Orphan of Destiny (14 page)

“Is something wrong?” Little John asked.

“I’m not sure,” Robard finally answered.

“Do you think we’re in danger?” Maryam asked, her hands unconsciously moving inside the sleeves of her tunic.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. It might just be the weather,” he said. “My father used to call a foggy morning like this ‘a bandit’s day.’ It’s easier for someone up to no good to move about the forest. I guess it’s just . . . nothing, I’m sure.”

Everyone hurried to get under way as Robard circled the campsite, peering through the mist and straining to listen to the sounds of the forest. It was just past sunup, but it would be some time before the fog was burned away. He strung his bow before he mounted his horse, and rode with it in his left hand across the pommel of his saddle.

As it turned out, he was right about the weather. It was a perfect day for bandits. Less than half a league from our camp five men stepped out of the fog and demanded that we halt. They were dressed as foresters and like Robard carried longbows, but their faces were hidden by hooded cloaks.

And they each had an arrow nocked and pointed at us.

17

T
heir sudden appearance was so shocking that I nearly cried out. After a moment, two of the bandits took the lead horses by the reins while two others blocked our retreat. We were effectively cut off.

Despite our situation, Robard was a study in calm determination, his hands in the air.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

None of them answered. Without speaking, the leader directed the others with a series of shrugs and shakes of his head, the arrow in his bow never wavering from the center of Robard’s chest. One of the men went for Sir Thomas’ battle sword at Robard’s waist. He removed it, belt and all, and slung the sword over his shoulder. I was thankful for the robe Tuck had given me, for I had taken to wearing the satchel beneath it so it was not visible. I strained to listen, hoping for the Grail to sound, assuring me we would survive this encounter, but it was silent.

“You’ll answer for this,” Robard said. “I know these woods and know them well. There is nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.”

His threats had no effect. The thieves stood as still as statues, save for the one gathering up our valuables. Brother Tuck made his familiar clicking sound as the man advanced and rocked back and forth nervously astride his horse. He was scared, and I worried he might do something to cause himself harm.

“Easy, Tuck,” I said, reaching over to take him by the arm, hoping I could calm him.

Maryam started acting like a frightened girl. “What do you want with us?” she whined. “Please don’t hurt us!” She dropped her reins, slumping in the saddle, and cried the worst fake tears I’d ever heard. But as she hugged her arms, I could see she was reaching up the sleeves of her tunic.

The cowled leader, however, kept his eyes on Robard. Finally, he said quietly, “Drop the bow.”

Robard still clutched his bow in one hand. “I think not,” he replied.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to. Release it.”

“Not on your life,” Robard answered.

“Drop it! Or it’s an arrow for your morning meal!”

The bandit standing next to Tuck was momentarily distracted and thus caught completely unaware when the monk goaded his horse forward and brought his giant fist down on top of the bandit’s head. The man crumpled to the ground as if he had been felled by an ax.

“Now!” Robard shouted. I dropped the reins and winced as I rolled backward off my horse. The distinctive twang of a bowstring sounded, and for a moment I swore I felt the rush of air as an arrow passed through the space where I had been just an instant before.

I landed on my feet with my horse between me and the bandit on my right, and drew my sword. Maryam’s ululating cry echoed off the trees, and Robard’s shouts and curses rang through the morning air. To my left, Little John shouted that he and Tuck had already subdued the other archer. Angel barked and growled and snapped. She was no doubt making life difficult for one of the thieves, but I kept my focus on the man just beyond my horse.

Since they had probably intended to steal our mounts to begin with, and they appeared well trained and organized, I assumed the bandit was too disciplined to shoot one of the horses. Keeping the animal between us, I grabbed its halter and whacked its rump, steering it at a quick pace toward the bandit.

The man was brave, I’ll give him that. He held his ground. When I was nearly upon him, I whacked the horse on the rump again and this time he reared, forelegs flashing and kicking while the bandit shouted in alarm.

Twisting and charging around the horse, I was close on the man before he could get a shot off. I swung my sword and he jumped back, holding his bow out in front of him for protection. The flashing steel cut through the wood with little resistance, and it flew apart. Without a second thought, the man turned and ran, disappearing into the foggy woods.

We had nearly triumphed. One man lay on the ground unconscious. Little John held one, his giant arm around the man’s neck. Maryam had one pinned to the ground, a golden dagger at his throat.

Only Robard and the leader still grappled. They had both dropped their bows and wrestled hand to hand, trading blows right and left, but neither gained an advantage. Grasping each other’s shoulders, they spun around and around, until finally, one of Robard’s legs kicked out and caught the other man at the knee. He went down on his back and Robard leapt on top of him.

With his knees on the man’s arms, Robard pummeled him with blow after blow, but the bandit was strong and still struggled, whereas Robard was tiring. I rushed forward and put the point of my sword at the man’s throat. Even then he fought to free himself.

“Enough!” I said.

Finally his body sagged in defeat. He lay back on the ground, arms and body relaxed but appearing as if he could spring on us at any moment.

Robard pulled at the hood, which fit tightly around the man’s face. He yanked and tugged until finally we could see him clearly.

“Oh,” said Robard in surprise. “Oh my God! Will? Will Scarlet, is that you?”

18

W
ho are you?” the man on the ground demanded. “It’s me, Will. Rob. Robard Hode. Surely you recognize me?” he asked. In confusion I removed my sword from the man’s neck. His eyes widened in recognition, and a large and happy smile crossed his face. “Master Robard! Praise God, can it be true?”

“It is, Will. My duty with the King’s Archers is over and I’m on my way home. What in the world are you doing? Why did you try to rob us?”

The man stood, dusting himself off, but kept his head down as if ashamed of what had just happened.

“Um, Robard?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry. Tristan, Maryam, everyone, meet Will Scarlet. He is, or at least was when I left, my father’s forester.”

For a moment Robard’s words did not register. “Your father has a forester?” I asked. “I thought you were poor farmers.” No farmer I had ever met at St. Alban’s or on the nearby plots surrounding it had ever been able to afford a forester, a hired man who managed the workers and lands owned by his thane.

Robard’s face colored and he shrugged. “Well, we are poor. I mean in comparison to some of the barons and lords with property surrounding ours.” He quickly changed the subject. “Will, why have you taken up thieving? If my father knew of this—”

“Yes, Rob, I know. But, there’re things . . . you don’t . . . Much has changed, lad, since you’ve been gone. They’ve gotten much worse. The crown has raised taxes tenfold and the harvest has been poor these last two years, and since your father . . . Rob, the young lady there, she isn’t going to kill poor Allan, is she?” He pointed at Maryam, who still sat astride a bandit, her golden dagger held tightly against his throat.

“What? Oh, no. Maryam, please release him,” Robard said.

“I don’t like bandits,” Maryam said, not moving a muscle.

“These men are not bandits. Not really. So if you would, please don’t kill him. His name is Allan Aidale. He also works for my father,” Robard said.

“’Lo, everyone,” Allan said meekly from the ground.

Maryam let out a disgusted sigh, then stared at Allan, her dark eyes aflame with anger. “Never, ever point a weapon at me again. Understood?” she said to the man pinned beneath her. He nodded vigorously and she stood, sheathing her daggers in one motion. The man scrambled to his feet as Tuck and Little John released their grip on the bandit they had been holding. The man on the ground was still unconscious, and the one I’d chased off had yet to reappear.

“I’ve known you all my life, Will. Why do you resort to this?” Robard was either very sad or very angry. It was hard to tell.

“Rob . . . I . . . we are hungry and the children of Sherwood are starving. There is a new Shire Reeve in Nottingham. He’s worse than the one we had before you left, and he was right bad enough. He’s forbiddin’ us to hunt without payment to the crown. More than three dozen men from the shire sent off to London town, and we hear tell most have been thrown in the Tower and some even worse. We didn’t know if you were alive or dead . . . if you were ever coming back. . . .” Will Scarlet’s voice trailed off and I felt sorry for him.

“But Will, surely my father would not stand for this. Where is he? Why is he not setting things straight with this Shire Reeve?” Robard demanded.

Will’s shoulders drooped and he stared at the ground. “He’s . . . oh, Rob. I don’t know how to tell you this. He’s gone, Rob.”

“Gone? What do you mean? Gone where?” Robard insisted.

“To heaven, Rob. He died the first winter after you left. The Shire Reeve took him to his jail in Nottingham and he died there,” Will said softly.

Robard staggered, as if he’d been struck by an invisible hand.

“What? No! You’re lying. You thieving bastard!” He took hold of Will’s tunic with both hands, pulling him until his face was inches from the frightened man. “You take it back, right now!”

“Master Rob,” said Allan, touching him gently on the arm. “I’m afraid so, lad. It happened just as old Will said. Please let him go now. It’s not his fault—he did everythin’ he could to keep things up, ’opin’ you might return one day. But it’s been nigh on impossible. Sorry we are about the thievin’, but no harm done. Your friend with the sword here put a dreadful fright in poor Gerald, though. I suspect we’ll not see him until it’s right spring.” He tried to laugh to ease the tension, but it just came out as an awkward squawk. Both men looked sad and worn. I guessed they were in their fifties, which made them older than even Tuck or Little John.

Robard’s forester, Will Scarlet, had hardly moved, and as he stood in the gathering light of morning, his hair was flecked with gray. He was thin but, like Robard, thick through the arms and chest from many hours pulling a longbow. His hands were scarred and his skin showed age and wrinkles. But when I studied him and Allan, I saw steel in their veins. These unlikely bandits were also hardened men. Despite their flowing cloaks, they had the look of lean and hungry wolves. They were forest men, hunters, fighters, trackers. And they clearly had a deep affection for Robard.

I tried to help. “Robard, please let him go. We can ride on to Sherwood, to your farm. We can puzzle this out. But you need to release him.”

Slowly and with barely contained grief, Robard unhanded Will, dropping his fists to his sides. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“Will, tell me the truth, what happened to my father,” he finally said.

“It’s like I said, Rob. The crown, Prince John mainly, has raised taxes too many times to count in the last two years. Folks, even some of the barons, have lost their lands, their fortunes—there’s no money to be had. Men are thrown into prison or sent off to the Crusades like you were, to pay off back taxes. Your father and some of the other landowners finally said ‘no more,’ and the Shire Reeve and his bailiffs hauled the lot of ’em off to prison. He was there, in Nottingham jail serving his sentence, when he caught a fever and died.”

“What happened to our land?” Robard demanded. “Our people, what happened to them?”

“We were barely able to ’old on to the land. The Shire Reeve has taken most of the property around us. With the poor harvests, we’ve had very little for trade and no one can afford to buy crops anyway. This Shire Reeve is a cruel one. He’s taken everyone’s land for back taxes and is buying it up himself. He’s had his sights on your hides, your land, for a while now, but we’ve scraped together enough to pay the taxes. There’s not much else left over, though, and not enough to feed everyone, so me and the boys, we took matters into our own hands,” Will said.

Robard did not hear him, and appeared lost in thought.

“And Rob, please understand. We don’t take anythin’ from the poor folks of Sherwood. We’ve robbed those who might have food or crosslets to spare. We take from ’em only what we need to live. The rest goes to the poor families here in the forest. We’ve been at it a few months. What we’ve been givin’ the poor folk of the shire has made ’em love us. They even call us ‘the Merry Men.’ Isn’t that something?”

“What about my mother? Is she . . . ?”

“She’s fine, Master Hode,” Allan said. “You know how much the Sherwood people love her. I doubt we’d have kept things up as well as we have if not for her.”

Robard’s face showed a brief moment of relief, but the anger was back in a heartbeat. He turned on his heel and stalked to his horse, and from his look, I knew what he intended: to ride to Nottingham, find the Shire Reeve and kill him.

My own grief dissipated when I saw my friend’s sadness. I stepped in front of him to block his path. “Robard, wait,” I pleaded. “I know how you feel—”

“I’m certain you do, squire,” he interrupted. “Now get out of my way.”

Maryam came to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm. “Robard, you cannot act rashly—”

“If both of you don’t leave me be, I swear I will—” he said.

“What about your mother, Robard!” Maryam urged him. That did the trick. His wild eyes came into focus and he stared at her intensely as she reached up and cradled his face in both hands.