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

by Sarah Luddington

  “Halt,” called out a voice made of gravel and granite to my right. Three men ran down the hill, bows drawn. Robin did not carry a sword but he led the raid.

  I dropped my bow to the ground and swung down from the tree, landing near the merchant’s cart. I saw the others coming over the rise behind the caravan.

  “Don’t,” I advised a guard who moved to cut me down. My arrow didn’t waver for a moment.

  I saw Alviva loose one of her deadly swallowtail broad head arrows. Personally I used the simple bodkin, it could be removed without causing too much damage but John had made her a quiver’s worth of lethal arrowheads. A man screamed, setting off his horse as he tilted out of the saddle.

  “Stand your men down and no more need die today,” Robin said.

  I could see Alviva’s eyes over the cart and Eva came to stand beside me with a merchant in her sights. Alviva’s dark eyes were fever bright and her breathing came hot and heavy.

  “Eva, go to Alviva before she does something daft,” I muttered.

  “But, Will, she’s doing what we all want to do, taking back control,” Eva murmured next to me with a pride in her voice I didn’t like. Alviva and Eva were becoming closer each breath they shared in this encounter.

  I risked a glance at Eva, who looked at Alviva as if the woman were made of divine light.

  “Go to her, Eva and make certain she listens to Robin,” I said in a low voice. Eva nodded and without taking her eyes off our enemies she moved around the huddled group to join Alviva who stood over the body of the fallen man.

  Robin faced off the captain. “Call your men to stand down, no one else needs to die over this.”

  “I am paid to die, outlaw.” The captain’s voice betrayed no fear. I glanced at Robin but his hood covered his face too much to see his eyes in the shadows.

  Tuck came towards me. “We do God’s work, surrender your goods to us and you will live, I promise in the name of the Lord.”

  “You are thieves and murderers, you do nothing in God’s name,” one of the merchants shouted. “A pack of wild dogs, that’s all you are and the sheriff will have you all hung.”

  The man’s voice rang in the quiet of the forest for a moment before he too died from another of Alviva’s arrows. “Anyone else want to argue with our priest?” she asked.

  “You have women among you?” asked another merchant who raised his hands in supplication when Eva shifted her attention to him.

  “We are Legion,” Alviva said.

  I heard Tuck’s sharp drawn breath. He wouldn’t like that analogy, though in this moment I thought it apt. It worked on the guards and the merchants – all but the captain lowered their weapons.

  “It is not worth dying over,” Robin reminded him.

  “It’s my job.”

  The man driving the cart stood on the boards. “No, I paid for safe passage, we all did, but you cannot fight this many outlaws. Give the wolfhead what he wants. I’ll lose no more of you today.”

  “Tithe,” Robin said. “Tithe for safe passage through Sherwood. That’s all. You can keep the cart and the horses. Give us your purses.”

  I moved into action. When we attacked to remove the Church and State of their wealth we took everything, when we attacked merchants we took half of their purse’s weight and only when they were dressed well enough to afford the loss.

  These men were dressed more than well enough. Tuck and I moved through the huddled men, taking their offered purses. I was forced to threaten one man but when Alviva stalked up behind me the resistance floundered.

  We took the tithe and stepped back to the side of the road.

  “We supposed to just move on?” asked the captain.

  “Yes.”

  “How do we know there aren’t more of you?” he asked.

  “You have the word of Robin Hood,” said Robin.

  The man snorted. We’d lifted the bodies of their fallen into the cart. “You will be caught and hanged for this.”

  “I have no doubt but in the meantime the men, women and children of Sherwood thank you for your generous donation to their hungry bellies,” Robin said. He flicked his head and we bled back into the forest with barely a sound.

  20

  BY THE TIME CHRISTMAS approached we’d managed several successful raids on the sheriff’s men and because of the time of year, we’d robbed a few travellers who looked like they could spare coins for the poor. We hunted the king’s deer and on one occasion Robin managed to break into the tithe barn of Rufford Abbey and we stole their beer caskets. Tuck stayed away from that raid.

  Everything we fighting men and women could spare went back to the community we’d left in the woodland. They would be responsible for creating next year’s crop, building more homes and with a little luck, be able to give us and others refuge when the High Sheriff of Nottingham came at us with the king’s men.

  There were retaliations against the people of Sherwood but we managed to spend time in each small community teaching the people to fight back, run, or even scare the men sent to destroy people’s faith in us. The reward on the head of the man in the hood increased every time I went to the marketplace in the city, but the whispers from the common people were offering the hooded man their support. We were building a political movement, and for the first time in my life I felt like I had some kind of hope for the future.

  Maybe, just maybe, the fate of the people who built the damned castles the Norman lords lived in would enjoy a little equality.

  I should have known better.

  “ROBIN, WE CAN’T,” I hissed, even as I ground into his touch, a touch that had my cock pressed into his palm while my shoulders pressed into a tree truck. He savaged my neck and I groaned.

  “We need to get that house finished,” he grumbled, trying to pull my thick winter clothing up.

  “I’m not going to argue,” I almost yelled as cold hands found their way under the layers of wool and linen.

  We were alone for the first time in over a week and making the most of the time. Although we were supposed to be hunting no one in the small group was fooled, including Eva, who had an uncanny knack of getting in the way; the damned girl was too curious for words. I’d managed to keep her and Tuck busy for the afternoon collecting fungus from a fallen oak I’d found that wasn’t covered in snow and hadn’t been ruined by frost.

  “God, Will, I know I said I’d never pressure you but I need –”

  We both froze. A sound, the huff of horses breathing hard. The snap of branches. The soft curses of people. Soldiers? Had we been found?

  Robin moved away from me. Without a moment of hesitation we strung our bows and moved towards the sound. My feet sunk into the soft loam making me silent. The snow had come but not so much as to hinder our careful travel through the thick trees and undergrowth. The air smelt crisp, full of damp leaves but sharp and bright. When it began to shift and I could smell horse, I knew we were close. The trees here were thick, the sun hiding for a moment, plunging us into deep shadows.

  I saw movement, touched Robin’s shoulder and pointed. He followed my gaze and nodded. We watched for a moment before Robin held up a hand with two fingers raised. I nodded; there were two people, two horses. We could deal with this without help. I stepped to Robin’s left, planted my feet – it would be a long shot – and drew the bow back to my ear. The muscles in my shoulders flexed with ease and my fingers were at home on the gut string. The tension in the yew bow built and I focused on the rear target.

  The cloud shifted overhead and the sunlight caught on a flaxen braid, untidy and tangled, but long.

  “Shit,” I cursed. Rather than loose the arrow I twisted and used it to knock Robin’s bow. His arrow loosed and raced through the trees to strike hard into a tree a mere two paces from the lead horse’s nose. The beast stopped and the animal in the back hit the one in the front.

  “Will!”

  “It’s Marion,” I said, already racing forwards.

  We reached her in moments.
“Robin? Will?” her voice quivered, just as the arrow had.

  I glanced at the other horse. A young man with a tonsured head sat on the weary beast. “Alan?” I asked.

  “Thank God,” he murmured.

  “Marion?” Robin asked, reaching for his sister. A small sob of agony, whether physical or emotional I couldn’t tell, escaped her. Robin reached up and pushed back her hood.

  “No…” My eyes didn’t want to see the damage to her beautiful face. The ugly colours did not belong on her fair skin. The misshapen swelling should not exist on someone so perfectly formed.

  Marion whimpered and a tear tracked down her purple cheek. Robin reached up with a hand trembling in shock. He cradled her wounded face and she held her hands out. They were white from the cold. Robin reached for her and with great care wrapped his brotherly arms around her slim shoulders and waist to lift her from the palfrey she rode.

  “Gently with her, I fear there is a lot of damage,” Alan said in quiet sadness.

  Robin cradled his sister to his chest and looked at me. So much agony graced his gaze I could not stand to bear witness to his grief. “What?” he asked, more a breath of sound than a word.

  “We need to get her to Tuck,” I said. “Can you carry her?”

  He nodded, his hands tightening on her small frame. I pulled her palfrey’s reins over the beast’s head and handed them to Alan. “Follow me as best you can,” I said. “I’ll get Tuck ready, and Eva. I’ll need to find them.” I took Robin’s bow and my own, unstrung them and wrapped them, tying them across my back, then I raced off to find my brother.

  The horses were winded and couldn’t move fast but I heard Alan trying to follow. I focused only on finding Tuck. I would not, could not, think about what had been done to Marion. I would find my brother, and he and Robin would tell me what I needed to do to help my friend and she would get well, better, she would heal, she would not be in pain for long. We could fix this…

  “We will fix this,” I panted when I reached our encampment. “Tuck?” I bellowed.

  John came around the corner. “Will, what’s wrong? Where’s Robin?”

  “Don’t have time, where’s my brother?” I said, panting hard.

  “I don’t…”

  I raced off towards the place I saw the oak a few days before. Halfway there I heard laughter and saw Tuck and Eva strolling together sharing a joke.

  “Tuck,” I yelled. “Fuck,” I yelled again as I slipped on the mud and hit the ground.

  “Will? What the –”

  I scrambled up, my hands and arse scuffed. “Marion. She needs you. She’s at the camp.”

  Tuck saw something in my face. He dropped the basket of fungus he carried, lifted the hem of his robe, and raced past me.

  I bolted after him, Eva shouting something in our wake. “Hurry,” I tossed over my shoulder.

  By the time I reached the escarpment Robin had just arrived, Marion still cradled in his arms. Tuck reached them and stopped in his tracks. His chest heaved and not from the frantic race up the hill.

  “Marion…” Not a question this time, a statement.

  Her face turned from her brother’s chest and a hand fluttered towards my brother. A cry, one of agony, broke from him and he covered the distance between Robin and his sister. I watched, struck mute by my brother’s compassion as he brushed blonde locks from her face. He murmured something to her and her small arms, God she was so small, reached for him. Robin glanced at me and I nodded. He relinquished control and gave her to Tuck’s care. My brother said not a word as he buried his face in her neck. The others were appearing, taking the horses, helping Alan, asking muted questions.

  Alviva brought a blanket out of the cave. “Here, this will help.” Her usual sharp words and their sharper delivery were softened.

  The compassion in her dark sharp eyes, the gentle care she took as she wrapped the blanket around Marion, made me see a side to Alviva she worked hard to hide. She helped Tuck carry Marion through the narrow entrance to the cave.

  I reached Robin’s side and touched his fingers, they laced with mine and I breathed in relief. He remained with me, had not chosen to retreat in the face of his sister’s abuse. “What happened?” he asked Alan. I admired his strength at keeping his rage under control.

  The young man stood taller and thinner than me, his mousey hair shorn short. He looked the very definition of an ascetic, except for his eyes; they were large, round, almost amber in colour with long black lashes. He also had a full, strawberry red mouth, and although he looked like his world had come to an end, I could see the smile lurking behind the expression of unhappiness. I liked him the moment we made eye contact.

  “Will Scarlett?” he asked.

  “Alan Dale,” I countered, offering my hand. He clasped my forearm.

  “I am so pleased to have found you, we were riding into nothing. I had no idea how to find you and Marion’s strength was failing her.” His voice belonged to him, a rolling sound of highs and lows that shimmered and should only have been used for joy.

  He took a deep breath and turned to Robin. “I am sorry, my lord, I didn’t know what else to do but bring her here when I found her.”

  “What happened?” Robin asked again. I watched the anger beginning to surface now that the shock had started to dissipate.

  Alan took a deep breath, as Gilbert appeared and pressed a flask of wine into his hand. “I think the entire keep must have heard the argument. Marc wanted to impose a new levy on Marion’s holdings in Huntingdon. She argued against it. When Marc suddenly asked why her holdings were never hit by the mysterious hooded man and the gang of thieves associated with him, Marion hesitated just a moment too long.” Alan took a drink.

  “And?” Robin asked.

  The cleric shrugged. “She said Huntingdon was too far away from the main roads through the forest, which it is, so her lands and people were not important. Also, she’d managed to keep the taxes fair, mainly because she’s been paying them herself, so the people had no reason to rise up and take arms against him.” I knew she’d been using this argument for months against the sheriff’s rages. “That’s when he lost his temper. He accused her of being a barren sow and knocked her to the ground. I had been working through the castle’s accounts with her, it’s how we manage to share information. We were sat near the fire in the main room, under the gaze of everyone there and can pass information; I saw it all but I couldn’t do anything. I’m so sorry.”

  “If you had stood against his anger Marion would not have been the only victim and you could not have helped her,” Robin said. “I know men like Philip Marc all too well.”

  “He knocked her to the ground, then grabbed her and flung her face first over the table in the main hall. All his soldiers just stood there as he lifted her skirts –” Alan’s voice faltered and died. Tears stood proud on his long lashes and he trembled. “I moved to stop him but one of the new knights, sent by the king, reached them first. He grabbed Marc and pulled him back, while lowering Marion’s skirt. He said, ‘Beat her if you must in public but do not do this, it dishonours you both’. So Marc did, he took his belt off and beat her until she passed out. The knight stood in front of me, with his back to his lord, listening. I watched his eyes, they were blank – totally blank. I’ve never seen such emptiness.” The tears came and Gilbert rescued the wine as Alan covered his face.

  “They all left the room and I picked her up off the ground. I grabbed her cloak, wrapped her up, and we left the hall. When we reached her rooms she took every item of jewellery she owned, a purse of coins and told me to get her to you. I don’t know how we managed it, but we made it to the horses. Her horse was already tacked up and another stood beside it, and so we left the city through the north gate before circling back to come here.”

  Robin’s breath came hot and hard, the large fists clenching and flexing with the need to hurt someone, his body a rigid line of hate. “Who was the knight who let this happen?”

  “He stopp
ed her being raped,” Alan qualified. The fire of icy rage made the cleric shrink into himself. “I think his name is Gisborne.”

  A bucket of water might have doused Robin in that moment. The flush of rage on his face turned white. “Guy of Gisborne?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “He’s come to hunt us hasn’t he?” I asked.

  Alan looked at me but I had no answers. “I think so.”

  Robin turned and strode into the cave after his sister and my brother.

  21

  I WALKED IN AFTER Robin and found Tuck ministering to his charge. Marion sat on his bed, her cloak and hood removed, while Tuck washed her face and hands with reverence. He removed her shoes and washed her small feet and lower legs.

  “I need to check your wounds,” he murmured, not looking into her eyes. Though to be fair it would be hard, as she merely stared over his head where he knelt, her expression blank.

  “Maybe Eva can help you undress?” he asked.

  Marion’s expression didn’t change, she simply began unlacing the front of her gown. Tuck panicked. “No, no, not here, not with so many people here, Eva can help, she can check you in the reredorter.” He stilled her hands. Eva took over Marion’s care and I watched Alviva peel herself from the shadows at the back of the cave and help the two women. Agnus followed with a quiet word for Gilbert. This was women’s work.

  We men needed to prevent Robin from doing something that would jeopardise us all. “I’m ending this.”

  “Well, at least you’re predictable,” I snapped.

  All eyes shifted from Robin to me. “Excuse me?” The glower should have been enough to stop me in my tracks, but I knew him so I stepped into his space and looked up into eyes trapped between rage and grief.

  I poked him hard in the chest. “You go, go to Nottingham, go and get yourself arrested, hung, probably drawn and quartered, with each part of you on a separate gate for me to stare at every time I have to go to market. You go do that because that’s what’ll happen.”