“No need to get defensive. Do you want me to take the reins for a while? Have a rest for a bit?”
“I don’t need a rest. I’m fine.”
Marion yawned.
Damn him, she caught the yawns faster than the pox and she started yawning too.
“Not tired, eh?” Marion said, then gave his top lip another scratch.
Just a nod. If she opened her mouth to speak she’d yawn again.
She could have sworn Marion was laughing as he too pulled his hood up. He turned away, probably hiding another yawn. After a while, he asked, “Do you have a plan for what we’re going to do once we get to Sheffield?”
Not really, but she didn’t dare let on. “I’ve got it all under control.”
“Yeah?”
“Course I have,” she bragged.
“Fine by me.”
Using her ‘I’m in charge’ voice, she said, “We’ll be there soon.”
“How do you know? You’ve never been?”
They had to be close because the horses were tugging that bit more on their harnesses, as if they knew the road.
“There,” Robyn pointed ahead. In the distance, they could see light spilling over the tops of a high wall. It had to be the battlements around Sheffield Castle.
“What are we going to say when we get there?” Marion asked. “I’m sorry to carp on, but we do need a plan.”
“I’ll think of something.” If he said that ‘P’ word one more time . . .
Marion turned to head back into the wagon tray, parting with, “Whatever you say, boss.”
Boss? The word scratched at her conscience. Being the boss meant she had to be responsible for everyone.
Since when had that happened? Surely the adult was responsible?
That same adult–her mother–who’d been the one to bundle up the bag of wheat and told her to run.
Yeah, that had turned out to be a wonderful plan.
Think, girl, think.
Marion’s idea of being traders simply didn’t ring true. Firstly, they looked nothing like traders, what with the soot all over their faces and hair reeking of smoke.
Secondly, they had nothing to trade.
They had plenty of coin, but they looked so poor people would assume they’d stolen it.
The horses pulled them faster towards the watch house by the castle gates. There wasn’t time to call Marion back to the driver’s bench to make new plans. She had to improvise something.
She yanked out a nose hair to set her eyes watering.
Nothing for a second, then a delayed pain that really hurt!
So much!
Tears leapt from her eyes and her nose ran instantly.
Memories crashed through. Years ago she’d pulled out one of her father’s nose hairs while he was sleeping. Oh the carry-on that had erupted!
Now that she’d done it to herself, she understood her father’s yowls of pain. Tears flowed like creeks down her face.
Sniff, sniff. She wiped her nose on her tunic sleeve.
“Stop there,” one of the guards said. A young guard from the sounds of it. His voice cracked in the middle of saying, “State your business.”
“We seek sanctuary,” Robyn said, “Our village was set upon by outlaws and we have fled. Please let us in.”
“Outlaws? Where?” That was the other guard. He didn’t come up to the child-guard’s shoulder. One of his eyes looked . . . nasty. The light from his torch showed he was an old man who should be regular height, except for the curve clenching his back.
One too young, the other too twisted to join the war. So they’d been left behind to watch the gates. Robyn reckoned she could take them both without breaking a sweat. But she had to play the weeping girly-girl so as not to raise suspicion.
“Outlaws have raided our villages and forced us to flee,” she said. “We are all that is left.”
“Are they in pursuit?” The child-guard said.
“No, but we have nowhere else to go, and as Sheffield is our Liege Lord, we have come here for protection.”
“They could be following you.” The child again.
“What village are you from?” The crippled guard asked.
Brain stalling for answers, Robyn wasn’t sure if she should say Loxley or not. Roger’s men might be waiting for them. Quick, think of a name. “Riverton.” Not exactly a lie. They did have a river flowing nearby. “Sheffield owes a duty of care to his peasants, he must take us in.”
The young guard spoke “Well he’s not here. He–”
“–Times have changed.” The twisted man interrupted. “Camp out here and wait till the morning.”
The cogs in Robyn’s mind creaked and groaned. “We can’t. The thieves took everything. We barely escaped with the clothes on our back and– ”
The twisted guard blocked them. “–With fine horses, a wagon and a cow?”
Damn!
Desperation crept in. “We’ll pay you.” Robyn reached for Marion’s bag of goodies and pulled out one of the golden coins.
Not quietly enough.
“Sounds like you have plenty more.” The old guard said as lunged for the bag.
“No!” Marion sprang from the back of the wagon and thumped the old man on the shoulders.
“You’re the outlaws!” The child-guard grabbed at Shadow’s harness to stop them turning back.
The cripple recovered and lunged for the money. For an invalid, he sure was agile.
“No!” Robyn yelled.
Suddenly the wagon swayed and tipped. “Joan smash!”
The giant leapt out of the wagon.
“No Joan!” Marion cried out.
Clonk!
Too late.
The old man fell in a crumpled heap. The child-guard let go of the horse’s harness and dashed towards a rope hanging from a bell-tower. One ring and that bell would alert everyone inside the walls to the troubles outside.
Robyn pounced on him, making sure he didn’t reach that rope.
He covered his hands over his face and muffled, “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Joan smash?”
It took all Robyn’s strength not to laugh. “No more smash,” she said.
“But Joan want to smash!”
Beneath her, the boy trembled. Robyn shared his misery. “We don’t want to hurt you. OK? So here’s how we’re going to play it. You’re going to open the gates and let us in. And we’ll give you a shiny coin to give to your ailing mother.”
“How’d’you know she was sick?”
“Because you’re doing a dangerous job for a little boy. Now stop crying and . . . oh Joan look at that, his face has gone scarlet.”
“Is he all right?” Mother Eleanor asked from the back of the wagon.
“I’m allergic to horses.” He confessed.
“What does allergic mean?” Robyn asked.
“Is that even a word?” Joan asked.
“It means they make me sick. And itchy,” he said, rubbing his face.
“Oh you poor thing.” Robyn helped him back on his feet. “Can you see your way to the gate? I’ll give you a hand. Stop rubbing your eyes, it will only make it worse.” My goodness, I’m sounding just like Mother!
“You are the outlaws, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice no longer cracking with nerves.
“We’re not. But our village is now a burning ruin after the Sheriff’s tax collectors set fire to it. We really don’t have anywhere else to go.” Adding a shrug felt natural to Robyn, as if she and this boy could both stop playing their roles and be themselves.
“Are you sure you want to go in?” He asked. “You might be safer out here in the long run.”
Robyn gave the boy two golden coins instead of the one she’d promised him. “The rest of our village is behind the gates. We have to find them. Make sure they’re all right.”
“Will he be all right?” The red-faced boy asked, pointing to the crumpled shape of the old guard on the ground.
Stepping over t
o him, Robyn gave the crooked man a gentle shove on the shoulder with her boot, but heard nothing. Oh dear. She bent low and - relief! - felt his slow breath on her cheek. Thank goodness he was still breathing! “He’ll be fine, but he’ll have an aching head when he wakes up.” Then she turned to the boy. “Sorry about the allergy.”
He sniffed and shrugged, “Once the horses are gone it will clear up.”
“I feel bad about this. My name’s Robyn.” She extended her hand in a show of friendship.
The boy shook it. “Wilfred. Everyone calls me Will.”
Marion led the horses towards the gate as Wilfred lifted the heavy timber from the latch.
The heavy gate, however, didn’t open. Marion leant a hand, then Robyn too. “Joan,” she called out, “care to help?”
“Can I do anything lovvie?” Mother asked. Not that she’d climbed out of the wagon the entire time.
“Is it locked from the other side?” Robyn asked as she heaved and hauled against the gate.
“Might be,” Wilfred said.
“You could come and help,” Robyn shot back to her mother. “Wake up Ellen too. Free ride’s over.”
They pressed with all their weight against the heavy wood. It budged, it sprang back; they leaned harder again and it sprang back even more.
One last push–yerk!–the gates gave in and Robyn, Wilfred, Marion and Joan fell forward with a yelp into the mud.
“Enjoy your trip?” A mocking voice said.
Robyn looked up to find herself staring into the smirking face of Roger of Doncaster.
Anyone but you. Robyn shlucked herself out of the oozy mud. On wobbly legs she stood up to face her nemesis.
“Get out of my way, peasant!” Roger shouted.
Which only served to boggle Robyn all the more. And of course, as she stood there boggling, she kept not moving and Roger became angrier.
Did he not recognize her?
Not even a little bit?
“Idiot!” He shoved her in the shoulder and sent her sprawling into Joan and Marion, knocking them all over like dominoes.
Joan whispered in her ear, “Want me to smash him?”
“Wait–”
Mother Eleanor piped up, “Don’t you push my daughter around!”
“Do not stand in the way of the Sheriff of Nottingham’s business!” Roger said as he stormed past. A straggly gang of young men followed him, ignoring Eleanor’s protests.
Bella made a bovine moan as they jolted her on their way out. Poor Bella. Why were people so horrible to cows? They gave so much milk and asked so little in return.
As soon as Roger and his team were gone, Robyn scraped off the biggest clods of mud from her tunic and skirts and went to the cow’s aid.
That’s when she noticed the moving lump of sheepskin in the back of the wagon. “You can come out now Ellen, they’re long gone.”
Ellen peeked out from underneath. “I wasn’t hiding. Honestly. But I thought it would be best if I stayed out of the way.”
“Of course you did.”
With Roger and his men gone, Wilfred guided them through the gates and inside the protective walls of Sheffield Castle. It was dark and difficult to see their way clear. The larger buildings leaked golden light from open fires burning in the hearths inside.
Wilfred pointed and said, “The Goose and Bridle is the best place to get lodgings. Best place for vittles is The Unicorn.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Robyn reached into her pocket and drew out another coin.
Wilfred snatched for it, but Robyn held back, a better idea forming. “You get this when we’re on the way out. It will work out best for everyone if we’re not harassed.”
They stared at each other in understanding. Wilfred rubbed his sore eyes again and said, “Sounds to me like you might need a guide. Y’know, to make sure you stay out of trouble and don’t get harassed.”
Robyn smiled. “And what about your job as a gate keeper?”
Wilfred shrugged. “Godwin will wake up eventually. And you pay better.”
“Godwin’s the other guard?”
He nodded.
Robyn chuckled and said, “OK then.”
“Let’s get these horses in for the night.” Wilfred said as he scratched his eyebrows.
“I don’t like this,” Marion whispered to Robyn as Wilfred lead the horses into the barn behind The Goose and Bridle. “How do we know he’s not leading us into a trap. Or trying to steal the horses?”
A ferocious sneeze echoed through the barn.
With a tilt of her head, Robyn said, “I don’t think he’s the horse-stealing type.”
Another sneeze, more violent than the first, ripped through the air.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a kip,” Eleanor said as she folded their belongings into her apron and tied the corners together into a makeshift hold-all.
“Will Bella be all right in here with the horses?” Ellen asked as she walked the reluctant cow towards the barn.
“They might let her in with us,” Eleanor said, “Bring her over here and we’ll find out.”
Another ferocious sneeze barrelled out of the barn.
“He’s going to blow his head off,” Marion said. “I’ll give him a hand.”
Robyn rapped her knuckles on the back door of the inn. When the landlady opened it, she saw four women and a cow. “Right then, put the beast in the barn and we’ll find a room for you.”
“There’s six of us,” Robyn said, mentally adding Marion and Wilfred.
“And the cow stays with us as well,” Eleanor said.
The landlady gave a haughty sniff and said, “If you want beasts under the same roof, you’ll have to stay at The Unicorn.”
“She stays with us at home,” Eleanor protested.
“Mother, it’s fine. Bella will be all right in the barn.” Robyn didn’t want to stand around arguing. It would draw too much attention.
At which point Marion and Wilfred came out of the barn. Wilfred’s eyes had swollen into the shape of cracked eggs.
“Bella has to go in the barn too,” Robyn said.
“I’ll do it,” Marion said, taking the cow’s harness and leading her away.
The landlady didn’t let them one step closer to the door. “We don’t let anyone with pox stay here.”
“It’s allergies,” Robyn said.
“Looks like the pox to me. He’ll have to stay out in the barn.” She said, crossing her spindly arms over her chest.
Wilfred sneezed so fiercely he stumbled.
“The pox! He’s got the pox!” The landlady said. She took a step back and slammed the door in their faces.
“Want me to smash the door in?” Joan asked.
“Not this time. But thanks anyway. OK Will, if you can still see where you’re going, take us to The Unicorn.”
***
No qualms from the landlady about the cow staying in their ground-floor room with them at The Unicorn. The dirt floor looked as even and dry as the one at home. The straw rushes had a fresh and welcoming wheaty aroma. There was a cot in the corner with sashes of hessian tied across the beams for a base. Eleanor put the sheepskin on it and pushed the frame into the corner so that whoever slept against the wall wouldn’t fall out. She, Ellen and Joan lay down in it and declared it very comfortable.
Bella made herself immediately at home and slumped into another corner, chewing her cud.
Wilfred dipped a rag into the water bucket–Robyn hoped it was filled with water–and sloshed it onto his face. “Oh, that’s better,” he half-moaned as he sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.
“This is great, I don’t know what you’re worried about.” Robyn rested against Bella’s soft belly. The cow gave a moan of annoyance but didn’t make any effort to throw Robyn away. She was so warm and soft, and the rise and fall of her ample stomach had a soothing effect. The familiar smells of the cow reminded her or home.
Which set off a pang of homesickness.
&nb
sp; Would Loxley ever be the same again?
“Shove over,” Marion said, moving in beside Robyn to share the warmth.
“Mmmmfff.” Robyn wanted to object about the way Marion put his arm around her and snuggled in. But the cot bed in the corner was already full. Plus, the floor was hard and would grow colder as the night wore on. And for some reason having Marion’s arm around her felt . . . kind of right.
And it would be the height of rudeness to keep the cow all to herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the morning, Robyn’s head thumped on the floor as Bella got to her feet. She picked straw from her hair and rubbed her eyes. The words “Where are we?” formed in her head just as Marion stretched and said, “Best sleep-out ever.”
The others woke and commented about how rested they felt.
Wilfred, whose scarlet face had settled during the night to reveal a moderately handsome lad with a constellation of freckles over his cheeks and nose, looked at them all with a puzzled expression. “You’re quite sure?”
A chorus of ‘yeses’ filled the room. Wilfred shrugged and shook his head in wonder.
“I’m starving.” Robyn stretched again. “And I need the privies.”
After they’d found the right places to relieve themselves, they made their way to the front room where the innkeeper presented them with warm bread and weak ale.
“You’ll be having milk,” Eleanor said as she gathered their empty tankards and dunked them in a bucket she’d carried in with her. “There’s not as much today. All that walking must have dried Bella up. I’ve put her on the village green so she can get a good feed and plenty of rest to be back to her best.”
“This bread is so soft,” Robyn said, ripping a chunk off the loaf and dipping it in her milk. She had to lunge for it before the sodden mush fell back in. Joan wasn’t fast enough; her chunk dropped into her tankard with a messy plop.
Eleanor tried the bread on its own. “It’s so tender you don’t even need to dunk it. How do they do that?”
“This place is amazing, Will,” Robyn said.
He boggled. “But we didn’t even stay in a proper room, they put us in the shepherd’s lodgings because of the cow.”
Robyn and the Hoodettes Page 7
