Robyn and the Hoodettes

by Ebony McKenna

  “You’re dressed? Good,” Maudlin said as she entered the bathing room again. “It’s time.”

  ***

  Robyn followed Maudlin to the banqueting hall. The long table was not here; nor were the high-backed chairs. Instead, someone had set a roaring fire in the hearth and placed a small table and two stools near it. An earthenware bowl filled with flatbreads took up most of the space.

  “Sit,” Maudlin said as she took one stool and pushed the other out with her foot. “Break bread with me and let us be friends.”

  Friends?

  Another servant appeared. She filled two drinking tankards.

  With water.

  “Are you trying to poison me?” Robyn asked. “Not sure why you’re bothering, Derby’s going to hang me anyway.”

  “No my dear, I’m illustrating a point. What we have here is water, although not from a river.” Maudlin accepted her full tankard, locked eyes with Robyn, saluted her with the mug and then drank it.

  Every last drop.

  For acts of craziness, drinking fresh water took things to a whole new level.

  Robyn’s face creased. “What’s in it?”

  “Nothing. That’s what’s so special about it.” Maudlin smiled. “It’s pure, clean water from a spring, not far from here. It has not touched streams or reeds. Neither fish nor frogs have spawned in it. It is pure, clean water. One can drink it straight from the ground without having to brew it as ale or cider first. Marvellous, isn’t it?”

  “If you say so.”

  “Only dirty water leads to bad humours, which in turn leads to illness and death. I plan on living for a long time yet, and this water is perfectly clean. Drink up, there’s a good girl.”

  Eyeing the drink with suspicion, Robyn gave it a sniff. It smelled of flowers and . . . no, wait, that was her clean tunic. The water had no aroma at all, merely a faint metallic trace from the tankard.

  “Taste it.”

  “Is this what you did to Ellen?”

  Maudlin smiled and shook her head. “I did not need to. Ellen and I are linked souls. She’s the daughter I never had.”

  “Will she inherit Sheffield when you die? Is that what you promised her?”

  Maudlin opened her mouth to answer, then shut it and shook her head a little. “Drink the water.”

  Taking a breath and a “here goes nothing” attitude, she lifted the tankard to her lips and slurped some in. It tasted of . . . nothing. No remnants of anything, nothing brackish or . . . her tongue lied. There was something in here, a slight chalkish aftertaste, but it was hard to identify because she’d never tasted anything so clean before.

  Liquid fresh air.

  “At least I’ll die happy,” she said.

  Maudlin took a piece of bread, tore it and offered half to Robyn. She accepted, not from being polite, but because she never turned down food.

  “All water is the same,” Maudlin said. “It fills bogs and streams and can turn your guts with the first sip. But place it under pressure, run it over stones, stir it up–” She raised her tankard in another salute, “–and it is made pure. The same method applies for people. They become sullied and diseased if left to stagnate. Place them under pressure, stir them up, in a manner of speaking, and they too can be made pure.”

  So that’s what all this was about. Robyn shook her head and made a half-laugh out of a sigh. “Am I made pure now?”

  “Not yet. You may have to spend a night on the stones down in the dungeon to be sure.”

  Robyn cast her mind to the last time been in the dungeon. It was cold, wet and hard. A night on the floor of Maudlin’s timber room would be luxury in comparison.

  “It’s up to you,” Maudlin continued. “Are you ready to work for me, with a pure heart and mind, or do you need another night to think about it?”

  That’s how it’s done, Robyn thought, surprised at how easily she’d capitulated. Surprised at how much she wanted to work for Maudlin.

  If only to avoid those dungeons and keep eating good food, wearing good clothes and drinking pure water.

  Although . . . did Georgia or Marion have the key? Would the rest of the gang even know she was in there? If she called out through the bars they’d come and get her. Wouldn’t they?

  “You’re thinking about your friends. Your well-meaning but misguided friends. They’re all working for me now, of course.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes,” Maudlin looked pleased with herself, “Although, to your credit, you’ve taken the longest to come around.”

  A squawk sounded from afar. The raven flew in through an open window and landed on Maudlin’s outstretched arm. “Rook, my darling, how lovely to see you again. This is Robbie, she’s on our side now.”

  Like a talisman of evil, seeing the raven’s shining eyes and sharp beak reminded Robyn of all the reasons why working for Maudlin would be so very wrong. “May I ask, Lady Maudlin, how are you to save me from the Earl of Derby?”

  Maudlin’s cackling laugh frightened the bird. When she composed herself, she looked Robyn directly in the eye and said, “I’m not going to tell you everything. I’m not that crazy.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Five days later, Robyn still hadn’t seen any of her friends. In a huge castle like Sheffield’s, it was entirely possible they really were working for Maudlin, yet their paths had not crossed.

  Or they’d been put in the dungeons?

  If only she and Marion had planned for this eventuality, of not seeing each other for days on end.

  Perhaps they already had the cow and were hiding out in the Shire Wood? That could work. Then all she had to do was escape and join them.

  Adding to Robyn’s woes, Ellen was here with her now, guarding her night and day. Not even the privies offered privacy, Ellen followed her in there too.

  “It’s all right Ellen, I can relieve myself,” she said one afternoon while heading to the outhouses.

  “I’d be failing in my duty if I turned my back on you. And I need to go myself, to be honest.” One step behind as they walked in.

  Noxious places, latrines. Most people were in and out as fast as was practical, but Ellen treated this like any other excursion. On she yapped the entire time. “It’s best to keep talking when you’re in here,” she said to Robyn, “means you keep breathing though your mouth instead of your nose. Have you noticed how much it stinks in here?”

  Robyn pulled her tunic up over her nose. The floral remnants in the fabric only made the place smell like someone had taken a dump in a rose bush.

  The cold wind swirled around her naked skin as she tried to be done with her call of nature and leave.

  “You think it stinks now, in summer it’s even worse!” Ellen said.

  Did that mean Robyn would still be here in two seasons? Not if she could help it. They would survive winter in the Shire Wood, with the cow and the carriage and they’d make it. Somehow.

  Although they’d need to make a new base camp because Everyone knew where their hideout was by this point.

  Maybe back in the tower at Littleton? The walls were solid, even if the insides were a little crispy.

  Finished with the privy, Robyn sorted herself and walked out. Ellen kept talking the whole time. Probably Maudlin’s way of torturing her even more.

  As they climbed the stairs to go back inside the castle, Robyn looked out across the bailey. No sign of new arrivals.

  “You’re looking out for the Earl of Derby, aren’t you?” Ellen asked.

  “Of course I am.” How could she not? He was the one who wanted to hang her in the morning. But of course, Maudlin had never said which morning. She’d only threatened her with imminent death and had left it at that.

  “He’s not here yet,” Ellen said. “I won’t lie to you, that’s got to be a good thing. Maybe Maudlin’s sent a message to him to stay home?” Ellen linked her arm through Robyn’s. “I’m glad of that. I will miss you so much when you’re dead.”

  “Thanks.”


  “Come on, Maudlin’s waiting”.

  Dread weighed her down. She cast a quick look behind, to see if any of Maudlin’s staff were building anything noose-friendly.

  At first she saw nothing, which made her light in the head with relief. Then her stomach dipped. Roger and his men were hammering pieces of wood together. Saints! Roger probably couldn’t wait to see her hang for all the trouble she’d put him through.

  Ellen placed a firm hand in the middle of Robyn’s back and said, “Let’s not dilly dally.”

  Must be on my best behaviour before she wrings my neck.

  “Sit down my dear,” Maudlin said as they walked in to her private chambers. It was warm and inviting in here, in exactly the way a gallows wasn’t. A fire in the hearth crackled away, sending out warmth and the wonderful smells of roasting pine cones.

  Robyn did as she was told and sat, although Maudlin remained on her side of the room. That blasted jackdaw sat on her shoulder again. Like a second head, it was.

  Another tray of fresh bread and warm cider came in, via a non-speaking peasant. At least there was an upside to this; plenty of food and drink. The bird flew towards her with a scroll in its claws. The paper dropped onto the table and threatened to roll off. Robyn caught it with one hand. The other held a chunk of bread and she wasn’t letting go of that.

  “What’s this?”

  “Our contract,” Maudlin said.

  “Sorry?”

  Ellen interrupted, “Open it, have a look.”

  “That’s enough, Ellen dear. Roger needs you in the bailey . . . for a construction project.”

  Ellen threw herself on Robyn and hugged the breath from her. “I’ll miss you so much.” Then she fled.

  A heavy wax seal prevented the parchment from opening easily. Probably for the best if she were entrusting it to the talons of a little crow. Such a pretty seal too, in deep burgundy wax.

  “Is this your coat of arms, wheat growing on a mountain?”

  Maudlin made a soft chuckle. “You’re like Ellen, ‘whose stamp is this seal?’ she said. Yes, it’s mine. And it’s not a mountain, it’s a chevron. It represents a woman at the head of the family. Do you like it?”

  “Very pretty,” Robyn frowned as she wedged her thumb under the wax, which splintered into shards.

  “As you know, Marion and I have been having some interesting conversations,” Maudlin said.

  The sound of his name seeped cold fear through Robyn’s bones. “What has he told you?”

  “Everything,” Maudlin said with a shrug. The jackdaw, flew back to her master and rested on her shoulder. She fed it lumps of . . . something that moved a little.

  Maudlin kept her tone light during the conversation, as if they were having a friendly chat, but Robyn’s suspicions were high. This was yet another interrogation.

  “I know why you resorted to becoming an outlaw. It wasn’t the right thing to do, of course, but it was understandable. Your resilience is commendable, although you’ll not survive winter with no shelter. Oh, don’t look so sad, of course we took the carriage back.

  “That Marion. He is resourceful, clever, strong. Yes.” Maudlin coughed into her closed hand. “Strong lad. He gets that from being a blacksmith no doubt. Naturally, I have use for a man with skills like that, and he . . . well, it turns out that even a peasant values his life in this world before meeting his maker in the next.”

  “Wh-what’s he doing?” Trying to steady her shaking hands, Robyn opened the scroll onto the table, positioning her tankard to hold it flat.

  “He’s re-building the tower keep you burned down.”

  “We never burned anything,” Robyn bit back anything further as she turned to see far too much merriment in Maudlin’s eyes. But seriously, the woman was going to add arson to her list of crimes? That was going too far. “Roger set fire to the tower in Littleton, and the rest of Loxley. I have no idea who set fire to the tower here in Sheffield, but Marion and I were already on the ground when we saw smoke. It wasn’t us.”

  “Ah, but you see, I have far too many witnesses who say it was. And I also have Marion’s confession.”

  Red mist covered Robyn’s eyes. It couldn’t be true. It made no sense!

  “Like I said, Marion has told me everything. He’s smart and he values his neck. If you value yours, you’ll sign your confession. Then you’ll keep your neck attached to your shoulders until The Lord sees fit to call you.”

  The scroll was her confession? As Robyn untraveled it, she pretended to read. There were so many little markings all over it, in neat, narrow lines. A whole great block of writing with no empty spaces where her eyes could take a break.

  It went on forever as she kept unrolling it into her lap. Then she nudged her chair further back and kept on unravelling. The thing could have landed on the floor if she let it go. There were sections where Maudlin had joined two pieces of parchment together with bees’ wax to add a further extension to the litany of crimes. Not that Robyn could read any of it, but if this were her confession, she’d committed enough for seven outlaws.

  At last she unfurled the final section, where she saw a series of lines, one of which had a different kind of writing on it.

  The raven landed on the table, a quill in her hand. Dare she reach for it?

  Maudlin spoke. “Every misdemeanour and treasonous act is on your confession. All of which, as you can clearly see, is corroborated by Marion’s signature. You add yours, then I shall add mine.”

  That was Marion’s name there? The two M’s, like the symbol she’d seen stamped on the helmet he’d made. The helmet he’d wanted to take on the Crusades.

  “We have plenty of time, please read through the confession to show you understand the gravity of the offences you’ve committed.”

  “Read through it? But I–” Robyn pulled herself up in the nick of time. She couldn’t possibly read the confession to know whether there was a grain of truth in it or not. If Marion had truly told Maudlin everything about her, then Maudlin would know by now that she couldn’t read.

  A ray of hope shone through, like the first sunshine after the darkest winter. Maudlin didn’t know Robyn couldn’t read.

  Which meant Marion couldn’t have told her everything.

  Had Marion told her anything at all?

  Had she been bluffing the whole time?

  Emboldened, Robyn pressed her point. She rolled the parchment back into a scroll and stood up.

  “You have not signed it.”

  Robyn couldn’t read writing, but she was pretty good with faces. There was a tightness in Maudlin’s expression that hadn’t been there a moment ago. A tiny shift in power to Robyn’s favour.

  Pushing home her advantage, Robyn said, “You’ve been telling me Marion has told you everything about me?”

  If anything, Maudlin’s face squeezed tighter, as if she were holding things in. “Of course.”

  “Absolutely everything?”

  “Everything! I’m warning you, if you don’t sign that before the Earl of Derby gets here, you’ll hang.”

  “The Earl of Derby isn’t here.” The balance of power tilted her way. “I don’t think he’s coming at all. I think you’ve been lying to me, not just today, but the whole time.”

  As if carved from stone, Maudlin’s face gave nothing away. Which, considering how soft and kind she’d been in the previous days, told Robyn plenty.

  “If Marion truly told you everything . . .” Robyn found herself enjoying this as she stepped closer to the fire burning warmly in the hearth. “He would have told you that I can’t read.”

  That marble face of Maudlin’s cracked. Not much, but enough to give the game away.

  Warming to the topic, Robyn made her confession. “I always wanted to read. I thought it would be a good thing to know. So I used to pretend I could. But the problem with pretending is that I became so good at it, people thought I could read, so the few men and women in the village who could also read, never bothered to teach me bec
ause they thought I was there already. If I’d been honest from the start,” her shoulders slumped at the memory, “They would have taught me. Properly.”

  “Or they were pretending as well,” Maudlin said.

  “Oh! Hadn’t thought of that! Either way, Marion can read, and I can’t. And if you’d been telling the truth, instead of pretending, you would have known that. You might have found a way to get me to work for you. Or to confess to whatever’s in this . . . confessional.” With that, she tossed the scroll into the fire.

  Maudlin cursed. It was a word Robyn hadn’t heard before, but it sounded filthy. The woman grabbed for the scroll but the bees’ wax fuelled the burn,

  Teasing the woman a little, Robyn said, “Marion is a wonderful person. If you’d listened to him, you know he’s very fond of making plans and thinking things through. You should have had a proper plan yourself, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Maudlin tilted her head. The bird did the same thing. “Then you are no further use to me.” She straightened her head, as did the bird. “Guards!”

  From behind a tapestry–honestly, Robyn should check them out more, they made amazing hiding places–two guards appeared, each grabbing one of Robyn’s arms and holding her captive.

  Maudlin’s eyes glistened with hatred. “Prepare the gallows!”

  Icy horror zipped through Robyn. She hadn’t planned for this to happen.

  “Your beloved Marion is right. Always have a backup plan,” Maudlin said with a steely glare.

  ***

  Hands bound behind her back, Robyn stumbled as the hangman lead her up the steps to the gallows. Nerves–and her hands not being where they should be–tipped her off balance, making her stumbled against the step.

  Judging by the curves under the thick tunic, the hangman was probably a woman. Thanks to the Crusades, so many women were doing the jobs men used to do. The woman wore a hood over her face with a slit in the fabric to see through, to keep her identity secret. She was so tall too, almost as tall as–wait a minute!

  Before Robyn could get another look at the woman’s eyes, the hangwoman nudged her in the back. Robyn staggered forward until she stood underneath that noose. Roger must have known she’d be the one swinging, because he and whoever else was helping him had built the gallows super fast. And he was standing nearby with his group of henchmen and women, watching on with a smile on his face.