by N B Dixon
David had seen this man only once during the sacking of Locksley. Philip Mark was his name, a mercenary by all accounts. He was older than Captain Beaumont had been—a hard, grizzled soldier. Everything about him was cruel, from his hawk nose to his close-set eyes.
David was gripped by uncertainty. Was he really prepared to hand the outlaws over to this man? Robin was the only person he wanted dead. But he could hardly give Robin away without betraying the rest of them, and it was too late to back out.
He had a fleeting moment of regret for Will, but Will had rejected him. The other outlaws treated him as if he were stupid and worthless.
Philip Mark made a gesture, and without warning, David’s escort kicked his legs out from under him. His knees struck the stone floor hard but he did not try to rise. He forced himself to meet the man’s pitiless gaze.
“You are one of Robin Hood’s men. Do not try to deny it. It is common knowledge that all his men dress in green. The question I must ask myself is, why are you here?”
David took another breath. He was committed. There was no going back. “I was one of Robin Hood’s men, but no longer. I have broken with him.”
“Indeed? How interesting. What has happened to bring about this abrupt change of heart?”
David chose his words with care. He could hardly tell the mercenary the truth, that the man he wanted lusted after Robin and he was doing this out of jealousy.
“Locksley has made me promises he refused to keep.” A blatant lie, but it sounded plausible enough to David.
“Really?” Philip Mark sounded bored.
“I can take you to Robin Hood’s camp.”
“A pretty offer, but I think it more likely you intend to lead us straight into a trap.” The mercenary’s voice, never loud, grew even softer with menace. “I see through your game. Locksley has sent you here to lure us away from the castle. No doubt he waits in ambush in Sherwood.”
David’s terror mounted. He was losing control of the situation. “No, I swear! Just let me speak to the sheriff.”
“Take him to the cells.”
The escorting soldiers yanked David to his feet. He struggled, but other soldiers appeared as if from nowhere and he was quickly overpowered.
They chained him to the wall of a tiny cell, hardly big enough to contain a man. Then they left him. David slumped to the floor, cursing his own stupidity. He might have known they wouldn’t listen to him. He would die here alone. Robin certainly wouldn’t rescue him. For a second, he entertained the fantasy that Will would come for him, but if Robin ordered him not to, Will would obey. The man did everything Robin wanted him to. Bitterness rose in David, bringing the taste of bile to his throat and scalding tears to his eyes.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, slumped in misery against the wall, when the sound of approaching footsteps roused him. There was a jingling of keys and the door to his cell creaked open. David raised his head to find Guy of Gisborne standing in the doorway. Hope stirred, to be almost immediately eclipsed by dread. Perhaps the sheriff had come to pronounce sentence on him.
“My captain says you can lead me to Robin Hood.”
David struggled to his feet. His limbs were cramped from having spent so long in one position. “I can, My Lord.”
“You would have us believe that you wish to betray your leader.”
“He is no leader of mine.”
Gisborne’s lips twitched. “Such disloyalty. Tell me, since you are so willing to stab Robin Hood in the back, what is to stop you doing the same to me?”
David realised it was now or never. He had been given a second chance. “You have something I want.”
“And what would that be?”
“My freedom. I want a pardon. I’ll go far away from here and you’ll never see me again.”
The sheriff regarded him. “That seems a fair offer, but tell me, what is to stop me from torturing the information out of you and then killing you? You are a thief and a sodomite, after all.”
David could feel a trickle of cold sweat sliding down the side of his face, but he was unable to lift a hand to wipe it away. “You would never be able to find it on your own, even if I gave you directions. It is too well hidden, and Robin Hood always has sentries posted.”
Gisborne considered. David waited in an agony of suspense.
“Very well. In exchange for a pardon, you will guide my men to Robin Hood’s camp. Mind, if you play me false, you will receive the worst death that can be contrived. Do I make myself clear?”
David swallowed audibly and nodded. Then, feeling he had nothing to lose, “I want to see the pardon first.”
Gisborne actually laughed. “You are intelligent, I’ll give you that. I shall have my scribe draft the document tonight and it will be signed in the morning.”
***
Robin woke to a pounding headache. He drew one forearm over his eyes in an effort to block out the weak shaft of winter sunlight slanting in through the window shutters. He didn’t think he’d drunk that much the night before, but then, he had never been able to take alcohol like Will.
Will. The name pierced him, and with it, memories. Will pressed up against the wall, submitting to David’s caresses. Robin remembered the consternation on Will’s face when he had become aware of him. David had merely looked annoyed, a child deprived of a treat. They would have returned to camp hours ago, and were doubtless wondering where he was.
He became conscious of the warm weight curled against him. Marian still slept, one arm wrapped around him, her legs tangled with his as if to prevent him from escaping.
He knew that wasn’t fair. Marian had not lured him into her bed. He had come there of his own free will. Guilt and self-loathing warred inside him. He knew Marian’s feelings for him went beyond simple lust, whereas he had wanted nothing but to drive the memory of Will and David out of his head. But it hadn’t worked. Oh, his body might have been physically aroused, but there was no gratification, no emotion. His prime feeling was one of regret.
Was he any different to those monsters on Crusade? They had treated him like a whore. Hadn’t he done the same? True, Marian had been more than willing, but that still did not make up for the fact that he had deliberately used her.
As for Will, there was no point wallowing in self-pity. It had taken seeing Will with another man to make Robin realise his true feelings, but he could not blame the man for turning his back on him.
The abbey bells rang out, calling the nuns to their devotions. Marian stirred and opened her eyes. A sleepy smile spread across her face. “I thought you’d be gone when I woke.”
“You asked me to stay.”
She snuggled closer. Her warm breath caressed Robin’s cheek, the silkiness of her hair tickling his bare skin.
“I suppose you will have to leave soon. Ursula will be along to help me dress, and she should not find you here.”
The regret in her voice caused another stab of guilt, but Robin took the opening.
“Yes, I must go.”
“When will you visit again?”
“Marian, I—”
She silenced him with a kiss. Robin willed himself not to tense, not to push her away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips. “I know you have a lot of demands on your time. Come when you can. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He had to leave. Robin threw back the bedcovers and began searching the floor for his clothes. Marian sat watching him, still naked, her hair falling in a dark curtain over her shoulders.
Within a few minutes, Robin was dressed. He ran fingers through his untidy hair, then strode to the window.
“Wait!” Marian called from the bed.
Suppressing a groan, Robin turned back to her.
“Won’t you kiss me goodbye?”
It seemed God had decided he hadn’t been punished enough. There was no way he could refuse without sounding churlish. Robin retraced his steps to the bed and leaned down. He had meant to give her a chaste kiss
on the cheek, but she turned her head so their lips met. Hers parted, the tip of her tongue flicking against his bottom lip. She reached out a hand towards him. Robin caught her wrist and pulled back. “I have to go, Marian.”
She pouted. “Come back soon.”
At last he was through the window and over the cloister wall. There was no one about, but he knew he would not breathe easily again until he was safely back in Sherwood.
***
Marian sat up slowly and swung her legs to the floor, wincing as her bare feet struck cold stone. She was aware of some soreness. From stories she had heard growing up, she’d known to expect some discomfort when coupling for the first time. There had been pain, sharp, and mercifully brief.
Marian had also heard that women viewed the world differently after lying with a man. She supposed it was true. Many women of her station lost their virginity on their wedding night. It was the symbol of their new life with their husband. Marian was still unwed, but she hoped in time that would change. She had taken the first step.
Her eyes drifted to the mattress, which still held the depressions left by their bodies. Her gaze lingered on the place where she had been lying and the brownish stain there. Blood, she realised. Her blood. A slow smile spread across her face.
***
The smell of wood smoke and cooking greeted Robin. He gave the customary signal to announce his presence. As he entered camp, he was mobbed. The relief on all their faces was yet another painful prick to Robin’s conscience. Only Will did not rise from his place by the fire, though he met Robin’s gaze for an instant before burying his face in his breakfast.
“Where the devil have you been?” John demanded.
“Wherever I have been, there was no food. Is that your venison stew I smell cooking, Daphne?”
Before Daphne could answer, Jane swooped down on Robin. “You’re hurt. Let Lara make a poultice for that eye. And your jerkin is torn. It will have to be mended.”
“Let the man eat first, Jane,” Alan said, but Jane ignored him. As Robin lowered himself onto a log, she fixed him with a beady-eyed stare.
“You’ve been drinking, I’ll wager. And you’ve a head to prove it, from the look of you.” She turned to Lara. “Maybe brew up something for our gallant leader’s head while you’re about it.”
Despite her sarcasm, Robin knew Jane well enough to tell she was pleased to see him. She took out needle and thread while Lara applied a foul-smelling poultice to Robin’s eye and forced a herbal concoction into his hands, her usually kind face warning of dire repercussions if he refused to drink it. Robin submitted meekly to their ministrations.
Daphne placed a steaming bowl of stew and a hunk of bread in Robin’s lap.
“Where is David?” Robin asked, carefully avoiding Will’s eyes.
“He hasn’t come back to camp,” Alan said.
Robin was immediately alert. He turned to Will. “Were you caught by the soldiers yesterday?”
Will shook his head. “We got back to camp safely. We went hunting and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Have none of you been to look for him?”
John shrugged. “Do we look like nursemaids?”
An arrow fired from the sentry oak flew into the clearing. Everyone immediately reached for weapons. A few seconds later, Edward was there.
“There are men coming. David is with them.”
“What kind of men?” Robin said.
“They look like monks.”
Tuck was on his feet at once. “I will go and meet them. If they are what they seem, I will bring them back here.” He looked to Robin for permission, and Robin nodded.
“I don’t see how monks can be a threat,” Much said.
“Anyone can wear a habit and shave their head,” Alan pointed out.
“Quiet!” Robin ordered.
***
Tuck appeared through the trees with David. Strung out behind them were a ragged band of monks. They certainly looked as though they had fallen on hard times. Their habits were patched and dirty. Some of them shambled as though at the farthest point of exhaustion. Nearly all of them had their heads bowed, and a couple of them fingered rosary beads as if looking for consolation.
“These monks are from the Abbey of Saint Luke,” David explained. “Their abbey was plundered by Prince John’s men. They were hoping to seek sanctuary at Saint Mary’s when they took a shortcut through Sherwood and became lost. I came across them on my way back to camp.”
“The abbot is the last man they should go to for help unless they’ve enough money to line his pockets,” Will said.
“We have nowhere else to go,” one of the monks said tremulously.
“All will be well,” Tuck was quick to reassure. “This is Robin Hood. I know he will see you right.”
None of the monks responded. Robin eyed the collection of ragged men. Every one of them was big and strapping, despite their shabby appearance. They could easily have been soldiers. Robin looked to David, but David would not meet his eyes.
The silence stretched. Tuck’s smile faded as he looked at Robin.
“Is something the matter?”
Robin ignored him. “Where did you meet these men, David? Whereabouts in Sherwood?”
David opened his mouth, but no answer emerged. As one, Will, Robin and John lunged for their weapons, but the monks were fast. Each of them flung aside their habits to reveal light chain mail and swords. A couple of them even carried crossbows.
Within seconds, the camp had become a battlefield as the outlaws were forced to fight for their lives. Yet more soldiers emerged from the trees, only to be cut down as Daphne, Jane, Lara and Edward unleashed a volley of arrows, but still more replaced them. Two soldiers rode at them, only to fall with Much’s knives buried in their throats.
Alan and Tuck set to with their quarterstaffs, while Will and John cut a bloody path with sword and axe.
Robin leapt onto a large bolder, bow in hand. He sent a ceaseless barrage of arrows into the enemy, but all the while, he was searching for one man in particular. And then, he spotted him.
David held a loaded crossbow. If ever Robin might have doubted David’s involvement in the ambush, that doubt vanished when he saw that the crossbow was aimed unwaveringly at him. From this close range, there was no way David could miss. Robin reached for an arrow, but his quiver was empty. David let fly.
The quarrel slammed into Robin’s shoulder. It was agony beyond anything he had ever felt in his life. Robin swayed on his perch. Dimly, he heard a voice yell his name. He saw David fall, John’s axe driven clean through his chest. The bow fell useless from Robin’s hand as he toppled forward.
***
Will tugged his sword from the body of a soldier and looked around for David. He saw him then, his crossbow aimed at Robin. Terror gripped Will. He was too far away. David fired.
As if in slow motion, Will saw Robin sway where he stood, the bow dropping from his hands. Then he was falling.
Will ran. He threw himself down at Robin’s side.
One glance was enough to show him how serious the wound was. The bolt had gone clean through Robin’s shoulder and lodged close to his chest. As he’d fallen, half of it had snapped off, driving the other half in still deeper. Blood soaked Robin’s tunic and jerkin. He wasn’t moving.
“Robin? Can you hear me? For the love of God, say something!”
The sounds of the battle receded. Will was barely aware of setting down his sword. He cradled Robin in his arms.
Robin’s eyes fluttered open and Will’s surge of relief was so powerful, he felt tears sting his eyes.
“Will!” Robin gasped.
“It’s not that bad. Tuck will patch you up in no time. Lie still.”
Robin managed a choking sound that might have been a laugh. “You should…go back to the fight, Will. They need you.”
“Lie quiet,” Will murmured.
Robin’s breathing was coming in quick pants. His eyes fluttered shut.
&nb
sp; Will longed to take him away from here, away from the battle, but he feared trying to move him. His clothes were already soaked in Robin’s blood. Could a man lose so much and live?
Robin’s eyes opened again. He was fighting to remain conscious. “Will, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Look after the others. They will…need you.”
“You’re not dying, Robin.” Will heard the raw desperation in his voice.
“Unless this bolt comes out soon…” Robin broke off as another spasm of pain gripped him. His hand clenched Will’s, hard.
“I’m sorry!” The words were wrung from Will. “It’s my fault David did this.”
Robin didn’t hear him. He had finally lost the fight to stay conscious.
***
The battle was soon over. Victory was due in no small part to the bow work of the women and Edward, not to mention those men Robin’s arrows had taken. The others gathered. None of them looked badly hurt.
“Robin?” John began.
“Crossbow,” Will said tersely.
“Out of my way,” Tuck ordered. He and Lara knelt by Robin.
“That bolt is in deep,” Tuck said. “If I try to pull it out, it will cause even more damage.”
“We have to stop the bleeding.” There were tears rolling down Lara’s face as she began tearing strips from her dress. “He’s lost too much blood already.”
“Where is David,” Will asked dully, as Lara applied pressure to the wound. Within seconds, the flimsy pad of cloth was soaked through and she turned a helpless face to Tuck.
“Dead,” John growled. “I finished the traitorous horson off myself. The rest of them are scattered, including Philip Mark.”
“We must take Robin to Kirklees,” Much said. “Surely they can help. They might know a way to remove the bolt without causing too much damage.”
“The bolt is only half the problem, I’m afraid,” Tuck said. “If fever and infection set in, there is little hope.”
Will’s throat tightened around a sob he was unable to utter. He couldn’t lose Robin, with so much still unsaid between them. He felt John’s heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up into the man’s bearded face. It was less ferocious than usual.