“Robard, I know you can hear me. Believe me when I say I understand your feelings. We’ve both lost-” For a moment the words would not come as an image of the crosses lining the lane at St. Alban’s flooded my memory and grief briefly threatened to take over again.
“Just know I share your sorrow, but please, I beg of you, do not do this.”
There was another small door leading to the corral outside directly across from me, and I wondered for an instant if perhaps I had misjudged Robard’s intent. Maybe he had been unable to sleep and had merely gone for a walk to clear his head. But I discounted the thought; he would not have left a lamp burning where a fire could easily start.
Just as I was about to call out to him again, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped in fright. “Don’t do that-” I said, turning to face Robard. But before I could ask him where he thought he was going, his gloved fist shot out and connected solidly with my jaw, and I fell to the ground unconscious.
Something poked me in the chest and my eyes opened wide. “Robard, stop it. This is no time-” I looked up and found not Robard, but his mother, Little John, Maryam, Angel and Will all staring down at me. There was enough light to see them clearly, which meant it must be early morning. I sat up. Little John reached out to pull me to my feet.
“Where is my son?” his mother asked me as I rubbed my aching jaw.
“He’s gone?” I asked Will.
“Aye, he’s nowhere about, Master Tristan. We’ve looked everywhere,” Will answered.
“Where’s the tree?” Little John asked, smirking slightly at my bruised face.
“I beg your pardon?” I replied.
“The one you walked into. Looks like you took a nasty shot. Was it courtesy of your friend?”
“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “I heard him leaving the house early this morning. I worried he was on his way to Nottingham. Tried to stop him, but he sneaked up on me and knocked me out. I don’t know how long he’s been gone.”
“What a fool. When I get my hands on him. .” Maryam stopped, her cheeks coloring, remembering Robard’s mother.
“No worries, lass. He takes after his father, he does. Stubborn as a stump he was, and Rob is a bit of the bark off the same tree. .” Mistress Hode shook her head and clasped her hands together in worry. “He can’t stand against the Shire Reeve, foolish boy. He has fifty bailiffs if he has one. What am I going to do?” Tears formed in her eyes, and my heart melted in my chest. In just the short time I’d known her, I’d seen her love and kindness go out to everyone she knew and met. Her son’s homecoming had brought her great joy after what must have been horrible months of loneliness and sorrow. Robard was my friend in fact and brother in spirit, if not in blood. Right then I decided I would bring him back to her. Alive.
“Don’t you worry, Mistress Hode. We’ll go fetch him.”
I reached out to put my hand on her shoulder and she instead took me in a fierce embrace, her small head buried in my chest. The thick wool of my cloak muffled her sobs. “Dear God in heaven, thank you, boy. Please do. Bring him back to me.”
“Will, we’ll need you to lead us there, if you agree.” I looked at him. From what I’d seen of him in our short time together, he’d be someone I’d want on my side in a fight. This was his territory, and Allan and the others would look to him before they ever followed me.
“Aye, lad. I know the way. And if you’re willing to lead, I’m with you. Allan and the rest of the thane’s men will follow too, once I tell ’em ’tis so. We’ll fight for Robard and Mistress Hode and any other of our folk. Me and the boys, we did all right floatin’ through Sherwood and pinchin’ a purse or two. But you’re a soldier, and if we face the Shire Reeve, then I beg you to do the thinkin’.”
“All right then,” I said. “Thank you, Will. If you’ll see to your men? The rest of us will make ready.” Will left the barn on the run.
“Little John, I know you and Robard had your differences and this certainly isn’t your fight. But if you’re willing, we sure could use your help.”
Little John stroked his thick beard, his staff held in one giant hand. For a moment, I thought he would beg off and take to the road again, which would certainly be his right. But then he smiled. “Why not? I’m already a wanted man. What’s a few more laws broken?” With a twinkle in his eye, he patted Robard’s mother gently on the head. “Besides, don’t tell him, but I’ve taken a liking to young Robard. He’s got spunk, he does. Might get all riled up now and then, but he’s a fighter. I’m in.”
“Excellent. Let’s get the horses saddled and be on our way. Mistress Hode, would you be kind enough to fetch Brother Tuck? I’ll want him along with us.”
In a few minutes we had the horses fed and watered and saddled. While we waited for Will’s return, Maryam took time to sharpen her daggers on a whetstone in the barn. Robard had left Sir Thomas’ battle sword behind and I lent it to John. He drew it from the scabbard and swung it once or twice, and it looked like a toy in his hand. Angel paced back and forth nervously in the yard, as if she knew Robard was missing. Tuck came to the barn with Mistress Hode and we walked our horses out to the yard, waiting for Will and the others. They arrived a few moments later.
“Tristan,” Mistress Hode said to me as we all mounted up and prepared to ride. “You be right careful. Robard’s father ran afoul of this man the first day he met him. He’s vain, vicious and evil, he is. His name is William Wendenal and you will find no viler a creature on God’s earth. Watch your step, young squire, we’re about to run out of men here in Sherwood. Take care, now, and bring my Robard home.”
“We’ll be careful,” I said, telling her not to worry as we rode away.
After all, I thought as the faces of Sir Hugh, the Queen Mother, Richard the Lionheart and the High Counsel of Languedoc crossed my thoughts, standing against the vain and evil was apparently my specialty.
21
Nottingham was a smaller, more compact version of Dover. The difference was accentuated by Nottingham’s location here in the dense, wooded north country, whereas Dover lay by the coast, making it appear even larger with the sea as a backdrop. Nottingham still had a good-size marketplace and lots of shops and other buildings clustered together in a center square. But as we had seen in other towns and villages along our journey north, hard times had come here as well, and there wasn’t the level of activity and commerce you might expect. It was quiet, with only a few vendors visible in the square and small groups of people milling about.
“What day is it, Will?” I asked.
“I don’t rightly know, my lord. We tend to lose track of ’em out here in the woods. We’ve no priest at Sherwood now, and we can’t even keep track of the Holy Days, may the saints forgive us,” he said.
“I’m sure they have already, Will. I just wondered if it might be Sunday. And please stop calling me ‘lord.’ I’m most definitely not a noble.” He smiled and shrugged and stared down at the town. We would draw unneeded attention if we rode into town on the Sabbath carrying weapons and bristling for a fight. But there appeared to be enough people about to indicate it was not a Sunday.
“Where will we find the Shire Reeve?” I asked. “And is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“He keeps at the constabulary. It’s here in the tall tower near the center of town and the jail is next to it. He came here straight from Prince John’s court, ’tis told,” Will said, pointing out the building. “Like the mistress said, he’s a vile man, vain and pompous when you meet him. That’s all I can tell you, sire. Except if he catches any one of me or the boys, we’ll dangle from the rope for certain.”
“Let’s try not to let that happen then. Something tells me we’ll find Robard at the constabulary,” I said. “Onward.”
We cantered down the rise and into the village. The few people on the streets paid us little mind, and we stopped and dismounted outside a small inn about fifty yards away from the jail. Sure enough, Robard’s horse was tied to a hitching pos
t right outside the building.
“How many bailiffs does the Shire Reeve have available to him, Will?” I asked.
“I don’t rightly know, lad. ’Tis many more of ’em than us,” he said. “I expect with times as hard as they are, a lot of men are signin’ on, working for food and board.”
Another ideal situation, I thought. We were outnumbered and I was in unfamiliar territory. Straightening my tunic, I reached into my satchel, removing Sir Thomas’ ring and slipping it onto my finger. I stomped what mud I could from my boots and pulled my sword forward on my belt, trying to make myself presentable.
“What are you going to do?” Maryam asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “You wait here. Try to draw as little attention as possible. Little John, if you would, position the men across the street from the jail and keep a sharp eye. Will, it’s best if you and your men look disinterested. Don’t string any bows or nock any arrows yet, but be ready. Robard has probably been thrown in jail already, and I’m going to have to get him out-one way or another. Maryam, you stay with John and watch the door. If I’m not out in a reasonable amount of time, the two of you had best enter the constabulary and. . help. Come on, Angel,” I said. She sat up and, although tired from her long and vigorous trek, eagerly loped along beside me.
Walking down the street, I attempted to appear important and determined, in case anyone was observing my approach. The front door of the constabulary was unguarded, and I entered without knocking. Inside I found a dim room, with meager light coming from two windows on either side of the door. The walls held oil lamps, but the plank wood floor and lack of any furniture or decorations gave the room a dismal, fearful quality.
“Hello!” I shouted out.
A hallway led away from the main room, and the sound of footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. A few seconds later, a tall, thin man entered. He was splendidly dressed, with a purple velvet tunic, immaculate white leggings and a dark red cape draped around his shoulders. His eyes were ice blue, and his beard was neatly trimmed and flecked with gray. It was hard to guess his age, but he had the appearance of confidence. If this was the Shire Reeve, he would not be easily persuaded.
He stared at me in total disdain but did not speak.
“I seek the Shire Reeve of Nottingham,” I said.
“You have found him,” he said.
“Ah, thank you, sire,” I said. “I’m Tristan of St. Alban’s of the Poor Fellow Soldiers of Christ and King Solomon’s Temple and I-”
“You’re a Knight of the Temple?” he sneered, hardly believing me. Angel, sitting at my side, let out a low growl. I shushed her, and he glanced down and blanched, as if I’d committed a mortal sin by bringing a dog into his constabulary.
“Oh no, sire, not a knight, certainly. I’m a squire, actually, but I’ve been sent here on a matter of utmost urgency to the Order. I’m in pursuit of a man,” I said, spinning my web.
“And how does this concern me?” he asked.
“Well, sire, his name is Robard Hode, of Sherwood Forest. He has recently returned home from distinguished service in the Crusades and. . may I have your name, sire?” I asked.
The man sniffed. “My name is William Wendenal. And your Robard Hode arrived here but a short while ago, making many wild accusations. He was subdued by my bailiffs and now resides in my jail. I hardly believe such a ruffian would be of any interest to the Order.”
“I understand, sire, I rightly do. And from what I’ve heard he is a hot-tempered sort. But there’s Order business involving Master Hode I must see to. I’ve a letter here from my knight, Sir Thomas Leux. It asks anyone whom I encounter for their assistance, with the thanks and praise of the Templar Knights.” I removed Sir Thomas’ letter from my satchel, hoping the oilskin had preserved it well enough that it was still readable. Why hadn’t I checked it before I came in? But there was no time now. I handed it to Wendenal with Sir Thomas’ ring showing on my finger. I sincerely hoped it would be enough to convince him I was a legitimate servante of the Order.
It was not.
“Do you take me for a fool, boy?” he sneered, shoving the parchment back at me without even reading it.
“I assure you, sire, I do not,” I replied with as much earnestness as I could muster.
“Good. Then you will understand perfectly well when I tell you I have no intention of releasing my prisoner to you.” He thrust Sir Thomas’ letter into my hand.
“That is most unfortunate, sire. What can I do to convince you of the seriousness of this matter?” I pleaded.
“Nothing. Now, take your dog and leave or I shall have my bailiffs escort you out.”
With a heavy sigh, I rolled up Sir Thomas’ parchment letter and returned it to the satchel.
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you, sire,” I said. “However, if I may have one more moment of your time.” The Shire Reeve already had turned his back to me. When he looked over his shoulder, his eyes flew open wide at the sight of my sword mere inches from his neck.
“What is the meaning of this!” he demanded.
“I’m afraid I must insist you take me to the prisoner at once.”
22
Don’t make a sound,” I said. “Do not alert your bailiffs or so help me you will lose an ear.” I kept my voice low. Angel stood and growled, moving quickly to the hallway and sniffing the air.
“Quiet, girl,” I said to her.
“You are a fool,” the Shire Reeve whispered. “My bailiffs-”
I pushed the sword closer to his neck and his words died in his throat.
“One sound from you, a shout, even a heavy sigh and I will run you through,” I said. “Do you understand me, sire? This can be over quickly, with no harm done if you pay attention. How many bailiffs are on duty in the jail?”
“I won’t tell you any-” he stammered, but another jab from my sword persuaded him to speak the truth. “There are two. Only two.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Now, you will turn and walk silently down the hallway. You will take us directly to Master Hode and you will not call out or warn anyone, is that clear?”
“You won’t-”
“Is that clear!?” I said through clenched teeth, moving the sword ever closer to his throat.
With exaggerated care, William Wendenal, the Shire Reeve of Nottingham, turned and walked down the hallway. Angel took the lead, her nose constantly working the air, and I followed behind him, my sword point pressed against the small of his back. The hallway was as spartan as the room we had just left. Over the Shire Reeve’s shoulder I could see light ahead as it led to a bigger room, which must be the jail.
Angel gave a low whine and I assumed it was because she smelled men ahead, or perhaps she had caught Robard’s scent. I shushed her and we kept moving forward.
“I have the authority to hang you for this,” Wendenal said.
“Sire, there is a long list of people far more powerful than you who have threatened to hang me, and yet I’m still here. Be silent.”
The walk down the hallway took an eternity. With every step I second-guessed myself. My heart was hammering in my chest as we stepped into a large room with stone walls and a series of iron-barred cells along the rear wall. Two bailiffs sat at a large table to my left. At first they didn’t understand the situation, but once they observed my sword pointed at the back of the Shire Reeve, they jumped to their feet, drawing their own blades.
“The first of you to move against me will have your reeve’s blood on his hands,” I said as calmly as I could.
They stood stock-still. When I chanced a glance at the cells, my heart sank, then pounded with rage. There were three of them, each nearly ten feet on a side. And they were full of men, at least ten or fifteen in each cage. They were dirty and ragged, and their smell nearly overwhelmed me. They were so crowded together there was barely room for any of them to move.
“What have these men done to be treated so?” I demanded.
“They have refused or proved
unable to pay their properly levied taxes to the crown,” the Shire Reeve insisted.
“My God. And you think you’ve the right to lock them up like animals?” I nearly cried.
“They have broken the law. There is-”
“Enough!” I interrupted him.
I couldn’t spot Robard through the crowded cells. They were too full of men. But Angel found him. She barged forward to the center cell and wormed her way through the bars. Startled, the men inside moved aside as she ran to Robard, who was sitting against the rear wall. He was in bad shape. He appeared to have been beaten severely and sat with his head slumped forward on his chest, but when Angel jumped into his lap, he raised his head and gazed at me through swollen eyes.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” he groaned.
“Can you stand? Walk?” I asked.
He nodded and two men in his cell helped him to his feet.
“Sorry about your jaw,” he said.
“Don’t worry. Maryam hits harder than you.” I laughed as I spoke, and so did he. And it might be true: Maryam did hit awfully hard.
Watching him limp slowly toward the door, my blood boiled. If I had not sworn to obey the Templar Code, I would have struck down the Shire Reeve, defenseless or not.
“Instruct your men to unlock the cells,” I ordered.
I expected token resistance or another warning of the rope awaiting me, but Wendenal shrugged toward the bailiff with a large set of iron keys on his belt, and he obediently opened the middle cell door.
“Come, Robard, we have places to be,” I said.
“A moment, Tristan,” he said as he walked through the door of his cell. I thought the bailiff might strike him down, but with another glance in my direction he stayed his hand. Robard snatched away first his sword and then the keys.
As quickly as his weakened state would allow, he unlocked the remaining cell doors.
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