“She’s getting away!” Georgia yelled. The woman took a few steps but was far too slow to do anything. She’d been built for strength, not speed.
A small dark figure scampered off into the shadows.
A heavy sigh took Robyn’s breath.
“Ellen?” Marion asked.
“Yep. She’s gone. I’d give chase but . . .” Georgia let out a sigh. “No point charging off into the woods in this darkness. She’ll go straight back to Sheffield, won’t she?”
“Yeah.” Defeat leached the strength from Robyn’s bones.
“There is an upside?” Marion said.
Robyn looked at him with confusion crinkling her brows, so he replied, “Saves us having to take her.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Robyn woke to the sound of fighting. Thwacks with sticks. Groans. Punches. Fists bashing from the inside of the carriage door.
She leapt up without thinking and biffed her head on the wheel axle. “Ow!” she rubbed her head and scooted out from under the carriage.
To find Roger of Doncaster and at least a dozen others attacking their Shire Wood camp. Three were pulling down the roundhouse and–total lack of imagination–set it on fire. A another four or five, it was hard to tell with all the movement, took on Joan in the clearing.
With nothing to grab for a weapon, Robyn set upon the one of Joan’s attacker, jumping on his back. The attacker flailed at her with his stick, crying out for help. Joan clonked him on the head, causing both of them to fall.
Only Robyn got up, the other lay there moaning on the ground. He’d be fine, if sore, in a few hours.
“Where are the others?” Robyn cried out as Joan kept up her defence against the rest of them and Robyn crouched, ready to pounce.
“Locked in the carriage.”
“Right then!” Robyn darted to the carriage where a guard stood, the door firmly wedged shut.
“You’ll have to go through me, lass,” the guard said.
“Fine then.” Robyn darted away and heard him laughing behind her. If he thought her a coward, all the better.
Avoiding Joan and her three attackers (another had fallen by the wayside with a sick grunt) Robyn grabbed the unburned end of long stick that used to be part of the round house. She headed back to the carriage. Approaching from the non-guarded side, she slipped under the carriage and wriggled forward. She could see the guard’s boots and the bottom of his pants. They didn’t quite meet, the pants being far too short, exposing a sturdy ankle and healthy crop of curly dark leg-hair.
Perfect.
Robyn held the glowing coals closer and closer to the man’s leg. Because of the pants-gap, his cuffs were a long way from the wet ground, and therefore dry. The coals only needed a slight breeze to glow a satisfying orange, and his leg hairs and pants were alight!
“Ahhhhhh!” The man screamed and leapt away from the heat, battering at his smouldering leg.
Seizing her chance, Robyn dashed out from underneath, then pulled with all her might at the carriage door, where the rest of her friends were locked inside. Marion and Will leapt out first, taking on Roger’s men. With a war cry, Georgia scrambled for fresh air, calling for Joan. Mother Eleanor and Madge sat inside.
Madge looked at Robyn with innocent eyes and pleaded, “Can we stay in here please?”
“Fair enough.” Robyn shut the door closed and joined in the fray.
In all the plans they’d made, they hadn’t planned on an ambush. But it made perfect sense that Roger would come for them. He’d want to catch them by surprise, and that’s exactly what he’d done.
The round house lay in smouldering splinters. Robyn grabbed one of the support beams that now lay on the ground and used it as a long staff to defend herself from two attackers who appeared out of nowhere. They were relentless and strong. Meanwhile Joan and Georgia were laying waste to their attackers. Any moment now they’d come and give her a little support.
Any moment.
Now would be a good time to “Ow!” her attacker got her in the leg and she hobbled backwards.
This guy wasn’t going to give up. With a brutal lurch, Robyn got him in the stomach, then she stumbled on her bad leg back to the safety of the carriage.
She pulled the door open and Mother Eleanor sat there with Robyn’s bow and arrow. “Will this help?”
“Yes it will!”
She grabbed the quiver full of arrows and slipped it over her shoulder, then with the bow over her other shoulder, she scrambled onto the top of the wagon.
“Everybody stop!”
Nobody wanted to stop.
“I said stop!” An arrow whizzed through the air, narrowly missing a man attacking Marion with a long staff.
Robyn pulled another arrow into position. “Now put down your weapons or the next one will hit true!”
Slowly, they did what she said, laying down whatever they were using and all facing Robyn. From here she could count how many there were on both sides. Her friends were still standing, which was excellent. She was sure there should be some of Roger’s men lying passed out on the ground, but there were still a dozen, no, fourteen of them.
Not counting Roger.
Roger was the one she now aimed her arrow at. The tight string dug into her fingerpads, held in place by the calluses that had grown from archery practise. Weak sunlight glinted off the sheen on his sweaty forehead.
Next she moved her sights onto other men and some women standing closest Roger. Nice of him not to discriminate in his choice of hench-staff.
“Who here is willing to die for Roger of Doncaster, the tax collector? Step forward now and meet the almighty!”
As she predicted, nobody moved forward. Nobody moved at all.
“Good!” She said, impressed with how persuasive a bow and arrow could be. She returned her sights on Roger. “Doncaster! Gather your brutes and get back to Sheffield where you belong, cowering behind Maudlin’s skirts!”
Joan, Georgia, Marion and Will all laughed.
Will gave his closest attacker a smack over the side of the head. “That’s for making Madge cry,” he said.
“Will, behave yourself!” Robyn warned. “We might be outlaws but we treat people with respect. Now say sorry!”
“What?” Will protested.
“Go on!” Robyn aimed her arrow at Will for good measure.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“Good.” Robyn resumed her aim at Roger’s torso. He wore thick padding but not armour. Would the arrow pierce it? If she struck it hard enough it would. “Go on Roger, get back to Sheffield before I really lose my temper.”
Shaking his head in defeat, Roger walked to the edge of the clearing where he’d left his horse near a tree.
“This is only a reprieve, hoodlum, you will get yours!” he said as he mounted his horse.
Robyn let the arrow loose. It pierced Roger’s hat and nailed it into a tree behind him.
Roger spurred his horse away from the clearing.
Saints! She’d meant to get him in the shoulder. She hadn’t dared aim any lower lest it hit the horse.
She turned and faced the rest of the men and women. “You’re free to join us and become outlaws in the Shire Wood, or return to Sheffield. I won’t hold a grudge against you whichever you choose.
They looked around at their options. Some of them shook hands with Robyn’s friends, muttering things like. “No harm done.”
“Rather decent.”
“All things considered.”
“Family things.”
“Best get back.”
They too headed towards the edge of the clearing and the nearby Kings Road that would take them back to Sheffield.
Exhausted from the confrontation, Robyn scrambled down and found herself in Marion’s arms.
“You were amazing!”
Everyone wanted to hug Robyn and pat her on the back. It was suffocatingly wonderful.
They’d won. For now.
“OK everyone, let’s ha
ve breakfast and get ourselves ready to take on Sheffield!” Marion said.
Buoyed by their victory, they cheered.
Robyn felt sick to her boots. Her body shook from adrenaline racing through it. They’d just taken on Roger’s band of misfits and won. Which was brilliant.
But how were they going to win against a whole city?
***
Tired from their battle, the walk to Sheffield was mercifully dull. Except for the part where they jumped at shadows and wore themselves out from constantly watching out for attacks.
Which never came.
Here, their plans became stuck. Not from the mud in the road but by Godwin at the recently repaired gate. The hunched-over man with a corkscrew for a spine insisted on asking for their papers.
Of which they had none. Did anybody have papers in these parts? Paper sounded expensive.
Godwin looked at them with a sneer and said, “Can’t let you in if you don’t have papers.”
“Seriously? Godwin, do you want a matching lump on the other side of your head?” Robyn asked.
“Easy,” Marion said.
“I don’t make the rules,” Godwin said.
Could they quickly make a plan to clonk Godwin over the head?
For a moment Godwin eyed the horse, Plus One. They’d left Shadow munching on the last of their oats a little further down the road.
“Do you have proof you own that horse?” Godwin asked.
“Do you have proof you’re allowed to stop people at the gate?” Robyn shot back.
“As a matter of fact I do.” Despite his gnarled frame, he moved quickly and tugged at the long rope, ringing out the warning bell.
Oh great!
“I’ve just thought of something,” Marion said as he grabbed the reins from Robyn to turn them around. “What if we split up?”
“Why would we split up? That’s a crazy idea.”
The enormous gates creaked open and there, standing on the other side, was Roger of Doncaster and his motley assortment of tax collectors-slash-thieves.
“Saints!” Robyn shouted.
“Everyone split up!” Marion yelled as he leapt to the ground.
Roger’s mob charged forward. Chaos broke out. Robyn ran underneath the horse and out the other side. Roger grabbed for her tunic but she slipped away.
“Hello!” Ellen said with a wave from the gates.
Fury filling her veins, Robyn ran straight for Ellen to knock her to the ground. Ellen merely locked her stance and met Robyn with equal force. The two thumped into each other with a sickening crunch, sending them staggering backwards.
Head swimming, Robyn jumped to her feet and ran. She didn’t even know what direction she ran in, she simply barrelled into Sheffield and hoped to find somewhere to hide.
Something dragged at her throat, suddenly her feet left the ground. It was Ellen, holding the neck of her tunic firmly in her fist.
“Maudlin is really keen to see you,” Ellen said.
Robyn would have said something particularly cutting, except her throat was closed over and all she could do was gasp and cough.
The rest of the gang split off, running in all directions.
Roger couldn’t get all of them, could he?
Please let them get away.
Were they getting away? Robyn twisted to get away from Ellen’s grasp. Ow! Godwin stepped in her path and clonked her in the side. For a twisted old man he sure was fast with the whacking. Just as that thought crossed her mind, Godwin smacked her on the side of the head with a long and heavy stick.
Tears sprang, it hurt so much! Robyn cried out, just as Godwin aimed another blow her way.
Everything went a bit wonky and dark.
***
When she woke, Robyn found herself locked in a small room with a narrow window. It wasn’t the dungeon, it had been a cold place made with blocks of stone. This place felt warmer, less draughty. If she weren’t being held prisoner, she might almost call it a comfortable place to retire.
Not that she was going to get comfortable.
She was going to get out.
There was a narrow window on one wall, so she angled her shoulders in alignment with the window frame and pushed herself through. Her head stuck against the timber. If she kept pushing through, she’d probably rip her ears off. Defeated, she pulled herself back into the room, earning splinters in the side of her head.
A head that was already sore and a little wonky from the bashing she earned from Godwin. She had seriously paid the price for underestimating the crooked old man.
Gingerly, she rubbed her fingers over her skin and tried to flick the tiny shards of wood out of her skin. Ow, ow, ow! She kept touching her face and pushing and prodding the skin until at last one of them came free.
It left a stinging sensation, but at least it was out.
Stuck in the room for who knew how long, Robyn squeezed the last of her splinters away and took a seat on the one chair in the room. It had a high timber back that was surprisingly comfortable. There wasn’t a bed, but there was a table, and its surface was polished to a soft shine. No chance of splinters, she’d shove it in the corner and use it to sleep on later.
One wall featured a shelf filled with books. There had to be at least twenty of them. All leather-bound. She picked one up, opened the pages and had a flick through. One after another, Robyn opened the books. None of them had pictures apart from the tangled illustration on the first page of each chapter. The design was stunning. Such a shame she couldn’t read.
Maybe, when all this was over, Marion might teach her how?
The books felt so good in her hands. They had the most deliciously earthy smell to them. So while she still had nothing to do and who knew how much time to fill before anyone came for her, she sat in the chair and flicked through the pages.
The text swam in front of her eyes, but it felt nice sitting and pretending.
Footsteps grew closer and the door suddenly flung open.
Maudlin stood there with a satisfied look on her face and a jackdaw on her shoulder. “It’s all right my dear. I’m not going to ask you any tricky questions.”
Stones churned in Robyn’s stomach. So much for all their plans. Unless getting captured was part of the plan all along?
Marion should have told her if that was the case. “We came back to trade a horse and some fish for the cow. We don’t want any trouble. We just want our cow back and we’ll leave.”
Maudlin made a sigh, “You know that’s not possible.”
“What are you going to do with me then?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Maudlin cocked her head to one side and the bird did the same. “Marion’s already told me everything I need to know.”
Marion had been captured? When? What had Marion told her? Trying–and failing–to keep the wobble out of her voice, she said, “We don’t have any secrets.”
“You misunderstand me. When I say ‘there’s no need to talk,’ I mean you should stay quiet.” Two pairs of pitch black eyes bore down on her.
That little raven on her shoulder. Never in her life had Robyn wished harm to another animal, but on this occasion she’d make an exception. The urge to rip every feather from its body while it yet lived was so strong her fingers curled.
“That’s better,” Maudlin said at Robyn’s silence. “I like it when you behave. Makes things run smoother.”
Behave? Forget it. “Where’s my mother?”
A slick smile broke Maudlin’s face. Cold nasties zipped down Robyn’s spine. “Your mother has her beloved bovine. She is utterly content and will remain in Sheffield through the winter. Strange woman that, putting a cow ahead of her own daughter’s welfare.”
The words ate like acid. “You’re just trying to upset me.”
“I don’t have to try.” Maudlin made a strange snort before she went on, “I thought my family was horrid, praying all those years for a boy that never came. But your lot? Fancy putting a beast of burden ahead of your own flesh an
d blood.”
“You’re just saying that to make me upset. You think I’ll cry and say things I’ll regret.”
“You got that right,” she said, giving another of those cold smiles. “I do want you to get upset. I get a strange kind of thrill from watching people break down. I find after they fall to bits, they’re only too happy to be reassembled. And you, my dear, are the best puzzle I’ve had for a long time. I can’t wait to take you apart and put you back together again.”
Barely a third of what she said made any sense to Robyn. They kept staring at each other for what felt like the longest time. Maybe Marion had been right with his incessant planning. Robyn should have planned for being captured. Considering how badly things were going for them, she should have considered the worst-case scenario. Cold dread grew in her belly. Being captured wasn’t the worst thing.
She didn’t want to think about the absolute worst thing right now.
“We can stay here for as long as it takes,” Maudlin said.
As long as what takes? Robyn wanted to know, but she figured she may as well take Maudlin’s earlier advice and stay quiet for a while.
“I have your friends here in Sheffield, working for me. They’d be stupid to be anywhere else at this time of year. And of course there’s Marion. I can see why you’d do anything for him.”
Robyn’s eyes widened at Marion’s name, only to see Maudlin fanning herself with her hand. “Oh yes. He’s exactly what a lady needs to keep her warm on a cold winter’s night.”
Robyn nearly threw up.
“Same time tomorrow then?” Maudlin added a cackle for good measure. “Don’t get up, I’ll see myself out. Oh, and one more thing. I’ve sent a message to the Earl of Derby. He’ll be so pleased I found the outlaws who stole his carriages and horses, although he’ll be none too happy with the condition they’re in.”
With that, she swept out.
Saints! Robyn ran for the door and pulled at it, but Maudlin must have locked it from the other side. “Oh yeah? Is that the Sheriff of Nottingham, the one you’re supposed to give all your taxes to? I bet he can’t wait to find out–”
The door swung open so fast Robyn fell onto her bottom.
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