Men of Sherwood (A Rogue's Tale Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  “Nothing.”

  “Will, you look like shit and you sound like a dragon from the pits of damnation with a grudge.”

  I tried not to but I couldn’t help smiling at his words. “Git,” I said.

  “Fool,” he shot back.

  “I didn’t sleep,” I confessed, my gaze sliding towards Robin.

  Tuck huffed.

  “I don’t need your judgement.”

  He took a deep breath. “No judgement. I’m just worried about you. It can’t be easy.”

  I frowned. “What have you done with my brother?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “Well, judgement is your speciality.” I picked up my sword.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, rolling up his bedding and tying it off.

  “Sorry.”

  He glanced up at me and managed a small smile. “You’re right, judgement is my speciality, I’m sorry.”

  “I like him, Tuck,” I said into the void, keeping my voice low.

  “I can see that, but I can’t condone it.”

  “Doesn’t really matter as he’s leaving us,” I said.

  Tuck stopped packing our belongings together. “Will, your desires are not those made by God –”

  “He told you that did He?” I muttered.

  Tuck ignored me. “But if you would like Robin to remain with us, then just ask him. It would be good to know you have someone able to protect you when you go to Nottingham tomorrow. I hate you going alone and he’s able to keep you safe.”

  “I’ll ask him, but I’m worried about keeping Marion safe as well,” I said.

  “Who is that?” asked Robin, startling us with his silent approach.

  “Shit, who taught you to move like a mouse?” I asked.

  “The same person who taught me to fight like a fox,” Robin replied. “Who is Marion?”

  Tuck shrugged leaving the decision to me. “The source I told you about needs to be protected above all things. I need your solemn promise you will take this to the grave with you.”

  Robin frowned and nodded. “You have it.”

  “Marion is the High Lord Sheriff’s wife. She and I were friends as children and I…” My voice faded as I thought about all the things I couldn’t do to protect her. “I do what I can to help her and the people she cares about.”

  “Marion was Lord Huntingdon’s daughter,” Tuck said. “She and Will were the same age and our mother made the clothes for the lord’s family while father made the cloth. There weren’t many children nearby for either of them to play with and I was sent to the monastery very young so they were close. When both our mother and Marion’s mother died, it brought them comfort to be together but the sheriff placed pressure on her father once her brother was declared dead in the Crusades. This led to Huntingdon giving Marion to the sheriff as a wife so Philip Marc has the ties to the Saxon families he’s been wanting and Marion’s son inherits Huntingdon lands and titles if she has one.”

  A fine tremor ran through Robin. “Lord Huntingdon is dead?” A strangled question.

  I reached for his arm to offer some kind of comfort and he stepped away from me, skin deathly pale. “These five years. Marion said it was word her brother – Robert – had died that finally broke the old man. He was never the same after losing Maud, his wife, to a late pregnancy.”

  “Marion is married.” Robin’s eyes were wild and the tension in him made me wary.

  Something about the statement and his behaviour had me moving towards him to prevent his escape. “You know them don’t you?” I asked.

  “I have to leave. I have to leave this place. I have to leave England. I can’t do this. I can’t do what he wants. None of this makes sense. I thought I could return, but I can’t. I can’t be what you want. What she wants. I can’t be here… He made a fucking mistake trusting me.” Robin continued to back away from me and I pursued. His words were growing louder and more distressed. His anxieties made his thoughts jump from his unguarded mouth. “I have to leave. I have to leave. I have to leave.” It became his litany.

  “Stop, Robert Loxley,” I shouted.

  Robin froze.

  “Robert Loxley, Earl of Huntingdon, brother to Marion. You left for the Crusades twelve years ago. You were recorded dead five years ago. You were believed drowned. Something happened to you over there that your father never spoke of but it haunted him because Marion would hear his prayers. You are here for a reason, Robert Loxley.” My bard’s voice filled the small clearing.

  Robin’s expression went from shock to rage too fast for me to have warning my words had cut through a wall protecting his wounds. He howled his anger, charged at me, taking two fistfuls of clothing and propelling me backwards until I tripped and fell, dragging him with me. Tuck shouted a warning and I realised we’d fallen on the embers of the fire as sparks shot up around our bodies.

  “Shut up!” Robin screamed in my face.

  Heat began to sear my back and Tuck took a branch off the ground to beat Robin with before I cooked. He was so fucking heavy.

  “Robin, you’re hurting me.” I became passive under his weight. Blue eyes, capturing the glitter and shine of precious stones polished for gifts of love, shone with such pain I wished I could take my words back.

  “Will…”

  “You’re hurting me.” I prayed he’d remember his promise of the night before.

  The moment passed in a heartbeat. Robin rolled us, once, twice and we were long free of the fire, the rolling smothering my back. Tuck covered me in a blanket and shouted orders for clean water. I lay on Robin’s broad chest and let my head rest on his heart; it pounded like a wild and frantic bird but his hands were no longer locked in my clothing, they were wrapped around me and gentle words were murmured.

  “Let him go, you animal,” Tuck snarled over us.

  “I’m alright,” I managed.

  “Your back is burned,” he said, almost hysterical with shock and anger.

  “You need to move, Will. I need to look at your back.” Robin spoke with gentleness and his eyes shifted from those belonging to Robert Loxley and returned those belonging to the man who shared our fire and our home. I realised there were at least two men inside one.

  “You did this!” Tuck shouted, near to tears.

  “I’m alright,” I managed to say but something felt wrong. My back felt hot and tight.

  “I’m going to slide out from under you, Will, try to remain still and on your front,” Robin whispered, ignoring my brother’s rant.

  “It feels funny.”

  The big man squirmed under me, sliding me off his chest. “Just stay still, Will. Stay still and I’ll take a look.”

  I did as ordered, remaining on the cold ground, the damp seeping into my clothes. The heat in my back increased and I whimpered.

  “Alright, Will,” Robin said, a large hand holding the back of my head.

  “This is your fault,” Tuck snapped. “Get your hands off him.”

  “You dealt with burns like this, priest? If not let me do my bloody job. I’ve seen more wounds than you’ve met men in your entire life.”

  I had to stop them arguing, the pain was increasing, burning into my body, deeper and deeper with each breath. “Tuck, let him help,” I hissed.

  “I’m right here, Will. I’m right here,” Tuck said, dropping to his knees in the mud.

  “I need shears to cut his clothes off. I need cloths and I need fat, lard,” Robin said with hurried confidence. “I also need the sharpest blade we have between us.”

  I felt my brother rise from my side and race off to the hovels we’d helped the day before, shouting orders on the way.

  Robin dropped his face to the ground so he could look me in the eyes. “I know it hurts, Will, but you have to know I didn’t mean this to happen and I can help, you just have to trust me a little.”

  “I’m sorry I pushed,” I whispered. A tear leaked out of my eye and ran over the bridge of my nose.

 
; “I’m sorry I made you think you had to,” Robin said. “I’ve been alone a long time, Will Scarlett, but I want to make this right and you need to trust me. I can help your pain but you have to stay very still and keep breathing even when it hurts and you think you can’t take any more.”

  “I understand, Robert Loxley.”

  “No, not Robert. He died in the Holy Land. Robin is the man you know and the one you can trust. You saw my rage as Robert Loxley, he is not a good man. I hope Robin can be.” His fingers sought mine and gripped them for a moment. “Ready for this to begin?”

  I managed a nod. “But I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be, I’m here.”

  “You didn’t hurt me, Robin.”

  His eyes shone with his unshed tears. “Yes, I did.”

  I managed a small smile for him. “No, that was Robert Loxley. I can see the difference now.”

  “God, what have I done,” he murmured. He kissed my brow and I wished it was my lips.

  Tuck returned and I worked to concentrate on my breathing not on their hurried and bitter conversation. Robin snapped in the end and told Tuck he could, “Fuck off, you hypocrite.” And that seemed to settle things between them because strong, broad fingers were all over my naked back and fine, gentle ones were chasing around after them. I heard a whispered question, “Where did these scars come from, Tuck?”

  “That is not my story to tell,” he said, keeping my secrets as he promised. “Just know he needs you to help him.” Robin grunted in response, until I heard him address me again.

  “Will, I need you to focus on me for a moment if you can,” Robin ordered. “There is some charcoal in your skin and I have to remove it with the knife blade. Tuck assures me your whittling knife is the sharpest we have between us – do you agree?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Good. I’m going to dig into the wounds and it’s going to hurt so badly you might pass out but that’s alright, just make certain you don’t move. Do you understand? If you move you’ll make everything harder for me and I’ll make a mistake.”

  “No moving,” I repeated. “Lots of pain.”

  “Give him the belt to bite down on and hold his arms out over his head so he can’t escape easily,” Robin said. I felt my arms taken by two people and held hard to the ground over my head. Two more people weighted my ankles. I was trapped. The pain grew worse and I started to make noises as the panic began.

  Tuck’s face appeared in my eye line. “Will, I need you to look at me. Robin says it’s important for you to remember you are here with us and not back there.” He knew where I was, he knew what I felt and it wasn’t Robin’s hands on my back.

  My brother’s deep blue eyes stared into mine and understanding dawned. We had shared our secrets and he knew why I feared being tied down, held down, weighted and caught. “Just stay with me and try not to scream or fight,” Tuck said.

  “No, let him scream if he needs to, it’ll help,” Robin said.

  “You heard him,” Tuck said, smiling at me.

  “Tell me a story,” I begged.

  “One about a man too stubborn for his own good?” Tuck asked. I smiled, then something sliced into my back and I screamed. Tuck shoved the belt into my mouth and I bit down on the leather trying to remember to breathe and not fight the torment or the hands grabbing at me.

  5

  FOREVER WENT BY, ROBIN and Tuck talking to me on an endless loop and gradually cleaning each of the wounds I had on my back. I soon became incomprehensible from the pain and the small slices Robin made were nothing to the misery of him removing said embers.

  “None of these are too bad, we have to wash them, we need a solution of chamomile, lavender and then a salve of honey,” Robin said, giving me a moment to breathe.

  “Not too bad?” I asked, weakness running through every limb.

  “I’ve seen worse, Will, but there’s going to be more scarring. I am sorry. If you remain still I will allow you to be released.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll stay still,” I promised. I’d promise to fetch him the moon if it meant I could take control of my limbs again.

  “No, he won’t,” Tuck said. “He’ll curl up in a ball and refuse to move for hours if not days.”

  Renewed panic shot through me, because that’s exactly what I wanted to do. I felt movement behind me but I couldn’t see and the tension continued to grow.

  “Here, Will, take this,” Robin said, leaning over and placing his linen shirt and tunic which he’d folded into a tight packet beside me. “When we release you, place this against your gut and hold it tight. Wrap your arms around it as though you are drowning, but don’t move apart from that, because this bit is the important bit. I need to get the honey and chamomile mixture onto your skin, then I need to wrap you up tight. I promise the worst of the pain is over.”

  “Alright,” I whispered.

  The hands holding my wrists let go and I grabbed at the clothing, dragging it into my belly but I managed to remain on my chest and keep my legs still. The scent of the man tending my back grew and the warmth in the wool and linen from his skin seeped into me. I smelt wood, leather, horse, the mud under my face and something else, something darker, stronger, a heavy musk that made a gentle heat grow and ping in my groin. Those strong fingers were back, they soothed me with long strokes while placing the sweet smelling mixture on the places that burned.

  “He’ll scar but it won’t be bad, not as bad as what’s already there,” Robin murmured.

  My brother and our strange companion worked in silence until Robin said, “Time to sit up so we can wrap the wounds.”

  I released the comfort of his clothing and pressed my hands into the ground. Pushing upwards I gasped at the pain spiralling through me and whimpered. My brother’s arms caught me as I threatened to fold into myself and righted me.

  “Where did you find the cloth?” I asked.

  “My spare braies, which are clean,” Tuck said. I heaved in a sharp breath as Robin pressed soft cloth to my back and began wrapping more strips around me to hold it in place. I felt the heat of his breath on my neck with each pass of the fabric as he wove it around me and it did nothing to assuage my torment over his proximity.

  When he finished he walked on his knees around me and fussed over the cloth covering my chest. “There are only a few places where the coals stuck to your skin, most of the damage isn’t bad, your clothing protected you,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He glanced up at last. His blue eyes were full of trepidation. “I am so sorry, Will.”

  I managed a small smile for him. “Accidents happen. You didn’t mean to push me into the fire and I did say some terrible things to you.”

  “They were all true,” he said and I watched a tremor of some terrible emotion wash through him.

  I wanted to reach out and hold that rough-hewn face. “Let’s go home,” I murmured, capturing his fingers where they pulled at a thread broken free of the warp and weft of the torn fabric.

  For a moment his thick, strong fingers laced with mine before he drew them away and rose. “I’ll see to the horses, you need to remain still for as a long as possible.” He left me in Tuck’s care and I sagged at his departure.

  “Will?” Tuck asked.

  “It hurts.”

  “He can’t be trusted, Will,” Tuck said.

  I glanced at him. “I think you’re wrong,” I said.

  “You’re thinking with something other than your brain,” Tuck said with a darkness I didn’t like.

  “And you are judging and condemning without evidence,” I said.

  “He pushed you into the fire.”

  “He pushed me and I fell into the fire. There’s a difference and I deserved being pushed. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” I said.

  Tuck growled and rose, leaving me on the ground to try to deal with the pain of my wounds. The local inhabitants of the small village we’d visited watched me with tired eyes but
they’d done all they could with their honey and herbs. I rose with the help of a small boy acting as a stick and when I thanked him, he raced off to join his friends. This far into the forest people were wary and used to being isolated, so to be dramatically invaded by three men, two of which had been violent, made them even more cautious.

  I made my way to Robin and the horses as he tacked them up and Tuck packed up the remnants of our belongings. When I reached the grey mare I’d been riding the day before I swayed and grabbed her mane to hold me upright. Robin rushed around her and caught hold of my free arm.

  “You can’t ride in this state you’ll fall out of the saddle. You can ride with me, if I tie you to me you won’t fall off and I won’t hurt your back,” he said.

  “I can walk,” I whispered, already knowing it was impossible.

  “Of course you can.” The sarcasm was not lost on me.

  In the end we did exactly what Robin wanted, which I realised we’d been doing for the last few days. If he wanted something to happen he just pushed until I gave in and made Tuck agree. He was a natural leader.

  Robin had looped rope around my wrists to tie them loosely over his stomach so I could only lean into his back, behind his saddle, and hold him while I hovered between consciousness and oblivion.

  The day grew older and the wind rose, the scent of rain heavy on a stiff breeze and Robin decided we needed to push the pace so we could reach the cave before I was drenched in a downpour on top of everything else. I clung to him as he cantered through the forest and heath at an easy pace, praying for the end while also wishing I could remain tied around his waist for all time. I lay against his broad back and inhaled the rough scent of old forest and musk. He brought to mind ancient lands wreathed in mists and magic, not this cruel hard world we tried to survive.

  When he’d appeared in front of me without his shirt I’d been in too much pain to really take in the massive chest, but now I replayed the moment in my memory I remembered the thick springy hair over his strong muscles. It was a darker shade of blond than that on his head and I remembered how it vanished over his stomach before reappearing at the top of his hose and leading my sinful thoughts lower. I’d seen a smattering of scars over his chest before he’d replaced his undershirt and cote.