by M. C. Frank
Then a thought crossed his mind.
The girl. Rose. He wasn’t sure exactly what he thought right then, how she was connected in his mind with winning or losing; whether he considered what he would do if it was she who was the prisoner just freed from the Sheriff’s claws; or maybe he didn’t want to endanger his chances of seeing her again. He only knew that her face appeared in his mind, sweet and smiling, and he suddenly knew without any doubt what he would do.
He let the feathered arrow fly with terrible precision and it sliced the wood of the target just half an inch wide of his opponent’s arrow. The crowd murmured in disappointment as the man beside him stood dumbfounded at his unbelievable luck.
Robin disappeared in the crowd, unnoticed, as everyone’s attention was now turned to the other archer.
…
“Will you tell me what happened, damn it?” Robin asked, swearing under his breath. They were so impossibly annoying. He looked sideways at the three men, walking swiftly in the shadows, Will supported easily between the other two.
He knew their laughter tried to disguise their relief at having their friend alive and safe in their midst once more, but enough was enough.
In spite of his repeated questions and pleas, however, Little John and Matt didn’t stop guffawing even for a minute. That’s how it had gone, from the minute they were safely concealed among the thick trees of Sherwood Forest. They were laughing at him and teasing him for failing to win the tournament. Robin was beginning to think that he would have to give them their share of blows, since they had apparently received none in Nottingham by the Sheriff’s men.
“It was the strangest thing,” Will said finally, his breath coming a bit labored. The other two sobered abruptly.
He looked haggard and pale, more like he would have looked after having spent a month in prison than a mere night. But Robin knew the Sheriff reserved ‘special’ treatment for his men. He tortured them inhumanly, not only because he hoped one of them might crack, but also because he needed to vent his anger and hatred. Little John turned and looked him in the eye. Will would relate everything to them soon enough, but neither Robin nor John were eager to know the monstrosities Scarlet had faced in the dungeon.
Little John cleared his throat and, abandoning his merry banter, continued what Will had started saying.
“They were asleep,” he said, not even now fully believing their good luck. “We snuck in there, secret-like, our fists raised for them, and all we could hear was snoring.”
Robin faltered in his step.
“How is that possible?” he asked, frowning with the incredulity of it all.
“There was a barrel of ale,” Matt took up the story, “although it was barely half-empty.”
“I think it had been tampered with,” John said.
“Well, it would have been impossible for a dozen guards to have become drunk to the point of oblivion on half a barrel of ale. So my guess too is that there was something in that stuff,” Matt supplied.
“But who…?” Robin started to ask.
Matt shrugged.
“That remains to be seen,” Little John said. “Who and why.”
“It appears we have an unexpected ally,” Robin said thoughtfully.
“I don’t know, chief, for a minute there it seemed too good to be true,” Matt said.
“Yea, we kept looking behind our backs, so sure were we it was another trap.” John was silent for a minute, then he went on. “You see, the drunken guards were not all.”
Robin raised his eyebrows in question.
“As we were making our way out of there,” Little John continued, “a guard snuck behind me, apparently the only one conscious enough to have heard the noise. He bid his time and would have struck me unnoticed by Matt, for we believed ourselves to have escaped them at last. Will saw him, but the man was depending upon the fact that he’d be unarmed. Only … he wasn’t.”
“You had given him his sword,” Robin said.
“No, I hadn’t yet,” John sighed at the near catastrophe due to his oversight. “I was stupid enough to think that we were safe from the unconscious guards and it nearly cost me my life.” Robin didn’t say anything because he was too interested in the story, but he would berate his friend later on his thoughtlessness. “As if by magic, Will produced a small dagger in his hand and saved us all,” Little John concluded.
“Robin, I tell you, I am almost thinking it was magic. Or a miracle by the Blessed Virgin,” Will said, holding out the slender weapon to Robin, who took it to examine it. “I didn’t even know that it was there in my hand until I had need of it.”
Robin weighed it in his palm.
“This is no poor man’s gift,” he said. “Look at the craftsmanship! And the handle is made of silver.” He contemplated it against the light of the midday sun for a while and then said, “Come, Will, let’s get you fed and rested and see if you can refresh your memory.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to you. You see, after they finished pulling me about I fell in the deepest sleep,” Will said sadly. “A sleep from which I thought I would not wake,” he added, a whimsical expression on his face.
Robin smiled at him encouragingly and reached out a hand to squeeze his friend’s shoulder, trying to conceal his disappointment. But it was just as well that they had no way of knowing who their secret ally was. He suspected he would feel a much greater disappointment if it turned out it wasn’t her. Now, that was a crazy idea. How could Rose possibly have access to the prisons, much as she would have wanted to help?
Robin shook his head trying to dispel all thoughts of the girl. If he went on at this rate, he would begin to lose his concentration.
This morning he was searching every face for hers and now he was imagining her being their miraculous benefactor. This had to stop. For one thing, too much depended upon his brains, it wasn’t safe to waste time daydreaming. And for another, sweet as the girl was, she would probably slap him in the face for thinking about her all day.
She may have kissed me, he told himself with a shiver of happiness, but what girl would want an outlaw as a suitor?
At the idea of himself as a suitor, a loud laugh escaped him, but much as his companions would ask him to share the joke with them, he kept his peace.
Rosa didn’t get much sleep that night, which was not entirely due to the commotion her father’s anger was causing. Of course, it would have been almost impossible to quiet down even for a minute amidst all the shouting and banging that rang through the place. But there were other reasons that kept her eyes wide open all throughout the night. For she was thinking of her Robin.
She was so proud of having been able to help the outlaws once more, that not even the fact that they were never likely to know of it diminished her joy.
Indeed, it was better that way, she thought, for she wouldn’t have to face their embarrassing gratitude. Of course that was supposing they ever had reason to suspect her of having access to the prisons, which they had no way of doing. This morning she had believed all was lost. But now, hope was rising in her heart fast and unstoppable. Her mind told her that it would be dangerous to take off into the forest tomorrow, but her heart knew that given half the chance, she would take it.
She was oblivious to the sounds of the castle all around her, lost in dreams of seeing Robin’s beloved face again and listening in delight to the narration of Will’s escape, when the door to her room was thrust loudly open and her father appeared on the dimly lit threshold, still fully dressed.
“Where is he?” he thundered and she quickly drew up the covers. “Never mind that!” he shouted, even more angrily, striding to her bed and bringing his face mere inches to hers.
“Where is who?” she asked, puzzled, and a little afraid. She had never seen him so wild, so out of control.
“Hugh! I can find him nowhere.”
“How should I know?” she retorted, annoyed at being reminded of her intended.
She was surprised
by a stinging pain across her cheek. Her father had slapped her. Reeling from the shock and pain, she stared into his eyes, which were boring into hers, hatred and determination shining ugly in them.
“Don’t you dare talk back to me, you hussy! And mind, I intend to get to the bottom of this. Believe me, if I find you had any hand in today’s sorry events, nothing will stop me from inflicting upon you the punishment reserved for the worst of criminals!” he grabbed her by the throat and for a minute she really believed he would choke her, but he merely squeezed tight until it hurt unbearably.
“Now,” he went on, a mysterious gleam in his eyes, as if hurting her gave him a sense of satisfaction, “do you still insist you know nothing of Hugh’s whereabouts?”
“Yes, sir, I insist. I only know we had an argument of sorts sometime before noon.”
“Damn you! I only hope for your sake that you didn’t make him leave, with your foolish notions and your wanton wiles.” He let go of her and strode determinedly to the door. She gasped and coughed, trying to breathe. But before he exited her room, he turned to her.
“I trust there is no reason for me to stress to you that you will marry him? Surely you never imagined to refuse him?” he smiled at her, as she was lying there, struggling to draw breath, and went on sweetly, “No, of course not. Even you have brains enough for that. Even you have some sense of self-preservation.”
With that, she was left alone in the darkness again, her thoughts all tangled and her cheek and neck slowly turning to an ugly purple hue where his brutal touch still lingered painfully.
It turned out that Sir Hugh was indeed nowhere to be found the next day, and although Rosa could scarcely credit it, she had to accept that the goodbye he had bid her after their fight had been final on his part. She anticipated more shouts and threats from the Sheriff, but was surprised to find a suspicious silence reigning all over the castle. She was even more surprised to find out that the reason for this calm was that her father had been closeted in his rooms since sunup apparently, with none other than the lady Eloise Cecil, the blond gentlewoman with the steely gaze, who had been after Hugh at the banquet not many days since.
They emerged after many hours and the Sheriff sought his daughter immediately, ordering in no uncertain terms that she was to visit his cousin who resided in the neighboring county, not many miles to the north.
Now this was rather sudden and quite unheard of -to set off on such a visit unplanned and unprepared, but she didn’t want to provoke her father further and, no matter how strange and unnatural she found his request, she realized he must want her out of the way to get on with his schemes unhindered.
So she went upstairs to get dressed with half a heart.
She put on one of her more expensive garments and tried to conceal the ugly marks on her neck and below her left eye with powder, but they were too fresh and prominent for that. Helena bustled about her, having sensed the urgency of the Sheriff’s orders and not wanting to cause his displeasure, especially since he was apparently waiting in the courtyard to escort his daughter to the carriage himself, as if he wanted to make sure that she would board it.
It was barely ten o’ clock in the morning when Rosa was ushered into the golden and light-blue upholstering of the crest-bearing carriage, with no maid to accompany and chaperone her, which she also found strange.
She was too wary of her father’s unyielding expression to remark on it, though. She hurried to get inside and away from him, barely noticing as she went in that the groom that was sitting at the front was a rather obscure personage in the service of the castle and not her usual groom, whom she knew quite well.
Anyway, she settled in and gave a sigh of relief as soon as she saw the gates of the castle falling into the background. Thus she sat for a few minutes and pressed a cool finger to the tender spot beneath her eye, wincing in pain as she did so.
They had not even left the village behind them, however, when she was suddenly thrown to the other side of her seat by a very sudden and inexpert movement of the carriage. She struggled to gain her balance while the vehicle seemed to dance about on the road in a strange circle around itself. When things had quieted down a bit and the horses seemed to have gained their pace anew, she opened the window to speak to the driver. What she saw puzzled her even more. They had turned around and were galloping at quite a pace in the exact opposite direction. Soon enough, it became apparent that they were heading towards Sherwood Forest.
Rosa tried to shout her questions to the groom, but he seemed not to hear her. She gave up and sat as far back on the cushions as she could, praying with all her might that they would pass unnoticed by the band of outlaws. She could hardly think why the driver, obviously obeying her father’s orders, had taken this course or where she was being taken, but one thing she knew for sure: the green-clad robbers were not likely to pass on the opportunity of stopping an opulent carriage, bearing the crest of the Sheriff. Was this then where her charade would end?
Once more she remembered the good Friar’s words and tried to call on the Almighty, but she checked herself as soon as she remembered that she was the liar here, she was the deceiver, and she had no right to ask for divine assistance.
The trees thickened all around them and the horses dropped their pace, as if provoking someone to discover them.
And then it happened.
“Halt good friend and let us greet your master!” a deep, beloved voice boomed merely a few paces ahead.
His voice sounded so cheerful to Rosa’s ears, so confident as it tilted with slight irony at the end of the phrase. It was so familiar that it made her heart ache. The horses stumbled to a stop and she closed her eyes, her stomach sick with dread. This is what fear tastes like, she thought abstractedly, realizing in the back of her mind that she had never truly felt it until this minute. The door next to her was flung open and she opened her eyes to meet the shocked face of Matt.
He froze, his hand stilled in mid-air as he stared at her, his boyish expression of puzzlement slowly turning into fear. Rosa opened her lips, but she really didn’t know what to say.
“What’s keeping you, Matt?” she heard Robin’s voice asking pleasantly. “Don’t tell me our good Sheriff has stowed a ghost back there?”
Matt’s hand fell from the door, and without a word he backed away form the carriage. Rosa knew that the time had come. She got up and jumped to the ground. As soon as she gained her balance, her eyes met Robin’s. He was standing there, tall, his green hood lowered over his brow, his longbow raised in readiness to the groom’s head. But as he saw her, a change came over him. A hand flew to uncover his face and as his hood fell from it, Rosa caught her breath at the intensity in his back eyes. It seemed to her he had never looked so handsome, so strong. And so much like a stranger.
He seemed to study her face, her clothes, to try to take it all in. Then, with a look of utter helplessness, he lowered his weapon.
“It seems we have made a mistake,” Robin said as soon as he found his voice and the sound of it was strange even to his own ears, as if it was coming from far away, or from another man altogether.
Once more he looked her over. For a minute all he could think was how enchanting she looked in red. How the color of her velvet bodice made her lips look richer and more enticing than ever before. How her eyes shone with excitement. Or was it tears? There was no reason for that; surely she knew he would never dream of harming her.
How strongly her long lashes contrasted against her white skin! She was too pale, was it because she cared? No, that was not possible. Then his heart stopped, for he noticed the marks on her cheek. Instinctively, he reached out a hand to touch the painful bruise, to caress, to soothe, to heal.
“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, all other thoughts momentarily flying form his mind. And her throat too! Who had dared to touch her velvet skin, to mar it with this ugly blue?
His hands clenched his sword in anger, his eyes searching frantically the inside of the carriage for her
assailant. But she was oblivious to her injury, it seemed. She just stood there, looking at him, her expression full of surprise and pain and something else, something he could not identify. He drew himself together.
“Forgive us, my lady,” he said, stooping low, bowing to her as though he was one with the ridiculous crowd of castle folk he had seen yesterday at the festival. He tried, in vain, to steady his voice. “It seems we have made a most unfortunate mistake. We will leave you to continue your journey in peace.”
He signaled to Matt, whose jaw had dropped far below what was normal, that they were to make their escape.
Suddenly he grew wary and searched the bushes around him with one suspicious glance. It was more than possible that she was closely followed by the Sheriff’s guards. Anger erupted within him, but even as it did, he knew he had only himself to blame. The girl had forced her way into his forest, into his camp and into his heart. But it was his fault that he had trusted her. Long ago he had vowed to himself never to trust anyone ever again. And it had felt so good being able to trust someone after all this time. But now he would pay for it.
He would only fight so that not everyone else would pay also. And pay they would, if he didn’t do something quick; pay with their lives. He turned to go, but was detained by a slender hand on his arm.
He whirled around to face her and almost took her in his arms, so sad did she look, so vulnerable. But he checked himself in time, reminding himself that it was all part of her act. Her hand was still on his arm, trembling like an autumn leaf and he realized that her whole body shook too.
“Please listen to me, master,” she said, he voice wavering pitifully.