Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1)

by M. C. Frank

  “What is it, lad?” Julian asked him.

  “The chief is here, in the forest,” he gasped. “I heard his horn, summoning us to him. Julian, I think you should come along, as should Matt and Much.”

  “I’ll come as well,” Rosa announced in a tone that would brook no argument.

  When they reached Robin, however, the look on his face as soon as he saw her nearly broke her heart. There was so much yearning and anguish in his midnight eyes, that she gasped aloud, her entire soul going out to him. He, however, averted his eyes immediately, setting his shoulders high and stiff, as he led the small band of his men and Rosa further inside the forest, on foot.

  “Ready with your bows,” was all he said to them, his voice low and careful.

  He had been called away on the morning after his wedding, before his bride had awoken from her deep, exhausted slumber, by two of his men who came from their watching posts near the Nottingham gates to announce that the new Sheriff had retreated in his castle to wait on some important guests.

  It turned out he had invited Prince John himself, the impostor brother to the king of England, to join in on the celebration of his wedding, so sure was he of his victory.

  Robin, Little John and Will had camped around the castle, hiding in the gardens and in the secret passages, waiting out for the Sheriff and the Prince’s plan to unfold and reach their ears. Just as Robin’s patience was wearing thin, his eagerness to return to his bride almost hurting him with physical pain, they overheard them talking about it.

  And now, here they found themselves, in the middle of his beloved Sherwood, walking straight into the lion’s den, his best men as well as his beloved, sweet wife, following him into almost certain death. He would, for once, follow his enemy’s lead, he was decided. John and Will had not been able to convince him to the contrary, no matter their half-hearted attempts. He would willingly fall into their plans. He would walk to his ruin.

  It had come to this.

  And may God have mercy on his soul.

  Rosa’s first glimpse of Prince John was not a favorable one. He was resplendent enough, his retinue glorious behind him, his stature imposing and proud atop his horse, but his eyes held a calculating, hard look, and his lips were curling around a self-satisfied smirk that turned her stomach.

  She stood just behind Robin Hood, as did the rest of the men, tall and proud, not bowing to the prince, although that was what custom dictated. An idea was beginning to form in her mind, an idea as to what this was about, and her breath caught in her throat.

  No, was all she could think.

  No.

  And yet, a small thrill of excitement ran down her spine, as though she was sharing the feeling with Robin Hood, her chief, her husband, her friend.

  “You will not approach my men,” Robin Hood told the prince calmly as he made to alight from his horse.

  “You try to order me around like one of your pathetic men,” the prince smirked. “England has need of you, and at these critical times, I dare not take offense at your arrogant, foolish, peasant manners, Hood. I, as well as your Sheriff, humble ourselves before you this day, and seek your assistance for the sake of this our beloved country.”

  He bowed his head, and around them all was silent, the trees themselves seeming to hold their breath.

  “You are a traitor to my beloved country,” Robin cried, “you as well as the Sheriff of Nottingham, along with your corrupt clergy and the dirtied bevy of counselors that you surround yourselves with. You have no care for the rightful kind, having usurped his place with neither regret nor guilt, and milking the good, honest people of England to fill your coffers and your stomachs. All you seek is to kill your brother, the brave Lionheart, and me along with him.”

  The forest rang with his brave accusations, and the prince’s men trembled within their boots, waiting for the inevitable eruption of their master’s anger. It did not come, however. His cheeks flushed purple with rage and his horse whinnied, chafing at the rough handling of the reins, but the prince bit his tongue along with the words that came to him in the face of the outlaw’s insolence.

  “I can end you where you stand,” he said quietly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to contain his rage.

  “Yet I think you won’t,” Robin laughed easily. “You don’t seek to give the people a greater hero than the one they already adore, nor another reason to despise you. You are already known for your cowardice, injustice and cruelty. No need to add my murder to your crimes.”

  Not one of the people who heard him speak thus could guess how his heart was quelling at the mere thought of Rosa coming to harm. He cursed himself and his men a thousand times for not keeping her away. And yet he knew, errant as he was already in his husbandly duties, the she was here neither for missing him nor for any stubborn, womanly whim. She was here to support him. To fight at his side, if need be; to show him she believed in him, to be there with the best of his men, backing his every move, that he would not have to win this battle alone.

  This was no time for regrets, no time for thinking of the past, and of simple, everyday blessings other men took for granted. He had known, a long time ago, that he might never experience the joy of lying with a wife, but arriving so close to it, almost tasting that pleasure on his lips, and yet not quite grasping it, was pure torture.

  It might be a mercy should he let the cowardly prince run him through with his sword right now. Still, he had to stand his ground. This was his own, personal choice, what he believed to be his calling, and he must see it to the end.

  “The ransom you have, as is rumored, amassed for the sake of King Richard,” the prince went on, “does it exist?”

  “I see no reason to answer you,” Robin replied, as he had agreed with his men the previous night, upon overhearing this same plan from the lips of Prince John and Sir Hugh, whispered behind closed doors.

  “Well,” Prince John said, “the King has need of it. Now. He is, as you know, imprisoned in the Holy Lands these fourteen years, and only last month did we receive word of a final ultimatum. He is to be executed in the fall.”

  “Surely his brother would rush to his aid,” Robin Hood told him, staring him in the eye.

  The prince and he faced each other down, the forest floor hard and cold between them, dead leaves stirring in the wind all around them.

  “There is not one man in England with the resources or the will to complete the task,” the prince stated, looking down on the outlaw. “Except you. If you succeed, your crimes and the crimes of your men may be erased. If you do not, well.” He stopped and smiled maliciously. “You will have had your just reward.”

  “I need to see the missive concerning my king,” Robin said, and the prince, lifting one eyebrow to indicate his surprise that the outlaw could read, nodded to one of his men to fetch it.

  Robin quickly perused its contents, although he already knew that the prince’s claim was true.

  “I will go,” he said simply, as though there had ever been any question.

  He and his men waited, standing, immobile, as the prince and his retinue took their leave majestically, leaving them unharmed.

  Then, quickly, Robin turned and took his new bride’s hand in his, almost crushing the delicate bones beneath his death-grip. He did not lift his eyes to look into hers. He simply held on, as a drowning man would to an anchor, his entire body shaking, his eyes shut tightly.

  “I’ll go,” he repeated in a whisper, to himself. “For my king.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, the readers of this story on FanFiction. Your support and enthusiasm is what inspired me to finish it, and then to start the (painful) process of editing and altering it until it would be fit for publication. You guys are my dream come true. I owe you so much!

  Many thanks also to my husband who believed in this book more than I ever did, and kept (keeps) telling me how extremely proud he is of me and of everything I do -pun intended.
I don’t deserve you.

  To my brother, who shares the love of all things Robin Hood (the romance not so much) and encourages me daily to keep writing: thanks, dude. Love you too.

  And, last but not least, to my First Reader, my dad, who is now in Heaven: it all began with you. I live daily with the hope of seeing you soon, and then we’ll make up new stories. Together.

  M.C. FRANK has been living in a world of stories ever since she can remember herself. She started writing them down when she could no longer stand the characters in her head screaming at her to give them life.

  She has had two other books published in another language to great critical acclaim, both titles in the young adult genre. She has also had numerous articles published, including a regular short-story column in a bimonthly magazine.

  She likes to write romances, and then place them in brutal post-apocalyptic universes flooded with water or medieval forests plagued by greedy Sheriffs, but she also loves writing adventures and hopes to be able to explore the crafting of contemporary fiction next.

  Recently she got her university degree in physics and is now free to pursue her love of reading and writing, as well as her free-lance job of editor-in-chief. She currently lives with her husband in a home filled with candles, laptops and notebooks, where she rearranges her overflowing bookshelves every time she feels stressed -which is often, since she is currently editing her next novel, her NaNoWriMo (winning!) project of 2014.

  Please visit her at her blog: bookshelfstories.blogspot.com