to panic, do I really want to be stuck with two drunken men! My heart beats quickly unsure of what could happen next. I set the scroll down and braid my hair so that it would stay out of my eyes.  The sounds of men blubbering and floundering. I slip on my shoes and secure them around my feet. Heavy steps pounding up the stairs. I push open the curtains and climb onto the window seal. Someone rattles the door. I brace myself to jump. If the neighborhood tom could jump and land perfectly from atop houses. Surely I too, could and get away without a scratch.

The door pushes open and in comes, Little John blubbering and being supported by Mitch. When Mitch sees me on the window seal, he starts. Shoving John off of himself and running towards me.

Ah-ha! By the time he reaches the window seal I am falling. Wait, I’m falling! My breath catches in my throat. I try not to panic and imitate the tom. I land, it was not graceful and probably looked even less. I get up and run, back the way Mitch had dragged me. It was black outside now, the only light still shining from the moon. I can hear Mitch shouting after me, and I pray that he doesn’t decide to chase me.

I am careful not to let my dress drag on the ground, it could very well pay for a nice meal. It was Marian’s dress, one from her past life before she had joined Robin Hood. By the time I get to someplace I know, my legs throb and my feet cramp. No sign of anyone following me. But I keep checking anyways. I take a deep breath, I want so badly to sit and rest. Yet I have to keep going. To Sherwood, I must go, Straight to Robin Hood!

Once I reach the border of Sherwood my lungs ache and sweat runs in streams down my face and back. I must’ve gone two or three miles by now. The sky has begun to brighten up and dawn will come to fruition soon. I plunge into the overgrowth and work my way, with haste, for the clearing at Sherwood center.

I make it there in no time and strewn about the clearing is a hundred or so men. Suddenly I become more determined and my bones no longer feel like jello. I head for where Robin Hood lay with the largest bow and thickest oak staff. To confirm it was him I check for his ram’s horn, yep, this is he. I shake him awake if only into a drowsy state of mind. What! he mumbles in a groggy voice. It’s me, Odella , wake up! The execution is to begin in just a few hours! The last bit of what I said wakes him to his senses. He gets up and blows his horn, shouting for the men to rise.Come my Merrymen ! Allen Adale needs us, before dawn they execute him! Robin Hood bellows out the words.

He turns and snaps at me, What happened to Little John!? I frown, showing my disdain, Oh, you mean your little backstabbing plan? Well, Little John is too drunk to see you now! He nods and then just walks off, how dare he!

Wait! He pauses but not even turning to look at me. When is my next mission?

He sucks in his breath and lets out a disgruntled sigh, Why don’t you go do some laundry or whatever Dames are good at.

That’s it! The hog of a man! I turn away in a huff and decide to go home instead.

By the time I’m home, it is well past dawn. As I walk through our door I send up a prayer for Allen Adale. He may well never recover from the humiliation of all that has and will happen to him over the course of a megear few days. Clover rushes to hug me, I thought you might never come back! I hug her just as tightly, Clover, you know that I will always come back! She holds me at arm’s length as if assessing me, Oh, I know! Silly me. She continues fussing over me for a few moments longer. Then she goes back to making some bread and preparing breakfast.

Clover is my maman’s best friend. Where my maman has grey hair and eyes, Clover has midnight black hair and vivid green eyes. Maman was always pale and thin, Clover has dark smooth skin and is curvy at the waist. Clover takes care of Maman and I, because of their bond. Maman always treated Clover with the utmost respect. Saying that Clover was the best midwife she had ever seen.

Maman lies on our palette with a pillow propping her up. She looks more awake than she has been in days. Our home is just a one-room-shack. So How’d it go? My Maman asks, her voice gravelly. I muster a smile, I’ll tell you both over breakfast. I need to get changed before I do any more damage to Marian’s dress. Clover helps me out of Marian’s dress and I begin putting on my everyday clothes.

How Odella would Dress

Starting with my white linen chemise I put on some wool hose and wool garters. To help against bugs and dirt and sun and indecent exposure. Then I slip on my shoes, which