by Shea, K. M.
Robyn Hood:
Fight for Freedom
By: K. M. Shea
a Take Out The Trash! Publication
Also by K.M. Shea
Robyn Hood
A Girl’s Tale
Fight for Freedom
Princess Ahira
My Life at the MBRC
Contents
Chapter 1: My Nemesis is Honorable
Chapter 2: Marian at Nottingham
Chapter 3: My Undoing
Chapter 4: Sudden Confessions
Chapter 5: Alan-A-Dale
Chapter 6: Wedding Crashers
Chapter 7: Sir Guy the Addled
Chapter 8: Capturing the Sheriff
Chapter 9: Kindly Monks
Chapter 10: One Last Ride
I turned Crafty around so I could get my last gaze of the camp. The cheerful fires were burning, and it looked dreamy and nostalgic in the starlight. I stared at the camp, burning the image in my mind the way a thirsty man drinks water. I intended for it to be my last look at my Merry Men and our home.
I breathed in, drawing my shoulders back, and directed Crafty into the darkness of Sherwood.
I would no longer be Robin Hood, the Bold and Brave Outlaw of Sherwood Forest.
Chapter 1
My Nemesis is Honorable
The light from the camp quickly disappeared in the trees, and once we were a safe distance away I urged Crafty into a trot. He tugged on the reins, wanting to go faster, but I was already taking a big chance with riding in the dark so we kept our pace.
By the time we exited Sherwood Forest the sun started peeking over the horizon, and I eased Crafty into a canter. It was much smoother than the jarring motion of the trot, which had turned the dull pains in my back turn into more of a stabbing sensation. The canter soothed my sore muscles, and Crafty gave me a surprisingly pleasant ride.
I slowed him down when we neared Nottingham Castle. Crafty snorted before he walked along, slightly sweaty from his workout. I dismounted and shortened one of my stirrups so it was tucked underneath the flap. I then mounted and sat side saddle, shaking slightly as I supported my leg against Crafty’s side. It was an exercise of faith in the horse that I could have gone without experiencing. Riding, precariously perched on Crafty’s back, was not the most comforting of positions.
Thankfully Nottingham was only a five minute ride, and I entered the castle without raising suspicion.
Once inside I wandered for the better part of an hour. I had no idea what I was doing, or even where I should go. I had simply ridden to Nottingham on instinct.
The sun was fully over the horizon when Crafty became irritated. He was hungry, and usually by now I would have let him out to graze in the forest. He tossed his head several times while I dismounted—intending to lead him out of the castle. Instead the blasted horse dragged me into a nearby stable. I fought him every step of the way, but the giant lug easily pulled me along.
Crafty took a drink from a water trough as I pulled on the reins, which he ignored. While we were fighting a tall, familiar-looking, blond haired man entered the stable. He was probably a little older than Little John, although he was built like Much. It took me a few moments before I could place him. He was that steward fellow who followed the Sheriff at the archery contest.
Upon spotting my horse and I he smiled. “He’s thirsty?”
“Very much so,” I dryly said.
“I’m George Comwell, the Sheriff’s apprentice,” he said with a bow.
My world rocked for a moment. Sheriff’s apprentice? This was the man who was apparently behind the greatest schemes to get me?
“Mary Gamwell,” I said with a smile to hide my fear. When I realized what I said I wanted to yelp, Will Scarlet’s true last name had rolled off my lips without a thought. “Tell me, Master Comwell. Do many Sheriffs have apprentices?” Maybe there was more than one of them.
George blushed. “Truth be told, it is not my official title. I’m really more of his assistant. I call myself the Sheriff’s apprentice because I hope to inherit the position when he is elevated into a new office,” he said with a comely grin. “But tell me. Did you say Gamwell? As in relation to the Earl of Maxfield, William Gamwell?” he asked.
I froze. I was being punished for leaving my men in a cowardly way. That had to be it. What were the chances that I would run into my greatest of foes and that he would know Scarlet’s family? “Yes, a distant cousin. Although William did lose his title,” I smoothly replied.
“So I heard,” George grimly said. “I knew the former Earl of Maxfield. He was a good man.”
I nodded, keeping my guard up around this brilliant man. He would never suspect me to be Robin Hood because of my gender, but I didn’t need him to suspect of any kind of connection between me and the outlaws of Sherwood. Even if I was gone there was no sense plaguing my men with worse problems. “I’m not quite sure what happened to him. My mother said he left for Nottingham, but I’m not sure where he went after that,” I said.
“You’re looking for him then?” George asked.
“Goodness, no,” I laughed as I searched my mind for a believable story. “I only met him a handful of times. I came here to see Prince John.”
“Ah. Well that’s good. You won’t find William Gamwell anywhere,” George grimly said.
“What do you mean?” I asked as my pulse quickened. Exactly how much did he know about us?
“William Gamwell is no more. He’s taken the name of Will Scarlet and he lives in Sherwood Forest. He is one of Robin Hood’s men.”
“He is?” I said, doing my best to sound astonished instead of terrorized. My fears were confirmed, George was most likely the one dogging down my men and me rather than the fat, brainless Sheriff.
“Yes. No one else knows Will Scarlet’s true surname though, I would appreciate it if you kept silent about his business with Robin Hood. It would be better for him if he slipped away before anyone else found out, or if he hangs on the gallows as Will Scarlet and young Gamwell simply disappears,” George bitterly said with a confused look on his face, as though he didn’t understand why he was telling me all of this.
“You must have greatly admired his father,” I said.
“I did. I served as a page under him for several years,” George said, pressing his lips together. “Why his son chose to dirty the family name and go charging around with the barbaric Robin Hood is beyond me.”
I internally shook my fist at him. I was NOT barbaric! “Perhaps he believed in that trite robbing thing Robin Hood is said to be doing. What was it again? Stealing from the rich…”
“To give to the poor,” George finished Marian’s Outlaw Dream with a weary sigh and a scowl. “I’ve heard it too many times. The peasants in this shire hold him higher than Prince John, nay, King Richard! He’s tearing the government of Nottingham into shambles. If he’s as smart as he boasts he should be able to figure out another way to do this,” he said before straightening up. “I’m sorry to place the weight of these matters on you, Lady Mary. Robin Hood has been a temporary curse to the Sheriff, and we are doing our best to catch him,” he said with a smile. “In the meantime is there anything I can do to help you?”
A part of me felt bad. I never thought my enemy would be a good guy. It is easy to rebel against the Sheriff. He’s a silly cad. But George…
I glanced at Crafty, who had finally stopped drinking and was eyeing up a hay bale. “Is the feast for Prince John still going on?” I carefully asked.
“Yes,” George pleasantly said. “It shall last another week, ending with a masquerade ball.”
“Then I’ll most certainly need to find a room for myself, as well as a place for my horse to stay,” I sai
d, hardly able to believe how daring I was as I motioned to Crafty who had fixed his eerie gaze on George.
George shivered. “That is an intimidating horse you have there,” he said as Crafty snarled at him, revealing stained teeth. “Where are your bags?” he asked, peering up and down the barn aisle as there were none on Crafty.
“A few of my father’s men are coming with them later this afternoon. They were held up at the market, I forged my way ahead without them,” I sheepishly said as I hung my head. I tried to tell myself over and over that I had nothing to fear from George. After all I wasn’t Robin Hood anymore.
“Excellent,” George said with a charming smile. “Let me call a stable hand and he’ll take your horse,” he said as he walked down the musty aisle. He came back a few minutes later, a scruffy looking boy trotting after him.
“What’s ‘es name miss?” the stable boy asked as he hesitantly took the reins from my hand.
I paused, thinking for a moment. It would probably be best to give Crafty a fake name as well, just in case. “Nightmare,” I said.
The boy’s eyes got bigger as he led Crafty down the stable aisle and into a stall. Crafty wickedly nickered.
George laughed as he gallantly offered his arm, which I took. He led me to the keep, introducing me to lords and ladies as we went. We walked up a seemingly endless tower of stairs before we came to a hallway.
“Here we go,” George said, fiddling with a key before he opened it and let me in. It was a medium sized room with a giant fire place, several beautiful tapestries on the walls, and a large canopy bed. It was the most expensive place I had ever seen in my young, peasant life.
“Thank you so much Master Comwell,” I gushed. “Are you sure this is… allowable?” I asked.
“Of course,” George said with a pleasant smile. “I’m in charge of the rooms. Most lords or ladies would get an audience with the sheriff to get housing, and then he would refer them to me. You’ve just skipped a few steps. Besides, the Sheriff won’t ever remember if he’s seen you before or not,” he assured me.
Yes… Robin Hood’s enemy was ironically a charming, honorable man.
George left me after I guaranteed my guards would soon be along. The second he left I peered out of the door and left my room, locking it behind me with the key he had given me, going to look for my new wardrobe. After all, I am thief.
I wandered around the castle, occasionally sucking in air between my clenched teeth. (My muscles were still plagued by pain). After learning my way around the castle I moved into action.
First I relieved several pompous lords of their excess change, snagging a nice bag of gold. I then explored the keep and snuck into several ladies’ rooms when they were absent. I stole a few dresses, but I mostly took into account what kind of dresses they were wearing.
I took my pilfered goods into my room where I altered—simplifying mostly, it’s faster to remove than add on—the dresses with a needle and thread that I had slipped off a palace seamstress. When I was finished the only thing that could have possibly reminded the previous owners of their dress was the color. (I may be a peasant, but I’m rather handy with a needle.) The entire time I did my best to keep my jaw intact and my eyes from popping out of my head. Although I handled many riches I had seen very little of what they could buy. Everything from the beautiful silk dresses to the polished wood furniture astounded me.
I left the castle in the afternoon and bought a couple of plain, simple dresses from a tailor’s shop. I took them back to my room where I added several flourishes and fancy stitching with more stolen thread from the seamstress. I was done by late evening and I stepped back to admire my work. Although my dresses wouldn’t be the most fancy or eye catching clothes in the castle, they would be simple and appropriate. Besides, I didn’t want to catch eyes, I wanted to blend in.
I grinned at my handiwork, the only reason I was able to alter these clothes was because all of my Merry Men were incapable of sewing—except for Robert, an ex tailor—so I was forced to do most of the camp sewing. It was Robert who had taught me the pretty stitching.
I quickly changed into a lavender colored dress, praising myself for altering the dress so it fit me. I was starved since I hadn’t eaten all day and a little irritable as the muscle cramps in my back crept up my spine. I was just about to open my door to leave and eat so I could hurry back to my room and warm my back against the fire, when there was a knock.
I pulled open the door to reveal George. “Good evening Lady Mary,” he greeted me with a smile.
“Good evening Master Comwell,” I smiled.
“Oh, just call me George,” he said with a grin before he craned his neck. “I see your men have come by,” he said as he eyed the many dresses that were thrown across my bed.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “But tell me, please, George. Are the kitchens still open?” I asked, thinking I would make something for myself.
“Are you joking? The feast hasn’t even reached its’ full height yet!” he laughed as he grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hallway.
George navigated through twisting passages, several flights of stairs, and numerous doors. We paused when we came to the feasting chamber, a huge room that was merrily lit with roaring fires and torches fastened to the wall. Musicians sat in one corner of the room, playing their chosen instruments, and everyone was roaring and laughing.
Prince John was seated on a gaudy, plushy chair at the head of the room, the fat sheriff on his right.
I was thankful George towed me around like a dog on a leash. I had to work hard to keep from gawking at all of the elegance and riches.
George escorted me to a table of younger, gentle bred men and woman. “Lady Mary, may I introduce you to Lord Maxine, Lord Edward, and Lady Elizabeth,” George said, going down the row. “Gentlemen, and lady, this is Lady Mary Gamwell,” George pleasantly said before plopping me into an open seat between the two lords.
A quick calculation said I was in the right spot. The lords and ladies were most likely second or third children of country earls. Marian’s schooling kicked in, logically pointing out that they were seated in the back of the room, together, and their clothes were clean and pretty but not impressive. I had seen Marian tear across the countryside on Nearly Dead in more ornamental clothing than what they wore tonight.
I was in the exact position that I wanted to be in, distant yet lordly, but not so royal that I would be expected to act with perfect manners and absolute femininity. If I made a mistake this trio wouldn’t be very likely to notice, much less care.
As I gleefully made these conclusions I automatically spoke. “Good evening,” I smiled, nodding at the lords and lady as George pushed my chair in for me. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Lady Elizabeth softly smiled and spoke in an equally soft, whispery voice. “Good evening Lady Mary.”
She, unlike Marian, must have been taught to mind her manners.
“Where do you come from, Lady Mary?” Lord Maxine, a dashing man with a playful grin, asked.
I had to mentally shake myself to draw my attention away from the stuffed peacock that was carried past me on a platter and back to my dinner companions.
“Most recently? London,” I chattered, my brain quickly filling in the gaps of my story. Making up a disguise on the fly was nerve wracking, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t done it before. I may have been one of the weakest out of the Merry Men, but I was always the best actor. “I travel a lot,” I said, starting to grow distracted by player who was in the process of swallowing fire. (Fire!)
“Really?” Lord Edward asked, his left eyebrow popping up in surprise. “Your parents allow you to?”
Clearly I had made a mistake.
I took my mind off the fire eater and thought back to Marian’s stories, weaving together a reasonable explanation for traveling. “Well, it’s not like I see a lot of new places,” I reasoned. “I’m constantly passed between four manors. One belongs to my mother’s relations, one my
father’s, one manor is a brother’s, and the last castle I stay at is that of a dear friend’s.” I supplied.
“Oh, I see,” Lord Edward said, accepting my lies. Nobility did leave often to go visit each other. Marian’s trip to Queen Eleanor’s court was a perfect example of that.
“Are you the one who owns that devil of a horse that arrived this morning?” Lord Maxine asked with another grin.
“Yes,” I calmly replied, taking a sip of my wine (I was drinking wine!) after nibbling at the positively delicious roasted boar. “Has news of him spread so far already?”
“He is quite infamous, but no. I only heard of him because he took a chunk out of my Winther’s hide,” Lord Maxine said.
“I’ve seen this horse he refers to. Coal black and rather…,” Lord Edward searched for an appropriate adjective that would properly describe Crafty without offending me.
“Crafty?” I suggested. “His name is Nightmare.”
“Aptly named,” Lord Maxine said under his breath.
“He sounds like he would be too much for a female to handle,” Lady Elizabeth dubiously said.
“It’s not so much that he’s difficult to control, he is just exceedingly foul tempered. He happens to hate me less than he hates everyone else. We get along quite nicely,” I soothed the genteel lady.
“He has a nice look to him. Excellent confirmation,” Lord Edward said.
I didn’t have a hope of understanding what he was talking about. “Um, thank you?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t know his sire or dame?” Lord Maxine piped in.
“Lord Maxine,” Lady Elizabeth said in her whispery voice, sounding quite scandalized. “That is not decent dinner talk, much less the way to talk to a lady.”
“It’s fine, Eliza. We’re cousins,” Lord Maxine explained for my benefit.
