Sovereign's War

by Debbie Viguié

  She quickly checked the stables and was disappointed to find neither horse nor wagon that they could use. They’d have to make do with what they had. She made it back to the children and the two horses.

  She went to pick up the one boy. Bartholomew and two other boys hastily picked up the girl and made to carry her together. She nodded approval and they all made their way as quickly as possible back toward the courtyard. There were some murmurs of fear when they walked around the bodies of the two soldiers, but no one hesitated.

  Once outside she eyed the children. There were twenty-six of them, all nobles, so the older ones at least should know how to ride. Clearly each horse needed to carry two children—one of the ones who couldn’t walk, and another who could hold them in the saddle.

  Curse the ones who took the wagons.

  She pushed the thought from her mind. There was no wagon. They would make do with the horses they had. Time pressed against her.

  “Bartholomew, get up on this horse here,” she said, indicating the one nearest her. The three boys hastily set the girl on the ground. Bartholomew then walked over. It clearly took most of the strength he had at that point, but he was able to mount the horse by himself. Once he had done so, she handed up the boy and helped position him. Then she returned to the kitchen and gathered the food they had found, filling some skins with water. Outside she loaded them into the saddlebags, where she was relieved to find some additional provisions.

  “Now, I’ll lead the horses,” she said. “You just need to keep him in the saddle. Can you do that?”

  Bartholomew nodded.

  Chastity turned and surveyed the others. “Who can ride the other horse and hold her on?” she asked, as she gestured to the girl who couldn’t walk.

  “I can,” one of the taller boys said, stepping forward. She nodded and helped him mount the horse, then picked up the girl and settled her in front.

  “Hold onto her tight. Her strength is completely gone.”

  “I will,” the boy said earnestly. Chastity gathered up the reins for both horses.

  “Alright, let’s go,” she told the others.

  She went slow so the other children could keep up. When they passed out of the castle forecourt and she looked down the hill to the forest she began to breathe a little easier. There were no riders on the road, and they would be angling away from it anyway. The moon was up and shining brightly so that she could see for quite a distance. The forest lay in front of them, a dark mass in the night, more foreboding even than in the daytime.

  “Just keep going. We’ll be safe soon,” she called out, hoping to keep the children’s spirits up. She knew that many were afraid of the forest, and she hoped none of them panicked when they got to it.

  “If you need to ride for a while, milady,” Bartholomew said, “I can walk the horses.” She realized she was limping and turned to glance at him.

  “I’ll be fine, thank you. And you can call me Chastity.”

  “Whatever you say, milady.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. She was a servant in a tattered, bloodstained dress, but apparently in his eyes she was so much more because she had come to their rescue. It made her feel a little funny. She wondered if Marian ever felt odd when people looked up to her and expected things from her. Probably not. Marian had been born to nobility, raised with duty and responsibility.

  When they were well clear of the castle Chastity paused. All of the children who were walking were breathing hard and starting to stumble more frequently.

  “Let’s rest for a few minutes,” she said.

  Half the kids sat down, and the other half fell down. She bit her lip and turned to look back at the road. It was still empty, but she couldn’t escape that sick feeling that she would see riders on it at any minute. They weren’t safe, and inside her mind she was screaming at herself to keep moving.

  Yet while she was in bad shape, the children were so much worse off from their long captivity. One boy clutched his ankle, grimacing in obvious pain. A girl shook like a leaf, her breathing so shallow and rapid that Chastity was afraid she was going to faint. She had to give them a few minutes, otherwise they’d start dropping before they made it to the forest.

  She looked again toward Sherwood. The forest loomed against the night sky, a deep black against indigo. Near but not close.

  At the rate they were traveling it would take them an hour or more just to make it there.

  She thought about the two dead soldiers, and her unease increased. Where had they come from? Was it somewhere close by? If so, their absence would be noted sooner, rather than later.

  She turned to Bartholomew. “Are you able to guide the horse to the forest?”

  He nodded, but he still had the limp boy in front of him.

  “Help me get him down,” she said. Together they got the boy into her arms and she set him down on the ground.

  “Okay, two of you are going to ride with Bartholomew just into the forest, you’ll dismount, and he’ll bring the horse back. Who will be able to dismount with his help?” she asked.

  “I can.” It was the girl who had been the first out of the tower.

  “Me, too,” another girl piped up. Chastity swiftly helped them both up until one was seated in front of Bartholomew, and the other behind him.

  “Hold onto each other tight. As soon as you get inside the tree line, girls, dismount and wait for us there. Bartholomew, bring the horse back as swiftly as you can. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “Be careful.” Bartholomew urged the horse forward at a trot while Chastity turned to the other rider.

  “How about you?”

  He nodded. “I can take two to the woods with me.”

  “Good.”

  With his help Chastity got the girl down off the horse and onto the ground. She and the boy would go last because Chastity would have to help get them on and off the horses.

  Two children stepped forward and she helped get them up. The effort left her muscles strained and she was gasping for air. Pain began to shoot through her temples and it felt like it exploded behind her eyes. She closed them briefly.

  “Go.” She heard the horse moving off and tried to get the pain under control—or at least push it to the side. She could hear moaning behind her after a few moments, and she opened her eyes to see the little girl start to convulse. Chastity stared in horror, but the other children just moved slightly away without showing much emotion.

  “That’s been happening off and on for a long time,” one girl told her in a resigned voice.

  “What do we do?” Chastity asked.

  “Just wait,” the girl said. “It will stop.”

  Chastity balled her hands into fists at her side and bit back the curses that wanted to pour out of her mouth. John and the Sheriff had done this. They had to pay.

  After a moment she sank down onto the ground next to the little girl.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said, hoping the child could hear her. She kept saying that over and over, trying to convince herself of it more than anything. At last the convulsions stopped, and the little girl appeared to fall asleep. Chastity breathed a silent prayer over her then stood up and looked toward the forest. Bartholomew was out of sight and the second rider had his horse halfway to the tree line.

  Her anxiety began to mount again. Until they were all in the forest they were exposed. She turned and counted the children. There were twenty now. That meant five more trips for the horses. She glanced again at the road, feeling as though spiders were crawling across her skin.

  She wanted to urge the children to walk a little more, cut the distance between them and the trees. There were two among them now who would need to be carried, though, and she could only handle one. As though reading her mind one of the boys stepped forward.

  “If you want us to keep walking, we can carry her,” he said, pointing to himself and two others.

  “You’re sure you have the strength?�
�� she asked.

  “Yes,” he said with a bit of bluster.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she said as she reached down to pick up the boy. She put him on her hip as she’d done when carrying him down the stairs. Unfortunately his arms gripped her neck no tighter than they had then. She started across the ground, her bloody feet feeling like they were on fire. The children staggered to their feet. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get them all the way to the camp. That was a problem for later. Getting them into the safety of the woods was all she could think about right now.

  She saw Bartholomew and his horse emerge from the woods and begin cantering back. She was grateful for the haste but concerned that in his weakened condition Bartholomew might not be able to keep control of the beast at that speed.

  Hush yourself. He can, because he must.

  The gap closed between them swiftly and finally he pulled the horse up in front of them just as the other boy and his horse disappeared into the trees. Chastity put down the boy she was carrying and helped two more children mount the animal.

  Once they were secure Bartholomew turned the horse’s head and sent him back at a swift walk toward the forest. She leaned down to pick up the boy, wrapped her arms around him and lifted. She was able to pull him an inch off the ground before dropping him, causing her to cry out in frustration.

  “Pick me up,” the little boy muttered. “Please.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  He looked up at her with fear-filled eyes.

  “Here comes Jacob,” one of the girls said, pointing. Chastity turned and saw the second boy and horse emerging from the woods. He urged the horse into a trot as he headed for them.

  We’re not gaining enough ground.

  “How many of you think you can make it all the way to the forest walking?” she asked.

  Six of them stepped forward.

  “Okay, I want you to start walking straight there. You’ll meet up with the children that Bartholomew and Jacob are dropping off. Get inside the trees, and no matter what happens don’t leave them once you’re there. Do you understand me?”

  All six nodded.

  “Good. Now go, as fast as you can.”

  The two oldest began to jog wearily forward, clearly taking her words to heart. The other four began walking. She watched them for a moment. It was slow, painful progress, but at least they were on their way. That left twelve still with her.

  Twelve they had to transport by horse.

  A couple minutes later Jacob pulled up in front of her, his face was pale and he swayed uneasily in the saddle. She put a hand on his arm.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice raspy. He wasn’t, but neither was he about to admit that. She admired him for it, but was worried for his safety and that of the others.

  She put two children up on the horse with him and then looked him in the eyes. “Go slow. We still have a lot to do, and I need you to be able to continue,” she said. He nodded and then headed off, letting the horse walk at its regular pace instead of pushing it to go faster.

  Ten to go.

  Ten who couldn’t make the walk.

  Ten sitting there with her, waiting to be caught. She kept eyeing the road, praying no one would come down it. She could feel the fear in the children around her. She knew she should say something to reassure them but couldn’t find the words. She was having a hard enough time keeping from screaming at them all that they needed to run as fast as they could.

  Bartholomew emerged from the forest again. He cantered the horse back and soon was on his way again with two more children.

  Eight left.

  Minutes later he caught up with Jacob just at the edge of the trees, and the two disappeared into the blackness. Endless seconds ticked by that then dragged into minutes. The foremost children on foot had made it almost a third of the way to the forest. Those walking were considerably farther behind.

  Finally both horses emerged from the trees, but only one had a rider. She jerked at the realization and stared fixedly until she could determine that Bartholomew was leading the second horse. They both came on at a slow trot.

  “Jacob fell off trying to get the other two down. I told him to stay,” the boy explained. “When he argued with me I said we could get three of the others on instead of two if he did.”

  It was smart thinking but looking at the remaining eight she was hard pressed to figure out which of them had the strength to guide the horse. Bartholomew followed her gaze.

  “I can lead the horse back. All they’d have to do is hold on.” She nodded, then helped two children up onto his horse and three onto the other one.

  “Everyone hang on. You’ll go slow, but you must stay on the horse until you get to the trees.”

  They started the perilous journey back, Bartholomew allowing the horses to walk at a snail’s pace. That left three with her. One more trip and they’d all be safe. She turned to glance at the road and froze.

  A dozen riders had appeared and even as she watched they changed course, heading directly for her.

  She didn’t know where she found the strength, but she reached down and wrapped an arm each around the two weakest children. The third stared at her, eyes wide.

  “Run!” Chastity cried.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There was something wrong. Wulfhere’s castle should be far enough away that they wouldn’t have to worry about guards or patrols. By Lawrence’s reckoning, they were still half a day from their goal. Though nothing noticeable had changed, Robin had learned long ago to trust his instincts over his senses. He unslung his bow from his shoulders and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He notched it but kept it lowered.

  Before he heard a sound he smelled blood on the breeze. He tensed. If it was a wounded animal, it would be unpredictable and twice as dangerous.

  If it was a man...

  He eased the bow up higher, getting ready.

  A moment later he heard a shuffling noise. He raised the bow up all the way. It sounded more like the shambling steps of a man than an animal. There was a thud, followed by cursing.

  In a voice he recognized.

  Blinking in shock he quickly lowered the bow. “I am a friend to the King of the Britons,” he called out softly. “Do I recognize the voice of Philemon, Lord of Longstride?”

  There was a pause and then a gruff response. “Aye.”

  “Step closer, that I might see you and greet you in the name of our Lord Christ,” Robin said, throat tightening up a bit. Behind him he heard the others stir from sleeping. Moments later Old Soldier came to stand behind him.

  “I recognize that voice,” he whispered.

  Robin nodded. The entire time he had been wondering if his father was alive or dead. To know that he was alive filled Robin with relief so great that it took him by surprise.

  “And who are you?” Philemon asked as they could hear him walking closer.

  Robin opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t. Old Soldier pushed past him.

  “They call me Old Soldier,” he said, his voice gruff.

  There was a shout of joy and suddenly he could make out his father, coming toward them. Robin stepped backward and returned the arrow to his quiver. He watched as his father and Old Soldier embraced. At last the men pulled apart and he was surprised to see the tears streaking down Philemon’s cheeks.

  “I had feared never to see home, or anyone from it ever again,” Philemon said. He peered around Old Soldier, squinting in the darkness. “Who do you have with you?”

  “Sir Lawrence showed us the way.”

  “Lawrence, you made it back to England?” Philemon said. “Thank Christ you did.”

  “I’m relieved to see you alive,” Sir Lawrence said.

  “It’s a miracle, I’ll tell you that much. The bastards will think I’m dead until they discover the bodies of the two men I killed in my escape. I hid them, so hopefully that gained me some time.”

  “How badly
are you hurt?” Robin asked quietly.

  Philemon froze and turned his head. He took a step forward, pushing away the others.

  “Robin?” he asked.

  “Yes, father.”

  A moment later his father threw his arms around him and buried his head in Robin’s neck. He stood for a moment, surprised, then brought his arms up and hugged his father back. Gently, at first, then fiercely.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Philemon said.

  “As did I,” Robin admitted. His father finally stepped back but kept hold of his shoulders.

  “You look different to me.”

  “A lot of things have changed,” Robin said, still struggling to find the words. “But you haven’t told us yet how badly you’re hurt.”

  “I’ve lived with worse.”

  “We need to get your wounds taken care of, so we can make ready to rescue the king,” Old Soldier said. At that, Philemon acquiesced.

  “A few stab wounds, none of them much more than a prick. They hurt like the devil, though.”

  “Sit down and I’ll patch you up.”

  With a grunt, Philemon sat down on one of the blankets. He glanced at Much, clearly trying to place him.

  “Father, this is Much, the miller’s son,” Robin said.

  Philemon nodded. “Glad to have you with us.” He looked back at Robin in surprise. “Where is everyone else?”

  Robin shook his head. “This is all that could come.”

  “What? They denied the call to come to their king’s aid?” Philemon roared in anger. “Traitors!” He continued on, cursing until Robin crouched down next to him and shook his head.

  “As I said, a lot has changed.” He glanced uneasily at Old Soldier, who gave him a nod. Now was not the time to mince words.

  “England’s overrun by demons spawned from hell,” he said. “John was a sorcerer. The man he brought, the Sheriff, is no man at all but a creature raised from hell who is now trying to cover the land in darkness.”

  “What are the lords doing about it?”