Heir of Locksley

by N B Dixon

  “Let her go,” said a quiet, deadly voice.

  Lucy looked around. Two young men stood there. One had brown hair tied back in a tail and leaned on a quarterstaff. The other had vivid-green eyes and a tangled mop of black hair. His nose was crooked, as though he had been in one too many brawls. A sword hung at his hip, but in his hand was a longbow, an arrow nocked to the string. The arrow was pointing directly at Guy of Gisborne’s heart.

  Lucy knew him. It was Master Robin.

  “Stay out of this, Locksley,” Guy growled.

  “Let her go,” Robin repeated.

  “It’s just a little fun,” one of the other men objected.

  “If it is sport you want, I’m more than happy to give it to you.”

  Several of Guy’s friends had dismounted from their horses, drawing swords.

  “That’s hardly fair,” Robin’s companion drawled. “There’s only two of us.”

  “Watch your tongue, servant, or I’ll cut it out,” Guy threatened.

  Robin let his arrow fly. It struck the ground inches from the toe of Guy’s boot. Guy took an involuntary step backwards and at the same time, released his hold on Lucy.

  “There are plenty more where that came from.” Robin’s tone was conversational. “Now get off my father’s land.”

  “You cannot get us all, Locksley,” Guy snarled.

  “Are you sure about that?” Robin fired three arrows in rapid succession. The first arrow thudded into the wall of the mill just above Guy’s head. The second plunged deep into the saddle of another man’s horse. The animal shied, causing its owner to leap out of the way with a startled curse. The third arrow struck the one already plunged into the ground at Guy’s feet, splitting it in two and standing proud and upright in the earth.

  Robin’s companion grinned. “Nice shooting. Why not kill them all? They’re trespassing. I’m sure your da wouldn’t mind.”

  “Get out of here,” Robin said coldly. His gaze never left Guy’s face.

  For answer, Guy drew his sword and lunged at Robin, who just drew his own sword in time.

  “Get her inside,” Robin shouted as Guy advanced on him and steel clashed.

  The servant tried to obey, but another man accosted him, and within moments, he, too, was locked in a vicious fight. Lucy tried to back towards the mill, but her way was blocked. The skirmish was fast and furious, and Lucy had no choice but to stand and watch with her heart in her mouth.

  Her would-be saviour appeared to be as skilled with a sword as he was with a bow. At first, it seemed as though he had the upper hand. Though he was lighter than his opponent, he was quick on his feet, and he used Guy’s weight against him. Guy was unable to launch an attack and was constantly forced to defend himself against Robin’s blows. Robin was steadily driving him further away from the mill, and all at once, Lucy realised what he was doing. The rest of the men had drifted back, too.

  Robin’s servant was fighting a man who wore the insignia of the Sheriff of Nottingham. He appeared every bit as skilled as his master, blocking every blow of his increasingly frustrated opponent, and even getting in under his guard to land a sturdy crack across his ribs. The man staggered, just managing to regain his balance, and ducked another blow from the whirling staff. The others were watching, backing away, following the progress of the battle. Lucy’s way inside was clear, but she had no thoughts of leaving. Her attention was riveted on Robin. She saw a man creeping up behind him, his own weapon raised and ready.

  “Look out!”

  Robin ducked to avoid the sword swinging at his head—not quickly enough. The pommel of his attacker’s sword struck his temple.

  Robin threw up his hands. His sword clattered to the ground and he crumpled. For a moment, all action was suspended. The servant broke off his own fight and flung himself down on his knees beside Robin.

  Lucy saw then that their relationship went far beyond the normal boundary of master and servant. The concern in the other man’s face was that of a friend for a friend.

  Guy stood panting, a triumphant smile twisting his mouth. Robin lay utterly motionless. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face, staining the earth on which he lay. Lucy wanted to run to him, but she couldn’t make herself move. If he was dead…

  Guy remounted his horse, sheathing his sword as he did so. He cast one contemptuous glance back at the servant where he knelt over Robin and then turned to his friends.

  “Come,” he said. “There is nothing here worth having.” The men rode away with a clatter of hooves and much joyful whooping.

  The moment they were gone, Lucy rushed to Robin’s side. His friend was sitting on the ground, Robin’s bleeding head cradled in his lap.

  “Let me see,” she demanded. Fear and guilt warred inside her. If Robin was dead, then he had died trying to protect her. That was the second time he had saved her family. But what would Lord Locksley do? He would blame them. There would be reprisals.

  The man looked up. “His pulse is strong. Help me get him inside.”

  Relief washed over Lucy, so powerful it made her head spin. Not dead. Just unconscious.

  Between them, they managed to lift Robin and manoeuvre him inside the mill. They laid him on a straw mattress. Robin’s face was pale. A purple swelling was rising above one eye, and the hair just over his temple was matted with blood. Lucy ran for water, cloths and salve.

  When she came back, it was to find Much staring at Robin, his eyes huge and frightened.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He’ll be all right,” Lucy assured him. “He’s had a nasty knock on the head, that’s all. Go back outside, Much, and let us know if those men return.”

  Lucy approached Robin, damp cloth in hand. She looked to his servant for permission.

  “I should clean the wound, and this salve will help with the swelling.”

  “Go ahead,” he said curtly.

  His eyes were blazing, but Lucy knew his anger was not directed at her. He watched in silence as she knelt by Robin and began sponging blood from his face. The wound looked nasty, but Lucy didn’t think it was serious. He would have a bruise and likely a headache for a few hours, but nothing worse than that.

  “My name’s Will Scathelock,” the man volunteered at last.

  “I’m Lucy.” She nodded at Robin. “You are his servant?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  Lucy didn’t try to understand this.

  “I’m going for help,” Will said. “He won’t be able to walk home. Will you look after him awhile?”

  Lucy nodded. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “He got hurt trying to help me.”

  At the door, Will turned back. “It wasn’t your fault, lass. There’s a lot of history between Robin and Guy of Gisborne. One of them will kill the other someday.” Then he was gone.

  Once Lucy was certain the wound had stopped bleeding, she smeared salve over it and bandaged it with a strip of linen. That was all she could do for now.

  She turned away to wring out her cloth. When she looked back again, a pair of green eyes were blinking at her.

  Robin put a hand up to his head. “What happened?”

  “One of Guy of Gisborne’s friends struck you with his sword. It’s not serious.”

  Robin grimaced. “That’s right. I remember. You tried to warn me. The horson!”

  Lucy wasn’t sure if he meant her, Guy, or Guy’s friend, but decided to let it go.

  He looked around. “Where is Will? Was he hurt?”

  “He went to fetch help.” She realised, then, who she was talking to and blushed. This was her lord, or he would be one day. Flustered, she soldiered on. “Is there anything I can do for you? I could give you something for the pain.”

  He tried to get up but fell back with a wince. “You can tell me your name.”

  Lucy blushed. “I…that is, my name is Lucy, Master Robin.”

  “Just Robin,” he corrected. “Where’s Guy?”

  Lucy was startled. He was talki
ng to her as if they were equals. “He and his friends rode away after you fell.”

  “That’s just like him, the coward.”

  He tried again to get up. “I’ll go after him and finish the job.”

  “No!” Lucy cried, grabbing for him as he swayed. He sank back onto the mattress, and Lucy realised she had seized his shoulders. She let go and took a few hasty steps backwards. “I beg your pardon. You should not try to stand just yet. My little brother is keeping a lookout. He’ll let us know if there’s trouble.”

  “All right,” he muttered ungraciously. “But I’ll make the swine pay—riding around Locksley as if he owns it.”

  Lucy hid a smile with difficulty. He was like an indignant little boy. She supposed his pride had taken a battering along with his head. Oddly, his reaction banished her shyness.

  “I’ll bring you an infusion for the pain.”

  She bustled about, preparing a willow-bark tea, grateful for the work as it kept her from seeing that searching gaze. She returned to him, holding the steaming cup in her hands. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and took it from her.

  Their fingers brushed. His were warm and callused, and Lucy started, almost causing the cup to spill.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me, you know.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Lucy snapped before she could stop herself.

  A smile hovered on his lips. “So, tell me, how did you come to be on the wrong side of Guy of Gisborne?”

  “When he and his family rode by a few days ago, he saw me watching them. He thought I was being disrespectful.”

  Robin’s face darkened. “Guy needs to remember that Gisborne and not Locksley is his property. I will have to refresh his memory.”

  Much stuck his head around the door. “The man with Robin is back, and Da, too.”

  Robin got to his feet. Lucy stretched out a hand to help him but he seemed steady enough.

  Her da burst in, Will hard on his heels.

  “Are you all right, lass?”

  Lucy nodded.

  Will hurried to Robin’s side and slid an elbow under his. “Can you ride?”

  “Of course I can,” Robin said impatiently, shrugging Will off.

  Much held out Robin’s sword, quiver and bow. He took them with a smile of thanks. Will promptly snatched them from him, his scowl daring Robin to argue.

  Lucy’s da slid an arm around her waist. “What happened?”

  “It was Guy of Gisborne,” Robin said before Lucy could speak. “I was on my way to visit you and your family, and I arrived in time to see him molesting your daughter.”

  Da shuddered. “If you hadn’t happened along when you did… Oh, Master Robin, how can I ever thank you? God bless you for coming to my girl’s aid. If there’s ever anything I can do in return…”

  Robin held up his hand. “Actually, it was your daughter who ended up doing the rescuing.”

  “We should go, Robin,” Will said.

  Robin nodded, then winced. At the door, he turned. “I spoke to the steward. You have a three-month period of grace to pay off your debts and get back on your feet. I know it isn’t much, but it was the best I could do.”

  He and Will left, leaving Lucy, her da and Much staring speechlessly after them.

  ***

  Robin was silent during the short ride home. Will kept shooting worried glances over at him. At last, they reached Locksley Manor and dismounted. Then Robin spoke, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation.

  “A pretty girl.”

  “Who?”

  “Lucy, the miller’s daughter. Who else?”

  Will heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I know that look.”

  He offered a supportive arm, but Robin shrugged him off. He regretted it immediately. Pain stabbed through his skull. This time, he let Will help him indoors. The fair Lucy would have to wait, at least until his head stopped spinning.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11

  A couple of hours’ rest had Robin feeling more like himself. He sat in the great hall with Will, taking full advantage of his father’s absence to drown the humiliations of the day in ale.

  Being knocked out was bad enough, but when it was in front of Guy of Gisborne, and he not even with a scratch on him. Add to that being rescued by a girl, and Robin’s day was just about complete. Though Robin had to admit, opening his eyes to find Lucy gazing down at him was the best sight he’d woken up to in a while. She was a bonny lass and no mistake—prettier than any of the other village girls, or noble ones, for that matter.

  “I think I’ll go over and see Lucy tomorrow, to say thank you for tending to my injury.”

  Will wasn’t fooled by his casual tone. “And what do you think His Lordship will say if he finds out you’ve been showing interest in a peasant girl?”

  “He can’t complain. He’s seduced a good many of them himself. As long as I do not take Lucy before a priest, he would probably turn a blind eye.”

  “So we’re talking marriage already? And here I thought you were, what’s the phrase? Sowing your wild oats.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Robin said affectionately.

  Alan stuck his head around the door. “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

  Robin groaned. “Who is it, Alan?”

  “It’s Lady Katrina. She looks a might agitated.”

  Robin’s spirits sank. He put a hand up to his still-throbbing head. He would have preferred it to be Guy. He owed him something. What could Katrina want with him? Robin debated sending her away, but thought better of it. Best to see what she wanted and get it over with. Knowing Katrina, she’d keep pestering him otherwise.

  “Show her in.”

  “I think that is my cue to leave.” Will drained the last of his ale. “Good luck.” He escaped through the door to the kitchens just as Alan ushered Katrina in. Alan bowed and also made a hurried exit.

  Katrina hesitated in the doorway. It was clear from her expression that she was uncertain of her welcome. Looking at her, Robin couldn’t help comparing her to Lucy. Both girls were fair and blue-eyed, but whereas Lucy’s dress had been mended in several places and was ragged around the hem, Katrina’s gown and mantle were of the highest quality.

  “How’s your head?” she asked timidly.

  “I will live. Have you come alone?” Robin looked around for Guy.

  Colour rose in Katrina’s face. “I brought a groom with me. He is waiting outside.” She took a few cautious steps into the hall. “I had to speak to you, Robin. Please don’t send me away.”

  Robin’s head gave another vicious throb. He didn’t feel like dealing with Katrina right now. Perhaps the ale had not been a good idea after all. Still, the sooner he heard what she had to say, the sooner she would leave him in peace. He reached for a decanter of wine that stood ready on the table.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  She shook her head.

  Knowing he’d regret it, Robin poured himself a cup.

  “So talk,” he said.

  “I…I wanted to apologise for my brother’s behaviour. It was disgraceful.”

  Robin waited. That couldn’t be it. He knew Katrina. She had always been an independent girl. Her apology might be genuine, but that wasn’t her only reason for coming. She had risked both her mother’s and brother’s displeasure to see him.

  “Is that all you came to say?” He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes.

  “Are we to be enemies, then, you and I?”

  “Your brother has made his feelings clear. He doesn’t want you associating with me.”

  “Since when have you let Guy or anyone else tell you what to do? He doesn’t speak for me. I can associate with whomever I like.”

  Robin almost smiled. Katrina hadn’t changed. She evidently still had little respect for her brother. But Robin couldn’t forget that he and Katrina had once been betrothed…well, almost. Was Lady Gisborne still hoping to unite the two estates, since her own
plan of marrying his father had failed? If so, she would be in for a disappointment. Robin was no more eager to marry Katrina now than he had been at twelve. He wondered if she was still as willing.

  “What do you want, Katrina?”

  She flushed at the cool tone of his voice. “I hate being back here. Guy is set on pretending everything is normal, but I see the way servants whisper about us behind their hands when they think I’m not looking. Mother has attention only for Guy. I’m alone, until either my mother or Guy can marry me off.”

  Against his will, Robin found himself feeling sorry for her. So many women of noble birth had their futures decided for them, regardless of their personal wishes. It was the same for men, but they might seek comfort in a mistress. While that was tacitly accepted, if a woman took a lover, she was branded a whore and her reputation destroyed.

  Katrina held out a hand to him. “I just want to be your friend. There’s no one else I can talk to or be myself with. Why should we have to be enemies because of our parents’ mistakes?”

  “And if your brother should find out?”

  “I have told you. Guy doesn’t command me.” There was the faintest flicker of contempt in her eyes. “Are you afraid of my brother, Robin of Locksley, the finest archer in the county?”

  Robin banged down his cup. A little wine slopped over the rim. “I’m not afraid of Guy or anyone.”

  Abruptly, her face crumpled. Robin even thought he saw the suspicion of tears clinging to her long lashes.

  Shame washed over him. Katrina was right. None of it was her fault. He knew what it must have cost her to admit her unhappiness. He took her hand.

  “I never asked for this quarrel with Guy, but it’s unfair to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  She looked hopeful. “So we’re friends?”

  Robin nodded.

  Her face broke into a relieved smile. “I must go. I bribed the groom to keep silent, but I will be missed soon. I will visit again when I can.”

  Robin saw her safely onto her horse and away with her silent male escort. The meeting had left him feeling a little uncomfortable. He’d always known Katrina felt more for him than mere friendship, and he had no desire to get her hopes up.