by Anna Burke
“She helped me pack the food, and right now she’s waiting in the courtyard should you decide to get out of bed before sunrise.”
Robyn bolted past Tuck and down the hall, brushing past startled nuns clutching beaded rosaries on their way to morning prayer, and into the faint light of early morning. Stars still studded the sky, and mist lay upon the ground of the courtyard in a thin blanket. Each step she took kicked up tendrils of fog.
“Gwyn?” she called out.
“Here.”
Robyn’s gaze darted around the cloisters until she saw Gwyneth leaning against an arch, several satchels at her feet and Symon bundled in her arms. The nun’s brown woolen habit and starched white wimple looked strange on her, covering her hair and neck so that only her face glowed in the predawn light. Panting slightly from her run, Robyn approached, waiting for a hint of Gwyneth’s mood. Gwyneth, however, kept her face composed and closed, a sure sign that all was not yet forgiven.
“Will you be happy here?” Robyn asked her.
“Does anyone really know how to be happy?” Gwyneth looked away. “I can raise my son in peace, and he’ll be safe from Pierrot and the king’s wars in a monastery when he’s grown. That is enough.”
“Michael would have wanted more for you than that.”
“Michael is dead, Robyn, and you’re gone. At least here I will have time to grieve.”
“I . . .” she trailed off. Not even in the days following Michael’s death had Robyn seen Gwyneth so bitter. “I never meant for it to happen.”
“You and Michael, always trying to protect me, never realizing the only things I ever needed from you were love and trust. You’re my sister, Robyn, not my caretaker. You should have trusted me with the risks you took. Both of you. Or did you think I wasn’t strong enough to bear it?” Her chin rose defiantly, daring Robyn to confuse her frailty of body for frailty of spirit.
“I don’t think you’re weak.”
“Don’t you? Because your actions tell me differently.”
“Gwyn, please listen to me. I was scared. I didn’t want to hang, and I didn’t want you to see me hang. I almost lost you too, you know, when Symon was born. How could I bring that kind of trouble down on you?”
“Because we’re family.”
Robyn felt the words like the slap they were intended to be. “Okay,” she said, her voice rough. “Okay. You’re right.”
“I need you to promise me something: never lie to me again. I can’t bear it. Not after this. I need someone to trust, Robyn.”
“I promise.”
“And Symon needs an aunt.”
“I’ll be there for him.”
“You better.” Gwyneth wiped her eyes with the hand not holding her child. “And you better visit us.”
“Nothing could keep me away.”
“Fine. Come here then.”
Will’s arrival ended their embrace as her shadow separated itself from the priory wall with a rustle of feathers. The large goshawk riding on her shoulder shuffled her feet, turning a hooded head toward Robyn, Gwyneth, and Symon. Alanna, John, and Tuck followed behind, along with the dogs.
“Shall we?” Tuck opened the small gate and looked at the rest of them expectantly.
“We shall,” said John, watching Robyn.
“Right. Um. Let’s go, then,” Robyn said, conscious of John’s gaze as she tore her eyes from Gwyneth.
Tuck closed the gate carefully behind them again with a practiced flick of her walking stick. “Sister Gwyneth will lock up behind us. We don’t want any rogues getting the wrong idea, now do we?” She led the way down the road at a startling clip, her legs eating up the ground and her dogs trotting at her side, tails wagging back and forth. Robyn and John followed, with Will and Alanna trailing behind. Robyn glanced back over her shoulder at the priory. Gwyneth would be safe there, which was more than she had dared hope for. Her spirits rose as she remembered the fury in the sheriff’s voice.
“What are you smiling about?” John asked her.
“I was thinking about our good friend,” said Robyn. “Do you think he slept as well as we did last night?”
John snorted. “Not if he dreamt about Tuck. I wish I could have seen his face when she told him she could kick him halfway to heaven.”
“Hardly an empty boast,” said Robyn, pointing at the nun’s calves, visible above sturdy boots through the cloth of her habit as it swirled around her on the path ahead of them. “Think you could beat her in an arm wrestling contest?”
“Not without losing an arm.” John kept his voice low. “I’ll wager quite a few men were relieved to see her married off to Christ. Those thighs could snap a man in half.”
“Still, I bet he’d die happy.”
Tuck came to a halt a half a mile down the forest trail. “This is where I leave you,” she said, her face somber in the gray light. “But if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to find me. We could always use a blacksmith. And Willa, remember what I told you. I will not lie to my sister on your behalf.”
“I remember,” said Will. “Thank you for everything.” Robyn detected a trace of hesitation in the girl’s voice and wondered what she thought about the future looming like the branches above her.
“No need to thank me. Just keep yourself safe.”
They watched her leave in silence. Will shifted her feet and rubbed the hilt of her sword, her eyes boring into the side of Robyn’s skull. Robyn felt Will’s anxiety mounting but didn’t assuage it.
“Where do we go now?” Will asked when neither Robyn nor John spoke. Alanna seemed content to let Will ask the questions, for now at least, and looked around her with interest.
“Before we go anywhere, we need to get a few things straight,” said Robyn. “You make one wrong move and we’ll bring you back to the priory before you can say ‘Nun Tuck.’”
“I’m not—”
“You’re a liability. You don’t know what you’ll do out there,” said John. “None of us do until we’re living it. But before we go one step further, I want to make sure you know how to use that blade. Give your bird over to Robyn. Minstrel, step back and don’t interfere with any of those flashy knives of yours.”
Robyn accepted the hawk with caution and held the slender chain tightly in her fist. Birds had loyalties, just like people, and even fewer qualms about ripping into human flesh.
John hefted his staff and circled around Will. Robyn watched as Will’s feet shifted lightly over the ground, feeling for even footing in the early morning light, and tried not to think about the sharp point of the blade reaching John. The bird shifted on her wrist, then settled.
Will lunged. John parried, bringing the staff down to swipe at Will’s feet, but Will leapt over the sweeping end and brought her sword up to block John’s next blow. Oak and steel met with a dull thunk, then separated. John feinted for Will’s head, but Will merely crouched, sword at the ready, as John’s real blow struck at her stomach.
The flash of steel and the blur of oak danced around the small clearing. John tried to force Will into a copse of trees where her sword would be of little use, but Will ducked out of the way, quicker than John on her feet, which surprised Robyn. Will, however, did not have John’s stamina. John bore down on her, relentless, until at last the sword fell from her hands as John backed her into a snaking tree root, intentionally tangling her feet.
“Well done,” he said, tapping the sword with the butt of his staff. “But you’ve never faced a real opponent.”
Will’s face flushed a brilliant scarlet as she scrambled to her feet, panting. “I’ve had training,” she said, her tone adamant.
“Short bouts here and there. But you’re not strong enough, and you tire easily.”
“I—”
“I’m not done yet.” John poked her in the middle, making the girl gasp. “Still, you’re not half bad.” The staff tapped the girl’s shoulder, and this time she let out a low growl.
“How dare you.”
“I’m n
ot going to hurt you. The same can’t be said for anyone else you’ll meet out here, present company excluded. Just remember that you’ll always have an advantage with a blade if you can get a decent opening, so long as you are not afraid to strike the throat or belly.”
“It might be useful to have a swordsman,” Robyn said. “If only as a visual deterrent.”
Will’s lips thinned with further outrage.
“If you stay, then you drill every day, and you do what we tell you to do. Think you can do that?” said John.
Will nodded, though the effort of keeping her mouth shut seemed to cost her.
“You’re noble born, so I’ll ask you again. Can you take orders from two commoners without question?”
“I said I could.”
“On your knees.”
“But—” Will protested, and then she dropped, realizing her mistake.
“What if that was all the warning he’d given you about an arrow?” Robyn moved to tower over Will. “You’d be dead.”
“Robyn—” Alanna began, but Will spoke over her.
“Please,” said Will, her cheeks still scarlet. “Please don’t turn us away.”
Robyn considered her scarlet face. The minstrel didn’t concern her the way Will did. Alanna seemed steady, whereas Will carried herself with an incendiary attitude that Robyn recognized only too well. It was how she felt much of the time: like tinder, ready to burn. Robyn looked at Alanna again, and hoped she knew how to control her friend for all their sakes. “Stand up and take back your bird before she slits my wrist. We’ve got ground to cover before sunrise.”
Will stood and held out her hand for the bird. Robyn handed it over gratefully, then clasped Will on her birdless shoulder. “Welcome to Sherwood,” she said.
“And one more thing,” said John, a wicked grin splitting his face. “You blush a pretty shade of pink. From now on I’ll be calling you Will Scarlet.”
• • •
“So, this is where you live?”
Robyn looked around the clearing that served as their camp and wished she’d had the foresight to avoid the Nottingham fair, Gwyneth, Marian, Will, and Alanna altogether. Will stood by the base of the oak that dominated the stand of nearby trees with her fist clenched tightly around the jesses of her hawk and her other hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword. Alanna unslung her lyre from her back and examined the instrument, running practiced fingers over the strings.
“Yes,” said Robyn, dropping her satchel next to a chestnut tree several years past its prime. She tried to see the clearing as Will and Alanna must: a shallow fire pit dug into the center, shielded from wind and view by low wickets masked with ferns. A small lean-to, covered with moss and barely waterproof, huddled against another oak. They’d have to extend it, now that Will and Alanna also needed a place to sleep, and as her eyes grazed the crumpled undergrowth, she realized the other complication. Additional bodies would add more foot traffic, and foot traffic meant pathways, and in a matter of weeks they’d have to move. The clearing already looked too lived-in for Robyn’s liking.
“When you have to shit, make sure you do it as far from camp as you can, and bury it,” said John. “You’d be surprised how quickly smells build up. And smells attract foresters.”
Will wrinkled her nose. “We’ve been to Nottingham. We know all about smells.”
“We’ve got food for today, but we should hunt anyway. It’s always better to hunt on a full stomach than an empty one. Do you know how to set up a snare?” Robyn asked.
Will shook her head. Alanna nodded.
“Good,” she said to Alanna. “Will, I’ll teach you. We’ll gather wood while we’re out, along with anything else we find, like mushrooms, eggs, or greens. We’ll have berries soon, but we need to start thinking about winter. That means baskets for storing nuts, which also means harvesting reeds and willow branches, and we’ll all need furs to wear and sleep in. Once winter sets in, we’ll be safer in a camp, and we can settle in. The foresters don’t like to break trail through the snow.”
“We can start setting watches, now that there are four of us,” John added. “It will make raiding easier, too.”
“Raiding?” Will’s eyes widened.
“We’re going to need coin, and that doesn’t grow on trees.”
“But first we need food.” Robyn waved a hand at Will. “Leave your hawk. I’ll show you a few things while John . . .”
“. . . John will be busy cutting new quarterstaffs,” John finished for her. Robyn nodded and set off into the woods, intentionally forcing Will and Alanna to keep up. She paused after a few seconds.
“You’re making too much noise, Will.”
“I’m trying to keep up.”
“Move quietly. Watch me and Alanna. If that means walking more slowly, walk more slowly.” She set off again, listening. Will improved slightly, but Robyn still heard the sound of snapping twigs and grinding dirt. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath to temper her impatience. “Every time you break a stick, all the animals in earshot know we’re here. That means we can’t kill them, and if we can’t kill them, we don’t get to eat.” Will’s cheeks colored in what Robyn assumed was either embarrassment or anger, but the other woman held her tongue. “You need to watch where your feet are as well as what’s around you. Step on moss or rocks or roots when you can, and try to avoid soft ground. We don’t want to leave too many prints if we can help it.”
Will improved marginally as the morning passed, although Alanna’s whispered pointers and encouragement probably had more to do with it than Robyn’s snapped commands. Robyn stopped them now and then to point out a landmark or to adjust Will’s footing until they came to a brushy open area inhabited by an unusually large rabbit warren. “We’ll set some snares up here. See this trail?” She knelt by a low tunnel of brambles. The sun broke through the trees in this part of the forest, and it warmed her shoulders as she plucked a tuft of rabbit hair from a thorn and held it up for Will to inspect. “Watch.”
“How often do you check your snares?” Will asked as she studied the way Robyn tied the thin cord around two sticks, setting up a trip wire over the trail.
“Once a day, twice if I can help it. And we never set snares near camp in case a forester finds them.”
“May I try?”
“Yes, but not here. We’ll practice away from the hotter trails so that you don’t have to worry about leaving too much of a scent. There. This line here triggers the snare, which will send this branch,” she tested the spring of the sapling she’d commandeered, “into the air, hopefully either breaking the rabbit’s neck or keeping it out of reach of a fox.”
She backed away from her handiwork and pulled another length of string from her pocket. They’d need to make more cord soon, too. “I’ll show you how to set one up here, but first show me how you set yours, Alanna.”
Alanna’s hands were not quite as deft as Robyn’s, but she worked with confidence, and the end result made Robyn nod with satisfaction.
“I was in charge of finding dinner when we traveled,” Alanna explained. “Before I joined Emmeline’s court. You try, Will.”
Robyn studied Will as she worked. The woman had quick fingers, but she couldn’t quite master keeping the tension on the little sapling she’d chosen. She also chewed on her lower lip in a way that reminded Robyn of Midge. Her cousin would visit soon. And what will she think of these two?
“So, what, your father wanted to marry you off?”
“To Lord Barrick.”
“I haven’t heard of him.”
“Lucky you. His estate is to the south, and he’s rich enough that my father overlooked the three dead wives before me.”
“How rich?” Robyn asked, wondering if Will knew enough about Barrick to relieve him of some of those riches.
“Richer than my father.”
“Couldn’t you have joined a convent or something? You and Tuck seemed to get along just fine.”
“I wish. Convents still
want your dowry, and they don’t boost the family name. Barrick was willing to take me for half of what a convent would expect, and with the ransom tax . . .” Will trailed off.
“At least you’d have enough to eat with Lord Barrick,” she said, unable to stop the judgment from creeping into her voice.
“I’d rather starve.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had to starve before.”
Will’s fist closed around the string, and she glared at Robyn. “I can’t help my station any more than you can help yours. Hate me for my name if you like, but I’m here the same as you.”
“Not quite. Your brother is still alive.”
“My brother is a sad fop who’d rather be diddling his squire than his wife, but no one cares so long as there is a baby in her belly and he has the good sense to bribe his servants. Yes, he’s alive, and I’m sorry your brother isn’t, but whatever happened to him isn’t my fault.”
“Will,” Alanna said in warning. Robyn didn’t miss the way Alanna watched the two of them. She didn’t like how much those dark eyes picked up on.
“He was hanged for poaching by the sheriff.”
Will had the good sense to glance uncomfortably at the snare in her hand. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I wish your brother was alive, and I wish my father loved me more than he loves his coffers. But since we can’t have either, perhaps you should teach me how to catch these goddamn rabbits. I’m no forester, but I’m guessing we’ve scared off everything for a mile around by now.”
“That’s the beauty of a snare. It’ll be here when everything comes back,” said Robyn, biting back the urge to goad Will further. “So, how do you know Marian?”
“Marian?” Will made another clumsy attempt to set the snare as she spoke. “She’s a baron’s daughter and Emmeline’s handmaid and companion, now that her husband’s on Crusade. Emmeline is a good friend of mine. Our estates border.”
“And I served as Emmeline’s minstrel,” said Alanna. “Marian is a friend.”
When neither of them spoke further, Robyn contemplated strangling Will with the snare. She searched her mind for something else to ask that wouldn’t reveal the depth of her interest or discomfort.
