Heir of Locksley

by N B Dixon

“Do you like my new dress? Mother says it’s the latest fashion. She thought it would bring out the colour of my eyes.”

  “Erm…” Robin was saved having to answer by Guy, who appeared at his shoulder. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

  “They’re about to serve dinner,” Guy said.

  Robin let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m starving.”

  The three children took their places across from Lord Locksley.

  “Did you get a whipping?” Guy whispered.

  Robin nodded. He wished the wooden bench wasn’t quite so hard.

  Lady Gisborne sat at Lord Locksley’s right, and some lord or other whose name Robin couldn’t remember was on his left.

  Lady Gisborne was a tall, stately woman, beautiful in a proud sort of way. She had always been kind to Robin, but he didn’t think he had ever seen her smile, unlike Sir Benedict. Robin was sorry he wasn’t here. He was the only one of his father’s friends who ever bothered to give Robin the time of day.

  He bowed to the lord on his father’s left and remembered his name. Sir Oliver d’Ambray, Lord of Mansfield. He had a son Robin’s age, but there was no sign of him anywhere in the hall.

  Sir Oliver swept his gaze over Robin the way a knight might inspect a horse he was hoping to buy. Robin bristled. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had asked to see his teeth.

  “My goodness, Geoffrey, he really is the spitting image of you. There’s no doubting he’s your son, eh?”

  “Indeed,” Lord Locksley said. “There is little of his mother in him.”

  “Just as well.” Sir Oliver accepted a goblet of wine from a passing servant and drained half the contents in a single gulp. “A good enough woman, your lady, but a more delicate little thing I never set eyes on. It wouldn’t do for a boy to take after her.”

  Robin clenched his fists under the table. Who did this man think he was to insult his mother like that? Perhaps he could spill Sir Oliver’s wine over him and make it look like an accident.

  “It’s true,” Lady Gisborne joined in. “There is nothing of Matilda in him, God rest her soul, except perhaps the eyes. Matilda had the most beautiful green eyes. They were her best feature.”

  This was too much for Robin. “My father doesn’t think I’m like him. He tells me so all the time.”

  Lord Locksley shot him a warning look, and Katrina giggled. Luckily, Sir Oliver did not appear to be listening.

  “There’s nothing so vexing to a father as a son who is a disappointment to him.”

  Robin was itching to ask about fathers who were a disappointment to their sons. He opened his mouth but Guy nudged him hard in the ribs.

  “Do you want another whipping?” he hissed.

  Sir Oliver was still in full flow, though his thoughts appeared to have moved on. “I had one of my villeins get behind with his rent last month. Tried to feed me some sob story about his child getting the spotted fever and him spending money on herbs.

  “‘That’s nothing to do with me,’ I said. ‘You live on this land, you work for it.’ I had my steward kick him out last week and good riddance, lazy vagabond.”

  “Surely it works both ways,” Robin said. “You need them as much as they need you. If you throw him out, who will work for you?”

  Robin’s father shot him a quelling look. “Do not speak about things you don’t understand.”

  Villeins, as Robin well knew, worked their lord’s land. In return for a monthly rent, they were allowed a portion of land to live on and work, but in addition to money, they must also pay their rent in edible goods such as honey and grain. Some villeins came with the land itself and could not leave until their debt had been worked off or their lord freed them.

  Robin ground his teeth. He hated it when his father treated him like a child, especially in company.

  “You can’t be too soft on them,” Sir Oliver advised. “Peasants are like dogs. Treat them tough, and they’ll respect you. Go soft, and they start taking advantage. They become lazy. Respect, that’s the key.”

  “Fear, more like,” Robin muttered to Guy.

  Guy, however, wasn’t listening. The servants were bringing in the first course. One approached bearing a platter of chicken, and Guy leaned forward in anticipation.

  Robin wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing everyone knew, the platter went flying. Diners leapt up in alarm. There were cries of dismay and horror from the women as they tried to dab spilled sauce off their gowns.

  “Guy, really,” his mother scolded. “Can’t you be more careful?”

  As Robin watched poor Guy, who was scarlet to the roots of his hair, stammering out his apologies, he couldn’t help smirking. Sir Oliver had upset his wine in the confusion and his face was dripping, as was his expensive tunic.

  If only his peasants could see him now. He didn’t look very threatening at the moment.

  After a hurried clean-up by the servants, dinner resumed. Robin was soon bored. Nothing any of his neighbours had to say was even remotely interesting. Once or twice he tried—not very hard—to stifle a yawn. Each time this happened, Lord Locksley sent him a dagger-like glare across the table. Robin suspected he would be in for a lecture on bad table manners tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He was tired, and the meal felt as if it had been dragging on for years rather than hours.

  Robin was wondering if he could accidentally cause Guy to knock something else over and escape in the confusion, when a snatch of conversation from a nearby table caught his attention and he half twisted on his bench to listen.

  “Gilbert White-hand? He killed four of the sheriff’s men.”

  “Four? Surely you exaggerate.”

  “It is the truth.”

  “But why did he kill them?”

  “Who knows? The sheriff has set a price on his head. But they won’t find him—not if he doesn’t want to be found. Rumour has it he’s gone to ground in Sherwood, and there aren’t many soldiers who’d dare look for him in there.”

  At this, several men nodded their heads in agreement. One man even crossed himself.

  Robin turned right around on his bench so he was facing them, with his back to his own eating companions—something else he would be reprimanded for, but his curiosity was aroused. “Why would men be afraid to hunt for Gilbert White-hand in Sherwood?”

  The men exchanged looks. Robin recognised one of them. He was Sir Giles Runeville, Lord of Barnsdale.

  “Don’t you know the stories about Sherwood Forest, lad?” Sir Giles asked.

  Robin shook his head. He knew Sherwood was an ancient forest. Its borders brushed those of Locksley village, but Robin had scarcely penetrated the outskirts in his wanderings. It was famous for its wild deer, which the king had claimed as his royal property and forbidden anyone to hunt unless by royal permission.

  “There’s tales of that forest would give a young whippersnapper like you nightmares,” one lord said.

  “What? Should I be afraid of a few deer?” Robin didn’t try to hide his derision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Guy and Katrina were also listening.

  “There’s more than deer in that forest,” the same lord said. “Dangers an untried boy couldn’t hope to counter.”

  “You don’t seem clear about specifics, My Lord.”

  “You are an insolent puppy,” the man retorted, while some of his friend’s hid smiles.

  “Robin is a skilled archer,” Katrina volunteered. “I am sure he could fight any outlaw.”

  Now the whole table was smiling. “Well, little lady, he’d have to be good to defeat Gilbert White-hand,” one man said, chuckling. “He’s the best archer in England, or so the stories say. I’d wager he would have an arrow through your young archer’s throat before he could draw his bow. I’d find yourself another champion if I were you. Foolhardy boys don’t live long in this world.”

  Katrina blushed and turned away.

  Robin was furious. As far as he was concerned, the man had issued a challenge
, and Robin had never been able to resist a challenge. He made up his mind there and then what he was going to do.

  ***

  “You want to do what?” Guy squeaked.

  “Keep your voice down.” Robin looked around nervously. The entertainment was in full swing. A jester had just made a bunch of flowers appear from nowhere behind Lady Gisborne’s ear to enthusiastic applause.

  Nobody was paying them any attention, but Robin wasn’t taking any chances. He beckoned Guy to lean in closer. Katrina did so as well.

  “I’m going into Sherwood Forest to find the outlaw those men were speaking of.”

  “Are you mad?” Guy struggled to keep his voice low. “I’ve heard my father talk about Gilbert White-hand. He is not a man to be trifled with.”

  “He has never yet been caught,” Katrina added. “Father says none of those who went looking for him ever returned.”

  Robin was undaunted. “That doesn’t mean I won’t. Think about it. A whole load of soldiers blundering through the forest armed to the teeth are bound to make a lot of noise. You’d hear them coming from a mile off. Plus, this Gilbert White-hand probably knows the forest inside out.”

  “You don’t,” Guy reminded him. “We were warned never to go near Sherwood.”

  “All the more reason to go, I’d say.”

  “This is because of what that lord said about Gilbert White-hand being good with a bow. You can’t stand the idea that someone’s better than you.”

  “We don’t know he’s better than me.”

  “So you’re going to risk our necks to find out?”

  “I’m not risking anyone’s neck except my own. No one said you had to come.”

  Guy stared at Robin, aghast. Robin looked back calmly. He wasn’t trying to sound brave. The thought of Sherwood at night was mysterious, but it didn’t scare him. He’d been longing for a chance to test his skill as an archer for months, but Sir Richard wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Patience,’ he always said. ‘There will be plenty of time for that when you’re older. Get as good as you can be first.’

  But Sir Richard didn’t know about the secret hours of practice Robin had put in. He was ready, he knew it. It was time to test himself, to find out what he was made of. This Gilbert White-hand sounded as if he would be a worthy opponent. As to risk, Robin reasoned, no outlaw would risk killing him, the Heir of Locksley, and bring the wrath of his father down on their heads. Still, he wouldn’t make Guy go with him.

  “You don’t have to come.”

  Guy twisted the edge of the tablecloth between his fingers. Robin could see the struggle going on in his mind as his fear warred with his sense of loyalty. He patted Guy’s arm. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

  Guy opened his mouth, probably to agree, but Katrina spoke first.

  “I’m coming with you, Robin.”

  “You are not,” Robin and Guy said together. A couple of guests looked curiously over at them.

  Robin gave them his best innocent-little-boy smile and then dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. “It will be dangerous.”

  “Why would it be more dangerous for me than for you?” she shot back.

  “Because I can defend myself.”

  Katrina pouted.

  Robin was stuck. The last thing he needed was a girl to worry about. If Katrina came, he would have to protect her, and if anything happened to her, it would be on his head. He needed to convince her to stay behind, but how to do so without hurting her feelings?

  Guy, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “Don’t be silly, Katrina.”

  Katrina stamped her foot. “Either I come, or I tell Mother right now what you’re planning. I’d like to see you sneak out then.”

  Robin scowled, but he was secretly pleased. Guy would have to come now. He could hardly refuse and be shown up as less brave than a girl. It would be good knowing there would be someone to watch his back.

  Guy was staring at his sister in horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Katrina opened her mouth, breath drawn in to shout.

  “All right!” Guy turned to Robin, defeated. “We’ll have to let her come.”

  Robin held back his grin. He was glad he didn’t have any siblings.

  “We leave at sunset tomorrow. You will both need to make up some excuse for wanting to go to bed early. It’s best our parents think we’re tucked up safe and sound. That way, they won’t come looking for us.”

  Guy and Katrina both nodded.

  Robin slid off his bench.

  “Where are you going?” Katrina asked.

  “To find someone who can tell me more about the forest. It’s best to know what we’ll be facing.”

  Guy and Katrina followed him. Nobody noticed them slip out of the hall.

  ***

  They found Martha sewing by the solar fire. She looked up, startled as they all trooped in.

  “And what can I do for you three? I thought you’d be downstairs enjoying the entertainment.”

  Robin was ready for that one. “Father dismissed me early. I think he is still angry with me.” It wasn’t too far from the truth, either. His father probably would have ordered him to bed early if he hadn’t been waylaid by one guest after another.

  “We decided to keep Robin company,” Katrina said.

  Martha’s smile was knowing, and Robin felt his cheeks grow warm. Martha teased him often about Katrina.

  “That was kind of you,” was all she said. “Sit down, the three of you, and I’ll make us a warm drink.”

  As they settled on the floor by the fire with mugs of warmed beer in their hands, Robin wondered how best to introduce the subject of Sherwood Forest. He was certain Martha would know all the stories. Her family, so she had once told him, had lived in Nottingham and the surrounding villages time out of mind. But how to bring it up without making her suspicious?

  Katrina took the matter out of his hands. As Martha settled herself once more in her chair with the tunic she was mending, Katrina asked, “What do you know about Sherwood Forest, Martha?”

  “And why would you want to know about that place?” Martha said, on the alert at once.

  Robin intervened, inwardly cursing Katrina. Could she have been any more obvious?

  “Some of Father’s guests were discussing it at dinner. Some illegal poaching has been going on there.”

  Martha nodded. “Ah, well, the king may have declared hunting in Sherwood off limits, but hungry peasants will still take the risk. It’ll mean the loss of a hand if they’re caught, or a hanging if they are repeat offenders.”

  “I was under the impression Sherwood Forest was a bad place,” Guy chimed in. “Our mother said it wasn’t safe for anyone.”

  “You’d be surprised what hunger will lead you to do,” Martha said. “You three are lucky. You don’t know what it is to starve and watch your children grow ill through lack of food. Mind you, your mother is right. Sherwood has long been considered a bad place. No locals would venture there if they didn’t have to. There are some nasty stories about that forest.”

  Robin seized his opening. “What kind of stories?”

  “Well, now.” Martha laid aside her mending and went to build up the fire. She settled before her greedy audience.

  “There’s not just animals in Sherwood. Travellers have spoken of hearing unearthly cries and laughter, but never seeing the source of the noises.”

  Guy swallowed audibly while Katrina’s eyes grew huge. Robin waited for more.

  “It’s said after dark is when the forest truly comes awake. You take your life in your hands journeying through the forest at night. Fey folk wait to lure unwary travellers off the path. They mimic the voices of their loved ones, and the poor unsuspecting traveller follows them until they are hopelessly lost, and that’s if they are lucky. If the fey are in a particularly mischievous mood, they might lead their prey into a patch of thorns or a bog. There’s many who have taken a shortcut through Sherwood, never to be seen again.”


  “How would the fey folk know what people’s loved ones sounded like?” Robin asked, braking the spell Martha’s quiet voice had been weaving.

  Martha gave him one of her conspiratorial smiles. “You know what they say about curiosity. Ask too many questions and you might not like the answers.”

  Robin grinned. He was certain Martha was teasing them, but he was reluctant to let the subject drop. “What else?”

  “Isn’t that bad enough? Let’s see. It’s said the spirits of all those lost travellers drift around the forest at night. Because their bodies were not buried on consecrated ground, their spirits cannot find peace, so they wander around looking for new, living bodies to possess.”

  Guy let out a squeak that he managed to turn into a cough. “Are there no people living in the forest?” he asked, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

  Robin shot him a warning look.

  “Outlaws have always sheltered in Sherwood. They are evil men who would tear out your heart while you still lived and roast it over a slow fire.”

  “How horrible!” Katrina cried, turning pale.

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” Robin said. “They’re only stories.”

  “That they are,” Martha said, “but there’s always a grain of truth to be found in any story if you look hard enough.”

  “We should go,” Guy said, standing up. “Mother will be wondering where we are. Come, Katrina.”

  Robin followed them back downstairs.

  “Are you still set on going?” Guy demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “Of course.” Robin grinned over at him. “You didn’t believe any of that, did you? Martha was only trying to scare us.”

  “Well, it worked,” Guy muttered.

  “You’re such a coward, Guy,” Katrina cut in. “I’m not afraid. I’m still going with Robin.”

  Guy glared at her. “I’m not a coward, and I never said I wasn’t coming.”

  “Good,” Robin said cheerfully. “Meet me here tomorrow night, as soon after sunset as you can.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 3

  Sneaking away was too easy. A part of Guy had hoped a servant would spot them and alert his parents, but no such luck.