Nottingham

by Nathan Makaryk

  “Aye, lady,” came the massive John’s voice, “I agree.”

  Against Guy’s every instinct, the ruined hall felt a little less dangerous. That was something new. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen words win over steel in a situation like this. Even the blade at his neck seemed like an inconvenience now rather than a dire threat. William de Wendenal laughed through the tension.

  “Would you mind calling off your … men?” He stumbled awkwardly on the last word.

  “Elena. Come on girl.” John Little gave the command. “Let him be.”

  The sword, hesitant, slowly retreated from Guy’s neck. He put his palm to his throat, alarmed at how thin his own skin seemed. She had drawn a drop of blood, no more, but he winced now to feel it. When the girl slinked around him, he was shocked to see her. Just a little wisp of a thing, and young. She had sharp pale features and a bitter stare for him. Her sword, which would have been just a dagger in a man’s hands, slipped back into her belt as she retreated. She curled her lip as if she owned the world, as if she were right. As if she had the authority to judge anyone or anything beyond her ability to spit. In that moment, she was every self-centered whelp he’d ever arrested. She was every thief and murderer who took what they thought the world owed them, every reason to be suspicious of the dark. She was misplaced righteousness, she was every hypocrite’s ignorance.

  It was instinct that made him speak, be it just under his breath.

  “Bitch.”

  The tiniest moment of weightlessness passed before it all fell.

  NINETEEN

  ROBIN OF LOCKSLEY

  LOCKSLEY CASTLE

  ELENA WAS ON THE captain within two steps, too quick for either to draw a weapon, and barreled into Gisbourne with both fists wailing. Robin spun for a flash sense of the room, too late to stop anything. It reeked of the swarm back in Acre. The guard closest to Elena caught a fistful of her hair and yanked her back hard, wrenching her off Gisbourne and thankfully into submission.

  But Will Scarlet cleared half the room in a heartbeat to help her, leaping over rubble, and Robin lunged to snag his elbow, spinning him into William’s chest. Elena was already in trouble, but Scarlet would likely get himself killed if he got involved. There was no chance to explain it—the riot of the room overwhelmed thought. Scarlet ducked from William’s grasp, then threw himself at the nearest guard. His fist smashed the man’s nose as Robin grabbed at him a second time, keeping him from striking again. Two guards converged and tackled Scarlet to the ground, then buried a fist into his stomach, then again, a third, then his face. Too much, and Robin barked at them to stop, but had to abandon them. The rest of John Little’s crew was surging forward, with Robin and William the only thing between them and the rest of the Guardsmen.

  Mathematics and priorities. Arthur and Alan were fastest, so they were the first ones that needed to be stopped. Robin bent his knees and took the brunt of Alan’s chest in the shoulder, shoving at the man’s hips to spin him off balance. William made similarly short work of Arthur, but it left an opening for John Little to lumber past the both of them.

  Wide-eyed with anger, he aimed directly for the men beating Scarlet. His staff cracked against the back of one guard’s head, then its end crushed the chest of the other. Robin’s gut clenched—John wasn’t pulling his punches. This was no brawl. This would lead to blood, and death, and tragedy, within seconds. Robin moved to grab Little’s staff from behind and—

  —his head smashed sickeningly to the side, a familiar weight of flesh and knuckles cracking against his cheek. White sparkles shot into Robin’s vision and his legs turned to mud, but his body was on instinct. He had not told himself to pivot, but he already trapped Arthur’s arms under his own. The man’s face was unbearably close, furious with pain. Robin unclenched his fist. He had already punched Arthur in the throat, one knuckle extended, and Arthur opened his mouth uselessly and slipped down. Robin knew how it felt, he knew that Arthur’s vision was fading to black, and Robin caught his arms to lower him safely to the ground. No need to crack a skull now, when enough damage was already being done. The beast of violence had been set free, there was no calming its hunger now, and Robin could only hope to give it a wide berth.

  Steel drew across steel, as he knew it would, the sharp pang of weapons finally drawn and colliding. Alan-a-Dale found himself an opponent, their blades cracking the air, but Robin could instantly see that Alan was well outmatched. He might have left it alone, but Robin wondered if the Guardsmen had enough training to keep themselves from killing. Alan barely dodged a thrust that would have skewered him, and Robin had his answer. Fortunately William was there, sweeping Alan out of the way and holding his hand out to the guards. Only one of them listened, the other crashed down mistakenly toward William, who spun away. Alan tried to defend himself from another slash but the impact jostled him off-balance, sending him to the ground. William pushed at the attacker, urging him back, giving Robin the opportunity to grab Alan by the damned scruff of his neck and hoist him to safety.

  A sharp cry of pain wrested their attention to Captain Gisbourne. Elena was biting into his hand, which he’d clearly been using to quiet her. He released her and smashed the back of his other hand across her face. She went tumbling, stumbling back to the hearth side of the room, leaving only Scarlet isolated between the two parties. His blades were out, level, but unmoving.

  For a moment everything stilled, all eyes on Will Scarlet, silent. No one wanted to test him. Robin was behind him, and had only one chance to end this now.

  “Will—” he whispered, but instantly it all burst again.

  Scarlet feigned toward Robin with one blade, then hopped in the other direction, cutting through the air, a third slash followed, a tornado of steel, and the guards recoiled from the onslaught. The first man to find an opening lunged deep, but Scarlet captured his enemy’s sword with both knives, then threw it back as he brought his knee into the man’s ribs. Robin was on him now, terrified of being caught by an errant swing, but the guards swarmed in, too. The largest of them locked Scarlet’s arms from behind and picked him up, dragging him away as his legs kicked into the empty air.

  Robin spotted Gisbourne at the perimeter, nursing the bite in his hand, and made for the opportunity. With Scarlet subdued, Gisbourne might call his men down, but he needed to give the command. Robin vaulted a slab of rubble to find a path to the captain, and instantly yelped like a pup as his injured leg gave way beneath him. He winced and keeled over, furious at himself for forgetting his handicap. For a moment he could do nothing but watch.

  Elena had engaged several Guardsmen, her face lit up with excitement. She was the joyous heart of a whirlwind. She slashed low, caught one guard’s sword and used it to capture a second, then pushed herself back, her boots sliding purposefully in the loose dirt. A hairy guard came down high onto her, but she slipped underneath him, grabbed his beard, and yanked his face down as she smashed her knee into his teeth. She screamed as loud as he did—hers a shrill war cry and his in toothless bloody horror. She enjoyed her victory for only a split second, as William wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and picked her up like a child. She squirmed and wriggled but he threw her away from the melee as if she were nothing.

  Both sides were clambering back to their feet, and one single glance with William said everything. Robin abandoned his attempt to talk to Gisbourne. In a breath he was up again and next to William in the middle of the room. They turned back to back, and in symmetry they eased their longswords from their scabbards.

  These arrogant outlaws didn’t know the meaning of combat, nor the rules of a sword. To draw steel was to sanction its use. Both he and William had kept their blades sheathed until now, a promise of safety. But the skirmish had escalated to riot, and if Robin needed to take a life to save others then he would. In a single graceful move he and William rolled around each other, each blade kissing out. Robin disarmed Elena with a well-practiced flick, and William but twisted his blade into the head of
a Guardsman’s halberd and it leapt from its owner’s hands. The captain and his guards regrouped on one side of the room, while the outlaws retreated to the fire.

  But Will Scarlet leaned in to make a move, and Robin swept to meet him. Different story when you don’t take me by surprise, boy. Robin’s instincts begged for revenge. He deflected the thrust and slipped his sword’s tip beneath Scarlet’s knives in riposte, that he might slice him across—

  Marion stood behind Will, her every feature a flash of horror

  A look he had only seen on her once before

  Exactly once

  It stayed his blade.

  “Stand down, damn it!” William ordered the room, his weapon saying the same thing in a language none could misinterpret.

  Robin blinked away the moment, the touch of violence he’d almost satiated. It was different than the war, against nameless foreign enemies. Here, in his home, in his father’s home, in his brother’s home. These thieves on his land had nearly turned the ruins of his family into a butchery. They never should have come here.

  The damned consequences of it all.

  Captain Gisbourne, sucking the blood out of the bite wound in his hand, finally called for his men to retreat. His squire led the way, his white cloak receding from the doorway. Gisbourne buried his injured hand into an armpit. “This isn’t over.”

  “Get your men out of here!” William shouted, taking a step toward them as if to give chase.

  Gisbourne, to his credit, lingered last. He seemed interested in saying some last bitter thing, but eventually, wisely, just stepped back in the shadows. Their footsteps clattered down the hallway, and nobody moved until they heard the horses start to ride off.

  * * *

  THE THIEVES TENDED TO their wounds, muttering derogatory slurs at the departed Guardsmen. They had no idea how lucky they were to still be alive, how much restraint and mercy they had received. In all honesty, Robin wished the captain had arrested them, as it would have neatly ended the very problem he had come to solve. Instead, their days left alive could now be counted on a single hand, and there was no guessing what damage they’d do on their way out of the world.

  William de Wendenal found a moment to steal away with him, still breathing heavily from the skirmish. “This is out of control.”

  “We have to stay focused on why we’re here. War supplies,” Robin answered. “We found them. This? This is not our problem.”

  William laughed, but his smile quickly faded. “So you think we should just leave? What about these people?”

  “What about these people?” Robin turned the question around. “These people are criminals, and the Nottingham Guard will make short work of them. I don’t think they’ll be a problem for much longer.”

  “That’s a little cold, don’t you think?”

  “No, not cold. Look where we are, William.” He gestured to the soot and ruin. “This was my home, and there’s nothing left of it, because of these people. If this were anywhere else, we’d be happy for them to be handled by the law.”

  “I don’t know.” William’s eyes were searching for something he could not find. “What’s the point, then? What’s the point in going back to a war if we can’t keep the peace here in our own land? What are we fighting for, then, what are we trying to protect?”

  “That’s a bit grandiose.” Robin smiled. “We can’t cure the entirety of crime. We have responsibilities. To Richard. To fight for England.”

  “Then let’s fight for her people! So they’re not subjected to what we see in the war! My God, think of the ambush in Acre, Robin. Do you remember how the people came to fight, old men and boys, armed with sticks, and our men just ran them through? That’s what’s going to happen here. The Sheriff’s Guard will tear through these farmers like they were nothing. That’s where this road leads.”

  Robin didn’t flinch. “They know where this path leads. They still chose it.”

  “Can you honestly let that kind of bloodshed happen here at home, knowing you could have stopped it? They don’t know any better. There can be a peace in Nottinghamshire. They simply need someone to show them how.”

  Robin shook his head. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  “We’re here to secure the supply route. If we don’t intervene, on both sides of this, I think it’s going to get worse. That is precisely why we are here.”

  Robin hated it, but his friend—as always—was right. If these thieves didn’t get themselves killed promptly, as he predicted, then they stood to make life even worse for everyone. “So what, we split up again?”

  William nodded. “I think I can make some headway with the Sheriff. What about you?”

  “Oh, I have to stay here?”

  “They’ll respect you. They respected your father.”

  That was not a kind comparison. “I don’t think they’ll listen to me.”

  “Just try to keep them out of trouble. I’ll keep the captain off their backs, and we’ll get those peace talks.”

  Robin let it sink in. It wouldn’t be easy. “We can’t get too entangled here.”

  “We won’t have to. There are simple solutions to all of this. I’d say a week.”

  “I’d say you’re optimistic,” Robin stared across the room at Arthur, who did not hide that he was staring back. “Worst case?”

  “Worst case…” William clicked his tongue. “Not more than a month.”

  A month. It sounded like a death sentence. Staying in the woods with these people … with Marion … “Guh, a month.” Robin conceded. “Certainly no longer.”

  “It won’t come to that.” William prepared to leave. “But if everything goes sideways, in case we can’t communicate at all, let’s meet right here at the next full moon. Peace or no peace, by then we’ll have at least done what we can.”

  “And then we’ll go home.”

  William’s only answer was a quizzical stare, and Robin realized its cause. He had called the war home. Robin was sitting in his own castle but he didn’t consider himself home. It was nothing but a gravestone for his father to him, and a poor one at that.

  They embraced again and said their goodbyes, slapping each other tightly, and William de Wendenal pulled his hood over his head and rushed off. Off to a month of hall meals prepared in a kitchen, a month of beds and civilization. While Robin would be stuck in the forest with children who seemed hell-bent on suicide.

  “You idiots,” Robin said, to everyone. They were silent, and had probably overheard the end of his conversation. “You’ve brought this upon yourselves. All of it.”

  They each rejected the shaming in their own predictable way. Marion alone seemed to understand the truth of his words. “What would you have them do?” she asked.

  “Do you honestly think you can take on the Sheriff’s Guard? A dozen of you? You’ll be decimated.”

  “We’re a hundred strong and growing.”

  “Women and children, John. Unless you were hiding your strongest men, you’re the best of them, right here. You barely survived against six Guardsmen. How will you fare against twenty? A hundred? Next time they’ll be organized. You won’t have the drop on them, and they won’t have orders to stay their weapons. They’re trained fighters, and none of you really know what you’re doing.”

  “So teach us.” Alan was the only one still sitting, in the same spot he’d fallen, where he might have been killed if things had gone even slightly differently. “Honestly. Teach us.”

  Will Scarlet, sitting on the stairs, gave a dry laugh.

  “You’re something special with the King’s army,” Alan continued. “You said so. And we all saw you. The two of you could have taken on all of us.”

  “We couldn’t have.”

  “If you can teach us to fight like that…”

  “You’re not listening!” Robin kicked at a stone. “You shouldn’t be fighting at all!”

  “You’re the one not listening now,” John Little lectured. “We don’t have homes to go back t
o. We have families to feed. And now you’ve brought a lot of attention onto us.”

  “I’m here,” Robin drew his words out slowly, “because you stole from the war. I’m the result of the attention you’ve created, not the cause of it!”

  “No gain in throwing blame,” Little conceded. “Trouble’s upon us. You can fight. I’d like to know a little of what you know.”

  Robin shook his head, something particularly painful crawled into his voice. “Violence is not the answer, John. Not ever.” That was the lesson they truly needed. Yes, he could train them to defend themselves, but along the way he might be able to train their minds as well. To tame their instincts toward violence. It would be a long road, and Robin hoped he had the clarity to walk it. He had failed with Richard, when he wanted to start his war too early. He had failed with Stabhappy. And Edmond, he had failed most of all. It chilled him to think of what would happen if he was equally successful with these people.

  The good news was that he had already mastered all the wrong ways to do it. Surely that meant he was homing in on the right one.

  He meant to say more, but something caught his eye that arrested his thoughts. A glint in the rubble. When Robin realized what it was, he silenced their commotion.

  “We have to leave.”

  He moved carefully, as it was his own black shadow that concealed the unconscious Guardsman, unmoving and abandoned, lying amongst the rocks.

  “Ah damn it,” John Little moaned. “I think I did that.”

  PART III

  A THIEVES BARGAIN

  TWENTY

  GUY OF GISBOURNE

  THIEVES DEN

  “THEY THINK THEY’RE SMART,” Eric of Felley’s voice was distorted by the injury that bruised the bottom half of his face. His two front teeth were gone, smashed from his mouth by the wild hunter girl Elena, and his bloody gums bled gruesome beneath swollen lips. “But there’s smart, and then there’s smart. They split up, probably hoping we’d lose their trail. I’d say four horses, all in different directions. But which one…” he pointed downward obviously, at two perfect lines driving away from the ruins, “… do you think is the right one?”