Arrow To The Heart (De Bron Saga) (32 page)

The outlaws conferred on the matter, some agreeing with Robin the others with Arrow.

"We do Kendrick no good from behind bars should we likewise be captured."

"But we do him no good if we wait until after he is dead!"  Little John exclaimed.

"Aye, they will hang him!"

"We must get him out of the prince's clutches."

"We must use caution and clear heads."

“Clear heads be damned.  Bravery will win the day.  Or are we cowards?"

Tempers ran high as some of the outlaws were all for marching that very minute to the castle to free Kendrick.

"No.  We can not act impulsively and rue the rescue," Robin insisted.

The argument went back and forth.  Indeed the outlaws might have argued the matter for a long time had not a messenger arrived on the scene, a spy sent into the castle disguised as a tailor.  What he revealed determined the matter, for it was learned that because of "Robin Hood's" escape, Kendrick de Bron was to be hung much earlier than planned.

"Tomorrow right after sunrise.  The prince fears that if he waits, the noble Robin Hood will enact a clever plan that will not only free de Bron but make John look like an ass."

"Then we must act tonight,"  Robin exclaimed.  He put his arm around Rowena.  "And so, my brave girl, it is I who will repay your good deed.  Now  I will help you save the man you love.

"Tonight!" came the echo of all.

"And pray to God that we are not too late."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kendrick watched through the cracks in the wooden door as the first rays of the new day dawned.  Sunshine.  Warmth.  Light.  But to him a curse.  Never had he been so dismayed to see the beginning of a new day, for this day would be his last to breathe in the sweet air of life.

It would not be a pleasant way to meet his end.  He had seen many men hanged before, had heard their cries and taken pity upon them.  Now it was his turn to feel his tongue hang out as he gasped for the precious elixir of mortality.

"Dear God, let me be brave."

Kendrick's hands were numb, his back ached and his feet felt as if they were being pricked by needles as he lay upon the straw in a cramped position.  The guards had been cruel in their treatment of him, taking delight in seeing one of the nobility meet the end in a state of humiliation.  They had brought his last meal, setting it upon the floor.  Refusing to untie his hands they had told him to lap up the food from the bowl like a dog.  He could still hear their laughter at his efforts at dignity.  But how could one feel any pride when in such a position?

"He is not so lordly looking now," one guard had jested.

Now Kendrick was all alone with only a spider to keep him company.  Seeing it hanging from its web, he shuddered as he was reminded that soon he would be hanging thus.

The jingle of keys announced that he was soon to have company.  Was it time already?  Kendrick felt a rush of fear.  Would he die quickly?  Or would it be slow?  Oh, God help him!

The door was thrown open.  Bright light blinded Kendrick and for a moment his eyes, which were used to darkness, squinted at the light.  He heard the trod of heavy boots and looked up, but his eyes could not see and it was a helpless feeling.

"You must let me see a priest before I die," he said with more bravado than he felt.  "Surely even a condemned man has the right to save his soul.  Even the Sheriff of Nottingham can not be so cruel."

His answer was silence as he fought to look upon the person who had entered the room.  Who was it?  What did it matter.  All he knew was that he was being forced to his feet.  He tried to stand--it was impossible at first.  He was as weak as a babe, having lain in one position too long.

What does it matter,
he thought wretchedly.  An arm steadied him and he wondered at the kindness of the jailer.  Or was it just that the guard was in a hurry to send him on his way  to heaven?

"We must hurry," said a gruff, raspy voice. 

Kendrick laughed to himself.  "Hurry?  I'm in no hurry to meet the hangman." 

He winced as he felt a dagger sever the ropes about his wrists.   He was free, at least for the moment, but what good did it do him?  There was no place to go.  No place to run.

Clenching and unclenching his fists he sought to bring blood back into his hands.  If only he had a weapon.  Anything. He would put up a fight.  Alas, it was too late.  With horror he felt rough cloth engulfing him.  He was going to suffocate!

"And so my time has come," he mumbled, then  felt himself maneuvered about like a blind man.   Pushed to the ground like a sack of wheat, he could only hope that God would be merciful.

Dressed in  loose white woolen robes, white linen wimples and black woolen veils, the  nuns moved with graceful strides towards the site of the gallows.  As they glided like heavenly messengers, they kept their heads bowed in reverence to the condemned man who was about to make his appearance.  Following close behind the sisters, clothed in his coarse brown wool, his cowl over his head, strode the friar.

"God have pity upon the poor condemned man's soul,"  Rowena prayed aloud, crossing herself.  As she looked at Friar Tuck she winked, then blended in with the various townspeople--tailors, tanners, blacksmiths, laborers, their drab aprons and caps at odds with the bright tunics of the nobility.  To all it was as if a festival were to be held, not a hanging, for there was revelry and jesting as the onlookers milled about.

How ghoulish
, Rowena thought, cautioning herself to act pious at all times as she dodged the carts and wagons rumbling through the courtyard.   The wagons stopped and their occupants, a miller, a mason and a traveling troupe of actors, paused to witness the spectacle.  The sound of harp and lute filled the air and the crowd gave themselves up to the music.  For just a moment Rowena nearly forgot herself as she walked in time to the rhythm, but Friar Tuck's frown reminded her.

All about men-at-arms and men known to be the sheriff's followers formed a circle about the crowd just to make certain that there would not be any "last minute" rescues, thus Rowena and her little band of followers had to be doubly careful.  But one face was missing in the crowd.  That of the Sheriff of
Nottingham.

"Where in heavens name is he?" asked a nervous guard as he watched the sun rise in the sky.  "I thought he would be the first to be about this morning."

The other guard wasn't interested.  "Who cares.  Am I his keeper?"

They both watched  the cart  that was wheeled under the gallows.  It would be jerked from beneath the prisoner, causing the poor wretch's neck to be snapped like a twig from the tree which hung over the stones of the courtyard.

Some in the crowd were curious. "Do you think Robin Hood will rescue him?"

"Nay.  He'll swing.   Just like a fish on a hook."

All looked up as the sound of a horn announced a noble spectator.

"John," Rowena whispered.   The Prince had elected to view the day's proceedings.  Riding upon his white horse between the rows of soldiers and royal archers, his face showed that he too was wondering about the outcome. From time to time he glanced towards the south, as if expecting to see someone there.  But who?

"Do you think he suspects?"  Friar Tuck mumbled.

"Let us hope not."

"And where is the Sheriff of Nottingham?"

That seemed to be a question asked frequently over the next several minutes, for it was the Sheriff's duty to initiate the details of the hanging.   At last the Prince seemed to lose all patience.

"Enough of this dallying," he commanded.  "We will go about with our business, sheriff or no sheriff."

Rowena and the others stopped in their steps, mentally preparing themselves.  Crossing her fingers, she could only hope that all would go well as her eyes, like all the others, looked towards the castle tower as the prison door was opened.  Out stepped a hooded figure.

"De Bron!"  Rowena gasped, wincing as Friar Tuck stepped on her toe to silence her.

Oh, dear God, look how he fought against the ropes which bound his hands behind his back, she thought.  He seemed to be yelling curses, but his words were muffled by the hood which was worn over his head.  That hood was meant to be a kindness but Rowena wondered how it must feel to be pushed and prodded along, stumbling all the way.

"My prayers are with you," shouted out one old woman.  "You and Robin's band have given us hope."

Indeed, instead of celebrating the hanging, it appeared that the crowd assembled  had actually come to cheer on one of Robin Hood’s men, in defiance of the prince.

"May God save you, Master de Bron," shouted out another.

There were curses uttered too, for not all were in favor of the outlaws.  The nobles gave vent to their anger at one who had betrayed his rank.  "Die de Bron, outlaw that ye be.  Meet your reward."

"To the gallows with him," shrieked one bejeweled lady.

Rowena watched as the condemned man was shoved onto the cart just as a cloud passed by the sun.  For just a moment the earth was darkened as if in an omen of doom.  Just as quickly, however, it passed, shining once more upon the tragic scene below.

Rowena and the other "nuns" and the friar reached beneath their robes, assuring themselves of what lay beneath.  Pressing forward they made as if to offer comfort to him about to die.  Their way was blocked by the guards.

"We have been given orders that no one come near the prisoner," said one burly guardsman, holding up his sword.

"Let me pass, my son.  I come to save that one's soul from eternal damnation," said Friar Tuck softly.  "As you can see by my robes I am a friar.  It is my duty to my God and to God's children to see that this one's soul is saved."

The guard shook his
head violently. "No. The Prince himself has ordered that no one step closer."

"But we must!"  Rowena cried out, pushing forward.  An arrow aimed at her heart caused her too to hold her place.  Looking at the rope, she mouthed a silent prayer, then looked wildly about her to seek aid.

"Now see here."  Not to be stayed by the words of a lowly pikeman, Friar Tuck sought out the prince himself to issue his plea.  "You must let me hear his last words, sire," he pleaded.

"Let him die like the dog that he is," came the reply.

"No!"  Rowena was close to losing all self control.  They had to get near Kendrick in order to save his life. 

Desperately her eyes searched the crowd.  In that moment she saw a wagon rumbling towards her and only narrowly missed being hit as she hastily stepped back.  A miller, dressed in his white garments, rode through the town splattering dirt on the onlookers.  Forgetting herself, Rowena  raised a fist at the impudence of the fellow, then turned her attention to the proceeding.

"We must do something!"  She watched as the man she loved was secured about the neck with a rope, feeling utterly helpless.  Their plan had gone awry.  It would be certain death for them all to move one step further.  And yet.

"Calm yourself,"
Friar Tuck's pudgy hand pressed into the small of her back.

"Calm myself?"  Was she to be forced to watch de Bron die? 
The thought was too brutal to bear.  Feeling tears trickle down her cheeks, she let them go unheeded as she watched the rope tied around Kendrick's neck.  She had the wild impulse to throw herself forward and grab for the guard's sword, but before she could a bloodcurdling yell sounded from the prison doors.

"No.  Wait.  You have the wrong man," came a voice.

Looking towards the direction of the sound, all eyes watched as the rotund figure of the chief jailer, clad only in his loincloth, flung himself forward.  Like a quivering bowl of custard, he fell in a heap at the Prince's feet.

"What is the meaning of this?"  Prince John's face was flushed. 

"It...it...is.. is not Kendrick de Bron that...that...you... you,,,,you are about to hang b…b..but our noble sh...sh...sheriff," the man stammered.

Rowena's eyes met those of Friar Tuck.  Was it possible?  But how?  Looking about she could see Robin in his disguise as a harper, Little John as a mason and the others, too.  Who then had worked this miracle?

Striding forward, Prince John sought to learn the truth as well.  Making his way towards the prisoner he yanked at the hood as a gasp rent the air.

"It
is
the Sheriff!"

There was a gag secured in his mouth.  Babbling, he sought to make himself understood.

"Let him loose," John commanded.  He pulled off the gag and prodded at the sheriff, showing little concern for the man's ordeal.  "How did this happen?"

"The miller....not a miller.   The old coot....really Edwin Greybeard ....outlaw....fooled us."

Rowena could not contain her joy.  Hugging  the friar, she felt as if at that moment she had been reborn, given a second chance at happiness.  She wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout aloud, but instead quickly gained control of her emotions.  They must all get away and quickly now, before they were discovered.  Meeting Robin Hood's eye, she nodded her head in the direction of the road, but not before the Prince's voice rang out.

"Close the gates.  Block all roads!  I do not want anyone to leave here until I find the culprits responsible for this."

Rowena watched  as the soldiers scampered forward.  She, Robin and the others were hopelessly trapped.