The Stolen Crown
Page 11
From the rooms above came the creaking of floorboards, the murmur of voices. The household was waking up.
“We haven’t come here to fight,” Ellie spat. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
Margery had already run to the front door, unbolted it, and flung it open. The night was a square of darkness, beckoning to them. Alice grabbed a vase and a candlestick and pelted toward it.
“You really think that’ll be enough to pay for your farm?” said Stephen. “We came here for treasure, and we’re not leaving without it. Come on, Jacob. Let’s find the office.”
Footsteps thundered on the stairs. They all whirled around to see an elderly man charge down them, his feet bare and his tunic streaming out behind him.
“Get out, thieves!” he bellowed.
Ellie strung an arrow to her bow but hesitated in an agony of uncertainty over where to put her shot that wouldn’t harm him—at such close range, she couldn’t be sure of not killing him—and suddenly the man was gripping her arm.
There was a hard, sickening thump. The old man’s eyes went empty and he slumped to the ground. Stephen stood behind him holding a stone jug, his expression triumphant.
“What are you doing?” Ellie screamed. “You might’ve killed him!”
A woman gasped from the top of the stairs. “What have you done? Murder! Murder!”
Stephen glared at Ellie. “Hold back the next one with your bow, then. We’re here to do one thing, and we’re going to finish it. Don’t you want that farm of yours?”
The man moaned at her feet. At least he’s not dead.
A plump man wrapped in a tunic, a candle clutched in his hand, pushed past the woman and ran down the stairs. Ellie recognized his round face, purple with outrage—the constable.
“Get off my property, vagrants! If you’ve killed my servant, I’ll have each of you strung up by your noses!”
Stephen leveled an arrow at his face. The constable breathed in sharply.
“Raise your hands,” Stephen said from behind his scarf. The smile in his voice made Ellie feel sick. Overhead the little girl was sobbing. The woman on the stairs pressed the sleeve of her nightgown to her mouth, stifling a scream.
“Please,” the constable said, putting his trembling hands in the air. “Please don’t hurt my family.”
All of it—the smoky torches and the girl’s cries overhead, the constable and his terrified wife, the fallen man and Stephen’s dancing eyes—swirled together in a terrible nightmare.
And it was all her fault. She’d brought Stephen into the League, she’d made the plan to come here tonight. She’d broken into a family’s home and frightened them from their beds. Margery’s eyes were wide and scared. Alice’s expression was unreadable, like she’d frozen to stone. And when Ellie looked at Ralf’s face, she was certain it mirrored what was on her own: dread and horror.
She wanted to scream. Was this what the League of Archers had become?
13
“STEPHEN,” ELLIE SAID. SHE GRABBED his arm, but he shook her off like she was little more than a gnat buzzing around the campfire. “Stephen, we’re going. Right now.”
But his eyes were far away, bright with that same wild glint that had made him send flaming arrows through Sherwood Forest. “Not until we’ve got what we came for. Constable?”
“What do you want from us?” It was the constable’s wife, gripping the banister. Her face was streaked with tears, her mouth set with hatred.
“Your wife is smarter than you, Constable,” said Stephen. “Tell her we’ll be leaving with the best of your valuables, all those fine things you have decorating your office.”
“Fine,” the constable grunted. “Eloise, fetch George and Margaret. Tell them to load up a bag.”
“A cart,” Stephen said.
The constable hesitated. “All right. A cart.”
“I’m particularly interested in that cloak you wear with the jeweled clasp. You remember the one? I’ll know if anything’s missing. And if it is”—Stephen pulled his bowstring tauter—“you’ll pay the price.”
The constable nodded miserably.
Margery moved to Ellie’s side. “What should we do?” she whispered. “Stephen isn’t going to leave, is he?”
Ellie shook her head. “Not without his spoils. We’ll have to stay and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”
Because suddenly Stephen was the only person in the room she was afraid of.
She was beginning to understand what little she knew of him. All he had told them of himself was that he hated his father and hated being sent to the Crusades. Hatred seemed to run through his veins, deep and dark. And dangerous.
The constable’s wife darted into an adjoining room. Through the walls they could hear the house coming alive. Someone must have gone to comfort the little girl, because her sobs quieted. Wheels crunched from the garden—the cart being drawn up. Servants moved around them, carrying glinting treasures outside, shooting looks of fear mingled with disgust at the League. Ellie had been an outlaw for many months now, and a poacher for years before that. But this was the first time she had felt like a true criminal.
The constable, his hands still in the air, was peering at Stephen. “I know you, don’t I?”
Behind his mask Stephen said nothing.
“I’m certain I recognize your face. Won’t you lower your scarf and introduce yourself?” The constable’s eyes narrowed. “Or are you too cowardly for that?”
“Shut up,” Stephen said sharply.
The constable pursed his lips. A nervous-looking servant shuffled up to him. “The cart is ready, sir.”
“Walk forward,” Stephen said harshly.
The constable did as he was told. Stephen followed, pressing the tip of his arrow into the man’s back. “Jacob, you cover me. Ellie and the rest of you, go ahead of us and make sure the cart’s loaded. Watch out for that cloak!”
With no choice but to do what Stephen said, Ellie led the League outside. The peace of the gardens had been broken with shivering servants, one of them holding the head of a docile chestnut horse hitched to a laden cart. It was piled with a king’s ransom of treasures, so many riches Ellie’s throat went dry. She saw the cloak with its glittering clasp laid out over the top.
“We’re ready!” she yelled, hating the quaver in her voice, hating that she was following Stephen’s instructions.
The constable came stiffly out of the house, Stephen behind. Jacob followed, holding Stephen’s sword. Stephen kept his bow trained on the constable as he made for the cart, his aim not breaking as he climbed onto the seat at the reins. The rest of the League clambered up beside him. Ellie was about to follow but changed her mind.
She turned back to the constable. Her cheeks were burning with shame.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” she told him. He stared at her like she was raving. “I mean, this isn’t what the League of Archers does—”
“I know who you are, Elinor Dray.” His face wrinkled with disgust. “You fancy yourself another Robin Hood, don’t you? I hated the man, it’s no secret. But at least he had a code. Even thieves can have honor, they say, and I’ll tell you one thing: Robin Hood never broke into anyone’s home.” His voice rose into an angry shout. “And he never terrorized anyone’s family. You’re no Robin Hood, and your gang are no Merry Men.”
His words were like a volley of arrows. Each one of them struck home.
“Enough,” growled Stephen. “Ellie, get in the cart, now!”
She climbed aboard, her legs shaking so badly she could hardly keep her balance.
She’d barely sat down, crammed next to Ralf, when Stephen set the horse to a canter. In moments they were clear of the gardens, through the gate, and thundering toward Sherwood Forest.
Ellie gripped the edge of the cart, knuckles white. They bumped through the forest, the horse tossing its head as Stephen pulled the reins this way and that. Ellie’s stomach churned. She wanted to throw up, and not from the motion of the cart.
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“Stop,” she gasped.
“Not yet,” said Stephen. “Let’s get farther in. Then we can figure out a way to get all this stuff through the trees.”
Bile rose in Ellie’s throat. “Stop the cart now.”
Ralf glanced at her and looked stricken at whatever he saw in her face. “Do as she says, Stephen!”
He yanked the reins. The cart ground to a halt, the treasures jangling. Ellie leaped down and stumbled to a beech tree, resting her head against the cool bark. She took deep breaths, gulping in the gentle forest air. After a long moment the nausea passed. She stood up straight.
“Ellie?” Ralf put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you feeling better?” Margery called from the cart.
Ellie shook her head. “I feel terrible. I’ve never felt so bad in my life! What we just did makes me sick with shame.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Stephen. He hopped into the back of the cart and grabbed an enormous silver candelabrum. “Look at what we got tonight. We’re rich!”
“And I’d rather we’d left without a single coin than acted like thugs to get it,” Ellie flashed back.
“We’re not thugs.” To Ellie’s shock, the words came from Alice, perched on the back of the cart. “The constable is the thug,” Alice went on. “And so’s the baron.” She picked up a pair of silk gloves from the pile and gazed at them as if they’d spellbound her. “We’ve been stuck under the boot heel of thugs all our lives, and now we’ve finally got a chance to fight back.” She dropped the gloves and stared Ellie in the eye. “What’s wrong with taking back what we’re owed? I’m glad about what we did tonight. It’s no more than the constable deserved.”
Ellie had never heard Alice string so many words together in her life. She looked like a fox caught in a trap, wild and unpredictable.
Ralf went over to his sister. “But, Liss . . .” She pushed away the arm he tried to put around her.
“I’m glad about tonight too,” Jacob said baldly.
“We know you are,” Ellie replied.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You agree with everything Stephen says now, don’t you?”
Jacob’s temper rose hot and fast. “You’re the one who brought him to the League, Ellie! You’re the one who wanted us to accept him. And the minute me and Stephen become friends, you get jealous and you can’t stand it!”
“I’m not jealous!” Ellie snapped.
“I think you are,” said Alice. “Just a little bit.”
Ellie gave a sharp, hard laugh of disbelief. “Are you blind? Can’t you see what the League has become since Stephen arrived?”
“It’s become an efficient force,” said Stephen coolly. “We got enough loot to eat all winter, to buy new weapons for anyone who wants them, and to start building your farm. Isn’t that what you want?”
Ellie was too angry to speak. Margery linked her arm through Ellie’s, and Ellie squeezed it gratefully.
“Ellie’s right,” Margery said. “I hate to think of the nightmares that little girl is going to have. And the constable’s wife—she’s not going to forget seeing an arrow pointed at her husband.”
Ralf threw up his hands in exasperation. “Can we just stop arguing, please? We’ve got to get back to camp before the constable organizes a search party. Let’s talk about it when we get there.”
They made the rest of the ride in silence. Stephen drove the cart until the trees became too thick, then they used their cloaks to make bundles so they could carry the treasures the rest of the way. Ralf unhitched the horse and led it by the reins. They finally reached the Greenwood Tree as the sky started its shift from gray to blue and the first birds woke up to greet the sun. People were building the morning’s fires and crawling sleepily out of their tents or down from the tree. When they saw the glittering bundles, their murmurs turned to shouts of amazement. The League heaped the treasures in a pile. As the villagers gathered to exclaim over them, Stephen stood by proudly. Ellie noted with disgust that he now wore the stolen cloak around his shoulders. It was a deep blue velvet, the clasp heavy with jewels.
“Just a few things we liberated from the constable,” Stephen explained jauntily. He held out a necklace to Ellie. “Why don’t you enjoy it for a moment? You have to admit, a little force is worth it sometimes. And it’s not like anybody really got hurt.”
Rage broke in Ellie once more, like a river bursting its banks. “You left a man lying on the ground with a cracked skull! You held an arrow on a man in his own hall! You would’ve hurt children if it meant getting your precious rubies and cloaks, I know you would’ve!”
He looked taken aback, but only for a moment. “And you wanted us to run away like rabbits!” His face contorted into a sneer. “Some leader you are!”
“I never should’ve let you join the League,” Ellie snapped. “It’s been nothing but a disaster.”
Jacob barged toward her, his face flushed under his sandy hair. “A disaster? Was it a disaster when Stephen stopped the baron’s men from finding the camp? Or when he fed us all fresh venison? Or is it a disaster that we’ve stolen enough from the constable to do whatever we want?” He looked as angry as Ellie felt. “A fat lot of good you’ve done for us lately. Where are the purses you swore to steal from Nottingham Castle? Or the crown jewels you were so sure we could get?”
Margery moved between them, her hands up like she was interrupting a sparring match. “Stop fighting! This is horrible!”
“Be quiet, Margery,” Alice said with venom. “We didn’t do anything wrong and you know it. Ellie just thinks she’s high and mighty because she’s got Robin’s bow, and because she got to live at the abbey.”
“Alice Attwood, you shut your mouth!” Ralf yelled.
“Got to live at the abbey?” Ellie repeated furiously. “I lived at the abbey because my mother was killed! The baron hanged her!”
“He killed our mother too,” Alice threw back. “Or as good as. She’d have survived the sickness if we’d had enough to eat. You’re not nearly as special as you think, Ellie!”
Ellie stared at her friend, barely recognizing her. Ralf caught her arm, like he thought she might launch herself at his little sister, but she felt too horrified to do anything. “We’re on the same side, Alice,” she whispered.
Alice’s face softened, just slightly. “Without Stephen we’d be getting by on ducks and a couple of candlesticks. He’s right. Maybe a bit of force is worth it. And maybe you’re just too soft.”
“Come off it, Alice,” said Ralf. “We were helping people long before Stephen came along. And we did it without hurting innocent people. Like Robin Hood did.”
Stephen laughed darkly. “That’s the real problem here, isn’t it? You’re all so obsessed with following Robin Hood that you can’t see what’s obvious. If you want to fight back, fight back with everything you’ve got. And if you want to take what’s yours, take it with both hands.” His eyes flashed with icy fire. “And the funny thing is, Hood wasn’t the saint you all pretend he was. I could tell you stories about him that would make you sick.”
“You think we don’t know that?” Ellie shouted. They’d learned the hard way that he was more than a legend—he had been a man, flaws and all. “He tried to be perfect, that’s what counts. And when he failed, it drove him mad. He would never in a million years have terrorized little girls!”
“Stop,” Margery cried. Tears were streaming down her face. “Stop it, all of you!”
Ellie snapped back to herself. For the first time she was aware of the crowd that surrounded them. She felt the weight of the villagers’ eyes following her, the thick silence of dozens of held breaths. She couldn’t see Marian, thank God, but Friar Tuck watched her from the back of the crowd, his face stony and his arms folded over his chest. What must he think of us? What must they all think?
“Margery’s right,” Jacob said into the silence. “We shouldn’t fight. It’s a waste of time.” He dropped his head a
nd spoke his next words to the ground. “Maybe the League should split up.”
The words hung on the air like a terrible black cloud.
Margery began to cry again. Ralf looked like he might cry too. Alice, like Jacob, was looking at the ground. Ellie put a hand to her mouth, utterly crushed.
Stephen broke the silence. He strode up to the crowd, his jeweled cloak gleaming. “I want to fight back against my father and his wickedness with everything I’ve got!” he roared. “I want to make the nobles fear us as much as we’ve feared them! I want to take what we deserve and make them pay for all the years they’ve eaten off golden plates while you, the people of England, have starved! No matter what it takes, I swear I will never stop fighting back. Now, who’s with me?”
Ellie thought that with his hands on his hips, and his head tilted back proudly, he didn’t look like an outlaw at all, but the very baron he wanted to defeat.
Jacob went to stand next to him. Then Alice, carefully avoiding Ellie’s eye.
“Liss!” Ralf cried, his voice cracking. She flinched at the sound of her brother’s voice but didn’t look back.
The villagers broke into murmurs, looking between Stephen on one side and Ellie on the other. Margery and Ralf pressed close against her, and she felt like she’d drop if they moved away.
A trickle of villagers began walking toward Stephen. First a few, then more. Jacob’s parents were followed by Catherine and the rest of the lookouts. Next went most of the unmarried village men and some of the families. Tuck watched them go, his eyes sorrowful. A woman whom Ellie had once spent an afternoon teaching to wield a sword looked at her apologetically. “I stand more of a chance of being fed with them,” she muttered, before bobbing a half curtsy and crossing the clearing. The crowd thinned until Ellie could finally see Marian, standing close beside Friar Tuck. She looked ashen. They came to stand next to Ellie.
The vast majority stood with Stephen. As well as Marian and Tuck, on Ellie’s side were Ralf, Margery, and a handful of villagers—Elspeth, whose husband had left for the Crusades not long after Ellie’s father; an elderly couple and their adult son; a knot of others. Tom Woodville was with her too, his broken arm now in a sling.