by Sara Ansted
"I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, good sirs. May I just ask, to whom do we have the honor of conversing?"
"Sir Alfred is my name," replied the burly leader.
"Never heard of him," Evey whispered under her breath. Isaiah ignored her.
"Not the Sir Alfred? Why, sir! I have heard of you many times!"
He sat up straighter. "Really? Well, it is nice to know that some people are well informed. Now, about the toll. It is for the king. I am sure a good fellow like you will understand."
Isaiah bowed his head a little. "Yes, I do, Sir Alfred. But you see, we have something of a dilemma. I am just a poor, lowly knight. My wife and I have only recently been married. Her father lives with us as well, and we have not a coin to our names. In fact, you have found us traveling in search of better fortunes. I would gladly pay a tribute to our fine king if it were in my power. Sadly, it is not. But if you would allow us to pass, we would be very much obliged."
Sir Alfred's face changed from an attempt at agreeable, to bored and impatient. In a slow drawl, he said, "I'm afraid I can't do that. You're bound to have something, I'm sure."
"Well, I tried," he whispered to Evey. Loudly he said, "I have nothing but my name and my honor. But perhaps there is another way to settle this? Knight to knight, in the traditional way?"
"It is not a habit of mine to duel those, uh... less fortunate than myself," Sir Alfred loftily replied.
"Of course not. Beating innocent people doesn't count as dueling, does it?" Evey muttered angrily.
The king raised his hand cautiously. "Are you certain that I can't–"
"Yes!" Both of them interrupted at once, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.
"I am a knight as much as you are," Isaiah called to Sir Alfred. "Even if I have nothing material to call my own!"
"And how am I to know that?"
"I–" Isaiah started, but Evey interrupted him.
"My sword. Take my sword. He'll know it to be a knight's sword."
"I can't take your father's sword."
"Just do it. Yours got lost at the castle. If you're going to make me watch this, at least do me the favor of using a decent weapon."
"What if I lose it to him? I couldn't risk that."
Evey pulled it from the saddle sheath and handed it to him. "What happened to 'I could beat him when I was ten'? Besides, you were more than willing to risk your life, before. That's a lot more important than a sword."
"I can't..."
"Just. Take it," she insisted with such finality that he immediately grabbed the hilt.
"Well?" Sir Alfred asked impatiently.
"This sword, sir. Passed from generation to generation. Knight to knight. It is the only proof I can offer without riding for a written copy of my family tree."
He rode forward. Sir Alfred looked at the sword for a full five minutes before reluctantly agreeing to the match. The rules were decided on, and the ground marked. Twenty yards of the road were allotted, with Evey and the king on one end, and Alfred's henchmen on the other. Neither group was to interfere with the combat, and the first person to yield owed his sword, and free passage of the road, to the other.
"I don't trust those cronies of his," Evey whispered as Isaiah prepared to enter the makeshift arena.
"Neither do I. I don't think they'd do anything too stupid, but keep an arrow out, just in case."
He removed his mask and cloak, and handed them to her.
"But what if they recognize you?"
"They most likely won't. But I am sure it'll make things worse if they see me dueling with a mask on. I'm supposed to be an innocent young knight who's just defending his new wife, remember?"
"I admit, that was a pretty good story."
"Why, thank you, m'lady," he said with a bow. He took her hand and kissed it in a showy way.
Although she knew it was for Sir Alfred's benefit, she still blushed slightly.
She nodded her head in response. "But don't forget what I told you before. I'll kill you myself if you get hurt."
"I believe you." Then he stepped across the line and faced off.
Sir Alfred spent quite a lot of time telling Isaiah all about his many military exploits, as though to scare him. He didn't even move within sword reach of the younger man until he had thoroughly annoyed Evey with his arrogant taunting. She had to restrain herself from shooting him.
Seeing that Isaiah was not at all intimidated, Alfred finally became serious. They began to circle, sizing each other up. Now that she looked for it, Evey could see exactly what Isaiah had noticed before. The man's grip on his sword was just one of many things that gave away his poor training. Evey was reasonably confident that she could face him herself with some degree of success.
Sir Alfred made the first move. It was a clumsy thrust, aimed straight at Isaiah's stomach. Had Isaiah been nothing but a beginner, the sword would have gutted him instantly. He was anything but new, though, and parried the thrust so easily that Evey wasn't even sure that she had seen him move.
Again Sir Alfred attacked, and again Isaiah blocked, easily and fluidly. Then the battle began in earnest. It was very clear that Isaiah was the better swordsman. Even a child would be able to tell that. But though he did many things wrong, Sir Alfred had a few surprising moves of his own.
Twice, a sudden reversal of his weapon nearly beheaded Isaiah, causing Evey to gasp in horror. Isaiah's biggest defense was his youthful agility. The lack of armor actually turned out to be an advantage. Sir Alfred was much older, and so he tired quickly. The armor he wore only weighed him down further.
The fight only lasted about four minutes. But even when Isaiah had Alfred on the ground, with his sword at the man's throat, Evey didn't release her grip on the longbow. And she wouldn't until they were well clear of those shifty looking knights at the far end of the arena.
Rightfully beaten, Sir Alfred handed over his sword, looking as though he would rather bury the blade into Isaiah's back if he got the chance. Evey wouldn't let him get that chance. She watched him closely until Isaiah was at her side again.
"Don't keep your back to him. You saw the look on his face."
"Good point," he said, and he turned toward the defeated men. "Well, I have my own sword now. Although I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it. The thing is absurd."
He held up the sword, which was richly encrusted with gems, and plated with gold.
"Put it over your fireplace," she answered in a light tone.
"I suppose that's all it's good for. Well, shall we?"
"Gladly."
They mounted their horses and rode away, leaving the disgruntled trio behind them.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
They rode to the far side of the village, near the last residence before the forest. As Isaiah tried to decide how to explain their plan, the king spoke up.
"I really don't understand why you had to fight."
Evey groaned. "Look, no one would have recognized you as the king. Not looking like that. You're about as far from royal as they come, at the moment. They would have just laughed at you and charged you double."
The king looked down at his clothing, which consisted of a simple brown robe over worn leggings and a tunic.
"I suppose you're right," he admitted.
"At any rate, do you want us handing over money to that kind of thug?"
The king stopped halfway to some sort of protest. "Um...Well, no. It's true that they didn't seem exactly honest."
Evey tossed her head toward the road. "Guys like that are everywhere. Worse than that, actually. Two and three to a village. More to a town. And most people can't afford what they ask."
"Truly? But I've never asked for tributes," the king said.
Evey dropped her head into her palm. Just breathe slowly.
"No, and you'll never see that money either," Isaiah said as he walked toward them. "They only say 'in the name of the king' so that we can't challenge their
actions. Forgive me, your majesty, but your name's been almost taboo recently. People are afraid of it."
"No. Why would they be afraid of me?"
"We've told you," Evey muttered. "The taxes, the beatings, the 'tributes'. It's the strong preying on the weak, and everyone sees you as the face of the oppression."
"It couldn't be as bad as all that, though. I've seen the reports."
"Reports can be forged," Evey growled.
"Young lady!" the king protested. Isaiah stepped between them.
"Well, let's have you see for yourself, then."
They left the woods and hid themselves behind Alaine's house. She found it interesting that this woman was partially responsible for so much. Evey and Isaiah had both gotten their start here, and now the king himself looked through her back window. What he saw could potentially change the history of the country.
The king started to question them, but Isaiah shushed him and pointed. The widow was out doing the early morning chores, which was exactly what Evey was hoping for. While the other two stayed at the window, Evey crept inside and looked around for a place to leave the silver coins. She realized that the hens were gone, leaving two shabby, and obviously uninhabited nests.
"The chickens," she whispered, glancing in Isaiah's direction. She couldn't see him, but she knew that he had heard when he began whispering to the king.
Just as she had decided on a place for the coins, she was surprised by the sound of a tiny voice.
"Hallo," it said. It was Gwin. Evey turned around slowly, not entirely sure what to do. She had never been caught before.
"Hello," she answered back.
The girl seemed completely unafraid, and went about her few chores as she spoke.
"You're from Robin Hood, aren't you?"
"What?" Evey still didn't understand the girl's nonchalance.
"I saw you before, one time. And then we found money in our boots. I knew it was Robin Hood, cause no one else ever gave us anything. Are you Maid Marion?"
"Uh, yes. Where's your mother?" Evey began to get nervous.
"Oh, she's down by the creek with the goat. She won't be back for a few minutes, at least. Where's Robin? Is he here too?"
"I'm here," Isaiah replied.
He pulled back the threadbare curtain, and the little girl squealed with delight.
"Oh, it is you! You aren't very tall, but I don't mind. Mum says we'd never get along without you. When I was a baby and you came, you saved us being homeless. And once we hadn't eaten for three whole days, and then we found eggs and money under the chickens that day. The chickens must have liked you, cause they hadn't laid a egg for a while."
"What's your name?" Isaiah asked gently, as if he'd known the girl his whole life.
"Oh, my name's Gwin."
"Well, Gwin, we have to go. There's lots of people we have to see. But give this to your mum. Don't tell her you saw us, though."
He signaled for Evey to hand her the coins, which she did.
"Oh, I won't tell anyone," Gwin said sincerely. "I know all about the king hunting you down, and how you had to rescue Marion from the dungeons, and how he's mad at you for helping us. I won't tell him anything."
"Thank you, Gwin. Maybe we'll see you again." Isaiah winked. Evey smiled too.
"Yes, thank you, Gwin. You're a good girl. Take care of your mum for us, okay?" she said.
"Oh, I will, m'lady." She held up her right hand, like she was taking an oath.
Evey went back outside, and posted herself by the window with Isaiah. He had closed the curtain again. Gwin hummed a folk tune as she washed the few plates and pans that they had. A few minutes later they heard her mother enter the room, sounding very worn. She called for Gwin to come help her with the goat. Gwin jumped over merrily.
"Look, mum. I'm sure they're from Robin Hood," she said, obviously struggling to hide the fact that she had seen the outlaws herself.
"I'm sure they are," her mother replied in a shaky voice. After a few seconds, she broke and cried.
"What's wrong, mum?" Gwin asked.
"It's a miracle, just in time," the widow sobbed. "The goat didn't give any milk this morning. I was afraid we might have to go hungry again."
"But we won't now," Gwin said cheerfully.
"No, indeed. We certainly are very, very lucky."
The three outside the window snuck away. Evey was pleased with the way things had turned out, although she was shocked at having been seen. Gwin must be very light-footed. She turned to the king to determine his reaction.
She had expected to see something similar to Isaiah's. Shock, maybe, and a lot of sympathy. Instead, all she saw was confusion. She was disappointed, but she realized that it would be an entirely different process to convince this man, than it had been for the already sensitive and open Isaiah.
They decided to walk to the next few cottages, since they were all nearby. While they did, Evey tried to lighten the tense mood.
"You're good with children," she said to Isaiah.
He laughed. "Children are uncomplicated. It's the adults that I need help with."
"Looks like I need help with both," Evey replied.
"The expression on your face was pretty priceless. The first time you've ever been caught, and it was by an eight-year-old."
"I admit, I was completely unprepared for the situation."
They both laughed again, and continued through the trees to the next house. The king still brooded, but not in a threatening way. He seemed to be trying to digest the information, and reconcile it with what he already believed.
Evey picked out all of the people that needed the most help. Not only did she think that these would be more convincing to the king, but she hadn't been around in so long that they, more than anyone else, surely needed what little silver she could bring to them.
Even while skipping so many and giving so little, they still used up half of the silver on the first day. They saw seven different families in two villages, and camped for the night just outside a third. Evey was quite pleased with the day's work, and saw that Isaiah felt the same. The king was still unreadable, though. He hadn't spoken since meeting Gwin, and Evey was extremely curious to know how he had taken it all.
"Couldn't we stay at the Inn tonight?" he groaned. "I'm old and tired from tossing and turning on this hard ground. I'm sure to fall asleep in the saddle tomorrow."
"Are you really so selfish? Did you see NOTHING today?" Evey shouted.
The king looked utterly bewildered, and she stood up to rage more effectively.
"Don't you understand that for every coin we spend on ourselves, that's one more person who won't eat today? For every bit that we spend on your precious feather pillow, there's some child that might not last until tomorrow? How could you even think that way? You claim to love your people, and yet you sit here, after seeing so many destitute families, only thinking about yourself!"
She expected Isaiah to calm her after her outburst. That's what he was good at. But as she looked to him for some stability, she saw that he, too, was angry. Not in uncontrolled fury, as she was, but simmering in a way that seemed altogether more threatening. She had never seen him look like that before. It definitely made her slightly nervous.
With very controlled movements, he stood and walked a few paces from them, breathing in and out at a slow, rhythmic pace. After a minute, he seemed to be more in control of himself, and he walked back. His manner was more relaxed, but his eyes still shone with a fierce determination. The king had obviously noticed all of this, and he cowered a little as Isaiah approached.
"You have always been wealthy. As royalty, this is to be expected. It will be harder for you to see past the comfort that you have always had. You will never really understand what it is like to starve. You will never know what it is to walk barefoot through the snow. And because you don't know, you will never be able to treat your people as they need to be treated.
"So l
isten to those who do know. A truly wise man is not someone who knows everything. It is someone that recognizes what he does not know, and surrounds himself with those who do. I may not be the best person to tell you. David may not be either. We were privileged too. But if you will listen to anyone at all," his voice cracked with passion, "If you listen to anyone, let it be her."
He pointed to Evey.
"I've never been as bad off as Gwin and her mother," she replied.
"Not quite. But you understand things. I've never met anyone who can feel for another person like you can." He turned back to the king. "Listen to her."
Evey had never considered herself to be sympathetic or compassionate in any way. In fact, she had always felt that she was a rather abrasive sort. But she didn't argue about it. The important part was the king. Would he believe her?
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
She woke early the next morning after a restless night. Their plan had been to cover several more houses in the two nearby villages, but would it do any good? After their previous discussion, she had lost some of her faith in David's assessment of his father.
She had just started to distract herself by making some breakfast, when squeals and shouts drifted through the trees. She tensed, ready to fight at a moment's notice. A hand on her arm relaxed her. Isaiah was sitting up in his bedroll with a sleepy grin on his face. The odd way that his hair stuck up in the back made her laugh.
"It's only a couple of boys playing in the woods," he said.
Evey listened closer, and found that he was right. The sounds were not made by full grown men, and they sounded happy, rather than serious. As she continued with the breakfast fire, the boys came nearer. She could make out some of their conversation now.
One boy, who sounded like he was the youngest, complained at always being made the bad guy. His older brother told him that it had to be that way. The baby brother always had to be the bad guy. It was the law. The younger brother seemed to be out of an argument. He didn't want to break the law, of course.
In the midst of this argument, the king woke and drowsily looked around.
"What's all the racket?" he mumbled.