Orphan of Destiny

by Michael Spradlin

  My eyes nearly watered, but I nodded.

  “Good. It’s settled. Come with me, there’s something I want to show you,” he said. “But first, I also want to apologize for what happened in the barn this morning. It’s just . . . I knew you’d talk me out of it, and I was so blind with anger, I couldn’t let you. It was all I could think to do. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it, assuring him I did.

  We strolled up the steps of the porch and entered the house. Inside the door was a series of pegs made from deer antlers where Robard hung up his bow and wallet. I removed my swords and followed him into the main room where I’d slept the night before. At the far end stood a fireplace, and above it a large sword rested on two wooden pegs.

  Robard pulled the sword down and handed it to me. It was old—I could tell by the worn leather of the hilt and the marks and nicks upon the steel. But the edge was still sharp, and I felt the heft of it in my hand. It was not as large as Sir Thomas’ battle sword, but it had once been a fine weapon.

  “This sword belonged to my grandfather’s grandfather,” Robard said. “He carried it at Hastings when Harold took on Willy Bastard. It was luck and treachery that brought victory to the Norman swine that day.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. Robard took it back from me.

  “Yes it is, and it has hung here since he returned more than one hundred years ago. We Hodes have always answered the call of King and Country even when the king is a wretch, like the Lionheart.” Robard spat in the fireplace at the mention of Richard. “My family has lived on this very spot for hundreds of years. My ancestors pushed back Viking raiders and we fought willingly with the Saxon kings. But William changed everything. Still he won the fight and called himself King, and we Hodes swore our allegiance and continued to support the crown. My father used to say there wasn’t a Norman king worth half a crosslet until King Henry II. Yet we did our duty. Father said, ‘You fight for the throne, not always the man who sits on it.’ And when we couldn’t pay the taxes the crown asked of us, we made an agreement and honored it. I served and gave the Lionheart two years of my life for forgiveness of my father’s debt.”

  “I’m not sure I understand your point, Robard,” I said.

  “My point is this: I rode into Nottingham aflame, ready to strike down William Wendenal for what he’d done to my father. Like I usually do, I went straight at him full of anger and not thinking. His bailiffs clubbed me down and threw me in his jail with the rest of my countrymen and he took joy in quoting the law to me. It was taxes this and levies that and those of us in those cells were nothing but ignorant peasants who weren’t entitled to anything but what the crown grants us, if that.” He held the sword up so I could see it clearly.

  “William Wendenal will come for me in force, and I’ll beat him back, make him wish he’d never heard the name Hode. But my defeating him won’t solve a thing. While I sat there in the jail cell, I realized the law is on his side. No matter what I say or do, it’s what’s written down that matters. And I can’t fight it, because I don’t even know what I’m fighting. You have to understand your enemy before you can defeat him, and my enemy is not the Shire Reeve of Nottingham, it’s the laws he represents.”

  “I understand, Robard, but what can you do?” I asked.

  “I need to know what it is I’m fighting, Tristan. For the many years we Hodes have lived here, we’ve done right by the land and our people. We took a fair piece of each man’s harvest who worked our hides, our plots of land. In return they received our protection. In hard times and bad harvests everyone took less to get by. Justice was decided based on what was fair and true, and every man had a chance to speak his piece before his peers, no matter what he might be accused of. Before I left for war, there were more than thirty families working Hode land, and my father and his father before him never made a decision without thinking what was right for our folk. It was our way, but it’s gone. Now we sit at the mercy of some king and his Shire Reeves who do nothing but throw words at us. Words we cannot understand.” He knelt and poked at the logs in the fire, stirring the coals so the flames caught again.

  “Robard, what is it you seek? How can I help?” I asked.

  When he stood, his expression was as serious as I’ve ever seen it.

  “My father is gone, Tristan. I’m the thane now, and I’ll lose our lands for sure if I can’t learn these laws and throw their own words back at them. I’ll fight for my land and my people, and I’ll die for them if I must and not think twice, but if there’s one thing the Lionheart taught me, it is that if you’re going to fight, fight smart.”

  He put his hands on his hips and stared at the flames a few minutes.

  “I don’t ask this lightly, Tristan, and I’ll thank you not to laugh at my request,” he said.

  “Of course not, Robard,” I said.

  It took him a moment as several emotions crawled across his face. Pride, anger, frustration and embarrassment, but finally determination.

  “Tristan, I want you to teach me to read.”

  24

  The night had warmed somewhat from the colder weather earlier in the day. We sat around the large cook fire and enjoyed Mistress Hode’s supper. It was meager food, with very little meat, but she did make a hearty venison stew and had baked fresh bread in anticipation of our return. Once she was over her anger about Robard’s rash adventure, her spirits returned. While she sat by the fire eating, with Maryam at her side, Mistress Hode regaled us all with funny stories of Robard as a child.

  “When he was just a wee lad, couldn’t have been more than four, his father made him a small bow and cut the points off some arrows for him to practice with. He loved it. He marched around the fields shooting at any target he could find. One morning he decided to go out to the pasture behind the barn to hunt. Master Hode had raised a bull from a calf, he called him Henry after the king, and as far as Henry was concerned, none of us Hodes were welcome in his field. What made it worse was Robard decidin’ he wanted to hunt old Henry. He didn’t know them arrows weren’t going to stick in that tough hide and all they would do is make him angry.” She started to chuckle and Robard’s face reddened.

  “Mother, please—” he pleaded. But everyone shushed him.

  “The next thing you hear is Robin boy hollerin’ as loud as he could. ’Twas near on dinnertime his father and I stood right here in this very spot and look up to see him running as fast as his tiny legs would carry him. It had rained the night before and Robard runs straight for the corral fence with Ol’ Henry not more’n a few steps behind. He dives headfirst through the fence and lands facedown in the mud. Covered him from head to toe, it did!” She laughed and we laughed with her, and even Robard joined in.

  Before the meal, Little John, Maryam and Robard and I had discussed what to do about the Shire Reeve. We all agreed he would be coming soon, and we needed to make ready.

  “When do you think he’ll make his move?” Little John asked.

  “As soon as he can gather his bailiffs and equip them. I would feel better if I knew how many men he had available,” I said.

  After more discussion, Robard set Will and a few of the men to guard the gate for the night. It was unlikely the Shire Reeve would be here immediately. He would have to gather warrants and organize his posse. And we didn’t think he’d risk a night assault, not with every man in Sherwood carrying a longbow.

  Robard’s entreaty that I teach him to read had humbled me. His concern was genuine, and it was a hard thing for him to ask. I promised to have him reading in no time and in truth believed he would be a quick study. In fact I had already given him his first lesson, scratching out his name in the dirt of the courtyard, showing him the letters and the sounds they made. Later in the evening I spotted him clandestinely practicing beside the fire while he enjoyed the company of his people, scratching away at the dirt with an arrow while the conversation went on around him.

  When the meal was over, the talk continued, a
nd I took leave to walk around the grounds and stretch my legs. Little John followed me.

  “Something on your mind, lad?” he asked.

  “Yes. And his name is William Wendenal. He will be here shortly, and in force. Robard and I locked him in his own jail and freed all of his prisoners. He can’t let such a thing pass unanswered.”

  “For certain he will not,” Little John agreed, glancing back at the happy revelers around the fire. “It’s probably right and proper to let them enjoy their evening, but tomorrow we’d best prepare for a fight.”

  Yet another plan, I thought. When and if I ever delivered the Grail to Rosslyn, I hoped to move to a country where plans were never required.

  “John, you served in the army. What do you see here? What advantages do we have over this Shire Reeve?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “We’ve got at least twelve good men: Will and his bunch plus what hands were left here helping Mistress Hode. They all know the longbow; it’s second nature to them. It keeps a man on horseback at a distance. I can make more points on the forge and anvil in the barn, so we’re in good shape there. But if the reeve and his men get in close, if we must fight hand to hand, it won’t go as well. We’ll be outnumbered and no match for their swords and axes. Not to mention they’ll probably have crossbows as well.”

  I nodded. The crossbows didn’t bother me as much. They couldn’t be spanned on horseback, and in a pitched battle, men with longbows could fire nearly twenty times for every shot from a crossbowman. What I worried over most were Will and his “Merry Men.” Roaming the forest as bandits and preying on unsuspecting victims was one thing, but taking on trained, equipped and mounted fighters was another. For a moment I felt just as I had on the walls of Montségur, wishing I had Sir Thomas and a regimento of Templars at my side.

  Then an image came to me. I remembered yesterday as we had ridden hard through Sherwood for Robard’s home. We had stopped at the spring and Allan Aidale had climbed the tree to retrieve the cache of arrows. Robard, Will, Allan and the others were at home here in the woods. They used the forest for food and shelter and anything else they needed. There was our advantage. We couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with the Shire Reeve in a straight-up fight. But we could certainly use the forest against him.

  “What are you thinking?” Little John asked.

  “I’m thinking about a hollow tree,” I said. When I told him my plan, he smiled and clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said as he sauntered off to the barn to sleep. We would need to rise early to implement my plan, and we all needed rest.

  The next morning, the wind rose out of the west, and it had grown colder. When I stepped out of the house, the breeze bit into me. But I thought of something Brother Rupert had always said: “Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” meaning if we were going to be cold and miserable while the weather turned, so would the Shire Reeve and his men. If I had to bet, I would wager Robard and the people of Sherwood were much more able to tolerate the cold than Wendenal and his men. One more thing we might take advantage of.

  Pottage simmered over the cook fire, and Will, Robard and the rest of the men stood about, looking like they had too much to do but no idea where to start. The first order was to prepare our defenses and choose the ground on which we would fight.

  “Good morning, Tristan,” Robard said. “Fine morning to each of you,” he said to those assembled by the fire. “You know what happened to me in Nottingham. I went after Wendenal because I consider him a murderer. He can say he’s only upholding the law, but there’s no peace given to one who takes what isn’t his in the name of an unjust law. There’s going to be trouble, likely a fight or two before it’s done. So if you’ve no stomach for it, leave now. If not, stay, but only if you’re committed to standing with me.”

  Robard waited a moment, watching the eyes of everyone around him. There were new men at the fire this morning, and I was buoyed temporarily by the fact that they had answered their thane’s call. They had heard the news of Robard’s return, and his appearance had given them hope. They stood straight and strong, just like Will and Allan had. No one shirked or walked away but all stared back at him with clear eyes and pure hearts.

  “Good. Most of you have met my friends, Tristan and Maryam. I’ve traveled far with both of them, and we’ve seen our share of scraps. Us and that yellow dog there,” he said, smiling and pointing at Angel, who stood and wagged her tail at the attention.

  “During the time I fought with the Lionheart—” He stopped and spat into the fire.

  “Robin boy! Have you no manners!?” Mistress Hode said, whacking him on the arm.

  “Sorry, Mother, but just the very mention of his name raises the bile in my throat. And every day there, I only wanted to come back here. To work our land, tend the soil, hunt in our forest and live out my life the way my father did and his father and every Hode before them. Tristan and Maryam were with me every step of the way home, and there’s no finer folk anywhere. So what I’m telling each of you is this: As far as me and my mother are concerned, they’re Hodes. If they speak, it’s as if I said the words myself. My father was the thane before me, and it falls to me. I have made this so. If any of you see this as a problem, off with you now and no hard feelings.”

  Still no one moved.

  “Good. I knew I could count on you. It looks to be a long, hard winter before this is over, but I promise you there are better days ahead. If I know anything, it’s that Tristan here has an idea of how to handle William of Wendenal. So I say to you, listen to what he has to say and then let’s get to work.”

  Robard shrugged at me. And I told them my plan.

  25

  We needed two things to happen. First we needed a “rabbit” for Wendenal to chase, something that would lure him to the ground of our choosing. I sent riders out to scout and locate his force. Once they found him, I told them to make sure they were followed. Keep out of reach, but let Wendenal and his men see they were there and do whatever they could to get him to pursue them.

  I had no idea how many bailiffs he would bring. Will estimated he could probably raise fifty from Nottingham alone, more if he drafted men from neighboring shires. Not being certain, we made plans for a large force to assault the Hode manor.

  We worked with desperation to get ready. Not knowing when the Shire Reeve might show up made everyone nervous, and they threw their anxiety into their tasks. The scouts returned for fresh horses in the late afternoon and reported no sightings of men headed our way. We had made good use of the time, and by then we had most everything in place.

  The next morning was cold again, with frost on the ground. The sky was dull and cloudy.

  Robard bade everyone to attend to his weapons. Bowstrings were replaced and wallets filled with arrows. There was tension in the air as the threat of attack floated through the forest like an invisible beast.

  At midday, Wendenal took the bait. Will’s riders, a tall, rangy fellow everyone called Cutter and his companion, Clarence, a smaller version of Tuck, rode hastily into the yard. I heard the sound of Little John’s hammer striking the anvil, and Robard gave a shout for everyone to assemble.

  “He’s coming, Master Hode,” Cutter said. “He can’t be more than a league behind us.”

  “Good work. It’s time, everyone! To your places!” Robard shouted. The farm and yard became a flurry of activity as Will Scarlet and his bowmen took their wallets and melted into the trees. Little John and Brother Tuck also had roles to play, and they moved off to their spots. Robard and I had horses saddled and waiting and were about to be on our way when Maryam called out to him.

  “Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she asked.

  He took her hands in his as she stood by the fire next to Mistress Hode.

  “I would have you at my side if I were fighting the devil himself. But if this goes wrong, I need you here to protect my mother. I don’t ask it lightly,” he said.

  �
�I know. And it’s probably best I stay here. This is one of Tristan’s plans, and it’s likely to go wrong,” she said, smirking. “Don’t worry, Robard, I promise you the Shire Reeve of Nottingham will not lay a finger on your dear mother.” She put a protective arm around Mistress Hode, who beamed. She and Maryam had become nearly inseparable since we arrived.

  “You do know I can hear you, don’t you?” I asked.

  Robard laughed, gave Maryam a quick kiss on the cheek and vaulted onto his horse. Angel jumped up from where she had been sitting at Maryam’s feet, ready to follow us, but I bade her stay with Maryam. She whined at first but complied. We slapped the reins and turned our mounts down the lane. I was riding Charlemagne, and Robard stared at me in mock concern.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a faster horse?” he sneered. “You may need it.”

  “No. Charlemagne and I have history. Besides, the Shire Reeve needs to believe you are a simple farmer and I am an inexperienced squire. Having me riding a plow horse is an element of my plan,” I said, which was a complete and utter lie. Charlemagne was calm and steady, and it settled my nerves to ride him.

  “Sure it is,” Robard said. We rode quietly for a few moments. “You do realize this isn’t likely to work.”

  “True, but we’ve done ourselves proud till now, haven’t we?” I replied.

  Robard muttered under his breath, but I only caught the words barely and by the grace of God.

  As we rode down the lane to confront yet another enemy, the tall trees were majestic against the winter sky and helped cut the wind. The horses’ breath came in great billowing gasps of fog. Reaching the gate, we stopped and waited. For several minutes we stood in silence, our anticipation growing.

  “You don’t suppose he gave up, do you?” Robard asked.