“The men need you here to get them organized,” he said firmly. “Set up a rudimentary camp. We’ll be back quickly, and we don’t need to be mobbed for the food.”
His father acquiesced with a nod. “Very well.”
“Good.” Robin grabbed a horse and mounted while Old Soldier did the same. As they turned and prepared to leave, there was a shout.
“Robin,” his father called.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Robin smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said. He turned and headed out after Old Soldier, even as he tried to remember the last time his father had thanked him for anything.
Once clear of the men and the other horses, Old Soldier kicked his mount into a gallop and Robin followed suit. Before an hour was up, they reached the place where Old Soldier had hidden the wagon. It was loaded down with food—enough provisions for at least one meal.
“Where on earth did you find all this?” Robin asked.
Old Soldier shrugged. “Where there’s a castle there has to be farmers and crops nearby to help feed the lord and his men. It wasn’t difficult to find and the man who worked the land wasn’t difficult to persuade.”
“We’re going to have to find more soon,” Robin said.
“It’s a pity we couldn’t take any of the food from the castle,” Old Soldier responded.
“Indeed,” Robin agreed, “but we couldn’t trust anything they might give us—that they weren’t drugged or poisoned. As it is, we were fortunate to… acquire some blankets and clothing. The season is cold.”
“We should be able to pick up a couple more wagons of food along the way,” the older man said. “We need to be traveling light and fast, though.” He slid off his horse and began the work of hitching the animal to the wagon. Robin dismounted and moved to help him.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” he said. Old Soldier turned and looked at him with a comically puzzled expression.
“In truth, I should be thanking you,” he replied, “for stepping up, leading as you have. There are always battles to fight, but none ever more worthy than this. Every soldier needs a lord who understands what he’s up against.”
A lord, Robin mused. It was a strange thought.
“We need to move fast,” he said, “but the men need rest and good food more than anything. We can’t show up in England with them in such rough shape. They’ll be slaughtered.”
“That’s been weighing on my mind, too,” Old Soldier answered thoughtfully. “We’re no good to the lady Marian if our army is a shambles.”
“What do you think we should do?”
The old man shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m hoping that you’ll think of something.”
Robin sighed. “I’ll do my best,” he answered, “but if you have any ideas, don’t keep them to yourself.”
“I never do.” With his horse hitched to the wagon, Old Soldier climbed into the seat and picked up the reins. “Let’s get back. They’ll be wanting this food, and the barrel of ale I managed to get hold of,” he said, a twinkle in his eye at the last.
Robin laughed. “Even the king will thank you for that.”
“He should. A little good cheer will go a long way. The ale will also help them sleep faster and deeper, as well, especially on the rough ground.”
Robin chuckled. “Clever.”
“I’ve done this once or twice.” Old Soldier grinned and slapped the reins along the horse’s back to get him moving.
* * *
As they rolled into camp, Robin was surprised to find his father had managed to organize the men, and quickly. A peat fire was built and burning. Half the men were sitting around it, while the other half were curled up on the ground a short distance away, already asleep. They were wrapped in cloaks and horses’ blankets.
The horses had been stripped of bridles and saddles and were already hobbled and munching grass a short way away.
“Figured we’d eat in shifts,” Philemon said. “This lot were the ones capable of taking care of the horses and the fire.”
“Don’t be surprised if the others suddenly wake,” Robin said, “when they hear what Old Soldier’s brought them.” He took his mount and settled it in with the others, then did the same for the horse that had pulled the wagon. The men made quick work of unloading the wagon and soon were eating. To Robin’s surprise they drank sparingly of the ale.
Some of the sleepers did stir, rose, and joined them. When they had eaten, most of the men turned in. Those who could stayed awake to stand guard. It was understood that in a few hours they would wake the rest so they could eat.
As the sound of snoring rose up around the camp Robin finally sat down by the fire with his own sack of food. He was joined by his father, Old Soldier, Much, and King Richard.
“You all did good work,” King Richard said.
“It was just our duty, sire,” Old Soldier said.
“No, what you did was far more than that.” King Richard clapped Much on the shoulder. “And this one is already legend among the men. Word spread about his bravery while you two were retrieving the food.”
Much blushed. “I didn’t do anything.”
King Richard laughed softly. “You did everything, son. You showed as much courage as I’ve ever known. You stood your ground and fought like a young lion. You may be the strongest man in England.”
“No,” Much said, blushing harder. Robin could tell that the praise pleased him. “That would be Little John. He was the strongest man in England.”
“I’ve heard of him,” King Richard said.
“He was killed in the fighting,” Old Soldier said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” King Richard said. “But then, I think his passing allows you to claim the title, young man. And I have no doubt that he would be proud.”
“Thank you,” Much said, and Robin smiled. The miller’s son deserved every drop of praise he got and more.
“And since you defeated death itself, your legend will only grow, you mark my words,” King Richard said. Then he looked around. “All your legends will grow for what you have accomplished here today.” He focused in on Robin. “And for what you have done back home.”
Robin lifted a cup of the ale. “I’ve only done what is necessary.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told,” King Richard said, glancing at Much. “I hear you’ve done extraordinary things, stepped up to lead the people, even taken on the mantle of outlaw in order to do it.”
“That wasn’t exactly my idea,” Robin said, laughing, “but I warmed to the idea, then happily took part in it. You can thank several others for concocting the scheme, including Marian.”
“Marian.” King Richard’s face darkened. “I wish I had not left her defenseless in such a nest of vipers. How... is she alright?”
“Last I saw her she was well,” Robin said. “She’s leading the others back in Sherwood.”
“In Sherwood?” the king asked, startled. “She’s living there now?”
“All who oppose the Sheriff have been forced to flee to Sherwood for safety,” Robin said carefully. He glanced at his father, who nodded slightly.
“Yet you’re certain she is well?” Richard asked anxiously.
Robin felt his chest tighten slightly. He nodded.
“She was the last person I saw before we set off to find you.”
Philemon cleared his throat.
Robin felt himself flush. “Although, there is something I should tell you concerning her,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward.
“What it is?” King Richard asked sharply.
“She and I were married the night before I left.”
“Married?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You married my niece… without my permission?”
Robin squirmed slightly. “I would not have taken such liberties, sire, but Marian... insisted. It’s impossible to deny her, when she sets her mind.” He paused, then continued. “We’ve lost so many frie
nds, and she said that we couldn’t be sure we’d ever see each other again in this life.” He lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Marian insisted that the two of you get married?”
“Yes,” Robin said, waiting for the king’s wrath to fall upon him.
Suddenly Richard roared with laughter and slapped his leg.
“I knew she liked you!” he burst out.
Robin stared at him in surprise. Richard just turned toward Philemon with a grin.
“How about those two?” he said. “All our efforts at matchmaking, and the two of them took care of things themselves.”
“I have to admit to being quite pleased at the outcome,” Philemon said with a faint smile.
“I couldn’t be happier,” Richard said. “I’ve always wanted her to find the man she wanted, to choose for herself. I just thought she would have told me, before she went ahead and married him.”
“I’m sorry—”
Richard cut Robin off. “No need to apologize... nephew.”
That took Robin by surprise. He felt strange at the familiarity between him and the king. He opened his mouth to speak and found that he had no words.
“Wipe that look away, lad,” Richard said. “Would you prefer I call you Prince Robin?”
“Um,” Robin said. “No.”
“I thought not, you wild scoundrel.”
Finally Robin started to grin. Richard turned to Philemon.
“And you, old friend, it seems we’re relatives after all.”
“Looks as though,” Philemon said.
Richard held up his cup. “May you and Marian live a long, happy life together.”
The others raised their cups in toast, and then they all drank. Despite the circumstances and the uncertainty of the future, Robin couldn’t help but feel a warm glow.
* * *
Marian woke with the dawn. She’d spent a long night comforting Chastity and praying for Alan, but had finally managed to get some sleep.
The camp was quiet. Only a few people were up. Jansa was already busy making breakfast, and she bobbed her head to Marian as they passed. Marian had already chewed some of the mint and her stomach, though feeling unsettled, didn’t seem like it was going to rebel.
Still she slipped into the forest, breathing in the scents all around her, and tried to let the cold air clear the cobwebs from her mind. Once among the trees, however, she thought they seemed to be anticipating... something. Feeling the need to remain close, she didn’t venture as far from camp as she normally would. Instead, she sat down at the base of a tree and tried to organize her thoughts, but they proved elusive.
A bird perched on a branch above her, and for a moment she lost herself in its song.
Deep down Marian knew that Robin was alive, and that gave her a sense of hope. They had to be ready to take the fight to the Sheriff when her husband returned with King Richard. She had to believe that both were alive, and coming home with the king’s army. They had to have the strength to defeat their enemies.
Henry and his own army posed a threat she could grasp, but she still struggled to figure out how to defeat the Sheriff and his demons. If only the Cardinal still lived, to suggest some religious ritual they could use. Alan might know, and if he survived she would ask him.
Barring that, though, she was going to have to consult the fey. She found the thought disagreeable, however. Worried that it might raise more doubts among the elementals, about her fitness to lead. Nevertheless, it might prove necessary.
She sighed and closed her eyes, almost wishing that she could return to her childhood, when life had been far less complicated. It took her a few moments to realize that the bird above her had stopped singing. She glanced up. The bird was still there but it had gone completely still.
Suddenly she realized that she couldn’t hear any of the creatures of the forest. They were all quiet, listening.
That wasn’t good.
Marian scrambled to her feet, the hair prickling on her arms. That sense of anticipation she’d felt earlier was swiftly changing. No longer was there something coming. Something was happening right now. She placed her hand against the trunk of the tree and felt a tension, a thrumming energy moving through it.
Near her the brush parted unexpectedly and she nearly jumped. The King of the Forest stood there, with his enormous rack of antlers that seemed too large to be held up by his noble neck. He stared at her intently.
“What’s wrong?” she found herself asking.
The stag turned to look over his shoulder, as if indicating that he wanted her to follow. She did so hastily. He moved at a steady pace and she followed at his flank. Minutes later he stopped near the base of a large tree. He bowed his head, pointing with his antlers.
There she saw Audric, sitting, blood covering his shirt. She dropped down beside him.
“What happened?” she asked the boy.
“I was going to sneak into town. At the edge of the forest I found soldiers. They were entering the forest. They saw me and shot me with an arrow. I ran and then I fell and I woke up again here. I don’t know where the camp is.”
“What were you doing sneaking into town?” Marian asked despairingly.
“It... It doesn’t matter,” Audric said. “They’re coming. They’ll kill everyone. My brother, Haylan.”
“No, you’ve warned us, and we will be alright.”
She pulled aside his blood-soaked shirt. The shaft of the arrow had broken off and it was still lodged in his chest, close to his heart. She sucked in her breath as she realized the wound was mortal. There was nothing she could do for the boy… but there was still much he could do for her.
“Audric,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I need you to tell me about these soldiers, what they were wearing, where they were, how they were armed, how many of them there you saw.”
“It was an hour and a half from camp, or more.” The boy coughed up blood which dribbled down his chin. “They were well-dressed and they weren’t the Sheriff’s men.”
Henry’s army, Marian thought to herself.
Audric began to fade. His eyes were becoming glassy.
“Audric, how many?” she asked, gripping his shoulders.
He looked up at her with eyes that were losing their focus. He was looking at something past her. A small frown tugged at his lips.
“How many?” she asked again.
“Hundreds.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
As Audric closed his eyes for the last time, Marian stood up, heart pounding in her chest. She turned to the stag.
“You brought him from there?” The beast nodded its head, intelligent eyes staring intently at her, and she understood all too well the question in them.
What will you do?
There was a sound above. She looked up and saw a large black bird sitting on the tree, watching her just as closely. She whistled and held out her arm. It came down with a flutter of wings and landed on her wrist.
“I need you to gather the fey,” she said. “Bring them to me—where the invaders are.” The bird chirped once then took wing, soaring quickly away. Marian turned back to the stag.
“Take me there,” she said.
The stag inclined his head again. She moved over to place her hand on his back. He knelt and she climbed up, then settled herself. He rose to his feet and was off, hooves flying as he bounded through the woods.
Marian leaned low across his withers and clung to him tightly. His gait was nothing like that of a horse. She both thrilled to it and feared that one of his sharp turns would send her flying. As she rode she tried to think what she would do when she found Henry’s soldiers. The men and women back at camp weren’t prepared for a fight—not on that scale. Not right now.
She hoped the fey would heed her summons. Sherwood was known to be haunted. Everyone knew that. Rumors had spread far and wide over the years. Hopefully some of Henry’s soldiers had heard those rumors, as well, and their fellows were superst
itious men.
This couldn’t come to an all-out battle.
Not now. Not here.
The stag leaped a fallen tree and it was all Marian could do to hang on. The wind whipped her hair all around, and she couldn’t deny how alive she felt in that moment. She thought of Champion. He’d been sleeping in the tent still when she rose. He’d look for her, but hopefully she’d make it back before he tried to track her this far. The others had become used to her being off by herself for stretches at a time. Even Tuck. She didn’t know how long it would take before they started to worry.
Finally the stag slowed. His movements were no less graceful and there was no sense of fatigue. Knowing they must be close to where the soldiers had entered in the forest, she felt the pounding of her heart. The animal came to a stop and she slid off his back, legs shaky as she touched the ground.
Marian braced herself against it for a moment while she got her balance back. The stag pawed at the ground and then pointed toward the right. She moved quietly in that direction. Seconds later there came the sound of men talking. Whoever they were they weren’t interested in keeping quiet.
Marian smiled slowly. That could work in her favor.
* * *
Robin was dreaming. He knew he was, but at the same time he was loathe to wake up, because he was dreaming about Marian.
She was in the forest, walking, communing with it as he had so many times. Then the stag appeared to her, startling her. A minute later she was on its back, racing through the forest. Away from danger? No! Toward it. There were soldiers—a great many of them, tromping through the trees. They were armed and looking for anyone they could find to kill.
In his dream the raven swooped down, until all he could see were its eyes boring into his own. He woke up with a gasp and sat up.
It wasn’t yet nightfall. The second wave of men were just finishing up eating. Robin rose swiftly, then found his father and King Richard talking quietly over by the horses. They looked up at him as he joined them.
“You should have slept more,” his father said with a frown.
“And you both should have been asleep already,” Robin countered.
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