by M. C. Frank
“What to do with him?” he wondered aloud and was gratified to hear chuckles all around him.
But today he wasn’t in the mood to banter. Facing this man, ridiculous and frightened as he looked, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the crimes he had committed, especially against his own daughter.
Turning abruptly, he flung his fist right into the man’s eye, and watched with small satisfaction as his heavy form toppled from the horse and landed with an ungraceful thud on the ground. Robin found that even thus he couldn’t bear the sight of him and turned away in disgust.
“Right him and bind his eyes,” he shouted to his men and mounted.
He didn’t look back until they arrived. Then he ordered the Sheriff tied to a tree with his eyes still bound and made to endure every game the men could think of. And think of games they did. They made him into a bull’s-eye, they made him into a boxing sack, and generally did to him every humiliating thing they could think of, which at last turned into a competition in itself.
The men sensed their master’s anger and wanted to get even a small revenge on his behalf, for the sorrow and anguish the Sheriff had caused Robin pierced their own hearts sorely.
But Robin had no time for games. He went straight to Rosa’s cabin, his lips pursed in a determined frown. She was sleeping, as she was doing most of the time. He knelt next to her and brushed his fingers through her hair, making sure that her peaceful sleep hadn’t been disturbed by the commotion outside. He wouldn’t have her know for the world of her father’s proximity, and he planned to have him removed from here before dark.
“I shall kill him for you, Rose,” he said. “Rosa, my lady. I will kill him.”
She moved in her sleep as if uneasy and moaned softly, as she stretched an injured muscle.
“Shhh.” He tried to calm her, sitting up in alarm, but in a minute she was serene as before. “I shall not let him hurt you again,” Robin vowed, his breath coming short, “I’ll not let anyone come near you ever again. I don’t deserve to come near you either, but I won’t hurt you anymore, not ever again. I swear it.”
He raised his fist to his mouth.
“I will protect you with my life,” he whispered, the words coming out with difficulty past a lump in his throat
She turned again and moaned more deeply than before while the movement lasted. Robin watched helplessly, pale and shaking as if the pain tore at his own flesh.
A soon as she was quiet again, the realization hit him.
She wouldn’t want her father slain; she wouldn’t probably even want him to suffer. She would say no man deserved it, and especially not he who had been her father.
He got up in frustration. He was sure of it suddenly, that’s how she would think: her tender, forgiving heart would recoil at any form of cruelty, no matter how deserved. And if she were awake and able, she would do all in her power to stop him from killing the Sheriff.
He didn’t want to become that, he didn’t want to become the man whom she would try to stop, to prevent from committing a crime. This was the Sheriff’s area of expertise; he wouldn’t stoop to his level.
He got out quietly and strode to the camp with a determined step.
“Stop it!” he shouted to his men, even before he was upon them. “Stop now,” he repeated for they seemed not to hear him, or hearing, not to heed him.
Finally, they ceased their games, eagerly awaiting their orders on the prisoner’s next punishment.
Robin walked to the tree and bent down till his face was on the same level with the old man’s. He ripped the cloth that blinded him with one rapid movement, and the Sheriff stared at him with blood-shot eyes.
“Just so you know,” Robin said, his face close and his every word slow, laden with intensity and danger. “Just so you know, Nottingham, I intended to kill you this day. You would be carried dead from this cove, if only for what you did to your own daughter, to your own flesh and blood.”
“Where is she?” the Sheriff sputtered, “where have you hidden her?”
“She,” Robin replied, disgusted, “is none of your business. Your own actions declared it to be so. Now go back home dishonored,” he ripped his hose open with one swift move of his knife, “humiliated,” he grazed his left temple only enough to leave a mark there, “and knowing that you owe your life to the daughter you have only a few days ago professed, by your own words, to have murdered.”
He lifted his knife aiming it right between the Sheriff’s eyes.
“For her,” he said, and brought it down, tearing at the ropes that had held him a prisoner.
Immediately the Sheriff leaped for Robin’s throat, but the men were there in an instant, holding him back, pinning him to the ground. They did look suspiciously at their chief and later one or two muttered their displeasure, for they had released their greatest enemy from right under their noses.
No further word passed Robin’s lips however, as the Sheriff was led by the men through the thick leaves, fuming, into the obscurity of the forest, his eyes bound again.
He was mounted backwards on his horse, facing its behind, and tied to it with thick ropes that allowed no room for moving. Robin’s leniency did not go as far as letting him ride back into Nottingham with dignity.
CHAPTER 7
THE TRAP
Father Tuck surveyed the scene peacefully from his favorite place, close to a small personal fire he had burning almost constantly. He didn’t speak until the Sheriff was well on his way, and then he chuckled softly to himself.
“Gone soft, have ye?” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the flames, but he knew that Robin, who was pacing and fuming nearby, had heard him.
“Forgive me, father,” Robin said, “I am in no mood for teasing.”
“Who’s teasing you?” the friar smiled. “But I certainly could use an answer to my question.”
“I haven’t gone soft, old man, as you well know.”
“Well, it would be incredibly daft to kill him, you know. But it seems to me you let him off a bit easily.” He shrugged. “I thought, what with him being your enemy and a threat to all our lives, I don’t know, I thought you’d at least…”
“I did it for her, all right?” Robin shouted back, coming to a halt before him. “I did it for her.”
“Hence the question: have you gone soft?”
Robin sighed audibly.
“Now that I think about it, should you not be chanting or praying or something? It’s been a while since you have done any of it.”
“And you’ve noticed? I’m impressed!”
“Now, what is that supposed to mean, father?” Robin was starting to get annoyed.
“I know she occupies your every waking thought,” friar Tuck answered calmly, folding his chubby arms across his middle. “I see more than you give me credit for, boy. Didn’t you wonder why I never bothered to give her the last rites?”
“What? The last -what!”
“Come on, Robin, don’t fly off at me, you know you feared from the first she would die. But I knew better. You just never bothered to ask me.”
“You knew she would live?”
“As I know other things.”
“You speak in riddles, old man. I don’t have the time nor the patience for you. Come, out with it, for I have business to attend to.”
The friar took his time. He rubbed his hands together, he stared at the fire.
“Your men love and trust you like they trust in God himself. Don’t let a woman come between you and them, Rob. Listen to me, you have to take care it doesn’t happen. The girl will be up and about soon. What will you do with her once she is well again? You can’t keep her here, it’s far too dangerous for one thing, not to mention there’s not one woman in sight.”
Robin frowned darkly. A vein throbbed visibly on his forehead, and he exhaled sharply, clenching his fists.
“But then again,” the friar went on gently, “her presence could change things around here for the better. Perhaps her being here woul
d force the men to behave a bit more civilized, as though their sisters or mothers were present, providing of course that she has the stomach for it.”
“Good father,” Robin interrupted him, “I can scarcely plan ahead for her accommodation… she isn’t even out of danger yet, her wounds have scarcely healed…”
“You are losing your touch, my friend,” Tuck said. “A leader should look ahead. Take good care chief, lest your men begin to mistrust and resent you.”
Robin couldn’t sleep when night came.
He had heeded well the friar’s words, but how could he even consider these matters when he still feared for the girl’s life? His men had not said anything about the Sheriff’s visit yet, but he knew he would have to bear the burnt of their anger once morning came.
He sat up and gazed idly at the stars. Yet the black sky, framed by the branches of the trees overhead as it was, failed to calm his troubled spirit as it had done many times in the past. Eventually he got up and went for a midnight swim. After drying himself, he decided to look in on Rosa. He reached her cabin and opened the door very carefully so as not to wake her.
The narrow mattress was empty. His heart stopped.
He couldn’t find her anywhere. He ran and ran, the warm wind stinging his eyes, he went everywhere he could think, but she wasn’t to be found. Who could have taken her? And weak as she was… he couldn’t bear to think of her wandering alone in the obscuring darkness, far from his reach, struggling in the clutches of the Sheriff’s men, or even worse… Had he been wrong to let him go, after all?
He went to the narrow stalls to get his horse, entering in haste, but he heard a small rustling sound and turned abruptly. She was there, her small white face staring at him from the shadows, her slender body trembling in the sudden wind that rushed through the door. She was shaking violently and leaned for support against a saddled chestnut mare -Matt’s favorite. Her eyes darted to his in surprise and then fear. She made as if to run, but she was shaking so much, her legs wouldn’t obey her.
He rushed to her just as she bent over and he caught her before she fell.
“What are you doing?” he began severely, but as she grimaced in pain, he was gripped by concern. “Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you, I was looking you everywhere, I was afraid…”
He supported her, his arm around her waist.
“Are you hurt?” he said, searching for her eyes, but her head was bent low. “You’re feeling unwell,” he insisted, “look at me; I beg you, tell me you are not hurt.”
Something that sounded like a sob came out of her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, starting to become frightened by now, “what is it?” he knelt before her on the hay.
Finally, she lifted her face. Her clear eyes looked into his and he saw fear in them again, terror and pain.
“My lady…” he started, alarmed, her fear of him slicing through his heart like the sharpest dagger.
“I planned to send the horse back to you once I arrived at the castle,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with him, her voice trembling slightly. “I would walk all the way back but I… I didn’t think that I could manage it.”
“Back?” he almost shouted, leaping to his feet.
“Well, I thought you would send me away sooner or later; that is, you would already have done so if it were not for the kindness of your heart… But I will not burden you any more and I… I thank you for your care.”
“Send you away?” he interrupted her. “How can you think that I would- ?” then he remembered.
Of course. She had no knowledge of his deep remorse, nor did she know of his discovering the truth. She had wanted to run away in the middle of the night. A sudden tremor shook him.
“No!” he said, his eyes burning with intensity as the realization, the enormity of what would have happened if he hadn’t found her in time, hit him. “No, you… no!”
He was shouting again now, and he tried to compose himself because he saw he was scaring her.
“My lady Rosa, listen to me,” he said more gently, his voice measured as though he was talking to a child, for she looked like a frightened bird, reading for flight.
He took care not to touch her, although his arms ached to hold her.
“Listen to me,” he repeated, “there is a lot I have to tell you, for I found out my mistake -to my complete and utter shame. And it was too late, or so I thought. I thought I had already lost you, I thought that you were-”
He stopped for a moment, overcome by the memory of that despair.
“But, thank God, He granted you to me. This is all that matters. You’re well now, aren’t you?”
He surveyed her again, carefully.
“Are you truly unharmed?” he asked, his eyes intent on hers. “What made you get out of bed when you are still… what made you want to leave us? Did you hear something that upset you? Who was it, tell me. I will break every bone in their body, I’ll…”
“I was told he was here, my father…”
“Good Lord, what kind of the stupidest oaf had the audacity to tell you that?”
“No, no, it wasn’t his fault, I heard, I asked what was going on…”
He stopped her.
“Don’t -don’t be distressed. I swear to you, your father left this place unharmed, alive and well.”
“He left…?” she appeared perplexed. “But I thought that once you had him, you would…”
“I would indeed kill him, you’re right,” he said quietly, “he’d be dead right now, if it were not for you. I would annihilate him, if only for the things he made you suffer, for the pain he caused you. For every drop of blood that fell from your frail body as I lifted you that day, almost thinking you were dead, I would shed ten of his, a hundred, a thousand…”
“You are a better man than he,” she said, her voice starting to sound a little breathless, for she was beginning to feel spent. “Far better than all of them.”
“Not better than you,” he replied, his voice sinking to a whisper, washing over her like a caress.
She met his eyes with her own, their brilliant green hue filling his vision, and his mouth went dry. Then suddenly the color seemed to leave her face and he started towards her to catch her swiftly as she seemed ready to crumble.
“Robin…” she said and the next moment she was falling.
His heart leaped at the mention of his name but then he saw the life leave her body, and he uttered a horrified oath. He lifted her in his arms as her knees gave way, and carried her back to the cabin, praying all the time that her nightly adventure hadn’t caused further damage to her fragile, wounded body.
She said my name.
That was all he could think of for a while. Like a lovelorn youth, he kept bringing her face to his mind, his heart racing, his limbs trembling.
He didn’t sleep a wink that night, walking between her cabin and the camp, anxious to see that she was sleeping soundly. Morning came and he was still hearing the sound of his name on her lips, dreaming with eyes open. But then remorse shook him again, and he knew that he couldn’t do one proper thing that day -not fight, nor hunt- if he didn’t make sure he earned her forgiveness first.
But how to do that?
He stared at the fire as the rest broke their fast, and couldn’t seem to shake himself awake, not for all the prompting and teasing of his men. Finally, Paul came for him.
“She asks for you,” he said simply.
Robin was at her side in less than a second.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his chest heaving from the run, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. “I’m here,” he repeated for want of something better to say.
She turned her head to look at him, and though she looked paler than she had last night, her face was lit by a secret radiance. He had never seen her so beautiful, and he exhaled sharply to hide the sudden emotion that overwhelmed him.
“Master,” she said.
“My lady,” he replied, bowing his head to her respe
ctfully.
She seemed dismayed at that.
“‘My lady’?” she repeated. “So you’ve changed your mind?” she turned her eyes on him anxiously, trying to rise and support herself on her right arm. “You don’t want me?”
“I don’t want you? My lady, I know I behaved in the most despicable way, but…”
He reached for her, tried to help her, but she shook his hand away. He snatched it back as if it had been burnt. Rosa turned on her other side in a swift movement, and he knew how her still-fresh wounds must pain her, but she didn’t utter a sound.
“My lady,” he murmured again, slowly, painfully.
He didn’t understand why she had turned from him; she had seemed so anxious to gain his approval the night before -she was ready to run away from him for fear he wouldn’t want her there. He stared at her emaciated back, silently willing her to face him, to give him even one glance of approval, of forgiveness. But nothing.
She had every reason after all to hate him and to order him from her bedside.
He stood.
She still didn’t move.
“I will go now,” he said awkwardly, “I won’t disturb you again, my lady. Please forgive… never mind.”
He started to go, then halted, waiting still, hoping.
“If you ever need me,” he started, his words coming out a jumbled as his thoughts, “you have but to say one word, and I’ll be at your side. Please know that I am your friend at all times, no matter how badly I have treated you. It is my ambition to defend and serve you for as long as there is breath in my body. But I vow that I will not bother you again, you won’t even have to see me if you don’t care to. Paul and John will take care of you, they will be happy to…”