by N B Dixon
The younger man’s face was defiant. “We have more right to the king’s deer than he does. We need the food.”
“Son, be quiet,” his father whispered. To Robin, he said, “Please, I beg you, have mercy. My family are starving. We are in debt and have fallen behind with our rent. We need food. Please, let us go this once and it won’t happen again.”
Robin ran his eyes over them. There was no denying they were hungry. It was there in the pinched pallor of their faces and the prominent cheekbones. Robin could count their ribs.
“It’s all right,” he said. “My lips are sealed.”
The two men stared at him in disbelief.
Robin thought he recognised the older man. “You’re Harry, the miller.”
The man nodded, still too shocked to speak.
“How did you get behind with your rent?”
“My youngest son was ill not long since with a high fever. It took all the money we had to buy medicines for him.”
“I see.” Robin turned to the miller’s son. “I saw you at the Blue Boar inn the other night. You were playing dice against my friend Will.”
The young man glowered even harder, but he said nothing. His father shot him a quick, hurt look.
“If you leave Sherwood right now, I will not have seen you.”
The miller looked as though he could hardly believe his ears. “Master Robin?”
“If you are caught again, I won’t be able to help you. The king’s foresters are everywhere in Sherwood, and my father wouldn’t hesitate to carry out the law.”
The miller bowed repeatedly. “I can’t thank you enough, Master Robin.”
“You can thank me by making sure that deer does not go to waste.”
As Robin turned away, he saw the miller’s son looking back at him. His face was unreadable. Robin watched as, between them, the two men lifted the stag onto their shoulders and melted away into the forest.
He knew that he had just broken the king’s law. The miller had been discovered poaching, and the rules were very definite about anybody caught hunting the king’s deer. But Robin could not bring himself to carry it out. There was no denying the miller’s story. He was clearly starving. If Robin had defied the king, he’d made sure his conscience was clear. There was no need for his father or any of the foresters to know anything about it. He just prayed the miller would be more careful next time.
He thought of his father and Guy and everyone else who took part in hunts for the sport of it. None of them knew what it was like to go hungry. None of them had to worry from month to month about where the money was coming from to feed their families. Not for the first time, Robin wondered how it was that some people could have so much and not appreciate it, while others had so little.
***
The mouth-watering smell of venison stew filled the mill. Lucy’s stomach growled in happy response as she, Much, Peter and their parents sat around the scrubbed wooden table. Mam ladled the stew into bowls and everybody tucked in. It was the best meal they had had for what felt like weeks. It was rare, too, for them all to sit down to a meal together. Peter was usually out at the tavern. Peering across the table at him, Lucy thought he looked subdued.
“The stag was a beauty,” Da declared around a mouthful. “It almost seemed a shame to kill it.”
“You’re just lucky you weren’t caught,” was Mam’s response.
“We were.”
Lucy dropped her spoon with a clatter. Mam had gone white.
“You were caught?”
Much glared across the table at his older brother. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping a lookout.”
“Watch your tongue, brat,” Peter mumbled, not looking up from his meal.
“Who caught you?” Mam breathed, her stew sitting forgotten in front of her.
Lucy pushed away her own bowl, her appetite gone.
“It was young Master Robin.”
“Heaven help us.” Mam crossed herself.
“I brought down the stag, but it wasn’t a clean shot. I went to put it out of its misery, when Master Robin just…appeared, like from nowhere. Fair put the wind up me, I can tell you. He never made a sound.”
Much’s eyes were wide. “What happened next?”
“I thought he was going to arrest us on the spot, but he let us go.”
Da’s weather-beaten face creased in a frown.
“He let you go?” Mam said. “But there must be some mistake. Lord Locksley will be sending his foresters any minute.” She got up, as though meaning to go to the door and look outside.
“It’s all right, Meg. If Robin hands us over to the foresters now, he will have to explain why he let us go. He’s an accomplice. Besides, you know his reputation in the village. He isn’t like his father. I believe he is a man of his word.”
“I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling,” Peter sneered. “Turning up at the Blue Boar dressed like a peasant, handing out coins to anyone with a sob story. He’s a Norman playing at being a Saxon.”
Da shot him a quelling look. “He had a deal to say about your tavern exploits.”
Peter reddened. He was unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Peter, how could you?” Mam sighed. “As if we aren’t struggling enough as it is.”
“It won’t happen again,” Peter said in a low voice.
“I’ve heard that tale before.” Mam rose and began collecting the empty bowls. “Well, whatever his reasons, we should be grateful to Master Robin. We have enough meat to last us a week.”
Much looked anxious. “But what will we do then? If Da is caught again in the forest, Master Robin won’t be able to protect him.”
“We’ll worry about that when we have to.” Da gave Much’s shoulder a comforting pat.
“I think we should go out again,” Peter said. “After all, what are the odds of us being caught twice? It had to be coincidence that he was there. In fact, it’s strange that our lord’s precious son wanders about the forest alone. Maybe he has something to hide.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Mam snapped.
That night in bed, Lucy lay waiting for sleep to come. It should have been easy. Her stomach was full for the first time in months. But her mind kept dwelling on Robin, and the fact that he had let her da and brother go free. Peter was right about one thing. For a Norman noble, even one who had yet to come into his estate, such behaviour was very out of character. She knew Robin by sight but had never spoken to him. It was said that he was the best archer in the shire. He had wiped the floor with all challengers at the Locksley fair the year before. His generosity was spoken of often among the villagers. Lucy couldn’t see what he had to gain. Was it possible he acted out of the goodness of his heart?
***
“I cannot do what you ask, Master Robin.” Edgar wrung his hands in distress.
Robin held his gaze. “Why not? My father need never know.”
“It is not how things are done. The miller is behind in his rent. Why should he be given favourable treatment over everybody else?”
“If we evict the miller, who will grind the grain into flour? Who will make the flour into bread? We need him. That family has worked the Locksley mill for generations.”
“But if your father were to hear about it, I would lose my position. I, too, have a family to support.”
Robin smiled. “I won’t tell him, and I doubt you will. Three months. That is all I am asking. Three months to give them a chance to get back on their feet again. I made enquiries, and what I’ve heard corroborates the miller’s story. His son has been seriously ill. The miller went to Old Molly for help. She does nothing for free, and he gave her all he had.”
“That’s not my fault.”
Robin sighed. It seemed they were going to have to do this the hard way.
“That’s a fancy tunic you’re wearing.”
Edgar was instantly wary at the abrupt change of topic.
“Isn’t that silk? How does a steward have the money
to purchase a silk tunic?”
Edgar had begun to sweat.
Robin turned the screw. “Some of my father’s prize pewter goblets went missing two weeks ago. I remember Peggy turned the house upside down looking for them, but they never did turn up. My father was very upset over their loss.”
Edgar broke. “Oh, please, Master Robin, don’t tell your father. I’ll never do such a thing again, I swear.”
Robin pretended to consider it. “I’ll make a deal with you. Give the miller his three-month reprieve, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“All right, three months, whatever you say, Master Robin.”
“Be warned, if you ever steal from my father again, that’s it for you, understand?”
“I understand,” Edgar babbled. “It won’t happen again.”
He scurried off. Robin waited until he was out of sight before allowing himself a grin. That Edgar was behind the theft of the goblets had been a guess on his part—a correct one, as it turned out. The miller and his family would keep their home a little while longer, hopefully long enough to get back on their feet.
***
“You did what?” Will looked up from the horse he was grooming and stared at Robin. “You let them go?”
“They were starving. It was easy enough to see.”
Will sighed. “You’d fall for any sad story. How do you expect to run an estate if you let your peasants off rent-free?”
“What is the use of alienating them?” Robin countered. “If we deal fairly with them, they will deal fairly with us. We need them. Besides, I would have thought you’d be on their side.”
“Oh I am, believe me. Working for you will be a breeze. You’d best hope His Lordship never finds out. ”
“I’m not planning on telling him, and Edgar will say nothing. It’s more than his job’s worth.”
“Let’s hope the miller’s son doesn’t throw your kindness back in your face.”
Robin grinned. “He won’t if you don’t challenge him to any dice games.”
***
The hunting party made its noisy progress through the woodland. Guy surveyed his surroundings with pleasure. This was his land, his estate. The hunting was by no means as plentiful as it was on the Locksley estate, or in Sherwood itself. But the king had forbidden hunting in the forest, blast him, meaning most lords had to be content with hunting the woodland around their own manors. Unless, like Lord Locksley, they had royal permission.
Guy was set out to impress the young nobles of the area. They were his peers, after all, and first impressions meant everything. Many of them also had sisters of marriageable age. A strong alliance was crucial. If these young men took back favourable reports to their fathers, it could prove profitable.
The hounds set up a high-pitched yelping, and Guy breathed a sigh of relief. They had found something. The hunting party took off in pursuit, but the hare made its escape.
“Game a bit thin on the ground today,” one man observed.
Guy forced a smile. “Give it time. Something will turn up.”
When another hour had gone by, however, with nothing to show for it, Guy was forced to concede defeat. His fellow hunters were growing restless. He needed to devise some other amusement or lose them.
They were approaching the boundary of the Gisborne estate. It was invisible to anyone unfamiliar with the geography of the land thereabouts. Guy halted at the crest of a rise. The village of Locksley lay spread out below him. In the distance, he could make out the mill where that impudent peasant girl had gaped at him the other day. Envy rose up in him. Envy of everything Robin would one day have. The two estates had once been one, and it had all been Gisborne land. Now, thanks to royal whim, his family had been robbed of half their birthright.
Charles Warci, the sheriff’s nephew, reined his horse alongside Guy’s. Guy hid his hatred with an effort. Charles, it seemed, had no memory of their one previous encounter, or else he thought Guy had forgiven him. It was so tempting to arrange a little accident out there in the middle of nowhere, but Guy couldn’t afford to risk it. The sheriff was an important ally, and one it would be a mistake to antagonise.
“Why is young Locksley not present at the hunt today?”
“We are not on friendly terms,” Guy said shortly.
“It’s a pity,” someone else remarked. “He’s a pretty decent shot.”
“Too stuck up by half, from what I’ve heard,” Charles said. “You’re wise not to associate with him, Guy. His family’s out of favour.”
“Tell you what,” Guy said. “Since the game is scarce today, how about some different entertainment?”
Charles smirked. “What do you have in mind?”
***
Much burst into the mill, a look of terror on his face. “Men are coming!”
Lucy, who was up to her elbows in flour, stared at him in confusion.
“Men? Who?”
“I don’t know. There are a lot of them, all on horseback.”
Lucy’s heart sank. Master Robin had betrayed them. The young heir of Locksley had gone back on his word. He had deliberately put their da off his guard, and now he was bringing men to arrest him. Lucy thanked God that neither of her parents were home.
“What can we do?” Much’s face was pale. “They’re after Da, aren’t they?”
Lucy tried to think. “Where are the bones of the deer?”
“I saw Da and Peter burying them last night along with the antlers.” A spark of hope lit Much’s eyes. “If they can’t find them, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
Lucy shook her head. She knew it would not be so easy. It would be their word against that of a lord’s son. There was no doubt in her mind who the sheriff’s men would believe.
She could hear them now, the rhythmic thudding of horses’ hooves. She gripped Much’s arm and spun him around.
“Hide in the loft,” she ordered, giving him a small shove towards the ladder.
“You can’t face them by yourself,” Much protested.
“I’m not the one they’re after. I’ll find some way to head them off. When they’re gone, you can run and warn Da.”
Much nodded reluctantly. Lucy waited until he was out of sight, and then she cautiously stuck her head outside.
There were indeed several men on horseback. But they were neither Locksley men nor men sent by the Sheriff of Nottingham. Lucy recognised the crest on the surcoat of the lead rider. She also recognised his arrogant, cruel face. It was Guy of Gisborne. Lucy’s fear mounted. But she was also confused. What was Guy of Gisborne doing there? He had to know he was trespassing.
She made to dart back out of sight, but it was too late. Guy had seen her.
“Come out,” he called with a leer. “I will not hurt you.”
Lucy considered. Guy of Gisborne was not her master. She wasn’t obliged to obey him. She could lock herself in the mill. But one glance at the men with their swords was enough to make her reject the idea. The mood they were in, they might take it into their heads to break down the door, and she had to keep Much safe. Better to lure them away from the mill if she could.
She stepped outside and curtsied. “Can I help you, My Lord?”
Guy surveyed her from his horse. Around him, his friends watched, some with amusement, some looking bored. Lucy didn’t like the gleam in Guy’s cold eyes.
“I recognise you,” he purred. “You were rude to me a few days ago.”
Lucy swallowed back the sharp retort that rose to her tongue. “Begging your pardon, My Lord. I meant no offence. If you’re looking for our lord, Locksley Manor is close.” She hoped that by mentioning the name of Locksley, it would remind Guy that he was not on his own land. But she could see it was hopeless. This new young lord was out to impress his friends, and Lucy was to be the entertainment.
Without warning, Guy struck out with his riding whip. Lucy did not jump aside in time, and the lash caught her across the shoulder. With a cry, she stumbled, just managing to catch herself again
st the door. She clung to the frame for support, her shoulder burning. The men’s laughter rang out, ugly and pitiless.
Guy smirked. “She is light on her feet,” he observed. “Let’s see her dance some more.”
He struck at Lucy again. She dodged, leaping aside, and almost colliding with one of the other horses. Its rider, laughing, pushed her back towards Guy. Guy’s face was twisted in a malicious smile. This was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain and torment on others, drunk on his newly acquired power.
Guy leapt down from his saddle, and Lucy backed away from him.
“I fancy a bit of hunting after all,” Guy announced. “She’s a worthy prize, wouldn’t you say?”
There was appreciative laughter. Lucy felt sick to her stomach.
Guy advanced on her, his whip raised. She made to back into the mill, but two horsemen moved to cut her off.
Lucy wondered if she dared call for help, but there was no one to hear. Her imagination was conjuring up all sorts of pictures of how this encounter would end. Everyone knew the horror stories of nobles catching peasant maidens and torturing them for their amusement. It often ended in rape or worse. There had been an incident a year ago, Lucy remembered, where four men had accosted a farmer’s daughter on her way home from market. By the time they had finished with her, she had died of her injuries.
Well, that will not happen to me, Lucy vowed. She looked around for some sort of weapon with which to defend herself, but the movement was too obvious. The men laughed. One of them threw his knife to her. It thudded on the ground close to where she was standing.
“There you go,” he chuckled. “We should give you a sporting chance.”
Lucy dived towards the knife, but before she could retrieve it, Guy’s whip cut at her legs. She fell on her face in the mud. Her already sore shoulder flared with fresh pain. She looked up from her prone position to find Guy looming over her. The knife lay just within reach of her fingertips. She stretched out a hand towards it.
Quick as lightning, Guy lunged, seizing her by the back of her dress and her hair and yanking her to her feet. Lucy screamed.
“A spirited wench,” Guy said, smiling, though Lucy noticed his eyes were void of emotion. “I shall enjoy beating that out of you.”