We worked in silence for a while, reviving the banked coals. “How is your leg?” he asked once the flames licked the heavy iron cauldron sat over the fire.
“Painful but it should be fine. Robin learned a great deal about healing during his travels.”
I watched the bear of a man pick wrinkled vegetables from a wicker basket. “I know who he is,” the man said.
My pulse informed me this little titbit of information was not welcome. I remained silent.
The man’s eyes slid to mine. The intense stare made me squirm and I sat on a log to warm my cold feet. “I met him once, a long time ago, he won’t remember, at the fair in Huntingdon. He bought his sister a fine pony from my father, arrogant little shit he was.”
“The arrogance of youth soon turns into the tempered steel of adult awareness,” I said.
He grunted. “Not so sure about that.”
“I still don’t know you,” I said, watching his large hands, ones built to crush a skull like mine, cut up turnip.
“John, John Little.”
“How do you know me?” I asked.
He glanced at me and paused in his vegetable ministrations. “I know most of what happens in Sherwood. And you aren’t careful to hide who you are, Will. At some point soon those who need to know in Nottingham will have a name and a face to hunt.”
“You mean the sheriff.”
“Who else? And after their revenge for your latest act of robbery –”
“They are the robbers.” I spoke with the conviction of one who needed to justify what had happened to the burned village of Shirebrook.
“I’m not arguing with you. And I don’t think you did wrong. I would have done it differently but you and your brother and his lordship have made an impact. The trouble lies in the fact we are paying the price. I just need to know if it’s a price worth paying and I think you’re the key to the lock of that question.”
I frowned. “Me?”
“Your brother and your lover circle you like the moon and the sun circle the Earth.”
He knew about me and Robin? Were we going to suffer the same fate as other sodomites?
Something in my face must have betrayed me because the man chuckled again. “I don’t care who does what to who, so long as everyone is having fun. Sometimes men love men and women love women, it doesn’t bother me, though it seems to bother your brother.”
I grunted. “My brother is afraid for my soul.”
A thick red eyebrow rose. “And you aren’t afraid for your soul?”
“I doubt very much God has any interest in my soul.”
The man nodded, the slow up and down motion seemed to demonstrate his absorption of my words. “I’m sorry we put a hole in you.”
“I’m sorry you felt the need. Robin’s not all violence and temper. He’s a thoughtful man who wants justice for people.”
“He’s a natural born leader and they get men killed.”
“He’s a leader who can make a difference and would sacrifice himself to save others if necessary.”
“He wouldn’t sacrifice you though,” John said, pointing the spoon at me.
I couldn’t argue with that. Robin would never sacrifice me.
Enough dancing with words. I wanted a truth out of this giant. “Are you going to kill us for what happened to Shirebrook?”
He studied me. “I had intended to when I discovered what had happen to the village. Your foolishness cost lives, daughters and wives were stolen and taken to Nottingham, their fates too grim to contemplate,” the sadness and anger in his voice brought hot and sudden tears to my eyes, “but your knight is an interesting man, and your friar has a passion I have long since lost.”
“Some would call it the optimism of youth,” I said.
“Some don’t recognise God’s hand when it touches a soul.” He stared at me with the intention of drilling this little snippet into my brain.
I looked away, unwilling to respond to such a belief. If he thought God touched my brother, then so be it, I loved Tuck the man, not Tuck the friar.
“And what do I bring to this that you would keep me alive?” I asked.
The man smiled, but I didn’t see any humour in it. “You, Will, you have the unenviable task of being the stave between the cups on a scale. You must help them find the balance they both seek so they can function.”
I sighed. “I know.”
He chuckled. “Then you’re more self-aware than I thought. Good. That’s a good thing. Perhaps we can work together after all. These people need a leader and I have no wish for the task, but Lord Robert of Huntingdon –”
Panic shot through me. “Don’t. Don’t call him that. If you value your life don’t. He is a dangerous man when roused to anger and nothing angers him like that foolish title. He has no interest in trying to be that man. His time in the Holy Land, the heat of its deserts, burned it from his soul. He is Robin. Robin of Sherwood, that’s all you need to know and all you tell your people, John Little.”
John nodded again, that patient nod of understanding. “I’ll keep his secrets.”
“And your people will tolerate us sharing a bed?” I asked point blank.
This time a lopsided grin. “Aye. I’ll make certain they don’t have a problem with your love, Will Scarlett, though I’d not make it too plain.”
I grunted. “I might not have much control over that. Robin tends to like physical contact.”
“Will?” came the disgruntled call from the hut.
“Speaking of the Devil and his handmaiden…” mumbled John.
I spared him a harsh glare before returning to Robin. Crawling into the hut essentially meant crawling over Robin. “You’re cold,” he said, nosing at my neck.
“You’re not,” I said, letting my cold hands warm on his hard, hot flank.
He gasped and wriggled away. “Curses on your wicked head, Will.”
I chuckled and kissed him. The kiss turned into more and before I knew it we were writhing against each other, Robin’s cock trying to bury itself in my firm belly.
LATER THAT MORNING WE sat around the fire pit in the centre of the camp with Tuck, John and a few others. The villagers living in the forest were suffering, anyone could see that. The nights were long and cold now, the days short and often damp. Yule lay around the corner and the longest night before the harshest of the weather. We all knew there’d be more snow coming. Without more than the few geese I’d seen and a single goat, these people were going to starve. The grain they had rescued from the soldiers collecting taxes wouldn’t last long and people couldn’t live on bread alone, especially with this many children and old people to care for. This community would not survive the winter and John knew it.
“We need help,” he said.
“You need to leave Sherwood,” Robin said.
“And go where? We are tied to this land, Robin. We cannot leave it without becoming outlaws and we’re badly off already, being outside the Church’s help wouldn’t be wise.”
Robin stared off into the distance. “We need fighting men not children and the elderly.”
“This old man would take you on, boy,” came a biting snarl from the other side of the fire. An old man, sparse white hair sticking out from under a felt cap and almost no teeth in his head, scowled. “I fought for kings and princes in my time, I’ve been to France. I know of the world of war. Don’t dismiss us too fast.”
Robin bowed his head. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t know you and I should not judge. What do you suggest as an elder of this place?”
John glanced at me, surprised by Robin’s ability to listen to those not of his rank. The old man fidgeted under Robin’s gaze. “I’d make use of us. We can’t ride or run but we can build, we can farm, we can supply those of you who can fight.”
Robin’s hand stroked his thigh, the back pressing against mine. A comfort for him and a question for me – was this the right thing to do? – he asked.
“We’ll need you to move. This p
lace is too close to the village to remain safe for long,” I said.
Robin lowered his head, sinking it between his shoulders as I set our fate. He’d joined Tuck and I to help Marion, now I asked him to help others. I asked him to lead these people through the winter, it would be a task worthy of Hercules.
“I want numbers. I want to know who can work and who cannot. I want the names of those taken by the sheriff’s men. If there is a way for us to bring them home then I shall. I want weapons and I will need more. I want the fighting men training day and night, they will not be helping with the farming, cooking or building. I want the children out hunting and scouting.”
“And the women?” asked the young healer, her head high, voice proud.
Robin focused on her. “I want the women right alongside. You know how to fight?”
“I know, I can use a bow, a knife. I’ve never killed a man but I have brought down deer.” The quick intelligence in her eyes made me like her.
“She tried taking down a boar last year,” muttered John. “Frightened the life out of me.”
“She your daughter?” Robin asked.
The two stared at each other for a moment, the girl and the bear-man. “Might as well be, hey, little ferret.”
She grinned at him and winked.
“Killing a man is not the same as killing a deer,” Robin said. “We are going to be hunted and we will be hunting. Some of you will die, all of us might hang if the king sends his soldiers up here to stop us, but I’ll do all in my power to keep it from happening. We need to work together, with a single intent.”
“What’s that then?” another man asked. His face was pockmarked like the girl’s.
“To bring down Philip Marc, to destroy him.”
The man snorted and a grumble of sound floated around the group.
“Nothing will change if we do not make a stand,” Tuck said, speaking for the first time.
“You’re a cleric, you won’t hang,” someone complained. “The rest of us will hang and worse if we’re caught. We just want to survive with enough food in our bellies that we won’t starve.”
“I know,” Tuck said. “But Robin is right.” I decided I had to mark the day in a calendar. “If we don’t stop the sheriff no one will and none of us will survive the winter. He will keep squeezing us and believe me, my holy orders will not protect me from that man. Sometimes it’s necessary to go against the law God asks us to obey to show the right path to those who have our lives in their grasp. Sometimes we have to be stronger than their nooses. Stronger than their swords and shields. Sometimes we have to sacrifice more than just our lives, we have to give those we love in order to keep the future safe for our children. We cannot sit by and watch other villages burn when they cannot pay these tithes. Soon there will be another quarter day, another lot of rent on top of the extra taxes they’re asking for and how will you pay? You can’t. No one can and until we rise up as one and shout as one voice, we will never be heard.”
Robin grunted. “I should get him to write all my battle speeches.”
I chuckled having listened to Tuck lament on the cruelty of the world more than once. Robin slapped his knees and rose. “I’m going to find some meat to put in your pot. Talk among yourselves, talk to Tuck. Then decide what you want, maybe a few of you want to come and others wish to remain. We will offer support to those who stay. We will fight not just for those in our camp but for all of Sherwood. Each man and woman must decide for themselves where their skills are best used.” He looked down at me. “Come, Will, let’s find some food for these people.”
“I’ve a bad leg,” I complained as I stood and limped after him.
“We’re hunting deer, not running after it,” he said, striding off to find his bow.
ROBIN DIDN’T STOP OR speak to me as he strode out of the camp, into the forest. The day wrapped its chill fingers around me and I struggled to keep up, but the tension in his body bothered me a great deal.
I watched him for a while, trying to keep up despite my limp, until the pain became too much to bear. “Robin, stop, please. Or are you trying to kill me?”
He stopped so suddenly I walked into his back. “Oof.”
“I can’t do it,” he snarled. “I can’t, Will. I can’t do it. I cannot be responsible for those people. I cannot help them. They’ll not survive the winter. What the fuck am I going to do? I’m a nobody, a nothing. How am I supposed to save those taken to Nottingham? I can’t even provide and protect you properly. Never mind what I should be doing.” His fingers pulled at his hair.
I didn’t know what on Earth he ‘should be doing’ but I could try to help his anxiety over helping the villagers. I hobbled around him, took hold of his wrists as he groaned and managed to pull his hands away from his scalp. “Look at me,” I requested in my horse calming voice. “Robin, please, look at me.”
His eyes were the colours of a tempest in the darkest heart of a winter’s day. An ice blue with stormy intent. The scar on his right side looked savage against his pale skin and his scowl would scare a bear.
“First, you aren’t alone with this. Second, it’s not your job to save them. It’s your job to help them, they have to save themselves. You aren’t lord of the manor, Robin. You’re just a man who has some skills they need. You’re strong, you see what needs to be done and you know how to do it. You’re good at organising people and motivating them. You have many skills they need, you are a provider, whether you believe it or not, and you will do it with my help and Tuck’s help.” I kept hold of his wrists, and stared into the heart of the savage warrior before me.
“They can’t know I’m Robert of Huntingdon,” he hissed.
“They won’t.”
“I’m not a lord. I’m a nobody.”
I reached out and cupped his face in my palms. “You are everything to me, Robin of the Hood,” I teased, tugging at the hood he wore at all times to hide his face and its scar.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and tugged me into his body, engulfing me. Hot breath caressed my neck and I felt him breathe in my scent while I rubbed circles on his back. I doubted there was another person in the world who saw Robin as a broken and vulnerable man and the surge of love I felt for him rocked me, scared me, but would not stop me from falling into him forever.
“I cannot do this without you, Will.”
“You’ll never have to,” I promised.
“Christ, when did you become so fucking important to me?” he whispered, kissing my neck.
“About the time you stopped thinking too much,” I told him, trying to find his mouth so I could taste him again.
Robin hummed as he licked my lips and I opened to give him access. It took some time and serious delays to enjoy our privacy but eventually we found a small herd of roe deer in a glade deep in the forest. We stood in the shadows, downwind of the herd.
“There’s one doe who won’t survive the winter,” Robin breathed into my ear making me shiver. He pointed very slowly to an older animal who limped as she ate. He strung his bow and I followed suit; she wasn’t a large animal so between us we could carry her back to camp in one piece. When we were both ready, we raised the weapons and loosed the arrows, and they struck true. The herd scattered. The doe tried to follow but she dropped before she even knew she was the reason the others fled. We’d pierced her heart with long bobbin-headed shafts. They quivered as she went down and Robin raced towards her to cut her throat, to stop any suffering. I limped after him.
The hot and bloody work of gutting her, removing the edible bits and leaving the rest for the foxes, wolves, corvids and anything else in the area, took some time but when we laced her feet together and hung her from a pole we carried over our shoulders, we were pleased with the result.
I don’t know how he did it, but Robin never seemed to get lost in the vast wilderness, whereas I’d been known to be missing for half a day or more as I struggled to find the escarpment I lived in with Tuck, but Robin always knew how to get home. B
y the time we returned to the makeshift camp we were hot, sweaty, and hungry. The people who saw us rushed to help and the burden of the doe no longer became ours.
“I’ll get Tuck to look at my leg,” I said, now hobbling and listing to one side.
Robin frowned at me. “No, I’ll do it, I just need to wash first.”
I grunted, too tired to care and headed to the small hut we’d shared the previous night. The moment I crawled inside and my head found something soft to lie on, I passed out. I woke to gentle hands unrolling the bandage around my leg.
“Tuck?” I mumbled.
“Rest, Will. Robin should never have taken you hunting today. He’s a selfish man.” Tuck removed the moss and peered at the wound. He grunted, “I can’t see a damned thing in this light.”
“This might help,” Robin growled, as he bent double to get into the hut. “And you are right, Tuck. I shouldn’t have taken him with me. I’m sorry.” He lifted a small stub of candle and struck a light onto the wick. “This is the best we have for the moment.”
“Are they cooking the damned thing?” I asked as both men crouched over the wound. My brother’s dark hair blurred into Robin’s sunburned ruddy blond curls.
“They are, we should eat well tonight,” Robin said moving the light around.
“Good, I’m bloody starving.” I lay back and tried to relax.
My brother and my lover decided the wound looked clean and healthy. I hadn’t done any additional damage during the day but some unholy looking bruising had started to come out and I’d tugged some of the stitches.
“We need to leave tomorrow,” Tuck said, worrying at his lip. “The goats need us and Marion will be expecting you and Will in Nottingham a day after that.”
“He’ll be fine to ride,” Robin said.
In that moment I wasn’t so sure but nobody asked me.
THAT NIGHT SOMETHING OF a feast had everyone celebrating and Robin coaxed me out of the hut. I sang and Tuck drummed an overturned pot to help counterbalance my vocals. After a while the young woman who had tended my wound joined in for the harmonies. She smiled shyly at me until John whispered in her ear. When her expression turned sad and focused on Robin a small nugget of worry started in the back of my mind. If she wanted to join us it would be pertinent not to make an enemy of the girl and her quick wit made me want to turn her into an ally if I could.
Men of Sherwood (A Rogue's Tale Book 1) Page 15
