Before she could say anything she heard a deep creaking sound that came from the entrance to the building. Her heart nearly stopped as she realized their time was up. Someone had just opened the front door of the castle.
THE WILDERNESS HOURS
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Robin began to think that volunteering to lead the quest to free King Richard had been a very bad idea. It wasn’t just what lay ahead of them—the dangers they’d face, the impossibility of the task, the prospect of seeing his father and having to tell him about his mother and his siblings.
It was also the anguish of knowing what... who... he’d left behind.
All those people living in the forest were his responsibility. He hadn’t asked them to be there, or for them to need him, but somehow it had happened anyway. He had never intended to be lord of the manor. Instead, somehow, he’d become the lord of the forest, with even more awesome and terrifying responsibilities at his door.
As he tried to fall asleep his mind drifted from one face to the other. Friar Tuck. Alan-a-Dale. Esther. He knew all their names. Knew their stories, and the better he knew them, the more terrified he became that he’d lose them. Like Cardinal Francis. Little John. His pompous, arrogant, noble cousin, Will.
And just when those faces began to haunt him so much that he’d break out into a cold sweat and squeeze his eyes tight shut, thoughts of Marian would save him.
Marian.
His wife.
He still wasn’t sure exactly how that had happened. He’d admired her, been infatuated with her since they were children. He remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on her. It was shortly after her parents had been killed and she’d come to live with her uncle, the king. Robin’s family had been invited—along with the other nobles—to a Twelfth Night feast. She had been greeting everyone as they entered, wearing a blood red dress, her hair shining in the torchlight. Her smile had been light, carefree, but there had been a sorrow, a darkness in her eyes that seemed to reach out to him. It had touched the hard, lonely spot in his heart. Suddenly he had been very aware of the one thing that was lacking in his life.
Love.
His father didn’t love him. At least, not like he loved Robert. His mother despised him, he’d always known that. Robert was too busy pleasing both of them to care much about a little brother who didn’t share any of the same interests.
That was why he went to the woods. It was the one place he didn’t feel alone. The birds and beasts didn’t shun him. Many even seemed to welcome him as one of their own. At least, that was how it had always felt to a lonely boy.
Then he’d felt that surge of connection with a little girl who had just lost her family. Despite standing there in all her finery, surrounded by servants and greeting everyone with an ease and grace that were admirable, she was just as alone as he was.
Now neither of them was alone. They had each other, and they always would.
As long as we both shall live.
Each night that thought brought his sentimental musings back to a dark turn. He became afraid of being killed on this quest and leaving her alone. He was even more afraid, though, that he would return to find her dead. He knew in his soul he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t have won her heart and hand, just to lose her.
The pain of that prospect was sharper than any knife, and he sucked in his breath as he tried to wrestle his thoughts under control. Why couldn’t he just dwell on the happy thoughts, the memories of their moments together, the dreams of their moments to come? Some inner demon instead drove him to imagine the destruction of all that.
He didn’t deserve her—Robin knew that with all of his soul. Perhaps that was why he was afraid that she would be taken from him.
Old Soldier was up, standing watch. Robin was supposed to be resting, but sleep didn’t come easy, especially when he wasn’t in the sanctuary that was Sherwood. Every new night sound and smell made him uneasy.
The older man shifted his weight, getting ready to end his time on watch. He was a marvel of endurance and determination. Robin hoped he would be as steadfast and strong when he reached that age.
The older man moved, walking over whisper soft then crouching down and touching Robin on the shoulder.
“Your turn, my lord.”
“I told you to call me Robin,” he said as he sat up.
Old Soldier raised an eyebrow. “And I told you to get some sleep. Looks like neither of us is good at doing what he’s told.”
Robin actually chuckled at that. “You are right about that, my friend.”
“I’m right about a lot of things,” the old man replied. “One day you’re going to get that through your thick skull.”
Robin’s grin widened. Old Soldier insisted on standing on ceremony, referring to Robin as Lord, deferring to his decisions, but he wasn’t at all afraid to speak his mind to him. The contradictions in his nature were part of what made him so interesting.
“Tell you what, you get some sleep, or I’ll suggest to King Richard that he give you a title when this is all over,” Robin said.
Old Soldier snorted derisively. “What good would a title be to someone like me? I’d hate being a lord.”
“Exactly,” Robin said with a wink.
Old Soldier muttered under his breath, but he laid down and covered himself with a blanket. Robin turned and walked several feet away. Before he reached his sentry station he could hear Old Soldier snoring. Whether it was real or faked for his benefit, he wasn’t sure.
The smile slowly faded from his face as he contemplated the darkness around them. They’d built no fire that would draw attention to their presence, and the night was bitter cold. Robin didn’t mind, though. Noise carried farther in cold air. If there was any threat out there, he should know about it long before it reached them.
Not that it would matter. They were four men in a land turned hostile by the Sheriff’s men on the hunt, with limited weapons and no good way to defend themselves. He rolled his shoulders, loosening them up a bit as the muscles stiffened in the cold. It was a fool’s errand they were on, and it would likely be the death of them all.
* * *
Sherwood felt anxious. That was the only way Marian could describe it. Since Robin left she had spent time every day by herself in the woods. The trees whispered to her, the animals communed with her. There was a growing sense of unease, though, that had become almost palpable. Something was coming. She just wished she knew what it was.
It was night and shadows lay dense and thick underneath the trees. The forest was always dark, but night brought its own kind of darkness, thick and mysterious. She had grown to love night more than day, though. Everything felt achingly alive, just as she felt when she was in Robin’s arms.
She sighed. With each day that passed she missed her husband more. Her mouth tugged up at the corners as she considered how their relationship had changed. She couldn’t help but wonder what her uncle would say when he found out the news.
Then the most subtle of sounds reached her, the crunch of ground beneath a hoof. She turned. There, standing close enough that she could see him clearly, was a majestic stag the likes of which she’d never seen. He was huge, his crown of antlers almost as big as the rest of him. He was watching her, studying her. She could feel the intelligence in his gaze.
A guardian of the forest.
Slowly he inclined his noble head as though acknowledging her as an equal. No, it was more than that. As kin. He was accepting her as part of the forest, a keeper of its secrets. A guardian.
She dipped her head back. They stood for a moment, listening together to the sounds of the night. He could feel the anxiety, too. It was there in his stance. The silence stretched between them until she felt she must speak. That was the curse of being a human, she mused—the pressure to vocalize, to give words to things which shouldn’t need naming. She held her tongue, though.
Finally the great stag turned and disappeared back into the shadows from whence he’d come. She le
t out her breath, only then realizing she had been holding it. More and more she understood Robin’s connection to the mighty forest. It was becoming a part of her, and she of it. Soon she’d be one of the wild things, cut off from the society that demanded her to be otherwise.
She blinked and shook her head. Forced herself to turn and trudge back toward the camp. She didn’t want to go, but the others worried when she was not there. Those who knew her worried for her safety. Those who didn’t worried for their own. Either way, leadership had its burdens. The more keenly she felt it the more she thought that Robin had been right to run from it. That choice was a luxury they no longer had, though.
As she walked she prayed again for his safety and the others. She also prayed for her uncle and all the men who’d gone with him, particularly Robin’s father. The rest of his family was lost to him, but she hoped there might yet be a bond between him and his father. Now that the rest were gone, how could there not be? If they had shared nothing in common before now, they would at least share their loss and grief. It was a shaky start to a relationship, but it was more than Robin and his father had ever had.
A sudden aching nearly overwhelmed her as she thought of her own parents, lost so many years before. She wished they could have lived to see her married, to meet Robin. She sighed. Odds were they wouldn’t have approved. Then again, she didn’t know that for sure. So there was no harm in pretending that they would have loved him and embraced him as their own.
“Hurry home, Robin,” she whispered, willing her words to be carried on the breeze to wherever he was.
Marian was almost to the camp when she heard music dancing in the air. It seemed to shimmer around her, magical, uplifting. Her spirit responded and she gave voice to words she didn’t understand as she found herself singing softly. Once the compulsion would have frightened her. Now she just accepted it as a gift.
Alan was playing again. It was good. It helped him, and all the rest. He had taken young Haylan under his tutelage, and that was good, too. It gave them both something to do, something to think about other than what they had lost.
When she stepped into the clearing she wasn’t greeted by those who had been keeping watch for her return. It surprised her a little, and she walked toward the fire where she could see bodies huddled together.
They’re listening to the music.
It was true. They were transfixed by it, and as she moved closer she could see many of them swaying gently. She finally spotted Alan and was surprised to see that he wasn’t the one playing. She shifted to the side so she could look between two men sitting across the fire from them. Haylan was playing Alan’s harp.
The boy’s eyes were closed and he had a look of rapture on his face. He was pouring his heart and soul into the music. She could feel it, and it seemed the others could, as well. Alan could certainly tell. He had a huge smile on his face and he was beaming with pride. On his other side Friar Tuck sat, clearly entranced. Occasionally he slapped his knee.
The young musician ended with a flourish.
“That was very good,” Marian said encouragingly. “You are a swift learner.”
Several of the men jerked, clearly startled by her sudden appearance and she winced slightly, sorry to have ripped them from the dream that Haylan had woven for them.
“Thank you,” Haylan said solemnly. He was taking his new vocation quite seriously, as well he should. The job of a bard was important, particularly in dark days such as those in which they were living.
Haylan handed the harp back to Alan, and the spell lingering around the camp was broken.
“Play us a jaunty tune we can dance to,” Jansa said. Alan dipped his head and let his fingers dance lightly over the strings of the harp. Then he began a lively song. In a flash the woman was up on her feet with a laugh and a blush. She locked her eyes on Thomas and the man was at her side in an instant. He took her hand and led her in a dance that was more exuberant than graceful. After a moment a few others joined in.
Marian laughed and clapped her hands in time to the rhythm. It looked as if Jansa was a lot happier with Thomas now that he wasn’t the one in charge of the food. Marian was a bit surprised, but then realized she shouldn’t be. Conflict often bred romance. She wished the couple well and hoped that they would have a long and happy life ahead of them.
A wind whistled suddenly through the clearing, lifting her hair with an icy hand. Only she seemed to notice it, and a shiver crawled down her spine. She turned, surveying the perimeter, wishing that she hadn’t been staring toward the fire. Struggling as her eyes adapted again to the dark, she took a few steps away from the others.
Something moved at the edge of the clearing. She could swear it. Taking another step, she saw movement again. She turned and glanced back toward the others, but all of them were preoccupied with the music and the dancing. And with a sinking feeling she realized that she’d seen no sentries on guard when she returned to the clearing.
The enemy could surround us, and we wouldn’t know.
Marian strode quickly toward the edge of the clearing, eyes flicking back and forth as she tried to discern what had been moving at the tree line. Her mouth had gone dry and her palms were beginning to sweat. The wind returned, and this time there was an audible sigh as it lifted her hair and caressed the back of her neck.
She gasped and spun, but there was nothing there.
Dark thoughts crowded her mind. Chief among them was the fear that the Sheriff had finally found a way to breach the magic that kept him out of the forest. If he had, then they were all about to die. She should sound the alarm, but it felt as though an icy hand had wrapped around her throat, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.
Again something moved at the edge of the woods. This time it was only a few feet away. Marian stared in horror as out of the darkness a gray, skeletal arm reached out for her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Chastity pushed up off the bench, heart in her throat. The enemy was coming for them and they were all dead if they didn’t do something quickly. She grabbed a knife that they’d been using to cut the pork.
“Stay here,” she said as she headed toward the door.
Bartholomew caught up to her. “What can I do?” he asked.
“We need to get them into Sherwood. If I can’t lead them, you’ll have to. Do you understand?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Move everyone to the kitchen, as quickly and as quietly as possible. You can get outside from there. Watch and be careful. Don’t let anyone see you.”
“And you?”
“If I can, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said. “If I’m not, then go without me.”
“Okay.” He nodded, turned, and headed back to the table. She could hear him whispering to the others. She made it out of the great hall and shut the doors behind her. She paused then, listening, trying to determine how many had come for them.
“—idiot never sent word that it was done,” she heard a man’s voice say.
“So we have to ride out here. The Sheriff should have sent one of his demons,” a second voice groused.
“Quiet, fool.”
“There’s none to hear me complaining,” the second man said. He hiccupped. It sounded as if he had been drinking, which was good for her.
“Look, we’ve gotten lucky so far. Let his... men... do the really nasty work. We keep our heads down we’ll get through this and maybe even get some money out of it.”
“What money?”
“Well, this was all Locksley’s, right? I’m guessing there’s some jewels, gold, something here we could just help ourselves to.”
“Won’t some of his men still be here?”
“I heard they all scattered once he was killed. That only leaves the old man guarding the brats. He should have left days ago and gone back to the Sheriff.”
“Maybe he’s smarter than us,” the other one slurred.
Chastity glided forward. The men were coming closer. She could hea
r footsteps now. It seemed like there was just the two of them. She prayed that was true.
“You drunk?” the other demanded.
“I’ve been drunk since the monastery. Hadn’t you noticed?”
Chastity felt rage flash through her. These two had been part of the attack on the monastery. All those innocent monks killed. She took a deep breath and then stepped out into the dark entrance area where they were standing. She did a hasty curtsy.
“I’m sorry, my master didn’t know you were coming or I would have greeted you sooner,” she said, rushing toward them as though flustered. They jumped at the sight of someone rushing out of the gloom.
“Your master?” the sober one said. “Oh, the bloke who’s been here taking care of the brats.”
“Aren’t you a pretty one,” the drunk one said, his eyes roving over her.
She was within reach of them when the sober one said. “How come your dress is all—”
Before he could finish his sentence she kneed him in the groin. He bent over with a gasp. She pivoted and slashed the drunk one across the throat with the knife. Blood spilled out and he collapsed in a pool of it as she turned and did the same to his friend. She jumped back as his body hit the floor and stood there a moment, panting as the two twitched and spilled their life’s blood.
Her heart was pounding.
She waited a moment and then went to the front doors. She pushed one open and stepped outside. There, in the courtyard, were two horses saddled and ready to go. She sobbed in relief before turning and hurrying back inside.
She found the children in the kitchen, wide-eyed, frightened, but clearly ready to go. Some of them were supporting the two who couldn’t walk, so they were all together. Bartholomew broke out into a huge smile when he saw her.
“Okay, let’s go. We’re going out the front,” Chastity told them.
The Sheriff had only left a single man to guard the children and her. Then again, she had been chained in the dungeon and the children were too weak and frightened to put up a fight. If he had been scheduled to report back, though, the Sheriff might well decide to send more men, beyond the two she’d killed. The urge to hurry clawed at the back of her mind.
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