by N B Dixon
“He’s got nerve,” someone said. “You have to give him that.”
“Do we have your friends’ word?” Gilbert White-hand asked.
“Oh yes,” Guy said at once. “We won’t tell a soul.”
“Not a soul,” Katrina echoed. “We promise.”
Gilbert White-hand turned back to Robin. “And if I win? What then?”
Robin took a deep breath. “Then you can do whatever you like with us.”
Guy and Katrina stared at him aghast.
“Done.”
The outlaws led them to a clearing right in the heart of Sherwood. One of the men threw some extra kindling on the remnants of a fire and coaxed it back to life. Robin was grateful for the warmth as well as the light.
Gilbert White-hand removed his jerkin, and Robin saw that his arm from elbow to hand was marred with a pattern of white scars. Robin recognised them as marks from a branding iron, a punishment meted out to those breaking the harsh forest laws. He now knew how the outlaw had earned his name.
Robin busied himself making sure his bow was properly strung and counting the arrows in his quiver. At least the night was dry with no wind to speak of. That was something. For the first time in his life, Robin’s hands trembled as he handled his bow. He sent up a silent prayer to God, hoping he was listening.
Please, let me shoot true. Don’t let my friends die because of me. And then as an afterthought, don’t let Gilbert White-hand break his promise.
His instincts told him the outlaw was a man of his word, but his instincts hadn’t been that reliable so far.
Guy hurried to Robin’s side. “What if you lose?” he hissed. “They’ll kill us all.”
“I won’t lose,” Robin whispered back.
Gilbert White-hand indicated a fallen trunk, which had long since been stripped of branches. Carved into the trunk was a crude circle. Gouge marks showed that this was often used for target practice.
“Are you ready, boy?”
Robin drew in several deep, calming breaths. Guy and Katrina’s lives were in his hands. He had to win. He nodded once, and he and his opponent took up their positions.
An expectant hush had descended over the watching outlaws. Even Katrina had stopped crying.
Ralph, the scar-faced man, had taken on the role of judge.
“Archers step back sixty paces.”
Gilbert White-hand did so, Robin matching him step for step.
The outlaw leader shot first, his arrow striking the centre of the circle to applause from his men.
Robin shot next. His arrow also landed right on target and it was Guy and Katrina’s turn to clap. Robin tried not to think about how lost and vulnerable they looked standing in the midst of the outlaws. He thought he heard murmurs of admiration among some of the watching men but he forced himself to ignore them. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.
Both archers stepped back ten more paces. Again, both shot, and again, both hit the circle’s centre.
Sweat broke out on Robin’s face, despite the coolness of the night. There were a few grudging claps for him as well.
“The lad wasn’t lying,” he heard one man mutter. “He can shoot.”
Ralph gave Robin a vindictive smile. “This is too easy for you, boy. Archers move back twenty paces.”
Robin swallowed. He could do it. Guy and Katrina were counting on him.
Gilbert White-hand’s arrow flew true. Robin’s did also.
Several of the outlaws applauded.
“You’re a natural,” Gilbert White-hand remarked so only Robin could hear. Aloud, he called, “Thirty paces this time, boy?”
Robin’s hand clenched on his bow. He had only ever hit a target once from a distance of a hundred and twenty paces. Everyone was waiting for his answer.
Ralph’s face was twisted in a derisive sneer. “What’s the matter, boy? Not man enough for the job?”
Robin ignored the taunt. “I agree.”
They took thirty paces back, Ralph making sure to count them in a loud, deliberate voice.
As before, Gilbert White-hand shot first, and as before, his arrow landed dead centre.
“Your turn, boy,” he said, smiling.
Robin shut out everything, becoming one with his bow, as Sir Richard had taught him. He nocked his arrow and drew back the string until it was level with his ear. This was it. He couldn’t miss.
Despite his efforts to ignore them, he could hear jeers in the crowd.
“Come on, what are you waiting for?”
“The lad’s lost his nerve.”
Robin forced himself to block out the words. He let the arrow fly. The instant it was loosed, he closed his eyes.
“No!”
At Katrina’s scream, Robin’s eyes snapped open. Guy was staring at the target, a look of horror on his face. Robin followed his gaze. What he saw turned his blood to ice.
His arrow was buried in the trunk, but it was outside the circle. He had lost.
Robin bowed his head, his bow falling from numb fingers. He had been so sure he could do it. How could he have missed? They were all going to die because of his failure. All that remained was to go out like a man.
Katrina was clinging to Guy, her gaze fixed beseechingly on Gilbert. Guy was glaring at Robin, betrayal clear in his eyes.
The outlaws had closed in, cutting off any attempt at escape.
“Want to do the honours, Gilbert?” Ralph asked.
Desperation threatened to paralyse Robin, but he forced himself to speak.
“Please, let Guy and Katrina go. Don’t let them die because of me.”
Gilbert said nothing for another long minute. Robin was sure the suspense would kill him before Gilbert even lifted a weapon.
Finally, the outlaw leader shook his head. “Release them.”
Ralph gaped at him. “Are you serious? If we let them run off home, we’ll have the sheriff’s men down on us before you can blink. They have to die.”
“I said release them.” Gilbert pinned Robin, Guy and Katrina in turn with his sharp gaze. “This time, you may go free. But if you ever betray me in the future, there will be no second chance.”
Robin could hardly believe it. Gilbert was letting them go. He spoke before the outlaw changed his mind. “I promise neither I nor my friends will ever tell where you are hiding.”
Guy opened his mouth and then shut it again without uttering a word.
***
They walked in silence for a long time. Gilbert White-hand led the way with Robin trudging at his side. Guy and Katrina followed with three outlaws flanking them. Robin couldn’t look at anyone. He concentrated on the path ahead, wanting nothing more than to get home. Guy and Katrina were alive, but thanks to Gilbert’s mercy, not his archery skills.
At length, Gilbert spoke. “So, you came into Sherwood to test your skills against an outlaw. You are either very brave or very foolish.”
Robin coloured.
“One thing’s for certain, you’re a born archer. Keep practising and in a few years, you might give me something to worry about. What’s your name?”
“Robin of Locksley.”
“So tell me, Robin of Locksley, why would a boy leave a life of luxury and safety to risk himself in the forest?”
“Why did you leave your home?” Robin countered.
The outlaw’s lips twitched. “Very well, we all have our secrets, but one thing you cannot hide. The forest is in your blood, I sense it. Sherwood calls to you.”
Robin couldn’t deny it. Ever since first setting foot in Sherwood, he had felt as though he’d come home. The feeling of freedom was intoxicating. Robin knew he should have felt scared, particularly when it was obvious they were lost, but he hadn’t. Here, there was no one to tell him what to do or how to live, just him and his wits.
Robin suddenly realised the path they were following was familiar. The outlaws must have known a shortcut because the return journey had taken half the time.
Soon, I will know every trail
and shortcut. I won’t rest until Sherwood has given up all its secrets.
Aloud, he said, “We can go on alone from here.”
Gilbert White-hand nodded. For a moment, man and boy regarded each other. Robin felt a current of something pass between them—not friendship, but a respect of sorts. The question burst out before he could stop it.
“Why didn’t you let your men kill us?”
Gilbert had already begun to turn away. “I still have some humanity left. Farewell, Robin of Locksley.”
The outlaws disappeared into the shelter of the trees, leaving Robin, Guy and Katrina alone once more.
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Guy breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. Throughout the whole adventure, he’d been terrified every breath would be his last. They were safe—assuming the outlaws didn’t change their minds and come back to finish what they had started.
The night was clear and cloudless with the moon already high in the sky. Guy hadn’t realised how long they had been in the forest. He and Katrina would certainly be missed by now.
He examined her pale face. She was unhurt, but shaken. Guy rounded on Robin, his relief rapidly turning to fury. “I hope you’re happy. You could have got us killed, and all for a stupid wager.”
“I thought Robin was very brave,” Katrina said, glaring at Guy.
Guy shot her a disgusted look and took a step towards Robin, but Katrina moved between them.
“Guy, what are you doing? No one made us follow Robin.”
Guy turned on her, but Robin spoke.
“No, he’s right. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Guy’s fists dropped to his sides. Robin’s words had taken the wind out of his sails. It was most unlike Robin to admit he had been wrong.
“We should be getting back,” Robin said.
They reached the place where Guy had left his horse. Guy mounted and Robin lifted Katrina up behind him. She gave him a dazzling smile that made Guy long to slap her. He wanted to rage at Robin some more, to vent all the fear of the past few hours, but it was difficult when Robin agreed with him. That had never happened before. Normally Robin would fight back.
“Well,” Guy said at last. “Those outlaws had better enjoy their forest while they can. When I tell my father where they are, he’ll hunt them down and—”
“No!”
Guy was bewildered. “Why not? They would have killed us.”
“We made a bargain. They kept their word and let us go.”
“You made a bargain. Katrina and I said what we had to.” Guy took up the reins, preparing to move off, but Robin grabbed the bridle.
“Please, Guy,” he begged. “Don’t say anything. Promise you won’t.”
Guy had never seen him look so earnest. Where was the mocking grin?
Katrina added her pleas to Robin’s. “After all, it’s not as if we’ll ever see them again. There’s no harm done.”
Guy ignored her, still glaring at Robin. “I’ll think about it. Now get out of my way. I’m going home.”
Robin moved aside.
Guy kicked his horse into a trot. He didn’t look back.
“You won’t say anything, will you?” Katrina asked behind him. “Robin’s sorry—I know he is. Lord Locksley will be so hard on him if it all comes out.”
“He would deserve it. Those outlaws are monsters. They should be hanged.”
“You won’t say anything,” Katrina said calmly. “Not unless you want me to tell Father what happened to the colt he bought last month.”
“You wouldn’t.”
The colt in question had been a spirited black stallion. He hadn’t been properly broken in, but Guy had been desperate to ride him. He had unlocked the stall door and saddled the stallion. He mounted, but the horse took against him for some reason and bucked him off. It then bolted through the open gate, never to be seen again.
Of course, the stable boy got the blame. It was assumed he hadn’t shut the stallion away properly, and that was a prize horse lost. The boy received a sound beating. Only Katrina knew of Guy’s part in the escapade, and she had sworn not to tell a soul.
“You promised,” Guy blurted out, unable to keep the panic from his voice. His father was a gentle man, but if he knew what had happened, he would thrash Guy to within an inch of his life. “All right,” he muttered. “I won’t tell.”
***
The house was silent when Robin let himself in. He debated going around to the kitchen for some food. He was ravenous. With a sigh, he dismissed the idea. The servants would have spread their pallets by now. He’d probably fall over one of them in the dark.
Robin encountered no one as he made his way upstairs. It looked as though he had got away with it after all.
“Where on Earth have you been?”
In the doorway of his bedchamber, Robin froze.
Martha laid aside her embroidery and stood glaring at him. Her eyes moved from his face to the bow and quiver he still clutched. “Well?”
Robin searched his mind for an excuse. He was tired and still not entirely recovered from his near brush with death. The ready lies with which he often managed to get himself out of trouble just weren’t coming.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said finally. “I went for a walk.”
“With your bow?” Martha was no fool.
“For protection,” Robin tried.
Martha made a disgusted noise. “Sir Richard is off looking for you. We have been out of our minds with worry.”
“Where is my father?”
“He hasn’t returned yet.”
Robin relaxed. But his relief was short-lived.
“Sir Richard intended to ride over and notify Lord Locksley if he was unable to find you.”
Great, now there would be more questions. He would have been back hours ago if Scar-face and his cronies hadn’t decided to have a little fun.
“Father won’t care,” Robin muttered.
The next moment, his head was ringing. It took him a second to realise what had happened. Martha had boxed his ears. She so rarely hit him that Robin was more surprised than hurt.
“None of that, young Master. Your father loves you, whatever you might think of him. You are his only son and heir.”
“Yes,” Robin said, brushing past her and swinging his door shut. “And he wishes he had another.”
Robin lay in bed for a long time, waiting for sleep to come. It wasn’t the inevitable interview with his father in the morning that weighed on his mind. He hadn’t told Martha, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell his father where he had been. He was sorry that Sir Richard and Martha had been worried about him, but he knew his father would have been more annoyed than concerned.
“Sherwood.” Robin whispered the name to himself in the dark. Just the sound of the word was enough to send a thrill of excitement through him. Sherwood was his place, his secret, to keep close to his breast and share with no one. Sherwood had many mysteries, and Robin was determined to learn them all.
His thoughts turned to Gilbert White-hand. He was different from the rest of the outlaws. They were common thieves and criminals—nothing more. How had Gilbert come to be living amongst them? What could have happened that had forced him to take shelter in Sherwood? Robin doubted he would ever see the man again, and he was sorry.
Guy’s threat worried him. He would have to speak to him again when he’d had time to calm down. Guy couldn’t say anything. Not only would it mean Gilbert’s probable capture, but it would put paid to Robin’s own plans for returning to Sherwood. He would have to wait awhile as it was. Sir Richard and Martha were bound to watch him like hawks for a few days until their suspicion died down. And next time, Robin would go alone.
***
The summons came the following morning. Robin stood before his father, struggling to hide a yawn. He had dropped off to sleep as dawn was breaking.
“Where were you?” Lord Locksley demanded.
“I couldn’t sleep.
I went for a walk.”
From the shrewd look Lord Locksley gave him, Robin had a feeling he no more believed his story than Martha had.
“And you took your bow?”
“Practising makes me tired.”
“And then you can sleep?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not, Father, I swear.” Robin braced himself for the expected blow, but it didn’t come. Instead, Lord Locksley smiled. The sight unnerved Robin. He would almost have preferred a beating.
“Well, you will have a chance to prove your skill tomorrow.”
Robin was puzzled. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes. I am having some guests over. We are to go on a hunting expedition to Sherwood. Game is plentiful this time of year.”
“I thought it was forbidden to hunt in Sherwood. Are not all beasts property of the king?”
“Deer and salmon, certainly. It is forbidden to hunt them, but birds are fair game, as are wolves and wild boar. The King himself granted me the right to hunt the forest close to my lands while you were still an infant.”
“Why would you want to hunt a wolf?” Robin asked. “We can’t eat it.”
“For the sport, Robin, the sport. The thrill of the chase sings through your blood. Plus, wolves are vermin. Many a manor has had its sheep slaughtered by the brutes. There’s a bounty for every wolf killed.”
Robin understood the need to hunt for food, and he personally thought any king who tried to declare the creatures of the forest off limits was a fool. After all, he didn’t live there, and he would never go hungry a day in his life. No, hunting for food was one thing, but hunting for sport was another.
He kept his thoughts to himself. This was a test. His father knew, or suspected where he had gone, if not the reason why. If he equipped himself well, perhaps he would buy his story and leave him alone.
“So,” Lord Locksley said briskly. “Be ready tomorrow morning. Guy will be coming, as well as some other boys near your age, so you won’t be lonely. Let us see these famous archery skills of yours in action.”