Orphan of Destiny tyt-3

by Michael Spradlin

  “But Will, surely my father would not stand for this. Where is he? Why is he not setting things straight with this Shire Reeve?” Robard demanded.

  Will’s shoulders drooped and he stared at the ground. “He’s. . oh, Rob. I don’t know how to tell you this. He’s gone, Rob.”

  “Gone? What do you mean? Gone where?” Robard insisted.

  “To heaven, Rob. He died the first winter after you left. The Shire Reeve took him to his jail in Nottingham and he died there,” Will said softly.

  Robard staggered, as if he’d been struck by an invisible hand.

  “What? No! You’re lying. You thieving bastard!” He took hold of Will’s tunic with both hands, pulling him until his face was inches from the frightened man. “You take it back, right now!”

  “Master Rob,” said Allan, touching him gently on the arm. “I’m afraid so, lad. It happened just as old Will said. Please let him go now. It’s not his fault-he did everythin’ he could to keep things up, ’opin’ you might return one day. But it’s been nigh on impossible. Sorry we are about the thievin’, but no harm done. Your friend with the sword here put a dreadful fright in poor Gerald, though. I suspect we’ll not see him until it’s right spring.” He tried to laugh to ease the tension, but it just came out as an awkward squawk. Both men looked sad and worn. I guessed they were in their fifties, which made them older than even Tuck or Little John.

  Robard’s forester, Will Scarlet, had hardly moved, and as he stood in the gathering light of morning, his hair was flecked with gray. He was thin but, like Robard, thick through the arms and chest from many hours pulling a longbow. His hands were scarred and his skin showed age and wrinkles. But when I studied him and Allan, I saw steel in their veins. These unlikely bandits were also hardened men. Despite their flowing cloaks, they had the look of lean and hungry wolves. They were forest men, hunters, fighters, trackers. And they clearly had a deep affection for Robard.

  I tried to help. “Robard, please let him go. We can ride on to Sherwood, to your farm. We can puzzle this out. But you need to release him.”

  Slowly and with barely contained grief, Robard unhanded Will, dropping his fists to his sides. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

  “Will, tell me the truth, what happened to my father,” he finally said.

  “It’s like I said, Rob. The crown, Prince John mainly, has raised taxes too many times to count in the last two years. Folks, even some of the barons, have lost their lands, their fortunes-there’s no money to be had. Men are thrown into prison or sent off to the Crusades like you were, to pay off back taxes. Your father and some of the other landowners finally said ‘no more,’ and the Shire Reeve and his bailiffs hauled the lot of ’em off to prison. He was there, in Nottingham jail serving his sentence, when he caught a fever and died.”

  “What happened to our land?” Robard demanded. “Our people, what happened to them?”

  “We were barely able to ’old on to the land. The Shire Reeve has taken most of the property around us. With the poor harvests, we’ve had very little for trade and no one can afford to buy crops anyway. This Shire Reeve is a cruel one. He’s taken everyone’s land for back taxes and is buying it up himself. He’s had his sights on your hides, your land, for a while now, but we’ve scraped together enough to pay the taxes. There’s not much else left over, though, and not enough to feed everyone, so me and the boys, we took matters into our own hands,” Will said.

  Robard did not hear him, and appeared lost in thought.

  “And Rob, please understand. We don’t take anythin’ from the poor folks of Sherwood. We’ve robbed those who might have food or crosslets to spare. We take from ’em only what we need to live. The rest goes to the poor families here in the forest. We’ve been at it a few months. What we’ve been givin’ the poor folk of the shire has made ’em love us. They even call us ‘the Merry Men.’ Isn’t that something?”

  “What about my mother? Is she. .?”

  “She’s fine, Master Hode,” Allan said. “You know how much the Sherwood people love her. I doubt we’d have kept things up as well as we have if not for her.”

  Robard’s face showed a brief moment of relief, but the anger was back in a heartbeat. He turned on his heel and stalked to his horse, and from his look, I knew what he intended: to ride to Nottingham, find the Shire Reeve and kill him.

  My own grief dissipated when I saw my friend’s sadness. I stepped in front of him to block his path. “Robard, wait,” I pleaded. “I know how you feel-”

  “I’m certain you do, squire,” he interrupted. “Now get out of my way.”

  Maryam came to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm. “Robard, you cannot act rashly-”

  “If both of you don’t leave me be, I swear I will-” he said.

  “What about your mother, Robard!” Maryam urged him. That did the trick. His wild eyes came into focus and he stared at her intensely as she reached up and cradled his face in both hands.

  “What about my mother?” he asked quietly.

  “She has lost a husband. For all she knows you are lost to her as well. You’ve been gone two years. She has grieved all this time with no son to lean on. She must be desperate and heartbroken. There will be time for vengeance later, Robard. But you must go to her.” Maryam’s voice was calm, and whatever sea of emotions he felt, she had managed to still them, at least for now.

  “My mother,” he said. He pushed past me and mounted his horse and urged it to gallop. In a few strides he was invisible, enveloped in the fog. Only the noise of his hoofbeats remained.

  “Robard, wait!” I shouted after him. But he was gone.

  “Will,” I said quietly. He looked confused and sad. “We need to follow Robard. We’ll be lost in no time. Can you lead us?”

  “Aye. We’ll keep after him right enough. Allan, you and the boys fetch our horses. Step quick now. If I know Master Hode, once he pays his respects to Mistress Hode, he’ll be a-ridin’ to Nottingham and havin’ it out with the Shire Reeve himself. Let’s go, lads, to your duties,” he commanded his men, and they leapt to their work.

  Will prodded the poor man on the ground-he called him Cyrus-and he came to with a start, then drew back in fear at the sight of Little John towering over him. “Worry not, Cy, he’s a friend. ’Twas Master Hode we tried to rob, can you believe it?” Cyrus allowed as how he could not, and stood, trying to clear his head. Allan and the other man returned with their horses.

  “We’ve given old Rob a good head start, but we’ll catch up to ’em soon enough,” Allan offered as we all mounted up and rode off with Will Scarlet in the lead. Chasing Robard all the way to his home.

  19

  Will and his men were better mounted, and we punished ourselves and our horses trying to keep up with them. But after midday we rode through a gate with a high wooden arch. On it hung a weather-beaten sign with carved letters reading HODE. Passing through it, we followed a long lane lined by very tall trees. Through the trees I saw more woods, but in the distance there were some gently rolling meadows and open fields. It was a beautiful place, and I realized why Robard had been so eager to return home.

  We found Robard and his mother not far from their manor house, in a small fenced cemetery standing before a wooden cross. It must have been the family plot where his father was buried. Robard towered over his tiny mother, whose shoulders shook as she cried, and he tried gently to wipe away the river of tears coursing down her face. Our party dismounted in the yard and we all stood quietly, not wishing to disturb them.

  Tuck watched the two of them standing by the wooden cross and I wondered if it brought back painful memories of the brothers he had buried not so long ago. Tuck folded his hands in prayer and made his quiet clicking sound before crossing himself. Will and his men, perhaps thinking Tuck was an actual priest from his dress and manor, followed suit.

  While Robard tended to his mother, I took stock of the Hode estate. It had fallen on hard times for certain, but it was much grander th
an a “simple farm,” as Robard had led us to believe. The manor house was two stories high, with a large wooden porch running along its front. The steps leading up to it were cracked and loose in a few places, but the thatched roof was in grave disrepair. What had once been glass windows on the front of the house were now boarded up.

  Beyond the house lay a barn, a smokehouse and a few smaller outbuildings. The corral next to the barn was missing several lengths of fencing and would have a hard time holding even a small goat. If Hode land was in such a state, I could only imagine what the poorer farmers were experiencing.

  Robard and his mother left the small plot and he took her arm, leading her to the yard. His face was drawn and pinched in anger. I felt his grief at what had befallen his mother and his land. We had come here for rest, but there was little peace to be found.

  During our travels, Robard had spoken very little of his mother. Despite her circumstances and what must have been her apparent shock at his unexpected return, she showed us a delightful smile. The loss of her husband was tempered by the return of her only child. She could barely take her eyes off of him and followed him around the yard like a puppy. Angel took great delight in meeting Mistress Hode, who fussed over the little mutt as if she were one of her own children.

  “Oh, Rob, where ever did you find such a sweet little girl?” his mother cooed, rubbing Angel on the belly.

  “A long story,” he said. “Mother, there’s folk here I need you to welcome. These two in particular have been with me since the Holy Land. Tristan is this scoundrel’s name, calls himself a squire to a Templar Knight, but I think it might be a tall tale he’s told,” Robard said with a twinkle in his eye. He might be angry and upset, but he was not about to forget his manners in front of his mother. He was trying to cheer her up and focus on something besides all the grief.

  “You’re a friend to my Robin boy?” she asked.

  “I am indeed, ma’am,” I said.

  “Then you are always welcome here,” she replied, touching me on the cheek with a tiny wrinkled hand.

  “Thank you, ma’am. You are most kind,” I said.

  Robard introduced his mother to Little John and Brother Tuck, and she was overjoyed to see Tuck in his friar’s robes. “It’s been far too long a time since we’ve had a man of God among us here in Sherwood,” she said. And when I explained that Tuck could neither speak nor hear, she reached out and patted him gently on the arm, as if it mattered not to her. She considered him a man of the church, and his presence was enough.

  Before Robard had even had a chance to introduce her, she took Maryam by the hands.

  “Poor lass. Why was it you were forced to travel so far with so many ruffians?”

  Maryam, for once, was at a loss for words. She tried to stammer out a reply, but Robard interrupted.

  “Mother, this is Maryam. We’ve been through some scrapes, the three of us, trying to get home. She can fight and I’ve seen her best more warriors than I can count. She’s saved my skin a dozen times. There’s a lot I need to tell you when there’s time.”

  “It’s fine, Rob,” his mother said. “I could tell when you looked at her the first time that you’re quite taken with the lass and her with you. A mother knows these things.”

  “What?” Robard burst out. “Oh no, it’s not like that. Maryam is. . She’s a. . I’m not taken. No ma’. .”

  “Really?” said Mistress Hode.

  “Really. .,” said Maryam, her eyes as sharp as her daggers. Robard stared at me helplessly. I only shrugged.

  Mistress Hode took Maryam by the hand again. “Lass, are you a Christian?”

  Maryam swallowed, then quietly answered, “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  “But my Rob says you’ve stood by him, fought at his side. This is true?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mistress Hode, it’s true. He’s a little rough around the edges sometimes, and he’s not quite as good with a longbow as he believes, but I’ve never met a braver or more loyal soul,” Maryam said.

  Mistress Hode beamed and pulled Maryam toward the house. “’Tis good enough for me. Come, lass, I mean no offense, but you’ve been riding hard for a long while and I’ll bet it’s been some time since you’ve had a proper bath. My maid will draw us water and we’ll have a nice chat. Allan, Will, there’s a bit of venison left up in the smokehouse. If you two wouldn’t mind, you might hunt us a roebuck for our evening meal, although Lord knows there’s not many deer left, with everyone as hungry as they are. We don’t have much,” she said to Maryam and Little John, “but we’ll feast this evening. Will, you and the rest to your jobs now. My Robin boy is home, and for one night at least, Sherwood will know no sorrow. Off with you!”

  Pulling Maryam behind her, Mistress Hode disappeared into the house with Angel at her heels. Will, Allan and the other men attended to everything needing to be done. They led the horses toward the pasture behind the barn. A large cook fire was lighted in the pit, and before long it was just Robard, Tuck, Little John and me standing in the yard.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now we give my mother her celebration. There’s been enough crying today. Tomorrow, I’ll ride to Nottingham and speak to this Shire Reeve.”

  “Robard. .”

  “No, Tristan. Enough talk. Look at the state of my home. If my father were alive, he’d die of disgrace. What of my poor mother having to live like this with the house and everything else falling down around her? Will and Allan have to scrape up whatever they can just to feed the hungry. We’ll have words, this Shire Reeve and I. Of that I assure you.”

  With that, Robard stalked off and disappeared behind the house.

  “I think young Hode is asking for trouble,” Little John remarked.

  “Yes, he needs to take leave and think. We’re in no shape to make another enemy of the Shire Reeve,” I said.

  “You’ll stand with him against the Reeve?” Little John asked.

  The breeze picked up just then and a small dusting of snow whipped up into the air and blew across the ground at us. I felt the wind cut through me, and if I had not been raised by Christian men, I would have thought it a sign, an omen of evil things to come. Despite my upbringing, for a moment I did think so. Something bad was coming our way.

  Little John, if he saw any of it, said nothing. I looked him in the eye. “All the way,” I said. “All the way.”

  20

  The celebration lasted late into the night. Given the circumstances, and not wanting to upset him, I avoided talking with Robard about his desire to seek out the man responsible for his father’s death. Will Scarlet came back with a deer he had shot in the forest. It was cleaned and cooked, and we enjoyed a spartan but delicious meal at Mistress Hode’s table. It was easy to see how much Robard enjoyed being home, and I cursed fate for taking his father from him and spoiling his return.

  I caught Maryam studying him carefully, knowing as did I how hot tempered and capable of rash acts he was. Yet as the night wore on, he appeared to relax somewhat, as if the edge of his anger had dulled, and when the time for sleep arrived, I thought perhaps he would have a clearer head come morning.

  Maryam had bathed and washed and combed her hair, and she wore a new tunic Mistress Hode had somehow found and altered to fit her. Her cloak had been washed and mended, and Maryam looked positively radiant. She laughed and joked with Robard and the men, and they obviously enjoyed her company, though it was evident she also made them nervous, as they remembered her skill with daggers.

  When our meal ended, Tuck, Little John and I made beds on the floor of the main room of the manor house, near the fireplace. We offered to sleep in the barn, but Mistress Hode would have none of it. Robard went to his room in the back of the house, and Will, Allan and the others departed for their own homes on the property. Maryam was given a bed in the upper level next to Mistress Hode’s sleeping quarters. We fell fast asleep. It had been an eventful day and we were all exhausted. Sleeping indoors, even on the hard floor, covered by the wa
rm quilts provided us, was a welcome treat.

  I’m not sure what awakened me in the early morning hours. My sleep was usually deep and undisturbed, but perhaps a creak of a floorboard or the whispered sound of clothing passing nearby brought me to my senses. The fire was a bed of coals and the orange light gave off a soft glow, lighting the room just enough to see dim shapes. I heard the snores of Tuck and John, then the front door creak slowly open and shut. I stood and investigated immediately. I had slept in my clothes, and only needed to buckle on my sword as I crept quietly through the house.

  When I stepped through the door, I scanned the yard to see who was about this hour and caught a glimpse of Robard heading into the barn where the horses were stabled. My suspicions were confirmed. He had not given up on his intention of confronting the Shire Reeve but hoped to sneak away. Doing so would prevent his mother, Maryam and me from trying to talk him out of it.

  The night air was cold and the ground was covered in thick frost. The half moon was low in the sky, so daybreak was still some hours away. A few flakes of snow flew about on the breeze, but the sky was clearing and cloudless toward the east.

  Following Robard to the barn, I made no attempt to keep silent. The three of us had been traveling for months, always on guard, ever alert for danger, and surprising a King’s Archer in the dead of night was never a good idea. He had closed the barn door behind him and I opened it and stepped inside. A small oil lamp burned from a hanger on a post near the horse stalls, but Robard was nowhere to be seen.

  “Robard?” I called out. He did not answer.

  “Robard, it’s me, Tristan. I know where you’re going. Don’t do it alone. Let’s talk about it first.” The barn remained silent.

  I stepped farther in and looked up at the loft where hay was stacked. I strained to see into the darkened corners but still did not find my friend. How had he disappeared?