by Edale Lane
"You did say tomorrow, right Alan?" Robyn asked.
"Definitely tomorrow," he insisted.
"Back into the trees boys," Tuck said and waddled to squat behind a large shrub. They watched as an ornate white carriage pulled by a pair of sleek horses rolled into view. The driver wore fine clothes, and the carriage was adorned with gold trim. "It's a church carriage," Tuck whispered. "I wonder who's in there."
"Do you really want to find out?" Robyn whispered back.
"Yes, I do," Tuck said with resolve. "Wait here and I'll signal you."
The Friar seemed to defy physical law as he nimbly made his way down to the road to pretend he was just walking to Newark Greyfriars Abbey. As he suspected, the carriage stopped, and the door opened, but no one stepped out. Inside, Tuck spotted a middle aged bishop dressed in fine silks with a ring on every finger lounging on a cushion. Across from him sat two lads about Charles Naylor's age. They were not dressed so fine, and it was apparent they had not eaten so well as the bishop.
"Good day, Your Grace," Tuck said with an exaggerated bow. He could practically smell the money and corruption oozing from inside the coach. He smiled even as he seethed within. The humility of a lowly friar was well rehearsed by now. "I trust you and your charges are well."
"Indeed, Friar. On your way to Greyfriars?"
"Yes, Your Grace," he replied. "If you could be so kind, I would greatly appreciate your blessing, bishop?"
"Albrec, Bishop of Kirkstall," he replied in cool boredom. Without even casting his eyes toward Tuck, he held out a hand. "You may kiss my ring."
Kiss his ring indeed! I want to kick his arse. Tuck reined in his emotions for the moment while he leaned through the open door to kiss the bishop's ring. He made a closer observation of the man's wide nose, up-curled lip, flabby chin, and pinprick eyes. While his hands were fair and smooth, having never wielded a tool or been put to hard labor, there was a foul odor arising from his body, as if what he had eaten did not agree with him. Tuck suspected he ate too many cakes and indulged in too much imported wine.
"Are these lads new acolytes for the church?" he asked aloud.
The Bishop snorted. "They are orphans from the hospital at Leeds. I am taking them to a London workhouse where they can become useful members of society."
It sounded straightforward, though a bit out of the ordinary. Bishops, especially those who enjoyed their high station as much as Albrec obviously did, were not in the habit of personally transporting indigent children around the countryside. Something about the story was like ripe, sickening putrefaction in Tuck's nostrils. The boys appeared terrified, not grateful to be cared for, and the Bishop was much too smug. Tuck didn't like it at all.
"God's speed to you, Bishop Albrec," Tuck wished. Then he lunged forward, grabbed the Bishop by the front of his cincture, tugged him out of the coach, and threw him to the ground.
Robyn and Alan, who had been watching from the ridge above, turned to one another. "Do you think that's the sign?" Alan asked.
"I think that's the sign," Robyn answered, and they scrambled down the hill knocking the bewildered coachman to the ground and taking hold of the team's reins.
The furious Bishop yelled at Tuck. "You heretical fool! You'll be excommunicated for this. No, you'll be hung! Excommunicated then hung, never to be buried on sanctified ground. You will never enter the gates of Heaven for this outrage!"
Tuck had to punch him in the face just one time. "Save it for someone who believes that load of horse shit," he replied. "I know who the sinner is here. I can see it written on the boys' faces, the smell of fear pouring off them and that predatory look in your eyes. You call yourself a man of God?" Tuck exclaimed and then spit on the Bishop where he lay in the dirt.
Hearing the exchange, Robyn rounded the coach and reached a hand in for the boys. "Come on, now lads; you'll be safe with us." Hesitantly first one, then the other climbed down and huddled around Robyn, their heads just reaching her shoulders. She whispered into the first boy's ear. "Did he hurt you, do bad things to you?"
He looked away from Robyn, remaining silent, but the second boy nodded, tears spilling out of his eyes.
"All is well now," she assured them, hugging them to her side, her brown eyes hardening.
"His rings," she called to Tuck, "and that fine cross. And I'm sure he has a bag of gold somewhere."
Tuck nodded and began to tug at the bishops rings.
"You, you are no man of the cloth, but a common thief!" Albrec retorted with a sneer.
"Aye, bishop, I am a man of the cloth. And unlike you, who steal the very life from poor, innocent boys, I only take excess wealth from those who can well afford to do without it."
"No one is innocent," he sneered as Tuck snatched the jeweled cross from his chest.
"Least of all you," Tuck retorted with fervent contempt ringing in his voice.
They tied the bishop's hands behind him and hoisted him back into his carriage seat about the time his driver regained consciousness. "You know I will report this to the Sheriff at Nottingham," Albrec declared.
"Indeed," Robyn said. "It isn't like we aren't wanted men. Be sure to tell him this was the work of Robin Hood and his gang, will you? I'm sure he'll treat you to good wine and a meal for that detail."
"I shall tell him you kidnapped the boys," he continued in staunch defiance.
"Rescued, you mean," Tuck snarled. "Men like you, who put a stain on my church, who would punish others for your own sins, I just can't…"
Robyn touched a hand to Tuck's shoulder. She could feel the anger in him about to explode and feared he may do something he would regret. "Come now," she said softly. "God is his judge. You have two young souls to heal."
Tuck nodded and shot the Bishop one last glare before turning his back on the molester. After taking a few steps away Tuck shouted over his shoulder, "You hear that, bishop? God, who sees all and knows all; He is your judge!" And while the bishop's driver fumbled with his bindings, the three outlaws and the two liberated orphans disappeared into a thicket.
*~*~*
Nottingham Castle, the next evening
A guard knocked at the door while the Sheriff and Sir Guy entertained an irate bishop in Nottingham Hall. Another guard opened it, exchanged several words, then walked up to the lords' table to deliver a message.
"My Lord Sheriff, a Henry Fulkerson, merchant of York, would like to come in to report a robbery today on the road through Sherwood."
Godfrey dropped his cutlery which clanged against his pewter plate as he stared wide-eyed at the guard.
"You see," Bishop Albrec said. "These bandits are a menace, one that you must deal with Sheriff, or soon no one will travel through your town. Word will get out and you will be a laughingstock."
Godfrey was grateful that Prince John had left the previous day so that he did not have to endure this humiliation in his royal presence. I will have this dealt with before John returns again, he assured himself. He fumed at the bishop's words, dropped so carelessly between the bites of venison he devoured. Does the fool not think we have tried? One could more easily catch the wind! He gritted his teeth and replied with a snarl. "Show the merchant into the hall forthwith."
Sir Guy gave a stern, disapproving look at the Bishop who continued to eat and drink oblivious to his offense. "I have complete confidence in Sheriff Gifford, Your Grace, as should you. You would also do well to not insult your host while you dine at his table."
"Oh, Sir Guy, no insult was intended," he replied and patted his mouth with a cloth.
Henry the merchant entered and bowed low before the Sheriff. "Lord Sheriff, they surrounded my wagon, and they took everything," he said, still looking a bit shaky from the experience. "It was my first robbery, you see? Well, not everything I suppose, as I still have the clothes on my back. And, well, they took the cart and gelding and all the money I made selling my wares in York."
"Hmm," Giffard mused as he sat back and stroked his black beard. "They took your wagon
."
"Yes, my lord. Is that of import?"
"I don't know. What do you think, Guy? What would Hood want with a wagon?"
"I suppose he could haul around a greater amount of loot in a wagon than by just carrying it," Gisborne suggested.
"What is he planning to do with it all? And where is he hiding it?" As Godfrey began to shift his gaze toward Gisborne, he spotted a serving girl making too hasty of an exit from the hall. "Stop her!" he shouted pointing at the young maid.
The brunette servant stopped and turned, shaking even as she tried to stay calm. "Me, milord? What did I do?"
"What did you do?" he asked. "Come here girl, I won't bite." A guard escorted her to their table where she stood contritely, gaze to the floor, and curtsied. "Why in such a hurry to leave?"
"I, I," she stammered. "I wanted to make sure there was enough wine on the table for all our guests, milord."
"No, no," he said following a hunch. "You made no move to leave until I began to ask questions about Robin Hood, questions that mayhap you know the answers to."
"Me?" Shock and dismay seized her. "I am nobody; why should I know anythin'?"
"Because, my dear, you ran."
"My lord, why, I did no such thin'!" She began to shake and her voice trailed higher and higher.
Sir Guy used a soft, fatherly tone to put her at ease. "Child, no one is accusing you of wrong doing, but this Robin Hood has assaulted and robbed a Holy Bishop, kidnapped two innocent young boys and has now stolen this honest merchant's entire means of operating a business. He is a dangerous criminal and any rumor you may have heard in town or in the kitchens could be vital to our arresting him and saving those poor children from certain corruption. The Sheriff knows you have done nothing wrong; he merely wants you to tell us what you may have heard."
"Well." She bit her lower lip, then huffed out a breath. "It is doubtless untrue – you know how rumors go–but what people are sayin'…"
"Yes?" prodded the Sheriff.
"The word is out that he is givin' food and coins to the poor, milord."
Godfrey leaned back in his chair with an incredulous sigh and exchanged a glance with Gisborne.
"I haven't a clue what he'd want with a wagon, unless he has so much food and money to distribute that he needs somethin' like that to haul it all around, I suppose," the serving girl continued. "I haven't seen anythin' of the sort; it's just what folks is sayin', that's all."
"Thank you," Sir Guy said with a smile. "Now, see, that wasn't so bad, and no reason for you to run from your lord. I'm sure Hood has started this rumor himself so that he can pretend to be some kind of folk hero, when really he is nothing more than a petty thief. You have done well."
She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Lord Gisborne. I want to help."
"Well, don't just stand there; go fetch that extra wine," commanded the Sheriff.
"Steal all that money just to give it away?" repeated Henry. "That is witless!"
Mad like a fox, thought the Sheriff. Who is this Hood and what is this insanity all about? But he nodded in agreement with the merchant. "Witless indeed, and likely not true. A false trail he is laying to gain the support of local serfs is all." But he exchanged a knowing look with Gisborne.
"Do not worry, Fulkerson," Sir Guy said with confidence. "We will see to this brigand and his gang forthwith. Will you join us at table?"
He nodded. "That is most gracious of you, Sir. I would be honored."
Another plate was set and food trays passed to the new arrival. Nottingham wanted Robin more than ever, but if these rumors were true… a plan began to form in the dark recesses of his cunning mind. If he was distributing his spoils to the needy, then he could be caught outside of the forest in a place of Godfrey's own choosing. He leaned his mouth to Sir Guy's ear. "Find out for certs if this rumor is true. I want to know what peasants, what villages are receiving aide if it is so. Understood?"
Gisborne nodded in agreement. "I will send my best spies; we'll know soon enough."
If you love the commoners, Hood, that is your weakness and will be your downfall. A carefully laid trap is all it will take to rid me of this thorn in my side.
Chapter Eight
Sherwood Forest, September 1193
Robyn and Will Scarlet took shelter under Grandma Oak as a soft rain blanketed the camp. In the past few weeks the villagers who had taken refuge there had put themselves to work transforming mere blankets strung between trees into rough-hewn structures with sod roofs that may indeed survive the coming winter. Nearby, a corral had been erected for the horses and Roger tended to them daily without ever having been told. Gilbert oversaw the creation of a secret hideaway dug into the side of a hill whose entrance required pulling a lever disguised as a root. The cavern was large enough to store the wagon and stockpiles of food and loot. When summer had begun, Robyn could have never imagined how events and relationships would unfold. And the best part was, they were actually helping people. Having been given a purpose greater than securing their next meal, the outlaw band had changed as well, exhibiting a certain hope and pride that she had not recognized in them when first they met.
Her knowledge that the Sheriff was still looking for them, and was likely brewing a scheme of his own, was ever on her mind as she sat staring up into the nurturing branches of the mighty tree, watching droplets slide down the leaves and plop off into small puddles. He tried once to nab us on our way to Nettleworth, therefore, he somehow discovered we were coming. I want our next drop off to be back at Loxley. Isaac says Nottingham has taxed them so severely they haven't food stocks for the winter. But to sneak into the devil's own backyard… Her resolve had not wavered, but the plan must be foolproof.
"You are old and wise," Robyn said to Grandma Oak. "What do you think about it?"
Will laughed. "It's a tree, Robyn. It can't think–much less hear or answer you."
"Oh, but she can still tell me things," Robyn asserted with a sly grin. "She didn't grow so large or live so long without having a secret, and I intend to find out what it is." She jumped up and began to examine the great oak more closely than ever before. Christina said everyone looks, but she sees. I need to quit looking and start seeing. She ran her fingers along the rough trunk as she circled the ancient hardwood, examining every bump and wrinkle, line and scar. Then she looked up. "Will, give me a boost."
He shook his head giving her a discerning look. "You aren't going daft, now are ye?" Still, he cupped his hands for her foot.
"No, not just yet. But she wants to tell me something." Robyn stepped off Will's shoulder onto a massive limb and began a slow, careful climb, analyzing its parts and its whole. Will stood beneath keeping watch. Then she shouted from somewhere high in the branches, "I've got it! I know the secret of this marvelous tree!"
"Good," Will replied, squinting up, shielding his eyes against the raindrops. "Now come down and take care about it."
A few minutes later Robyn dropped down beside him, landing in a crouch. She stood up tall, a broad grin across her smooth face. "Will, it's amazing! So simple and yet, so brilliant! Why did I not see it before?"
"What?" he asked in bewilderment?
Robyn grabbed his slender shoulder enthusiastically. "It's not just one tree! There are at least two, maybe three. Hundreds of years ago they sprouted up so close to each other that over time, as they grew, their trunks became intertwined into what appears to be one tree."
Confusion still marked his expression. "So?"
Robyn's face beamed with inspiration as she tried to help him understand. "One of us alone can only do so much, make so much of a mark. But two or three together are stronger, don't you see? Robin Hood will succeed, not because he is one man, but because he is all of us together!"
"We are all Robin Hood?"
"That's right!" she exclaimed. Instantly her thoughts turned to Marian. She was never far from her heart, but Robyn recognized what lay at the core of her discovery–she was better, stronger, smarter, and more courageo
us with Marian than on her own. To accomplish what she set out to do that morning in Marian's chamber would require the two of them together.
"Well," Will shrugged. "More numbers, more strength; makes sense I suppose."
Robyn patted his upper arm and pulled up her hood. "I have to leave and won't return until the morrow. We still have time before our scheduled drop off at Loxley and I'll bet the Sheriff will try something." Will shook his head as she trotted off.
"John!" Robyn called as she jogged up to his hut. He peeked a furry face out from behind a hung blanket. "I'm going to visit a friend. Don't let anyone do anything or go anywhere while I'm away."
John nodded. "How about to the privy? Can we go there?" he asked followed by a snicker.
"Only if you post a guard," she tossed back lightly. She snatched up her bow and quiver, slipped them over her shoulder, and headed for the corral. Having acquired horses made travel much faster. Robyn had adopted the deputy's black charger and taken to calling her Crusader. Together they sped out of camp in the direction of Marian's manor.
*~*~*
Marian's family was hosting Sir Guy and his daughter for dinner, and a servant was just clearing the table after the meal.
"Fay, would you care to see my embroidery room?" Lady FitzWalter asked the shy redhead.
"I would love to," the petite young maiden with a snowy face spotted with freckles and a long auburn braid replied amiably.
As the two rose to leave, Lady FitzWalter called to her oldest son, "Richard, can you please make sure that your little brother and sister mind Anne, and finish your lessons before you go to bed."
He made an impatient smirk and rolled his eyes with a groan. "Yes, Mother," he uttered in aggravation. Marian knew what their mother was about and shot her an icy glare of disapproval.