by N B Dixon
Hugo inclined his head. “How will you make sure Locksley finds out?”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult. When he comes to rescue the old man, we shall have him.” Feeling cheerful, Guy reached for more wine.
“How did your trip to Huntingdon go today?” Katrina asked.
Guy grimaced. “The earl still lives. Honestly, if anyone can turn malingering into an art, it is him.”
“And Lady Marian?”
“She grieves, naturally.” He did not share his fear that the earl would die before giving his consent to a marriage. The Earl of Huntingdon was one of the most powerful men in England. Guy had no intention of being sheriff forever, and he had no desire to be under Prince John’s thumb any longer than he had to.
“Perhaps the earl already has a suitor in mind,” Hugo remarked.
“Her father will be dead soon, and whatever wishes he had can be quietly forgotten.”
***
Guy met with Edgar. He had been jumpy for days. Evidently, he had not recovered from Locksley’s gift. Guy eyed him with distaste. The man was spineless, but he was an excellent steward. For now, he was useful.
“I don’t think I should return to Locksley, My Lord. I could serve you much better by remaining at the castle.”
“You’re a coward, Edgar. All you care about is saving your own skin. You know Locksley will kill you as soon as look at you.”
Edgar sagged.
“As it happens, I have need of you here, particularly with our royal prince in residence.”
Edgar relaxed. “Thank you, My Lord.”
“However, we need to be kept informed of Locksley’s movements, as well as those of his friends in the village. Is there anyone who might act as a spy? Preferably someone susceptible to bribes.”
Edgar frowned in concentration. Then his expression cleared. “I know of one man, My Lord.”
***
Sir Richard of Lee set down his skinning knife and settled the freshly prepared rabbit over the fire. He huddled close to the flames in an effort to keep warm. His forest lodge might be more than adequate as a home in the summer, but far less desirable in winter. Still, it was all he had, and decidedly better than sleeping under the stars. He had built it with his own hands, and it had served as a retreat for most of his adult life.
He wondered where his nephew was. Hopefully, the lad was safe. It seemed everyone he cared for was taken from him.
With an effort, he shook off the gloomy thoughts. He’d never been given to self-pity and he didn’t intend starting now. He picked up a handful of herbs and threw them into a pot of boiling water. Next, he added some wild mushrooms and the last of the wine he’d brought with him. It was a basic sauce, but poured over fresh cooked rabbit meat, it would taste delightful.
He needed to make some sort of plan. This lodge was serviceable as a temporary shelter, but it would never do as a permanent home. He needed a new start, preferably far away from this area. He was too old for the battlefield, but perhaps he could get work training soldiers. Teaching the skill of archery was what he loved most in the world, though he doubted he would ever have a pupil as good as Robin. That boy had worked magic with a bow, even if he had been prone to over-confidence.
He was jerked abruptly from his reverie when the peace of the forest was shattered by the sound of many horses. Sir Richard reached automatically for his sword, before he remembered that he no longer possessed one. He’d sold it, along with most of his possessions, and it still hadn’t been enough to raise the money. All he had was the bow and arrows that he had made himself. He strung his bow and nocked an arrow.
The horses burst into the clearing. Sir Richard ran his eyes over the assembled soldiers. Every one of them was in the livery of the sheriff. He recognised Captain Beaumont in the lead.
“Sir Richard of Lee. You are under arrest.”
“Upon what charge?”
“You are wanted for aiding a known criminal.”
“And who may that be?”
“Your nephew is a wanted man whom you helped to escape justice.”
“He was never tried, and the killing of that man was not murder.”
“I will not bandy words with you.”
Sir Richard considered shooting the captain. He had five arrows in his quiver and there were twice that many soldiers. He would never escape. He was seized roughly. One soldier broke his bow in two with a snap that struck Sir Richard to the heart. That bow had been his pride and joy, the best he’d ever made. His wrists were tied behind him, and he was lashed to Hugo Beaumont’s saddle. Hugo set off at a fast trot, forcing Sir Richard to run behind him.
***
The cell was small and damp and stank of urine. Rats scuttled from corners or burrowed into the mouldy straw that covered the earth floor.
Sir Richard sat slumped against the wall. He was exhausted. Captain Beaumont had forced him to run the entire way to Nottingham Castle. When he fell, he was dragged along while the other soldiers laughed. His arms and legs were lacerated and his entire body ached. There was no doubt about it, he was old. Perhaps it was time to give up and embrace death. At least his nephew had got away.
After some time, he heard approaching footsteps and a voice he recognised as Guy of Gisborne’s
Sir Richard climbed stiffly to his feet. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t do it crouching at Guy’s feet.
The door to his cell was unlocked. Two guards dragged him out and escorted him to a larger cell containing a single bench. Guy sat waiting for him. He watched with evident satisfaction as Sir Richard was chained to the wall opposite and the soldiers departed.
A torch set in a bracket near the door illuminated the room. By its light, Sir Richard studied the face of his captor. It was a cruel visage, bearing little resemblance to the shy boy he had once known.
“You’re wondering why you are here, I expect.”
“Your captain made it perfectly clear.”
Guy laughed. “Oh, that was just a pretence to get you here. It is what I shall tell the townsfolk when you are hanged, but it’s not the true reason. I don’t give a damn about your nephew or your quarrel with the Abbot of Saint Mary’s, though it may interest you to know that your nephew has been apprehended in Portsmouth. Word reached me an hour ago. I am in contact with men of law all over the country. The sea ports were instructed to keep a lookout for him. He will hang soon if he hasn’t already.”
Sir Richard refused to give Guy the satisfaction of seeing his grief, but it was difficult as he imagined his sister’s despair.
“What has happened to you, Guy? I was your tutor. I know you of old. You were not always like this. You have let your lust for power consume you.”
“I did not bring you here to listen to your sermons.”
“Then why?”
“You have perhaps not heard that Robin of Locksley has returned.”
Sir Richard’s heart leapt. Robin was home. Instantly, it plummeted again. He knew the hatred that existed between Guy and Robin. He could guess what Guy intended.
“Since his return, Robin of Locksley has committed criminal acts. He has been outlawed and taken refuge in Sherwood, but I intend to lure him out. All I need is the right bait.” He smiled. “You are that bait. Once he hears of your approaching death, I have no doubt he will come to your rescue. Then I shall have you both.”
The guards took Sir Richard back to his cell. As the bolts slammed home once more, he put his face in his hands.
Tears made tracks in the grime on his cheeks. He could see his nephew’s face, bright and eager. Guy was right. He had failed him, and if he had his way, Robin would die, too.
Stay away, Robin, he prayed inwardly. I’m an old man. It does not matter if I die. Stay away and live.
Chapter 7
He was back again. Daphne clenched the ladle tight in her hand, wishing she could bring it down on his head. Through the open door of their cottage, she watched him riding down the street.
Da was also
aware of him. He’d laid aside the pot he was mending and was watching with wary eyes.
Edgar reined in his horse before their front door and dismounted. “Headman, I wish to speak to you.” He flashed what he evidently believed was a charming smile at Daphne. Her stomach twisted with nausea. She wondered if he would still look at her that way if she vomited her breakfast all over his shiny boots.
“If it’s John Little you’re after, we’ve seen nothing of him.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Edgar made a dismissive gesture. “We have reason to believe he has taken up with the wolf’s head, Robin Hood.”
This name was news to Daphne. John had mentioned nothing of joining forces with any outlaw, but it made sense that the men who lived in Sherwood Forest would band together for their own survival. She was glad to hear he wasn’t alone.
Edgar’s gaze travelled up and down her body once more before returning to her da. “I am here to issue you with a warning. Hathersage has fallen behind on its taxes. The sheriff has been lenient, but his patience is wearing thin. In three days’ time, he will send men to this village in order to collect what is due.”
Daphne watched the colour drain from her da’s face. She shared his dismay. Hathersage was a poor village. Winter especially was hard, with many families barely avoiding starvation. Several villagers had resorted to stealing into Sherwood recently, to poach a rabbit in order to provide meat for their children. They had not a hope of meeting the new demands.
“We need more time,” her da started to say, but Edgar held up a hand.
“The sheriff has heard such excuses before. Taxes are being raised throughout the country. Our king has been taken prisoner, and if we are to pay the ransomed demanded, certain sacrifices must be made.”
“Does the money go to the Crown or into Prince John’s coffers?” Daphne demanded. Da shot her a petrified glance.
“Be quiet,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Your father is right, my dear. You need to watch that tongue of yours. I would hate to see it cut out of your pretty mouth.” Edgar turned back to Da. “Perhaps we can discuss this in private. These are hardly words fit for a woman’s ears.”
“Wait outside, Daphne,” Da said quietly.
Daphne shot Edgar a poisonous glare, but obeyed. Once outside, she crouched, pressing her ear to a knot in the back wall of the cottage.
“You will meet this new tax,” Edgar was saying, “or there will be reprisals. Everyone is feeling the pinch. If the sheriff gave you more time, he would have to do it with every village. Why should you be given special treatment?”
There was a silence. Daphne could imagine her da’s shoulders slumping in defeat. She dug her fingernails into her palms in helpless fury. Her people would never be able to pay the sum expected of them. They would suffer as a consequence.
“While I’m here,” Edgar began again, “I should like to speak to you upon another matter.”
Daphne tensed.
“Your daughter, Daphne. She is a comely wench, perhaps a bit spirited, but that can easily be remedied. I wish to marry her.”
Daphne’s head spun. She had to lean against the cottage for support. Surely she had misheard.
“I have no plans to marry my daughter off at present.” Da’s voice betrayed only a slight tremor. “Since my good wife died, she has kept house for me. I cannot easily spare her.”
“A pity. If you had been more amenable, we might have been able to come to an arrangement regarding the tax payments.”
A trickle of cold ran down Daphne’s spine that had nothing to do with the chill winter day.
“Come now,” Edgar went on. “You and I both know this village is unable to pay the money due. Why let your people suffer needlessly?”
“I’ll…I’ll have to think about it.”
Daphne bit back an indignant cry.
“Don’t take too long. Three days. That is all you have. I shall expect your answer then.” His voice grew louder with the last few words, indicating that he had stepped outside. Daphne listened to his horse’s hoofbeats receding down the street.
She found her da slumped on the bag of hay that served as his bed. His face was in his hands. He looked up as she came to kneel beside him.
“The filthy, blackmailing horson.”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know, but I’d rather see you dead than married to that man.”
Daphne breathed an inward sigh of relief, but guilt followed fast on its heels. “But what about the village?”
“My girl, I just don’t know.”
***
Will crouched, shivering behind a bush. The winter winds had stripped it of leaves, but it still provided some shelter. His gaze wandered over to a neighbouring bush, behind which Robin was hidden. John and Wat were also somewhere close. Though he could not see him, Will pictured Robin with an arrow ready on his bow string, eyes trained on the Nottingham road.
They had been there a good half hour, Will estimated, but the road stretched empty and silent before them, sprinkled with a fresh powdering of snow.
Beside Will, Edward fidgeted and heaved an impatient sigh. He wasn’t used to being idle. For Will, this was no new experience. He and Robin had lain in wait for enemies many times in the Holy Land. It was a question of patience and judgement. Will trusted Robin, but if a likely victim did not happen along soon, the others would get restless.
Will laid a hand on Edward’s arm. “Easy, lad. It won’t be much longer.”
“You’ve said that twice already,” Edward grumbled.
Will suppressed a grin. He remembered being fourteen. There had never been enough hours in the day for everything he wanted to do. Back then, it had been just him and Robin, running around getting into mischief, without a care in the world. Will’s smile faded. That time had been all too brief.
The plan was a simple one—wait in hiding at the side of the road until some wealthy person happened by, and rob him. A portion of the money would go to the villagers of Locksley and Hathersage. Will knew John was anxious to see how his people were faring since his flight. From something Wat had let slip, it seemed John had a woman waiting for him there. The thought made Will feel even lonelier.
The rest of the money would be used to trade, both in the surrounding villages and Nottingham itself. This first robbery would be crucial. It would decide Robin’s leadership once and for all. The trouble was, it was freezing. Will pulled his jerkin more closely about him and gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering.
“Do you think Robin will help them?”
Will turned back to Edward. His young face was anxious, the usual fierce scowl absent. Will knew it had to be hard for him. He’d been forced to leave his family and run into Sherwood where he would have to live like an animal.
“Robin said he’d help them, and I’ve never known him break his word.”
“My da gets pains in his hands. He can’t work like he used to.” Edward bit his lip.
Will didn’t need him to finish his sentence. Edward had confided that he’d been taking more and more work off his da’s shoulders, leaving George free to care for his wife, whose health was failing. Edward had also been slipping into Sherwood to hunt when they had not managed to earn enough money to put food on the table. With Edward gone, his family would be lucky to get through the winter.
“Listen, lad. Robin is not like Gisborne. He cares about the people. He won’t let your mam and da go hungry.”
Edward’s face relaxed. He opened his mouth to say something else, when a bird call broke the silence.
Will tensed at once, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. It was Wat, giving the signal they had agreed on.
He heard the unmistakable rumble of cartwheels. His eyes strayed once more to Robin’s location. Will was certain he, too, was aware of the approaching traveller.
The cart came into view. The horse pulling it was handsome and glossy. The cart itself was piled with wooden chests,
and the man driving had the look of a rich merchant or tax collector.
As the cart drew alongside Will’s hiding place, he heard a small thud and the next moment, an arrow stood in the road, almost directly in front of the horse’s hooves.
The animal shied, and the cart came to a halt.
“Stay where you are,” Robin called, unseen.
The man was looking everywhere for the source of the voice and the arrow.
“Who are you?” he called in a tremulous voice. “Show yourself.”
Robin emerged soundlessly, stepping out onto the road. One hand rested on his sword, and his longbow and quiver hung across his back. His hood was up, obscuring his face.
As agreed, John appeared also, moving to take the horse’s bridle. At sight of them, the man blanched.
“Stay here, lad,” Will hissed into Edward’s ear. “This man doesn’t look like he’s going to put up a fight, but if you see any threat to Robin, shoot. Try and wound if you can.”
Edward nodded, tight-lipped. Will was impressed to see that the hand gripping his bow was steady.
Will left their hiding place and moved to stand on Robin’s other side. Their victim was looking more and more nervous by the second. Three men stood in his way, and he would have to be a fool not to realise what they intended.
“Climb down from the cart,” Robin instructed. “Be sure to keep your hands where I can see them.”
The man did as he was told. His expression was somewhere between outrage and fear. “You have no right to accost innocent travellers in this fashion.”
“Needs must, I’m afraid. Anyone passing through Sherwood must pay a toll. It’s only polite.”
“You are nothing but outlaws, vermin!”
John hefted his axe. “Watch who you’re calling vermin.”
The man took a step back, looking terrified.
“My friend is right,” Robin said. “There are plenty of men who would have shot you first and taken your goods, leaving your body for the crows.”
“What do you want with me?”
“First, I would like to know who you are and where you are going.”