Orphan of Destiny (19 page)

The next morning, the wind rose out of the west, and it had grown colder. When I stepped out of the house, the breeze bit into me. But I thought of something Brother Rupert had always said: “Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” meaning if we were going to be cold and miserable while the weather turned, so would the Shire Reeve and his men. If I had to bet, I would wager Robard and the people of Sherwood were much more able to tolerate the cold than Wendenal and his men. One more thing we might take advantage of.

Pottage simmered over the cook fire, and Will, Robard and the rest of the men stood about, looking like they had too much to do but no idea where to start. The first order was to prepare our defenses and choose the ground on which we would fight.

“Good morning, Tristan,” Robard said. “Fine morning to each of you,” he said to those assembled by the fire. “You know what happened to me in Nottingham. I went after Wendenal because I consider him a murderer. He can say he’s only upholding the law, but there’s no peace given to one who takes what isn’t his in the name of an unjust law. There’s going to be trouble, likely a fight or two before it’s done. So if you’ve no stomach for it, leave now. If not, stay, but only if you’re committed to standing with me.”

Robard waited a moment, watching the eyes of everyone around him. There were new men at the fire this morning, and I was buoyed temporarily by the fact that they had answered their thane’s call. They had heard the news of Robard’s return, and his appearance had given them hope. They stood straight and strong, just like Will and Allan had. No one shirked or walked away but all stared back at him with clear eyes and pure hearts.

“Good. Most of you have met my friends, Tristan and Maryam. I’ve traveled far with both of them, and we’ve seen our share of scraps. Us and that yellow dog there,” he said, smiling and pointing at Angel, who stood and wagged her tail at the attention.

“During the time I fought with the Lionheart—” He stopped and spat into the fire.

“Robin boy! Have you no manners!?” Mistress Hode said, whacking him on the arm.

“Sorry, Mother, but just the very mention of his name raises the bile in my throat. And every day there, I only wanted to come back here. To work our land, tend the soil, hunt in our forest and live out my life the way my father did and his father and every Hode before them. Tristan and Maryam were with me every step of the way home, and there’s no finer folk anywhere. So what I’m telling each of you is this: As far as me and my mother are concerned, they’re Hodes. If they speak, it’s as if I said the words myself. My father was the thane before me, and it falls to me. I have made this so. If any of you see this as a problem, off with you now and no hard feelings.”

Still no one moved.

“Good. I knew I could count on you. It looks to be a long, hard winter before this is over, but I promise you there are better days ahead. If I know anything, it’s that Tristan here has an idea of how to handle William of Wendenal. So I say to you, listen to what he has to say and then let’s get to work.”

Robard shrugged at me. And I told them my plan.

25

W
e needed two things to happen. First we needed a “rabbit” for Wendenal to chase, something that would lure him to the ground of our choosing. I sent riders out to scout and locate his force. Once they found him, I told them to make sure they were followed. Keep out of reach, but let Wendenal and his men see they were there and do whatever they could to get him to pursue them.

I had no idea how many bailiffs he would bring. Will estimated he could probably raise fifty from Nottingham alone, more if he drafted men from neighboring shires. Not being certain, we made plans for a large force to assault the Hode manor.

We worked with desperation to get ready. Not knowing when the Shire Reeve might show up made everyone nervous, and they threw their anxiety into their tasks. The scouts returned for fresh horses in the late afternoon and reported no sightings of men headed our way. We had made good use of the time, and by then we had most everything in place.

The next morning was cold again, with frost on the ground. The sky was dull and cloudy.

Robard bade everyone to attend to his weapons. Bowstrings were replaced and wallets filled with arrows. There was tension in the air as the threat of attack floated through the forest like an invisible beast.

At midday, Wendenal took the bait. Will’s riders, a tall, rangy fellow everyone called Cutter and his companion, Clarence, a smaller version of Tuck, rode hastily into the yard. I heard the sound of Little John’s hammer striking the anvil, and Robard gave a shout for everyone to assemble.

“He’s coming, Master Hode,” Cutter said. “He can’t be more than a league behind us.”

“Good work. It’s time, everyone! To your places!” Robard shouted. The farm and yard became a flurry of activity as Will Scarlet and his bowmen took their wallets and melted into the trees. Little John and Brother Tuck also had roles to play, and they moved off to their spots. Robard and I had horses saddled and waiting and were about to be on our way when Maryam called out to him.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she asked.

He took her hands in his as she stood by the fire next to Mistress Hode.

“I would have you at my side if I were fighting the devil himself. But if this goes wrong, I need you here to protect my mother. I don’t ask it lightly,” he said.

“I know. And it’s probably best I stay here. This
is
one of Tristan’s plans, and it’s likely to go wrong,” she said, smirking. “Don’t worry, Robard, I promise you the Shire Reeve of Nottingham will not lay a finger on your dear mother.” She put a protective arm around Mistress Hode, who beamed. She and Maryam had become nearly inseparable since we arrived.

“You do know I can hear you, don’t you?” I asked.

Robard laughed, gave Maryam a quick kiss on the cheek and vaulted onto his horse. Angel jumped up from where she had been sitting at Maryam’s feet, ready to follow us, but I bade her stay with Maryam. She whined at first but complied. We slapped the reins and turned our mounts down the lane. I was riding Charlemagne, and Robard stared at me in mock concern.

“Are you sure you don’t want a faster horse?” he sneered. “You may need it.”

“No. Charlemagne and I have history. Besides, the Shire Reeve needs to believe you are a simple farmer and I am an inexperienced squire. Having me riding a plow horse is an element of my plan,” I said, which was a complete and utter lie. Charlemagne was calm and steady, and it settled my nerves to ride him.

“Sure it is,” Robard said. We rode quietly for a few moments. “You do realize this isn’t likely to work.”

“True, but we’ve done ourselves proud till now, haven’t we?” I replied.

Robard muttered under his breath, but I only caught the words
barely
and
by the grace of God.

As we rode down the lane to confront yet another enemy, the tall trees were majestic against the winter sky and helped cut the wind. The horses’ breath came in great billowing gasps of fog. Reaching the gate, we stopped and waited. For several minutes we stood in silence, our anticipation growing.

“You don’t suppose he gave up, do you?” Robard asked.

“Do men like that ever give up?” I countered.

“True,” he said.

The woods were silent. The only sound was the occasional crack and moan of limbs as the wind moved through the trees. Then, off in the distance, came the sound of men on horseback. They were moving slowly and with deliberation, but the creak of leather and the sound of hoofbeats were unmistakable.

I drew my sword and held it across the pommel of my saddle. Robard nocked an arrow in his longbow, holding it ready in his left hand with the reins in his right. Charlemagne snorted and blew, and Robard’s horse nickered as they smelled the approaching column.

The men finally appeared through the trees: William Wendenal riding at the head of twenty-four bailiffs. I offered up a silent prayer at his arrogance believing so small a force would be adequate against us. He was perhaps half a league away when he spotted us and his posture changed. Sitting up in his saddle, he spurred his stallion and called his men forward. In moments, the column pulled to a halt twenty yards in front of us.

The bailiffs were well armed with swords and battle-axes but no longbows I could see, nor did they carry crossbows. Most of them wore leather tunics and riding breeches, but there was no visible armor or mail. Robard’s fingers anxiously worked the grip of his longbow. It appeared Wendenal had had little time to equip his men, or he was expecting us to give up without a fight.

“Steady,” I said quietly. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

“By order of the King and his sovereign minister Prince John, you, Robard Hode, and you, Tristan of St. Alban’s, are under arrest!” He reached into the fold of his tunic and removed a small rolled parchment. “I hold a duly drawn warrant stating same.”

“Well, that settles it,” I said sarcastically.

“If you’ve come to arrest me, I’d advise you to turn around right now and ride back to Nottingham and never return. This is Hode land you’re on, and if you intend to remove me from it, I give you fair warning you’ll need far more than a slip of parchment,” Robard proclaimed.

“You willfully disobey a direct and lawfully given command from a duly sworn officer of the King?” William Wendenal asked. There was a slight flicker of concern in his features. He seldom saw resistance. He was used to the power of his office, but we had humiliated the man in Nottingham, locking him in his own jail. He could not let it pass, yet he clearly expected that this show of force would bring us to our knees.

“I disobey it as willfully as I am able. I know what justice is, Shire Reeve, and what you
serve
is not it!” Robard said.

“Then you leave me no choice but to use force to subdue you,” Wendenal replied.

“I expect that’s true,” Robard said. “In fact I was counting on it!”

And with those words he raised his bow, took aim at the Shire Reeve and fired. As we intended, his shot went wide and landed in the ground a few yards past Wendenal’s mount. We turned our horses quickly and spurred them back in the direction we’d come. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Wendenal waving his arms and ordering his men forward.

Our hoofbeats pounded like thunder in my ears, and we made sure we stayed far enough ahead of Wendenal and his men. If my plan worked, we would greatly diminish his desire for a pitched battle. As we rode, we passed the first marker, a bit of red cloth I’d tied to a tree close to the lane.

“Now!” I shouted, and above the noise of our horses there was a loud thunk as an ax bit into wood. The day before, we had chopped down a good-size tree, fastened ropes to both ends and hoisted it high into the treetops and tied it off. A rope at its center was tied to a tree across the lane, creating a giant pendulum when it was released. The log was hidden from view, and as the bailiffs rode after Wendenal, the rope holding it in place was cut and it swung down in a vicious arc, hitting the rear of the column and driving six of the bailiffs from their saddles.

Wendenal, riding hard after us, didn’t even realize he had just lost one quarter of his force.

“Come on, you worthless snake!” Robard shouted at Wendenal, turning in the saddle to send another arrow in his direction. He had no intention of shooting the Shire Reeve, but wanted to make sure he kept pursuing us.

One hundred yards farther up the lane we passed the next marker. Another shout and two of Will’s men on one side of the lane pulled on a large rope that had been hidden on the ground by dead leaves and grass. It rose up in a flash, anchored to another trunk across the lane. They quickly spun it around a tree to hold it in place, and this time the bailiffs at the head of the column were lifted right off their horses. Four riders went down hard. Behind them, the other mounted men reined up, their horses spooked and confused by the falling bodies and rearing horses in front of them.

“Now!” I shouted again, and this time a large net we had woven from rope and hidden beneath a thin layer of soil in the lane was hoisted into place behind the column. It was quickly tied off to two sturdy trees by Tuck and Little John, cutting the remaining dozen horsemen off from retreat. A hail of arrows from the trees kept them penned in.

Robard and I reined to a halt, turning our mounts to face the still-oncoming Wendenal.

“End this, Shire Reeve!” Robard commanded as Wendenal halted his horse a few yards away from us. “Before your men are injured further. We ask nothing more than that you leave us be. Go while you can, and forget about ever trying to take Hode land.”

Wendenal glanced behind him at the confusion his bailiffs had suddenly found themselves in.

“Forward!” he shouted. “Take these men into custody! I order you!”

But Will, Allan and the other bowmen, hidden high above us in the trees, kept the fourteen remaining able-bodied bailiffs from taking even three steps.

Enraged, Wendenal gave the command to attack again, and another brace of arrows inched ever closer to his men. They were frightened. Every sensible man who had ever been in a fight feared archers, and here arrows were appearing as if by magic. I smiled.

“You can’t win here, Wendenal,” Robard said. “Leave, before it gets worse.”

For a moment it occurred to me that I might have misjudged the man. He was undeterred and with a shout pulled his own sword, holding it high and spurring his horse toward Robard. With an almost unnatural calmness, Robard leapt from his horse. He calmly drew an arrow and fired. It whizzed through the air, striking Wendenal in the forearm. He screamed and dropped his sword, tumbling from his horse.

Moaning in agony and staring wild-eyed at the arrow sticking out of his arm, the Shire Reeve managed to stagger to his knees. Robard dismounted and slowly walked to him, kicking his sword away. Wendenal tried to stand but the pain was too much.

Robard pulled another shaft and nocked it in his bow.

“Robard!” I shouted. “He’s defenseless!”