Seeing the pathway, she went several yards back into Sherwood forest and shrugged off her bag. She set down her bag on a log, letting her lungs heave in and out, making sure to keep as quiet as possible. She rummaged through her things, finding the small, blue dress that Little John had taken to her cabin the night before.
She eyed it, almost distastefully.
As quickly and quietly as possible, she discarded her boyish clothes and forced herself into the dress that seemed to be made for her.
It wasn't comfortable for her, but she couldn't care less. She looked down, holding the dress' fabric in her dirty, cut up hands. It was the comparison between her hands and the fabric that made her realize that the dress was too clean.
Quickly, she picked up a random branch and started tattering the clothing. She made one long cut to the side of her dress, placing another through the fabric on her upper arm.
Determining that two large holes and several smaller ones would look legitimate enough, she wiped all of the blood from her hands and legs on the dress, in areas that seemed appropriate or that seemed to indicate foul play.
Immediately, she reached down to the forest floor and drew up a ball of dirt in her hands, smudging and destroying her dress with it.
She threw herself on the ground as if she'd fallen, making smudge and dirt spots that looked serious.
She gave herself one more look over, taking her boots off and letting her feet drag around in the mud.
Carefully peeking at each end of the road, she propelled herself to the other side of the pathway, and turned her back to the forest, as if stumbling out of the woods.
She laid in wait for two terrifying hours before a caravan and two horsemen came trotting down the pathway. The men in the caravan were merchants, but the men on horseback were not. They were soldiers.
Calculating the perfect timing, Harlow threw herself into the pathway just to the side of the horsemen and caravan.
Their shock and surprise gave Harlow some confidence.
"Help me, please." She cried, her eyes dramatically glazing over in dismay.
A soldier immediately hopped off his horse and ran to her side, taking her arm gently and attempting to keep her upright. She leaned into the man, disgusted by her own act, but nevertheless doing what needed to be done.
“My lady, what has happened to you?” One of the horsemen asked, his arm trying to keep her stable.
She looked up from the tops of her eyelids and stared at him for a moment, her sweat-drenched hair hanging gently in her eyes.
"Outlaws," She breathed out heavily, her heart dropping at the very word. "From back west."
Chapter Twenty-one
Harlow had been sitting in the caravan for at least an hour. The horsemen had ordered the merchant to make some room for her. They'd wrapped a piece of clothing around her shoulders and told her to relax. She'd pretended to fall asleep for some time, trying to keep her breathing easy and light. If she had any chance of pulling this off, she had to act as if she had really been attacked by outlaws. She had to play the role that she gave to herself.
"What should we do with her?" One of the horsemen asked the other, assuming she was fast asleep.
"I'm not sure," the one who'd rushed to her side voiced, "We could take her to the monastery."
"They already have the maximum number of refugees staying there." The other, older horseman countered.
"I suppose the King will want to see her. He'd voiced his desire for new maid hands around the castle." The younger soldier sounded almost bored.
"Yes, but that Outlaw was recently taken in. She may not be comfortable in the castle." The older one said.
"What the King wants, the King gets," the horseman sighing heavily as he spoke. "She'd never see the Outlaw anyway. He's being put under heavy security."
The older man huffed. "I'm surprised they haven't killed him yet."
"He must be important." The younger man countered as they trotted off. The conversation died slowly, as the conversation turned from interesting to boring.
Harlow hoped it was determined that she'd go to the castle, that she'd be hired by the King. She made herself dead-like, letting the blood and sweat mingle on her skin to make her look sickly.
As the caravan exited Sherwood sometime later, Harlow breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that the easiest part was over.
It was always darkest before the dawn, and dawn certainly hadn't come yet.
*~*~*
Harlow tried hard to fight the drowsiness that fell over her. She found herself aching from the cuts and bruises of running through the forest all night. Before she realized it, she'd been asleep in the caravan next to the merchant, who'd reluctantly approved of her presence.
It had to have been hours since she'd fallen asleep. She barely felt the caravan stop moving. She heard the animal noises of the horses as they'd trotted carefully to the stables. She drifted in and out of consciousness as the horsemen returned the horses to their stables and spoke softly to the caravan driver.
It took her a minute or so to realize that her body had been lifted from it's resting place and was being carried somewhere.
She suddenly became extremely aware of everything around her. She fought the urge to open her eyes and harm the person who carried her.
Instead, she listened intently to the sound of the soldier's boots on a stone floor. She heard the sound of people speaking and snoring.
"Marlene," The person carrying Harlow called a name.
Harlow thought puzzled for a moment before recognizing the voice: the horseman. The young man who'd rushed to her side had picked her up and carried her inside.
"Oh, Parker!" An older woman exclaimed, her voice coming closer with every phoneme. "What's happened?"
"Outlaws," Parker said, total distaste in his voice. "They must have raided her cart and chased after her. It looks like she's been running all night."
"Oh, dear," The woman, Marlene said, her voice going further away.
Harlow felt her body in motion, signifying that the horseman had started moving. She felt the hardness of wood underneath her as the man, Parker, placed her gently on a table.
"Is she conscious?" Marlene asked, rummaging around in the room.
"I believe she's simply asleep." Parker told her, sighing. "I thought you should have a look at her."
Marlene found whatever she'd been looking for and took a sigh of relief. "Yes, I will have a look," she said. "but she looks absolutely fine. She looks a little bruised and cut up is all."
"Okay," Parker sighed. "I'll come back when I've met with the King to inquire what we're to do with her."
"Okay, Parker. Come back as soon as you can." Marlene said with what sounded like a smile on her face.
Harlow heard the door open and close, meaning Parker had left. She kept still, trying to keep her breathing even. Eventually, she'd decided it was enough. She fidgeted slightly, taking in a drowsy breath of air.
Slowly, she propped herself up on her aching arms. She immediately noticed the cuts on her arms and body. She was still in the dress she'd put on that morning.
She wasn't too shocked by the amount of pain she felt, but decided that it was best to over-exaggerate. She gasped at the sight of her arms and started to tremble in a feminine manner.
"Well, hello there." Marlene said, a ball of yarn sitting in her lap and a hook hanging between her fingers gently.
"Hello," Harlow said, making her voice nervous and drowsy. She made her eyes wide as she looked around the room. "Where am I?"
Marlene laughed. "Oh dear. How much do you remember?"
Harlow shook her head a little bit. "I've spent all night running from the Outlaws. They raided my fathers caravan."
Marlene nodded, "Do you know where your father is now?" She moved to the front of the table that Harlow sat on.
Harlow's eyes looked away, feigning discomfort. "He was killed trying to protect me." It was a lie, and she felt wrong about lying to the woman, but she saw no oth
er option.
"Oh," Marlene said, her eyes turning excruciatingly sympathetic toward her. "I'm sorry for your loss." Marlene let silence fall between the two as Harlow tried to act nervous and scared. She found it easy to be nervous, but fear wasn't exactly in her nature. "Do you have anyone else to go to?"
Harlow silently shook her head.
Marlene nodded and turned her attention to the yarn in her lap. "Well, I'm sure you'll like it here."
Harlow looked up, letting her eyes fall on Marlene. Marlene was older but not elderly yet. Her black hair had been covered in gray strands with some age. Marlene seemed happy although she lived in this dark, cold castle everyday all day. Her smile and laugh wrinkles were somewhat of a testament to her life.
Harlow started to let her eyes wander over the room, examining every object in the room. There wasn't much in there, so she laid back down on the table and let herself simply feel the pulsating of her limbs as they were exhausted.
She closed her eyes as she laid there, waiting for any sign of what was supposed to be happening next. Instead of talking and breaking the silence in the room, Harlow remained silent. She wondered what she was going to be doing and where she would be going. She let her mind wander, almost falling asleep in the process, before a small knock-knock was heard at the door.
“Come in!” Marlene shouted, looking up from the yarn in her lap.
Harlow sat up gently, looking at the door and waiting for it to open.
The door opened with a creak, revealing a young man, maybe only a year or two older than Harlow, his hair a dirty blond color, hanging just above his brown eyes. He was muscular and wore soldier's chain-mail, which looked anything but unattractive. He was handsome, but his expression was strained and looked unhappy.
“Hello, Marlene.” He said, looking to Marlene as he closed the door behind him. He looked to Harlow as she sat propping herself up on her elbows. “Hello.”
Harlow nodded in response. “Hello.”
“How are you?” He asked her, standing still and tense by the door.
"Fine," Harlow answered, nodding her head and offering a small smile. "I cannot thank you enough for your bravery in saving me," Harlow feigned happiness and forced herself to sit up straight.
"No need to thank me," Parker smiled back to her, bowing his head slightly. He attempted to look modest, but his pride was shadowed behind his eyes.
'He's not completely boorish.' Harlow thought.
"It is my duty to make sure civilians are safe in Sherwood." Parker smiling a small smile and finishing off the conversation.
Harlow gave a last smile before turning her eyes away. It was weird for her, to hear everyones thoughts on the place she'd come to love, along with the people she'd come to love.
'Was Sherwood really that bad?'
"Well, I think it's time we show you to your room, right, Parker?" Marlene spoke up, a smile displaying on her lips.
Parker nodded. "Yes, The King is otherwise disposed and has instructed me to allow her residence in the Castle-Hands quarters." His smile didn't go unnoticed by Harlow, although she refused to acknowledge it.
"I'm staying here?" Harlow asked, playing ignorance.
Parker turned his eyes, suppressing a scrutinizing gaze. "Aye," He tried not to smile. "King Wesley has decreed you a necessary help."
Harlow nodded, wondering how many people had been trapped living as a castle-hand.
Harlow slid off the edge of the table and planted her feet on the floor. She wobbled back and forth for a moment before she felt stable enough to walk. She brushed off her bottom and the front of her dress and looked up at Parker, who kept his eyes oddly on her.
“Ready?” He asked, as if he'd been lost in thought. His short, dirty blond hair swung attractively just above his eyes, and Harlow couldn't really ignore it. She kept her eyes tied to the door.
Harlow nodded, glancing back at Parker, offering a small smile when he'd offered one himself.
Parker opened the door and waited for her to exit before closing it behind her. His armor clinked together gently as the two walked slowly down the corridors, Parker leading Harlow by a few inches.
Large, maroon curtains sat from the high ceiling and cascaded down to the floor in a water-fall type position. Harlow raised an eyebrow at the darkness. The light that kept the hallways bright came only from torches that had been lit aflame on every wall. They hung one every four or five feet. It wasn't to bright but it was enough to see what you were doing.
The further they moved into the castle, the darker it became, the less torches lined the walls, the more despairing it seemed. Harlow felt almost mortified by the idea of being stuck behind these curtains.
“Parker,” Harlow said, grabbing his attention and making him tilt his head to look at her. “Why are there these curtains? Is no one allowed outside?”
Parker was silent for a moment. He took in a deep breath and used the authoritative voice he had to speak. “These curtains are for our protection against outlaws and thieves. As you may know, the outlaws of Sherwood are our biggest threat and these curtains are designed to make them unaware if what we are doing. You understand how cruel Robin and his men are. It's something we have to do to survive.”
Harlow let her jaw drop silently. This was all wrong. This wasn't how things really were, right? Harlow found herself doubting everything she knew for only a moment. She knew this was what the king had done, what he had built. King Wesley ruled with an iron fist and reigned through fear. It sickened Harlow to the depths of her stomach.
Parker led her around a corner and toward a room at the end of the hall. “These are the sleeping quarters. You'll be staying here.”
Harlow noted that there was no more to add. She nodded and looked to the set of double-doors. It was large and almost worn out. One hinge was broken toward the middle. She turned to the set of doors and laid her hand on the handle for a second before pushing them open. She took a look around seeing it almost abandoned.
Parker raised an eyebrow. “Everybody must be working around the castle. The ball is almost upon us.”
Harlow simply nodded again.
“You should rest now. Your bed will be marked at the very far of the room. You will start in the kitchen tomorrow morning,” Parker said, eying her. He offered a smile after a moment. “Good night, Ms. Harlow.” Parker bowed his head and turned away from her, heading back the way she'd come. She had no idea where the Kitchen was, so she'd have to ask someone in the morning.
She walked into the boring room that held only dingy beds and shabby nightstands. The gray walls smiled despicably down on her with every step she took. Flaming torches hung from the walls, letting the light penetrate, but not enough. The room shook her from the inside out and depressed her. She felt like maybe she'd lost her fight as the door shut behind her and she stood in the dimly lit room.
It was in a daze that Harlow walked to her assigned bed and collapsed on it. She was exhausted and her eyes dragged. Her mind ran with thoughts of Sherwood and Enders.
She was asleep again before her head hit the pillow.
*~*~*
There was a window. It was a large arched frame of stone that sat at the end of a hall and cut to the right in a strange dead end. At the dead end was a wooden bench that sat positioned toward the arched window.
It would have been perfect.
Harlow sat cross-legged on the bench on her third day as a kitchen servant. She had tried to fall asleep two hours ago, but found herself totally awake and unable to sleep. She'd found the small nook by accident, when she'd been trying to bring food to Marlene. Since that time yesterday, she'd determined that it was the perfect place for alone time.
She stared ahead, the only light coming from the torches that the walls at her right. It was darker than normal, she noted, looking at the maroon curtain that hung over the stone archway. She took in all the detail, noticing that this would have been the perfect spot to see the moon.
She heard someone walk
ing down the hallway, but made no attempt to move. She was tired, and of course, no one really knew this dead end was here.
The footsteps got louder, but she assumed that they would fade into the sleeping quarters. Instead, they headed straight toward her, in a tired, dazed way.
It was too late to move since they'd see her anyway. So, instead of trying to head away, she sat still in the darkness.
She turned her head when a body turned the corner and stopped in surprise for a moment, upon seeing her sitting form.
Harlow raised an eyebrow. She wasn't in much a mood to talk, but when she saw the dirty blond hair and the under armor of a soldier, she immediately felt the need to guess who it was. “Commander Parker?”
The man tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. He nodded. “It's simply Parker.” He took a few steps toward her, making a move toward the bench she sat on. She uncrossed her legs, noting that the position wasn't very lady-like in her dress, and moved over so he could have a seat.
He sat down casually next to her and looked toward the ground. After a moment, he titled his head upward and looked at her with an obvious smile on his lips. “I see you've already found the most quiet place in the castle.”
Harlow nodded, taking a glance at him. “Yes. It's better than the sleeping commons.”
Parker nodded. “Indeed it is.”
Silence fell between the two as they sat there.
Harlow noticed Parker wore a tight white shirt, the sleeves running down to his wrists and the brim tucked neatly into his armored pants. She found him attractive, but it was nothing compared to how she'd seen Enders.
After a moment of looking him over out of her peripheral vision, Harlow turned to him. “Why are you up so late?”
Parker took in a deep breath and smiled again at her. “I could ask you the same question.”
Harlow nodded as silence returned again. She turned her attention back to the curtain.
Silence reigned awkwardly for a few minutes. Unable to stand it any longer, Harlow sighed. “Where I come from, there's this lake, with this beautiful pier that stretches out over the water. I spent all my time sitting on the pier and staring up over the horizon. It was one of my many joys in life. Now, I find that even that is something I cannot have.”
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