Heir of Locksley

by N B Dixon

  His eyes were haunted. Robin waited, dread tightening his throat.

  “They bound me hand and foot so I couldn’t interfere and forced me to watch. They raped my wife, brutalised her. She cried and begged them to stop, but they only laughed. I fought with everything I had. I screamed her name, but I couldn’t get free. When they’d had their fun, they left us. She lost the baby that night and was dead the following day.”

  Robin was appalled. “But couldn’t you report them? Surely, the law would have been on your side.”

  “I was a peasant. It was my word against theirs. I didn’t flatter myself that Raymond Warci would care. I hunted them down one by one. I made them suffer. By the end, they were begging for mercy, just as she did. I gave them none, just as they gave none to her.”

  Robin was filled with pity. Yes, Gilbert had murdered, but he had done it to avenge the death of his wife. If he had committed a crime, then so had those men.

  “You should go,” Gilbert said.

  Robin didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell Gilbert everything would be all right, but it would be a lie. He wanted to say he’d find a way to help his friend, but that would be a lie, too.

  The guards reappeared. One of them went straight to Robin and boxed his ears. Robin’s head rang from the blow, and he staggered a little.

  “Just wanted a peek at the outlaw, did you? If you ever send us on a false errand again, I’ll tan your backside for you, see if I don’t.”

  ***

  Robin made it back to the store room without mishap, where he found the servant boy waiting for him.

  “So, did you see your friend?” he asked as they changed clothes.

  Robin nodded miserably. His plan had worked, but Gilbert White-hand was still as trapped as ever.

  “I fell foul of two of the guards,” he said. “I told them the jailor wanted them. One of them boxed my ears and threatened me with a beating if I did it again.”

  “Reckon you’re no stranger to beatings from the look of you. Now how about my payment?”

  “You will get it tomorrow. Thank you for your help.”

  The boy seemed in no hurry to leave. “What’s your name? Who were you visiting in the dungeons?”

  “I am Robin of Locksley, and I have to get back to my room before I am missed.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “So you’re the boy caught with the outlaws. You took a risk sneaking out. If I’m caught helping you, I’ll be for it.”

  Robin couldn’t help grinning. “Don’t get caught, then.”

  The boy pulled a face and turned to go.

  “Wait,” Robin called. “What is your name?”

  “Will Scathelock.” Will bowed so deeply, it was a mockery. “Nice to meet you, Robin of Locksley. I really hope they don’t hang you.”

  About ten minutes after he made it back to his room, Robin heard footsteps approaching. He tensed. Somehow, he doubted it was Martha or his new friend Will, come with a tasty treat from the kitchens.

  He got to his feet. Whatever his fate was, he would meet it standing, not cowering in a corner. He would be brave like Gilbert White-hand. But his knees felt like pudding and his hands were clammy. He wiped them on his hose as the door opened.

  Sir Richard entered. Robin was relieved to see no guards with him. Surely, if he was to be hanged, someone would have been sent to escort him to the dungeons, unless Sir Richard had been chosen. The idea of his tutor leading him to a cell was somehow far worse than the beating his father had dealt out.

  “There’s no need to look so betrayed,” Sir Richard said, a little impatiently. “I am not here to hang you. Though I would like to know how this door got unlocked.”

  Robin was ready for that. “A servant came earlier for my privy pot. She must have forgotten to lock the door behind her.”

  Sir Richard looked doubtful, but he let it go. “Your father and I have spoken to the sheriff. We managed to convince him that you were just a misguided youth whom Gilbert White-hand had some hold over, and that is why you were with him.”

  Robin nodded. It seemed a pretty ropey story to him, but if the sheriff had swallowed it…

  As he so often did, Sir Richard appeared to read his thoughts. “You are right. If not for your father’s considerable influence, the sheriff may not have been so willing to let it go, but mark this, Robin. You are an object of suspicion now. The sheriff will have his eye on you, and he will not be so forgiving a second time. Tread carefully.”

  “Yes, sir.” Robin didn’t need telling twice. He’d had a lucky escape and he knew it. But there was one more thing he had to do. He owed it to Gilbert.

  “What of the outlaws?”

  “They are to be hanged at noon tomorrow.”

  “Then I must speak to my father. He must use his influence with the sheriff again.”

  “What is this nonsense?”

  “Please,” Robin begged.

  Sir Richard sighed. “Very well. I was ordered to bring you to him in any case, but I warn you, he is still very angry with you.”

  Robin shrugged. His father was always angry with him.

  ***

  As an honoured guest and someone high in the king’s favour, Lord Locksley had a suite of rooms to himself.

  Sir Richard knocked, and a curt voice told them to enter.

  Robin pushed open the door. This was it, his last chance to save his friend. He bowed, ignoring the way the welts on his back twinged.

  “Father?”

  Lord Locksley set down his wine cup and regarded his son. “No doubt, Sir Richard has told you of your reprieve?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was no easy task convincing Raymond Warci of your innocence, but the sheriff and I have chosen to accept the assurances of Sir Richard that you were entirely blameless in this affair. However, as a show of good faith, you will attend the hanging tomorrow.”

  Robin gulped. Watch his friend die? He went hot and cold with horror.

  Lord Locksley noticed. “What? Squeamish? Well, perhaps it will serve as a lesson to you.”

  Robin took a deep breath. “What about the trial?”

  Lord Locksley frowned. “Trial?”

  “Surely, they will only be hanged if they are found guilty?”

  Lord Locksley laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. “There is no trial for such as them. The law does not apply to those who wilfully choose to live outside the natural order.”

  “But he didn’t have a choice,” Robin said hotly.

  Lord Locksley’s eyes hardened, and his hand dropped to the buckle of his belt.

  Robin didn’t flinch.

  “What are you talking about, boy? Gilbert White-hand murdered four men in cold blood.”

  “Only because they killed his wife first.” Robin had the satisfaction of seeing both his father and Sir Richard’s eyes widen in surprise.

  “What is this rubbish?” Lord Locksley snapped.

  “The sheriff’s men raped and murdered Gilbert’s wife because he hadn’t enough to pay his taxes. That should be taken into account. Gilbert had the right to avenge her death.”

  Lord Locksley was temporarily speechless. Sir Richard spoke up.

  “The law doesn’t work like that, Robin,” he said, not unkindly. “Whatever offences those men may or may not have committed, that does not mitigate Gilbert White-hand’s crime. If I remember rightly, he had already been punished for poaching. The sheriff was merciful that time.”

  “He was branded,” Robin said. “I’ve seen the scars.”

  “He could have lost his hand entirely,” Sir Richard pointed out. “The law is harsh, but it’s there for a reason.”

  “The law is wrong.”

  Lord Locksley was on his feet now. “You think you know better than the king? It is his laws we uphold. The peasants need to know their place in the world, and it isn’t to go around killing to avenge perceived wrongs. Take him back to his room,” he barked at Sir Richard. “He is to stay there until the hanging. No meals. Perha
ps that will teach him some obedience.”

  “Come, Robin,” Sir Richard murmured, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  Robin allowed himself to be steered out of the room. He cast one last furious glance back at his father, but Lord Locksley had already turned his back on them.

  Robin waited until he was back in his room before bursting out, “He is evil. How can he just dismiss what happened as if it meant nothing?”

  “You must understand,” Sir Richard said, “that without these men, Gilbert White-hand’s word is all we have. He should have applied to the law, not taken matters into his own hands.”

  “What difference would it have made? You heard my father. Gilbert was just a peasant. No one would have listened to him.”

  “These are hard times we live in.” Robin thought he heard a trace of sadness in his tutor’s voice. “Whatever his past, Gilbert White-hand has murdered many men. He has robbed and left his victims for dead. Nothing, not even the death of one’s wife, excuses that. He must pay for his crimes.”

  “He was an outlaw,” Robin argued. “He had to steal to survive.”

  “There is no excuse for murder.” For the first time, there was real anger in Sir Richard’s voice. “Could you condone the killing of innocents just to put food in your belly?”

  Robin shook his head.

  “You are young, Robin. Someday, you will understand that stern measures must be taken. After tomorrow, Sherwood will once more be safe. That is a good thing.”

  ***

  It didn’t seem right that the sun was shining. Quite a crowd had been assembled in the bailey: men at arms, nobles, servants and townsfolk. Six nooses hung from the gallows, swinging in the summer breeze.

  Robin stood between his father and Sir Richard. Nearby was Guy, looking positively gleeful, with Sir Benedict and Bryan, who looked anxious. Lady Gisborne and Katrina were absent.

  The atmosphere was an uneasy one. Robin had never attended a public hanging. The men at arms all looked grim, while the mood of the ordinary folk ranged from worried to entertained. Robin could even hear a musician playing somewhere in the crowd.

  He had to remind himself that many people would not be sorry to see the outlaws dead. They had been a plague on the lives of Nottingham’s people for some time. Still, how anyone could look on people dying as a source of entertainment was a mystery to Robin. He saw nothing to be glad about.

  With a clanking and rattling, the gates to the inner bailey opened and the prisoners were led out. The noise of the crowd swelled as they appeared. Some called out insults, while others turned away.

  Fresh guilt tore at Robin as he thought that, without him, the outlaws might have remained free. But if he was honest, he didn’t care about the others. Gilbert White-hand had fallen in with them because he had nowhere else to go, and even Robin had seen how much they resented his leadership. It would probably have been a matter of time before they killed him. Still, at least it would have been quick, not the protracted affair this would be.

  Robin watched as one by one, the men were led to the gallows and blindfolded. Their hands were also bound behind them. Somewhere in the crowd, a drum began to beat, a slow, ominous rhythm. Only then did Robin notice the music had stopped.

  He stared around in desperation. Was no one going to stop this? Was Gilbert White-hand really going to be hanged for trying to avenge his wife?

  His eyes met those of the outlaw for just a second before the blindfold fell into place. Was it his imagination, or had Gilbert smiled at him? Unlike his fellow captives, he stood calm and unafraid, even defiant. The others looked scared, and one man, the scar-faced outlaw was actually struggling and had to be clubbed into submission.

  Robin’s eyes returned to Gilbert. When he died, he hoped he would be half as brave.

  He caught sight of Will Scathelock in the crowd. He was standing among a group of castle servants. He wasn’t smiling. Seeing that, knowing he was there, made Robin feel a little better. He had taken a great liking to the boy during their brief encounter.

  The drum stopped, and the crowd fell silent as a herald stepped forward and began to read the proclamation of the men’s crimes. He called each man by name and spoke the crimes for which he was to die. The crowd reacted with mockery for the most part, but when Gilbert White-hand’s name was announced, no one laughed. Perhaps, like Robin, they were struck by the man’s dignity.

  Robin caught sight of the sheriff. He stood watching the proceedings, a smug look on his face. Robin supposed the destruction of a notorious robber band would help to raise the sheriff in the king’s esteem.

  The herald was winding up his speech. “The sentence for each of these men is to be hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on their souls. Do the condemned have any final words?”

  Robin took a breath to speak but Lord Locksley was quicker. His hand clamped over Robin’s mouth. “Not a word out of you,” he hissed.

  Gilbert White-hand’s voice rang out, clear and strong.

  “People of Nottingham. You may laugh today, but remember, if the time comes when you must decide between obeying the laws of your king or the laws of your heart, this is all the justice you can expect.”

  Everyone was silent. The sheriff made a hurried sign to the hangman and one by one, he slipped nooses over the outlaws’ necks.

  Robin felt a sharp dig in his back and turned to see Guy grinning at him.

  “Do you think it will be quick?” Guy whispered so only Robin could hear, “or do you think they will suffer? Personally, I’m praying for the latter.”

  Robin wasn’t aware of deciding to do it. His fist moved without conscious instruction, and the next moment, it had made satisfying contact with Guy’s jaw. Guy staggered.

  There were gasps and cries from those nearest, but Guy had already regained his balance. Before either Sir Benedict or Lord Locksley could interfere, Guy hurled himself at Robin and wrestled him to the ground. People stampeded to get out of the way. Others laughed. Still others cheered and began calling out bits of advice and encouragement to whomever they favoured. Some of the townsfolk, perhaps deciding to follow the example of their betters, turned and began fighting one another. Soon, a full-scale riot was in progress. The men at arms were trying to regain control of the crowd, some using brute force to break up fights.

  Robin was only dimly aware of them, as a blow from Guy’s fist connected hard with the side of his head, making his ears ring and his vision blur. Robin retaliated by ploughing a foot into Guy’s belly, driving the wind out of him.

  While Guy was doubled over, trying to get his breath back, an idea struck Robin. Maybe it wasn’t too late to free Gilbert. In all the chaos, Gilbert could escape.

  Robin scrambled to his feet and started pushing his way through the crowd, using his elbows to force a path. One glance up at the gallows showed him that he was too late. The hangman had released the trap door beneath the outlaws. Robin continued to fight his way towards his friend. He prayed he would reach him in time.

  A terrible, inhuman scream cut through the racket. A horse belonging to one of the men at arms, spooked by the ruckus, was rearing and stamping, kicking aside anyone unlucky enough to get in its way. Fresh screams broke out as people tried to dart aside, only to be knocked down by others. The horse broke free of one man who attempted to grab its bridle and lunged forward, straight at Robin. He knew he would never get out of the way in time. The crowd was too tightly packed. There wasn’t enough room to move. He stood frozen, watching his death bearing down on him.

  Someone appeared out of nowhere—Will! He caught at the horse’s bridle and hung on, bringing the horse under control as if he had been doing nothing else all his life. The animal reared and tried to bite, but Will didn’t flinch. He maintained his firm grip on the bridle.

  Robin could see him speaking to the horse, but it was impossible for him to hear the words. Gradually it quietened, until Will brought it to a complete standstill. Will ran his free hand down its nose and grinne
d at Robin.

  “How about that then, eh, My Lord? Seems I’m saving your noble hide again. You still owe me half a penny, by the way.”

  “You…” Robin stammered. “How did you do that?”

  Will gave the horse’s neck another pat, and it nuzzled his cheek. “He’s a sprightly fellow, right enough. The crowd spooked him is all. A calm word and steady hand is what’s needed.”

  The horse’s owner, together with Lord Locksley, succeeded in fighting their way over.

  “What,” Lord Locksley said, “were you thinking?”

  “Guy started it.”

  “That wasn’t what I saw. It was you who struck the first blow. Attacking someone unprovoked and then running away while they are helpless is the behaviour of a coward. I am ashamed of you.”

  Robin bit back the reply he longed to give. His father wouldn’t understand.

  Lord Locksley turned to Will. “You handled that horse well, boy.”

  Will bowed. “My da was a blacksmith, My Lord. I’ve been around them all my life.”

  “You saved my son from a serious injury. You will be rewarded.”

  Will was speechless—something Robin suspected didn’t happen often.

  Lord Locksley eyed him up and down. “Tom, our groom, is in need of a stable lad to help him. You will do nicely, I think.” He rubbed his hands together. “That is settled, then.”

  Robin was angry on Will’s behalf. His father hadn’t even asked Will if he would like to work for him. What if Will had family in Nottingham?

  Will bowed again. “Thank you, My Lord.”

  Lord Locksley turned away to speak to the sheriff, Will already forgotten.

  “Don’t you have a job at the castle?” Robin asked.

  “There’s none who would miss me, and I’ve no family to fret after me.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Hanged,” Will said briefly.

  So that explained why he hadn’t enjoyed watching the outlaws. With a lurch of fear, Robin looked over at the gallows and saw, to his dismay, the hangman cutting the last of the outlaws down. Gilbert White-hand was dead.