“Do men like that ever give up?” I countered.
“True,” he said.
The woods were silent. The only sound was the occasional crack and moan of limbs as the wind moved through the trees. Then, off in the distance, came the sound of men on horseback. They were moving slowly and with deliberation, but the creak of leather and the sound of hoofbeats were unmistakable.
I drew my sword and held it across the pommel of my saddle. Robard nocked an arrow in his longbow, holding it ready in his left hand with the reins in his right. Charlemagne snorted and blew, and Robard’s horse nickered as they smelled the approaching column.
The men finally appeared through the trees: William Wendenal riding at the head of twenty-four bailiffs. I offered up a silent prayer at his arrogance believing so small a force would be adequate against us. He was perhaps half a league away when he spotted us and his posture changed. Sitting up in his saddle, he spurred his stallion and called his men forward. In moments, the column pulled to a halt twenty yards in front of us.
The bailiffs were well armed with swords and battle-axes but no longbows I could see, nor did they carry crossbows. Most of them wore leather tunics and riding breeches, but there was no visible armor or mail. Robard’s fingers anxiously worked the grip of his longbow. It appeared Wendenal had had little time to equip his men, or he was expecting us to give up without a fight.
“Steady,” I said quietly. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”
“By order of the King and his sovereign minister Prince John, you, Robard Hode, and you, Tristan of St. Alban’s, are under arrest!” He reached into the fold of his tunic and removed a small rolled parchment. “I hold a duly drawn warrant stating same.”
“Well, that settles it,” I said sarcastically.
“If you’ve come to arrest me, I’d advise you to turn around right now and ride back to Nottingham and never return. This is Hode land you’re on, and if you intend to remove me from it, I give you fair warning you’ll need far more than a slip of parchment,” Robard proclaimed.
“You willfully disobey a direct and lawfully given command from a duly sworn officer of the King?” William Wendenal asked. There was a slight flicker of concern in his features. He seldom saw resistance. He was used to the power of his office, but we had humiliated the man in Nottingham, locking him in his own jail. He could not let it pass, yet he clearly expected that this show of force would bring us to our knees.
“I disobey it as willfully as I am able. I know what justice is, Shire Reeve, and what you serve is not it!” Robard said.
“Then you leave me no choice but to use force to subdue you,” Wendenal replied.
“I expect that’s true,” Robard said. “In fact I was counting on it!”
And with those words he raised his bow, took aim at the Shire Reeve and fired. As we intended, his shot went wide and landed in the ground a few yards past Wendenal’s mount. We turned our horses quickly and spurred them back in the direction we’d come. A quick glance over my shoulder showed Wendenal waving his arms and ordering his men forward.
Our hoofbeats pounded like thunder in my ears, and we made sure we stayed far enough ahead of Wendenal and his men. If my plan worked, we would greatly diminish his desire for a pitched battle. As we rode, we passed the first marker, a bit of red cloth I’d tied to a tree close to the lane.
“Now!” I shouted, and above the noise of our horses there was a loud thunk as an ax bit into wood. The day before, we had chopped down a good-size tree, fastened ropes to both ends and hoisted it high into the treetops and tied it off. A rope at its center was tied to a tree across the lane, creating a giant pendulum when it was released. The log was hidden from view, and as the bailiffs rode after Wendenal, the rope holding it in place was cut and it swung down in a vicious arc, hitting the rear of the column and driving six of the bailiffs from their saddles.
Wendenal, riding hard after us, didn’t even realize he had just lost one quarter of his force.
“Come on, you worthless snake!” Robard shouted at Wendenal, turning in the saddle to send another arrow in his direction. He had no intention of shooting the Shire Reeve, but wanted to make sure he kept pursuing us.
One hundred yards farther up the lane we passed the next marker. Another shout and two of Will’s men on one side of the lane pulled on a large rope that had been hidden on the ground by dead leaves and grass. It rose up in a flash, anchored to another trunk across the lane. They quickly spun it around a tree to hold it in place, and this time the bailiffs at the head of the column were lifted right off their horses. Four riders went down hard. Behind them, the other mounted men reined up, their horses spooked and confused by the falling bodies and rearing horses in front of them.
“Now!” I shouted again, and this time a large net we had woven from rope and hidden beneath a thin layer of soil in the lane was hoisted into place behind the column. It was quickly tied off to two sturdy trees by Tuck and Little John, cutting the remaining dozen horsemen off from retreat. A hail of arrows from the trees kept them penned in.
Robard and I reined to a halt, turning our mounts to face the still-oncoming Wendenal.
“End this, Shire Reeve!” Robard commanded as Wendenal halted his horse a few yards away from us. “Before your men are injured further. We ask nothing more than that you leave us be. Go while you can, and forget about ever trying to take Hode land.”
Wendenal glanced behind him at the confusion his bailiffs had suddenly found themselves in.
“Forward!” he shouted. “Take these men into custody! I order you!”
But Will, Allan and the other bowmen, hidden high above us in the trees, kept the fourteen remaining able-bodied bailiffs from taking even three steps.
Enraged, Wendenal gave the command to attack again, and another brace of arrows inched ever closer to his men. They were frightened. Every sensible man who had ever been in a fight feared archers, and here arrows were appearing as if by magic. I smiled.
“You can’t win here, Wendenal,” Robard said. “Leave, before it gets worse.”
For a moment it occurred to me that I might have misjudged the man. He was undeterred and with a shout pulled his own sword, holding it high and spurring his horse toward Robard. With an almost unnatural calmness, Robard leapt from his horse. He calmly drew an arrow and fired. It whizzed through the air, striking Wendenal in the forearm. He screamed and dropped his sword, tumbling from his horse.
Moaning in agony and staring wild-eyed at the arrow sticking out of his arm, the Shire Reeve managed to stagger to his knees. Robard dismounted and slowly walked to him, kicking his sword away. Wendenal tried to stand but the pain was too much.
Robard pulled another shaft and nocked it in his bow.
“Robard!” I shouted. “He’s defenseless!”
Robard drew and pointed the arrow directly at the center of Wendenal’s chest. Despite grimacing in pain, he did not flinch or beg for his life. We have beaten him today, I thought, but this is not over.
“You are lucky, Shire Reeve, my friend Tristan of St. Alban’s is here to guide my conscience, for were he not, I would dispatch you now and think nothing of it. Here is what is going to happen. You have trespassed on Hode property. You have come here uninvited—”
“You are a criminal!” Wendenal shouted. “I have a duly sworn warrant—”
“I don’t care a sow’s ear for your warrant, you miserable steaming pile of polecat dung. You are a tyrant and a bully. You and your men will walk out of Sherwood Forest. Your weapons and horses will be left behind as compensation for the transgressions you have committed against the people of Sherwood. Order your men to drop their swords, take your wounded and be gone. And do not come back.”
“I’ll be back,” Wendenal sneered. “Don’t you worry, Hode! Your life is forfeit! And yours too, squire. I’ll bring a hundred men next time, two hundred if I need to. Do you really think your pitiful little band of peasants can stand against me?”
Robar
d said nothing, his bow still drawn, and for a moment I thought his resolve might weaken and he would let the arrow go. Then I was distracted by noise and movement, first to my right, then to my left. Men were moving through the woods, and for an instant I worried we had been outflanked. Somehow Wendenal had tricked us.
But through the trees came the people of Sherwood. I recognized many of their faces as those we had freed from the jail in Nottingham. They were dressed like Will and his men, and they had brought their families as well. Each of them carried some type of weapon: old swords, crossbows or longbows, a few with pitch-forks and axes. They took up positions on either side of the lane, flanking the Shire Reeve and his bailiffs.
“Robard,” I said quietly.
“I see them,” he said. “Do you, Wendenal?”
The Shire Reeve held our gaze as more and more people poured out of the woods lining the lane. Cold resignation colored his face.
“Master Hode,” one of the men from the jail called out to him. “We thought you might have some trouble, and after what you told us in Nottingham, well, we talked and decided that if you’re ready to stand up for what is right, we are too. We’re with you, Thane Hode!” There was a resounding cheer from the assembled people.
Robard smiled and lowered his bow, quickly slipping the arrow back into his wallet.
“There’s your answer, Shire Reeve. You don’t face just one. Here in Sherwood Forest you face an army of free men. Now do as I said. Gather up your bailiffs and get off my land. It’s a long walk back to Nottingham. Will Scarlet!” he hollered out. “Make sure our uninvited guests find their way off the property.”
Will shinnied gleefully down the tree where he had been hiding. “Aye, lad. I’ll see to it.”
“I’ll be back, Hode!” The Shire Reeve spat out the words. “Don’t think this is over.”
“I don’t think any such thing. And if it’s more you want, come ahead. We’ll be waiting. But for today, it’s over right enough.”
Robard turned on his heel and leapt up onto his horse. With a smile and a wink, he rode back up the lane and left William Wendenal kneeling in the dust, still gingerly holding his wounded arm. I followed Robard as the cheers of the people of Sherwood rang through the air.
26
But Rob,” Mistress Hode pleaded. “I still don’t understand. You just came back to me. Why is it you must leave again? It’s almost Yule, Rob! Your people need you here. What ifthat vicious Shire Reeve returns? What then?”
“Mother,” Robard said calmly. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you. There’s something I must do. Tristan is on an important journey, and Maryam and I promised to see it through to the end. I can’t go back on my word.”
“Mistress Hode,” I said quietly. She glanced at me with tear-filled eyes, which immediately made me feel selfish and ungrateful for the hospitality she had provided us. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with the reeve. We gave him a lot to think about yesterday, and I’m sure we’ll be back long before he strikes again. Besides, Tuck and Little John will look after things. They know what to do.” In truth, I had no idea if we would ever return, but I hoped to make her feel better.
Maryam and I sat on horseback as Robard held his mother gently, his big hands on her shoulders. Tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, and the guilt I felt cannot be described.
The days after our “victory” over Wendenal had been joyous and filled with laughter and celebration. There was music and dancing, and each of the families from the surrounding countryside brought whatever food they had to share with everyone. Will and his men took to the woods and brought back deer and boar, and great feasts were prepared. They built huge fires and sang songs through the night. There were impromptu wrestling matches, with Little John taking on and defeating all who dared challenge him. Tall tales were told by everyone, and the overall feeling was one of happiness and peace, however temporary it might be.
Robard and Little John drank a great amount of ale, and before the night was over, they were sitting by the fire, singing at the top of their lungs, arms around each other, like long-lost brothers. The people of Sherwood who had given us aid when we needed it most had suffered much these last few months, and Robard and his mother saw to it that everyone at least had a full belly.
In gratitude, many of the men pitched in, helping Robard repair his buildings and fences, and with so many extra hands, the Hode place was quickly looking presentable again. And Robard smartly did not let his defeat of the Shire Reeve go to his head.
He explained to all the people of Sherwood what we had seen at Montségur and how the Cathars had used a horn to signal the approach of trouble. In the following week we built observation towers throughout Sherwood. Little John was able to fashion a cow horn at each station that could be sounded as a warning of the approach of any force. Everyone throughout the forest was instructed to head for the Hode house if the horn sounded three short blasts.
But as we worked, I worried. William Wendenal would be duty bound to report what had happened to his superiors. And in my mind, once word reached the court of Prince John, Sir Hugh would undoubtedly learn of our whereabouts. This would place everyone here in even greater danger. Sir Hugh would come with as many Templars as he could raise, and they would not be so easy to defeat as a few untrained or inexperienced bailiffs.
I could not be here when Sir Hugh arrived and risk danger to any of Robard’s people. But when I told Robard and Maryam I intended to travel on to Rosslyn alone, they would have none of it. I knew better than to try to sneak away: they would just follow me. So we decided to leave together. The hard part was explaining it to Robard’s mother and Tuck.
Tuck had become a hero to the people of Sherwood. Because he was in his monk’s robes, they treated him like a fully ordained priest, even though he could never deliver a Mass or hear a confession. With his potions and herbs, he treated the sick and infirm, and he became their priest in spirit. Some even called him Father Tuck.
When I had said good-bye to him, I pointed to the three of us and made a walking motion with my fingers. I held my hands far apart, indicating I would be gone for a while. I pointed to Mistress Hode and tapped his chest, meaning he should stay with and look out for her. He nodded and clicked and cradled my face in his gentle hands before giving me an enormous hug. Then he saddled Charlemagne and provided us with some cloth bags full of food, potions, cooking utensils and other things we would need.
After Robard swore on his father’s name he would return, his mother finally agreed to let him go. She shook her finger at me. “You’re a fine young lad, Tristan of St. Alban’s, and I don’t know what duty it is what draws you up among the Scots—a horrible people, I might add. But whatever it is, you make sure you bring my Robard back to me in one piece, do you hear?”
“Yes, Mistress Hode, I promise,” I said. Without another word she left us quickly and disappeared inside the house.
As luck would have it, Little John had traveled to Scotland and knew some of the land. On an old piece of parchment, he was able to draw us a crude map. “Rosslyn lies along River Esk, south of Edinborough. Pass around Leeds—I expect you’ll find lots of troops and Templars billeted there—and head north. If you find the River Esk, you’ll find Rosslyn, right enough. But lad, it’s just a tiny hamlet. What takes you there?”
I hemmed and hawed, not knowing what to tell John, and though I trusted him, I would not tell him of the Grail. No need to place his life in danger. He finally held up a hand before I could stammer out a reply. “Don’t bother explaining, Tristan. Not my business anyway. But one more thing: watch out for the clans,” he said.
“Clans?” I asked.
“Aye. The Scots all belong to different clans and most of ’em don’t like each other much. My mother is Scottish, and they nearly cast her out for marrying an Englishman. They brawl amongst themselves like two badgers in a sack. Mean they are, and some of the fiercest fighters you’ll ever see. If they ever got a
mind to stick together, they’d push the English right off our mortal soil and into the ocean. But they can’t stop squabbling amongst themselves most of the time. So be careful who you talk to or make friends with, because every friend you make in Scotland makes you an enemy of someone else.”
Wonderful news, I thought. Thank you again, Sir Thomas, for this duty. How many more ways would I find to make enemies?
“John Little,” Robard said, stepping forward. “I thank you for your help. I’m grateful to you for protecting my home and family while I’m gone. I will be in your debt forever.”
Little John didn’t hesitate. He stuck out his hand, and he and Robard shook heartily. “Well, you still do owe me two crosslets for crossing my bridge. But I’m honored to be asked. Don’t worry. I know Will Scarlet is used to running things, and I’ll make sure he believes he still is. But I’ll keep an eye out till you get back.”
Robard mounted his horse and the three of us were ready to leave. The Grail was safe in my satchel and Angel stood nearby, her tail wagging in anticipation of a new adventure.
“John,” I said. “One more favor. Two days hence, I want you to send a few men into Nottingham. Don’t let them get too close to the Shire Reeve, but have them visit the taverns and the marketplace and talk about what happened here. Have them let slip that we’ve headed north toward Scotland. I want word to get back to Wendenal that we’ve left, and hope it will keep Sir Hugh away from Sherwood. I don’t think Wendenal is ready to launch another assault even if he believes we’re gone. He realizes all the people are against him. He’s going to have to wait awhile, to plan and gather his forces. But we need to get Sir Hugh to chase us so he doesn’t threaten any of you.”
Little John nodded his giant head. “Not to worry. I know what to do and I’ll see it’s done. If Sir Hugh shows up in these parts, we’ll make certain he takes off after you long before he gets to Sherwood. But are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yes, it is.” I nodded. With a little salute, I kicked Charlemagne gently in the sides and lumbered forward toward the tree-lined lane leading away from Robard’s home. Robard and Maryam waved good-bye to everyone and their horses loped along beside me. Angel trotted briskly in front of us, her tail wagging and barking excitedly. She sniffed the ground and darted to and fro as we galloped up the lane. We passed beneath the wooden Hode sign and turned our horses quickly north.
Orphan of Destiny Page 15
