Hood

by Jenny Elder Moke

  “Thank you, Patrick,” she said softly. “For everything.”

  By the time Isabelle awoke the next morning, the camp was in a frenzy of activity. The Merry Men sharpened swords, crafted quivers of arrows, thunked staffs against trees to toughen their edges, and wrapped the remains of the previous evening’s feast in delicate cloths to keep it protected for the journey. Little John directed the men as Isabelle approached.

  “What is going on?” she asked, dodging out of the way of a man hauling a sack that clanged like armor.

  “We’re breaking down the camp,” John said, setting his shoulder to a massive rock table and shoving it over to clear room.

  Isabelle looked about, bewildered. “Whatever for?”

  “Robin’s orders. Seems we’ve got a prioress to rescue.”

  Isabelle’s eyes went wide. “The entire camp is coming to Kirklees? I had thought…”

  Little John cocked his head at her. “You had thought we’d just let the two of you go face the Wolf of England alone?”

  “Well, no…” Although that was exactly what she had thought. She shook her head. “Where is Robin?”

  “Getting the horses,” John said, his massive bulk moving another table out of the way.

  Isabelle frowned. “Will he be playing the horse trader from Arabia again?”

  Little John grunted. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Won’t we…” Isabelle gestured around the camp, which was looking more and more like an ordinary meadow by the minute. “I don’t know, attract attention? All of us thundering out of here on horses?”

  John leaned against one of the overturned rocks. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  Isabelle met his gaze. “You give very few answers.”

  “The Merry Men know how to move about undetected,” said Adam behind her. She turned to find him carrying a brace of swords. “Or didn’t you learn that from Robin’s rescue?”

  “You mean the one where we released all the prisoners and set the keep ablaze?”

  “You set the keep ablaze,” he reminded her. He gave a nod to John, who pushed himself up off the rock with a grunt and moved to help the men with their weapons. Isabelle didn’t quite miss the big man, but she wasn’t ready to be alone with Adam, either. She chewed the inside of her lip as he sat down, taking a sharpening stone to the first blade.

  “Does this mean you are coming along as well?” she finally asked.

  He didn’t look up from his work, just gave a noncommittal noise.

  “So you know what is to happen, then?”

  “I’ve an idea.”

  She looked about the camp at the men moving with purpose, feeling useless in the middle of so much activity. She slipped her quiver off her shoulder and began checking the fletching on her arrows to give her hands something to do. When she swallowed, it was overloud and forced, making her cringe. Why did he make her feel so clumsy, like a new fawn?

  “I see you found yourself another bow,” Adam said after several minutes of quiet.

  She startled at the sound of his voice. “Oh, yes. Robin…My father procured it for me.”

  Adam lifted a brow but did not look at her. “So it’s ‘my father’ now, is it? Odd you couldn’t make that switch before.”

  Isabelle took a deep breath. “You are still angry.”

  “What do I have to be angry about?” Adam asked, moving the stone down the blade in long strokes. “That you didn’t tell us who you were, or why you were here? Or that you were planning on turning over our master to a murderous nobleman?”

  Isabelle dropped her eyes, her stomach turning. She wished there were something she could say in her defense, something to explain the torture she’d endured while agonizing over the decision. Or the fact that she had made the right choice, in the end, by telling Robin the truth instead of handing him over to the Wolf. But Adam was right; she had planned to betray her father before she knew him. It was a knowledge about herself that she would have to live with forever.

  “I understand that you cannot forgive me,” she said quietly. “If it is any consolation, I can never forgive myself.”

  Adam frowned up at her, his hand stopping midway down the blade. “I never said I couldn’t forgive you.”

  “But what you just…You said—”

  “I said I was angry. With plenty of good cause. But I didn’t say I didn’t understand why you did it. And I didn’t say I would never forgive you.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes holding her captive. “You wear the greens, Isabelle. You took the oath. You belong to us no matter your past. That’s what you keep missing. You’re not on the outside anymore. You’re part of us now.”

  Her breath stuck in her chest, a tight bubble that expanded into a wave of pressure washing over her, sending tears into the corners of her eyes. It was a feeling so precious, so novel and fragile, that she feared if she released the breath the illusion would shatter. She’d never had anything that mattered so much to her before. It had been one thing to dream of something greater while trapped in the daily miseries of the priory. It was another thing entirely to live in it, here and now, and be charged with the care of it. She had already made such a mess of things; could she really belong? She so desperately wanted to.

  “Go on, then, Adam, you’re going to make the sister cry,” came Little’s voice. The tall boy dropped on the rock beside her, giving her shoulder a hearty slap. “I’ll trounce him for you if you like, making a girl cry.”

  Isabelle laughed, the pressure in her chest releasing with the sound. “I think I shall be all right, thank you.”

  Little shrugged, leaning back with a deep stretch. “You just say the word, sister, and I’ll have my staff swinging.”

  “As if you could land a blow,” Adam said.

  “Oi, I’ll knock you clear off that rock, you just watch.”

  “Cut it out, Little, before you earn yourself a smack on the head,” said Helena, appearing with Patrick. She looked at Isabelle, arms crossed. “How is it I’ve been an outlaw all my life and I haven’t managed to make half as many enemies as you? And the king’s right-hand man, at that.”

  Isabelle nodded faintly. “Apparently I have also been an outlaw all my life, if it is any consolation to you.”

  Patrick smiled. “Lucky for you the Merry Men specialize in gaining the advantage on powerful enemies.”

  Isabelle could not keep the smile from bubbling up to her face. “Shall I take this to mean you are all coming to Kirklees to help rescue my mother?”

  “You do have a tendency to get yourself in trouble when we’re not around,” Adam said.

  “And even more trouble when we are around,” Little added. “You’ll need our help saving you from that as well.”

  Isabelle looked to Helena hopefully. “And you, Helena? Will you forgive me for not telling you the truth?”

  Helena rolled her eyes. “Of course I will, you blighter. I’m not one to hold grudges.”

  The boys scoffed, each one turning into a cough as Helena glared them down.

  “Thank you,” Isabelle said, her heart overflowing for the first time in a very long time.

  Helena waved off her thanks. “If you cry, I’ll take it all back.”

  Robin returned shortly after, leading a team of horses that the men loaded up with supplies and weapons. Isabelle gave the beasts a wide berth as she sought out Robin, the memory of her last ride with Adam still fresh in her mind. Thankfully she did not see the wild mare among their ranks, though many of the horses looked like they would trample her if she looked them directly in the eye. She found Robin with Little John, discussing logistics.

  “I’ve more than a passing familiarity with the priory,” he was saying to the big man, sketching out a crude map in the dirt with a stick. “The gatehouse is here, but he’ll most likely have it heavily guarded. These are the dormitories here in the back, and Marien’s chamber is here in the middle. It’s most likely where he would keep her, since he can block the staircases l
eading in and out. We’ll have to—”

  “That is not where Mother keeps her chambers,” Isabelle interrupted. She pointed to another place on his sketch. “That is where Mother keeps her chambers. She moved them to be next to me. And that building,” she said, pointing to another section of his sketch, “is no longer there. It caught fire during a storm last year after lightning struck it.”

  Robin frowned at her. “Did you need something from me, Isabelle my love?”

  Isabelle cocked her head at him. “It seems you rather need something from me, Father. When is the last time you were in the priory proper?”

  Robin cleared his throat. “Well, some time has passed, but I assure you, my memory is as good as any map.”

  Isabelle crossed her arms. “Really? Because you have put the orchard on the wrong side of the chapel.”

  “Have I?” Robin murmured, looking down to his sketch. He turned his head one way, then the other. “Oh. Yes, I see I have. Well, that’s a minor detail.”

  “Not minor if you consider there are several unrepaired breaks in the orchard wall through which we could gain entrance, instead of going through the main gate. Which you said would be heavily guarded.”

  Robin took in a breath, pausing as he considered the map. “Well, yes. Hmmm.”

  Little John gave a chuckle. “She is your daughter true, Robin.”

  Robin crossed his arms, leaning back. “All right, then, Isabelle, what is your plan?”

  Isabelle smoothed the sketch with her boot, obliterating his work, and held her hand out for the stick. He handed it over with a frown, and she quickly mapped the basic layout of the priory. “Our most advantageous point of entry would be here, on the far side of the orchard. There is a break in the wall there just behind an English oak. It will provide perfect cover to move in and out without detection.”

  Robin lifted a brow at her. “And you would know this how?”

  She smiled demurely at him. “Because I have used it often enough myself.”

  Robin shook his head. “You rebellious child.”

  Isabelle pointed to the center of the map. “This is Mother’s chamber in the dormitories. She is on the second level, in a separate room from the main dormitory. It would be the perfect place for Sir Roger to put his men, since there are no windows and his men can station themselves at the day stairs just beside it.”

  “So how do we get to her, then?” Little John asked.

  Isabelle traced the stick up a half inch. “Here, at the far end of the dormitory. There is a section of loose stones in the corner I used to crawl through when I had nightmares. I doubt the Wolf or his men know about it. There are several windows into the dormitory. I can easily scale the wall there to get in and out. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

  Robin raised both brows. “Hundreds of times? What manner of priory is your mother governing there?”

  Isabelle set her hands on her hips. “The information is coming to our aid now, is it not?”

  Robin tilted his head in concession. “A fair point. So the men and I will scale the wall—”

  “Not you,” Isabelle said. “Me.”

  Robin scoffed. “As if I would send you into the Wolf’s clutches ever again. No, I shall be the one to rescue Marien.”

  Isabelle squared off with him. “No, you shall not. You are the one he truly wants. If you go in and are captured, we have no means of saving you or Mother. He will have what he wants, and he will kill you both. It cannot be you.”

  He faced her, his expression equally resolute. “It will absolutely be me.”

  “The lass has a point,” said Little John mildly.

  Robin turned to him in horror. “You as well, John?”

  The big man shrugged. “I’m not saying we send her in, but you’re the one he wants. Don’t seem very wise to give him the opportunity.”

  “I know the priory best,” Isabelle protested. “I will be able to move quicker and surer than any of your men.”

  “I will not put you in danger alone,” said Robin.

  “That’s why we’ll go with her,” Adam said, approaching their huddle. Little, Patrick, and Helena stood behind him. “We’ll keep her safe, Robin, and we’ll get the prioress out. You know you can count on us.”

  Robin shook his head. “It is too great a risk. If he were to capture you, any of you…I am responsible for your protection.”

  “And we’re responsible for yours,” replied Adam. He tilted his head toward Isabelle. “And hers. Isn’t that what you told us the Merry Men stand for?”

  Robin narrowed his gaze. “I knew you were far too clever to take on. I told John so the moment I saw you in those stocks in Locksley. I said that was a boy who found trouble.”

  Little John scratched at his beard. “If I’m remembering, you said it was a compliment.”

  “Well, of course it was a compliment,” Robin said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “At the time. It has since come around to cause me no small amount of trouble.”

  Isabelle laid her hand on Robin’s arm. “I can do this, Father. Please. Trust me.”

  He looked at her, his blue eyes clouding over with worry and doubt that both frustrated her and warmed her heart. Finally he sighed, shaking his head.

  “I shall be right outside the walls with the full force of the Merry Men,” he said. “If there is any trouble, even a stray guard, you raise the cry. Do you understand?”

  Isabelle nodded, stepping forward to give him a tight hug. “Thank you, Father.”

  Robin turned to Adam. “You are responsible for my daughter,” he said, his voice surprisingly thick. “Take the absolute best care of her. She is worth all of us and more.”

  Adam nodded, his eyes gleaming as he looked at Isabelle. “I’ll protect her with my life. I swear it.”

  Her breath hitched in her chest under the intensity of his gaze, his eyes dark pools she felt could drown her. She took a deep breath, her body prickling with awareness, and looked away. She dashed her boot through the drawing, returning it to dirt once more.

  “It is settled, then?” she said.

  The others nodded, their expressions determined as they set off for the horses and Kirklees Priory.

  They rode the horses hard through the morning, splitting off in groups as soon as they reached the road to avoid suspicion as they traveled. Isabelle was happy to let Adam take the reins, even if it meant an uncomfortable amount of thigh contact under her father’s watchful eye. Little, Helena, Patrick, and John rode with her, Robin leading another group of men to the south to scout the woods around the priory and set up defenses. The trip was not quite so hard as the first time, but by the time they stopped to let the horses rest and get water, her legs were once again cramped and sore. She reached down to massage her calves in her boots, pulling out the knife hidden within so she could better get to the muscle.

  “What are you doing with Patrick’s knife?” Adam asked, rubbing down their horse as it drank deep from a creek.

  “He gave it to me,” she said, tucking it into the top of her boot and stretching her aching back. “As you all keep pointing out, I cannot rely on my bow arm alone for protection.”

  Patrick and Helena moved their horses down the creek toward a stand of tall grass for the horses to eat, and both John and Little stretched out in a patch of sunlight, falling into a snoring sleep immediately. Adam tied their horse up, his brow furrowed.

  “If you are going to deprive Patrick of one of his weapons, I hope you at least know how to use it,” he muttered, turning away from her.

  “I do,” she said, prickling at his tone. “Patrick showed me how.”

  Adam stopped and swiveled to face her, crossing his arms with a doubtful look. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Isabelle said defensively. “I must learn to defend myself. And Patrick was the most helpful of all of you.”

  Adam narrowed his gaze. “Was he, now? And why is that?”

  Isabelle shrugged. “Because he is…knowledgea
ble. And clever. And patient.”

  “And you figured he wouldn’t be a challenge,” Adam said.

  “No,” she said succinctly. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but Patrick best understands the limitations of my size. I have seen the way you and Little fight. We cannot all just bludgeon our way through our enemies.”

  Adam raised a brow. “So that’s what you think I do, just bludgeon?”

  “No, of course not, you are the most magnificent fighter I have ever seen,” she said. Heat rose up her cheeks as the implications of her words illuminated the space between them. Adam took another step forward, his expression warming even though he kept his arms crossed.

  “Well, let’s see how good of an instructor Patrick is,” he said, his voice low and thrumming with an intensity that harmonized with something speeding up in Isabelle. “Show me what you know.”

  The warmth drained away from her. “What, here? Now?”

  Adam nodded, unlocking his arms to draw a long knife from his belt and gesturing for her to take the first strike. Isabelle hesitated, her fingers loose around the dagger’s hilt.

  Adam lifted one brow. “Unless you are afraid of a real opponent?”

  She frowned, tightening her grip. “Patrick was a real opponent.”

  “Patrick went easy on you. I will not.”

  “That much I believe,” Isabelle said, shifting her feet and taking up the defensive position Patrick had taught her. Adam surveyed her stance critically, his eyes running the full length of her body up and back down.

  “Not bad,” he said, reaching for her elbow and repositioning it. “Keep your elbow down like this to protect your ribs.”

  She had thought nothing of it when Patrick corrected her stance, but now, every time Adam touched her, she lost track of his instructions. He adjusted her feet and stepped back, holding his own knife at the ready. A slight tremor danced along the edge of her blade as she stepped forward into her first strike, which he resoundingly deflected. He frowned at her.

  “I hope he taught you better than that.”