“You mean they have rooms without any animals at all?” Robyn couldn’t believe it when Will nodded. “Then how do they stay warm?”
Will shook his head. “You’re weird.”
“Would someone pass the honey please,” Ellen said from her end of the table.
Robyn dunked her crust in the bowl before handing it over to Ellen, who proceeded to put a golden dollop into her milk.
“What a great idea,” Joan said, taking the honey from Ellen and copying her.
Robyn achieved the same effect by eating her honeyed crust and then slurping milk at the same time, sloshing it around in her mouth.
The fresh bread and warm milk filled Robyn’s belly, while the sweet honey sent sparks of energy through her. Buzzing filled her limbs and she had a sudden desire to climb a tree and swing from the branches.
“Right, what’s our plan?” Marion said to Robyn as the last chunks of bread disappeared.
“We find our villagers and give them the . . .” Robyn dropped her voice low “. . . gold.”
“Then what?” Marion asked.
Robyn felt her face crinkle in confusion. “Then they can buy enough stuff to go back and rebuild of course.”
“And then what?”
Confusion irritated Robyn. “I don’t know. I’m not in charge of them. They can do whatever they want. Stop criticizing me.”
“I’m not having a go at you.” Marion put his palms up in surrender. “I’m just concerned that if they go back and rebuild straight away, Roger and his lot could very easily turn up and steal things all over again.”
The unspoken part of his sentence hung between them. Roger and his lot could set fire to everything all over again too.
At the end of the table, Ellen coughed her milk back. With all eyes on her, she dabbed a sleeve at her mouth and spluttered. “Sorry, a bit went down the wrong way.”
Keeping her voice low, Robyn turned to Marion again. “You’re saying we shouldn’t give them . . .” dropping to a whisper again “. . . the gold.”
“Of course we give them . . . that. But we’ve got to find them first, and when we do, maybe it’s best if they stay here for a while.”
“But this is Roger’s base!” The words came out too loudly. People at a nearby table gave her strange looks. She lowered her voice again. “Wouldn’t they want to get as far away from him as possible?”
“Yes but they’ll be sitting ducks if they go back. There are hundreds of people here in Sheffield, they’ll blend in with the crowd. And they can stay warm here through the winter.”
“Then what’s to become of Loxley?” And for a pitifully selfish moment, Robyn also wondered what would become of her. She wanted to go back home and make everything normal again. Well, it wouldn’t be completely normal until her father came back, but she’d take what she could get for now.
“Loxley can wait until spring,” Marion said. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“What about . . .” Robyn dug about in her mental basement, looking for reasons to return to Loxley and rebuild. “What about the crops we’ve worked so hard to get in the ground. Twice!”
“They’ll either be there or they won’t. Us returning to Loxley won’t make them grow any faster.”
Confusion swirled through Robyn as she ate the last of her bread. Surely once they found their villagers, they’d all want to go home? Why couldn’t Marion accept that?
A new thought hit her in the belly. “You’re not going back, are you? You want to join the Crusade.”
“It’s every man’s duty to follow his King into battle.”
“But your mother forbids it!”
“My mother isn’t here.”
“Yes she is . . . somewhere in Sheffield. I’m going to find her. And everyone else. And then we are all going home.”
***
“I’ll stay with Bella on the green,” Eleanor said as they left The Unicorn.
“You could sell her milk while you’re here,” Ellen said. “Best drink I’ve ever had.”
Eleanor’s face lit up. “Good idea. I wonder if the inn will sell us some honey to go with it?”
At least her mother was happy, so that was one less person for Robyn to worry about. Still, it didn’t sit right to leave Eleanor here in the village green, all alone with a valuable cow. “Ellen, stay here with Mother Eleanor and Bella, will you?”
“But, I want to come with you.”
“I could stay,” Joan suggested.
No, Joan would scare the customers. Anyway, they might need her later for smashing duties. Wilfred was their guide, so he couldn’t stay behind. And Marion . . . well, he’d charge off and join the Crusade the moment her back was turned.
“How well do you know Sheffield?” Marion asked Ellen.
Which was the question Robyn was going to ask, she really was.
“Em. You’ve got a point there,” Ellen said. “Not very well.”
Mentally, Robyn waited for Ellen’s usual ‘to be honest’ ending, but it didn’t come.
“OK, that’s settled. Ellen, it’s best you stay here with Mother Eleanor and the cow. Will? Lead on.”
In comparison to Littleton, Loxley had seemed a busy place. But now they were in Sheffield, Robyn realized how small her small home town had been. On this cool autumn morning, Sheffield positively heaved. There had to be two thousand people here at least.
How would they find their villagers in such a massive crowd?
“What’s your plan?” Marion said as they began their walk down one of the bustling streets.
Sarcasm at the ready, Robyn said, “The plan is to wander around aimlessly until we’re hungry and lost.”
“You know what I mean.”
Robyn walked faster, her hand over the purse of gold to stop it jingling. “I don’t think it takes much planning to find the rest of Loxley, share the coins and get out of here.”
“It’s just that ‘Get out of here’ is hardly an exit strategy.”
This time Robyn pulled up short.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Marion said.
“I’m not ro–” Whoops; she was rolling her eyes. She focused every muscle in her face to make sure she didn’t roll them again and said, “We’re helping our villagers, yes? Then we rebuild. Is that enough of a plan for you?”
“Sure it’s a start but–”
Robyn didn’t hear the rest of what Marion said as she stomped forward. The boy was driving her to distraction. He’d never been this bossy towards her before.
Their whole lives had been one season after another, one predictable event after another. Until Roger of Doncaster had come to their town, they’d left all the thinking and planning to the elders.
Now they were separated from the wiser heads of the village, they had to do all the thinking and forward planning themselves. It was exhausting.
Behind her, she heard the heavy footsteps that could only belong to Joan.
“Go easy on Marion, he’s trying to help,” she said.
“He’s trying my patience,” Robyn shot back.
“Yeah but it doesn’t hurt to stop and think every now and again, he’s only–”
“–We don’t have time to stop and think!” Sick guilt lurched through Robyn as she heard how nasty she sounded to her friend. “I’m sorry. I really am. But we can’t stay in Sheffield, and neither can the rest of Loxley. If we stay, Roger and his gang will return. It’s only a matter of time before we cross paths again.”
“But he’s not looking for us, is he? He’s looking for a band of men. That’s why he pushed us out the way at the gate.”
“We got lucky.” Robyn kept up her punishing pace, her breath coming out as harshly as her words. All the while she kept looking at the faces in the street for someone familiar. “Roger didn’t recognize us because he was in a hurry to leave.”
Joan’s heavy hand thumped down on Robyn’s shoulder, bringing them both to a staggering halt. “And where do you think Roger was off to in such a rus
h?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Look, Joan, we don’t have time to stand here arguing, we need to keep looking. Our people have to be here somewhere.”
On they went, down the laneways between the higgle-piggle houses and animal pens, trying to find someone they knew.
In a petulant voice, Joan said, “I don’t like arguing.”
“Neither do I.” Robyn felt awful about how this was turning out. “I am sorry. I really am. Anyway, we weren’t arguing. We were only having a loud conversa–Madge? Is that you?”
The girl in question–Madge the Miller’s daughter–was mucking out a sheep pen. She dropped her pitchfork at the sound of her name. A smile split her face. “Robyn! And Joan! And Marion! And . . . hello, new person!” At which point her smiling face turned bright red, almost as red as Wilfred’s had been in reaction to being near a horse.
***
Madge filled Robyn in on how everyone in the village had fared since their eviction from Loxley.
In a word: miserably.
The sky above them looked like it was about to turn miserable as well. Thank goodness they had a sheep pen to huddle beneath.
“I am so glad to see you, I can’t tell you how crazy things are,” Madge babbled. “It’s only me and Grannyma and Tuppence. We’ve eaten nought but turnips since we left Loxley, although we’ve given sheep milk to the babby. Not that Tuppence is a babby any more, have you seen the teeth on him? Milk won’t be enough for him for much longer.”
Guilt rained on Robyn like the drops falling from the sky. This morning they’d had the softest bread in the world, dipped in honey, to break their fast. As Robyn checked her pockets to see if she had any food to offer, Marion stepped forward and produced the end a loaf. Madge fell upon it as Grannyma came back from milking one of the ewes.
“You’re supposed to be quiet!” She said to Madge. “I can hear you from the street.”
Everyone hushed.
“That’s better.” Grannyma said. “We’re trying to keep a low profile, obviously.”
A sheep trotted over to see what they were eating. Robyn gave it a pat and it scarpered away. “Um, Grannyma Miller, whose animals are these?”
“No idea, Lovvie, but they couldn’t very well milk themselves so we’re helping out.”
“What if the owners come back?”
“Then we’ll have done them a favour. If sheep aren’t milked on a regular basis, they stop producing.”
Robyn boggled. “OK. And, um, where are you living?”
“Right here of course.” Grannyma Miller looked at her like the chatelaine of a grand estate.
There wasn’t much space. Certainly not for herself, Marion, Will and Joan to stay. Maybe they should take them back to The Unicorn?
“Where is everyone from Loxley?” Marion asked Grannyma.
Why hadn’t Robyn thought of asking that?
Grannyma held her palms out to the side. “We’re it love. They took the rest.”
“Have you seen anyone from Littleton?” Joan asked.
“No sweetie, I’m sorry, I haven’t,” Grannyma said.
More guilt weighed Robyn down. Nobody from Loxley or Littleton. Not good.
Grannyma continued. “Don’t take it so poorly, you weren’t to know. After they came to Loxley, they set us on the road and walked us here. Once we got through the gates, Madge and Tuppence and I snuck off and stayed here with the sheep to keep warm. We’ve tried to find out what happened to the rest and . . . I’m sorry to bring bad news but I think they’re all locked up in the dungeon.”
Bile rose in Robyn. Before she could ask any more questions–as if her brain could work anyway–Grannyma Miller clasped Joan’s hands.
“Oh sweetheart, your hands look awful. Come and rub them in the sheep’s wool, the lanolin will fix them right up.”
“Cheers for that,” Joan said as she followed Grannyma’s suggestion.
“Oh goodness, look at your poorly hands as well,” Madge said to Wilfred. “Come with me, we’ll have them all better in no time.”
Utterly baffled, Robyn steadied her breath and tried to sort out what was going on. As far as she was concerned, everything had turned out about as badly as could be, and yet they were stopping everything to have manicures?
***
“Don’t take this the wrong way , but I think we really need a plan this time,” Marion said as he and Robyn mucked out the sheep pen together.
“Yes, yes.” Each reminder of their situation added to the weight on her shoulders. They should be freeing their village people. Instead they were playing at shepherds.
Marion worked faster to get the job done. Perspiration made his shirt stick to his chest, which proved monumentally distracting.
“I’m not having a go at you,” he said. “But we do need to work something out.”
She couldn’t be cross at him for stating the truth. And he’d said ‘we’, which made her feel like they were sharing the load. The gold in her leather pouch weighed almost as heavily as her burdens. “Part one of the plan, you carry this.” She held it out to him.
“What am I going to do with it?”
“You’re the one who says we should plan everything, so maybe you should be the one to carry it?”
Marion weighed it in his hand and was lost in thought for a moment. Then, he said, “Let’s share it. That way, if one of us is caught or lost or we get split up or something, the whole purse isn’t gone.”
“That . . . makes a lot of sense,” Robyn managed.
“You’re welcome,” he said, giving her a wink.
Robyn’s stomach did a strange flip and her heart kicked like a freshly caught rabbit.
Meanwhile, Joan and Grannyma Miller fed the sheep and Madge stuck close to Wilfred, the two of them casting shy glances at each other, oblivious to the worries of the outside world. Why couldn’t she and Marion be like that, instead of having to make plans and be responsible for everyone else?
They had a village elder here with them too, so why wasn’t Grannyma Miller taking over the decision making?
A sense of vague disappointment with the world hung about Robyn like a hand-me-down coat.
“Robyn! Robyn, where are you!”
Hang on, that voice sounded like . . .
Ellen ran down the street, calling their names.
“Over here!” Marion called out.
“Oh, thank the angels I found you. They’ve arrested Mother Eleanor!”
Cold fear trembled through Robyn. “Where is she?”
“This way!” Ellen grabbed Robyn by the arm and they took off, running and stumbling down the street.
“Wait!” Marion called out behind them.
But Robyn had no time to argue the point with Marion. Her mother had been arrested! This was terrible!
Panting for breath, they skidded to a halt in the village green to find Bella standing there, munching away on the grass as if nothing had happened. OK, at least they hadn’t harmed the cow.
“What happened?” Marion said as he pulled up beside them.
Ellen swallowed a few times and then reached for the milk bucket to quench her thirst.
“Where is she?” Robyn screamed at Ellen. Why was the girl stopping for a drink when her mother could be in danger?
Ellen put the bucket down and wiped her face. “They arrested her for selling milk without a permit. We have to go to Maudlin and pay bail money.”
Before the words, “what’s bail money?” could cross Robin’s brain, Ellen was beckoning them to follow her towards the tower. No time to think, Robyn followed.
“Hang on a minute.” Marion called out.
“There’s no time!” Ellen said.
Robyn left Marion behind to keep pace with Ellen. As they reached a corner, Robyn slid sideways to catch a glimpse behind her. The crowd was too dense, she couldn’t see Marion. Irritation nagged Robyn, knowing when Marion did catch up, he’d give a lecture about planning things first.
“Where i
s she?” Robyn now wished she’d glugged some of that milk as well, her mouth had turned as dry as summer dirt.
“Through here,” Ellen said.
Blood pumping, Robyn blindly followed Ellen through a door, down a hall, then through another door until they burst into a massive banqueting hall.
Along one wall was a long dining table, enough to seat twenty people or more. Down one end was a stone fireplace, tall enough for a person to stand inside. It was fully lit, warming the length of the hall. Robyn could see no sign of her mother. Whipping her head around to the other end of the hall, she saw a magnificent woman dressed in darkly tanned animal skins, standing there with a jackdaw on her shoulder.
Who didn’t seem the least bit surprised by two girls crashing into her hall.
Sickness roiled inside Robyn. Nothing about this felt right.
“Hail fellows well met,” the woman said, striding forward. Her skirt hem touched the floor, giving her the appearance of gliding across the timber boards.
“It’s the Lady Maudlin,” Ellen said in a soft voice, “Bow to her.”
Following Ellen’s example, Robyn lowered her head.
Then Ellen took a step backwards, so Robyn did too.
“No, you’re supposed to step forward.” Ellen said.
“Oh.” Robyn fixed her footing at the same time Maudlin pinned her gaze on her. Cold sweat seeped through Robyn’s skin as she took in the woman and the bird. There was something hauntingly horrible about the double-act, the bird as secure on her shoulder as a long-grafted tree branch.
“Come closer, there’s nothing to fear,” Maudlin said. The woman’s eyes pierced Robyn just as surely as that jackdaw on her shoulder might stab a grub with its beak.
If free will played a part, Robyn would have bolted for the doors and made a dash for it. Her spellbound body moved forward as directed.
Lady Maudlin spoke with a clear voice, her tone sweet with an underlying cadence of malice. “You are here about the woman Eleanor, who sold wares without a permit?”
The words, “How did you know?” Formed in her mind, before the politeness filter came out of nowhere and had her responding with a “Yes.”
Robyn and the Hoodettes Page 8
