by M. C. Frank
Gently, for he could not bring himself to use force on her, but determinedly, he shook her off. She seemed about to fall without his support, but he tried to harden his heart, and clenched his fist at his side, forbidding himself to touch her.
“There is nothing to say, my lady,” he said, “except perhaps if I were to once more offer you my profuse apologies. We were under a false impression, it seems. Forgive us, pray.”
“No! Don’t leave, please, you must know that I would never betray you, master, you must know that everything I have ever told you was the truth!” her tears were threatening to spill over and she stretched out her arms pleadingly towards him.
Robin wondered absently why there were no soldiers coming yet and why the driver did not turn on them, since no one was covering him anymore. But he couldn’t think of anything with clarity, except for the girl who was begging him to believe her.
“Indeed, m’ lady, pray do not be distressed. All there ever was between us to be said has been said this very day by the testimony of the crest on your carriage. Do you deny it?” he raised his brow questioningly, waiting to see what she would say.
“No, no I do not, but confess, dear master, you would never be able to trust me, to let me help you if you knew I was the Sheriff’s daughter, would you?”
She looked expectantly up to him, her eyes hopeful, but he was at a loss for words. Reeling between the shock of being called ‘dear master’ and learning that she was his very enemy’s daughter all in one breath, he reached out a hand to a nearby tree for support. He leaned against it, closing his eyes in pain, and hoping to awake from this nightmarish dream.
In a moment, however, her soft voice brought him back to the harsh reality.
“I was ever faithful to you, master Robin, and will ever be. In your heart you know it, I’m sure.” She turned to Matt. “And you too, Matt. I do not myself understand the circumstances that brought me here today, but I assure you nothing is changed. My loyalties are with the rightful King of England, and with you. I should have told you the truth, I see that now, only I didn’t want to lose... All I wanted was to offer you an ally from within. All I wanted was to help your cause.”
Robin sank down at the root of the tree, in defeat, but Rosa went on, not daring to approach him, but not wanting to leave him alone with his doubts either.
“Can you deny it, good Robin, that everything I’ve ever told you, every piece of information I have brought over from the castle has been true? Have I ever caused you to go astray or led you to a trap?”
He seemed to be looking away in the distance, but she knew he was listening to her. He must believe her, he must. That was all she could think of.
“Persuade me,” he said after a short silence. His voice was quiet, weak, for he had lost all hope, but he so desperately wanted to believe her.
“What?”
“I said, persuade me. Tell me why I should believe you. Show me a reason, a fact, anything I will not be able to doubt, and I will believe you were true.”
Rosa studied him; the way his dark hair fell in disarray over his brow, his sudden pallor, the strong hands clenching and unclenching in agony.
And then she knew. She knew what she must do.
She drew herself up and summoning up the last of her courage she spoke as calmly as she could.
“What would be the use?” she said. “I have broken bread with you, I have faced danger at your side, I have cried with you, I have ridden alone to you through this forest. And still you will not believe me. Even if I had this fact that you ask of me, I would not want to be believed for that, but for my own sake. I know you have had to be very careful and to mistrust many who have wished you harm over the years. And I know I have lied to you and for this I am sorry. But if you cannot trust your own heart, then what hope is there? For you, for me, or for your men? Or for this land, indeed…” with this, she turned to go, letting the tears flow unhindered on her cheeks.
As she walked blindly back to the carriage, she stumbled. She would have fallen, too, for she did not care enough to pull herself up, but Robin leapt to his feet as soon as he saw that she had difficulty walking straight and he had caught her before he realized what a mistake that was. For now he didn’t want to let her go, ever.
He held her tightly to him for an instant, his finger brushing away her tears before he could stop himself.
“I need to believe you so badly, Rose,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. “Please.”
“I need you to believe me, too,” she said simply, tears still flowing.
“Do not cry so, I can’t bear it,” he said and his voice broke.
She looked up to him, eyes luminous, lips moist, and he suddenly realized how much power this slip of a girl had over him.
“You have me under your spell,” he said hoarsely, fighting with himself to release her.
He forced himself to let her go when he saw that she wouldn’t say anything more, taking this as a proof of her guilt, and was not surprised at the sudden chill he felt when she was out of his touch.
She bent to let the steps down and mounted without a word. The driver started the horses as if on cue and they went on, leaving the two men behind them to become two insignificant shadows, immobile in the sunshine.
As soon as they reached a clearing not a mile down the road, the groom turned the team around once more, clumsily like before. But this time Rosa didn’t even notice.
It was only when she saw that they were arriving back at the castle, a bit later, that she began to suspect what her hurried ‘visit’ had been all about.
Was it possible that her father had sent her into the forest for the express purpose of uncovering her secret? But how had he got wind of it? That however would explain the strange groom’s inaction all the while she was talking to Robin. He must have been summoned as a witness. At any rate, she thought, I will find out soon enough.
But she didn’t.
All she found was two guards roughly shaking her door open and lifting her brutally out as soon as they arrived at the courtyard.
Under the hateful stare of her father, the guards bound her hands in a thick iron chain and dragged her, best gown and all, into the prison. She hit her head hard when they threw her into a cell two stories under the ground and lost consciousness for an indefinite period of time.
When they revived her, she had no way of knowing what time of day it was, for she was in almost complete darkness. And the only reason they had aroused her was to try and glean from her the information they wanted about the band of outlaws. Her father was there too, screaming at her that he knew it for a fact that she was privy to the camp’s location.
A certain informant of his had seen her coming and going, he said. Rosa lifted her chin in defiance, although her head still ached horribly. Her father signaled to the guards and they picked her up from the foul-smelling floor of the dungeon by force, dragging her through narrow hallways.
They took her to the torture chamber.
CHAPTER 6
THE DUNGEON
Robin and Matt were left standing motionless, staring into the distance until the carriage bearing the traitorous girl disappeared, both their minds reeling with the catastrophic possibilities of what they had only now discovered.
They knew not how long they stood there. The morning sun, filtered through thick leaves, was sending haphazard shadows on them at different angles, and the hour grew late but their boots were seemingly rooted to the ground, until Robin suddenly shook himself to life. The urgency of their situation hit him with full force and he started running, his step brisk and decided, back where they had come from. Matt followed him, still dazed.
They reached the almost deserted camp shortly and Robin belatedly realized that in his haste to hurry back he had forgotten to give the signal for danger. This was unlike him, to lose his calm at the face of danger. He took out his horn and blew for all he was worth.
Not surprisingly, Little John was the first to
arrive, sweating and panting, his brow furrowed anxiously.
“You all right, chief?” he shouted from a distance.
“I am, old friend, but I doubt I will be for very long.”
Something in his leader’s dejected look and sad eyes told Little John sooner than Robin’s words ever could that they were in serious trouble.
“Let me slay them, whoever it is, chief, I beg of you,” he cried vehemently, his hand reaching for his sword.
Robin laughed mirthlessly and dropped on the grass. He suddenly felt bone-weary.
“Save your strength to defend yourself and your mates, John,” he replied. “You will need it.”
The men were slowly beginning to gather around them, their lips silent and set at the solemnity of the situation, as they saw it depicted on their leader’s face. Robin surveyed them while trying to find the words to tell them that they were all lost. He hadn’t made very good work of protecting them, after all.
Slowly the rest of the outlaws arrived, the ones who could not move at the great pace the robbers had. Robin sighed. This was getting harder by the minute. The outlaws gathered around him, fearful eyes lifted to his, and he stood to face them.
“Good men of Sherwood forest,” he said finally, when he could delay no longer. “We have this very day been betrayed.”
Silence cold as death met his words. He hung his head with shame.
“I cannot spare the time or the strength to give you all the details of the circumstances, for even now the Sheriff’s men are upon us, making their way to this part of the forest: the path that leads to us is no longer a secret to them. I am afraid the fault was all mine, but more on that later. The traitor must have reached the enemy already,” he added, tasting the word ‘traitor’ on his lips and finding it sour.
His men were watching him, not one daring to raise a question, observing the set of his mouth, the darkness of his brow.
“We will, right now, gather only our cloaks and flee to another part of the forest. See that those who need help to move will be aided swiftly, for there is no time to lose. Everything else, even our gold,” he went on as he saw the silent objection forming in Little John’s eyes, “will be left here, as we value it far less than our own lives. We may return on the morrow to inspect the damage.”
The men started moving reluctantly but urgently and filed out of the clearing. John, too. Left alone, Robin stared at the empty space, his heart hollow like a cave, his throat hoarse with unuttered screams.
…
Rosa didn’t know how time went by in the tiny cell. She didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. She had no name. Her whole body was a mass of pain, blood and bruises. At first she pictured Robin’s face while they tortured and questioned her and struck her. But not any more. Even that was too much effort. Even that hurt too much.
All she could think of any more was, I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to die in the darkness. Please let me die in the sunlight, beneath the trees.
Then, in the agonies of constant pain, fading in and out of consciousness, struggling to breathe, she forgot even that.
…
Robin stayed up all night. All his senses were alert to any noise, however faint, that would signal danger. He watched and listened and blamed himself all night long, refusing to think about her.
When finally morning came, the sun reaching their new hiding-place from the east, he got to his feet impatiently.
He only took Little John with him. John had asked no questions until now, but somehow he could sense that his friend’s despair went beyond their immediate danger. Now he saw that Robin could hardly contain himself until he went back to their camp and though he knew it was greatly unwise, he didn’t hesitate a moment to follow him.
As they approached with careful, silent steps, the place seemed eerily calm to their suspicious ears. After a while, however, they could not doubt that there was absolutely no sign of a nocturnal visit. Every little stone, every blade of grass seemed to be in the exact place it had been when the company hurriedly left the day before.
If only to be sure, John walked to the small cave they had carved inside a hollow in the ground to shelter their acquired gold in. It was all there, untouched by brutal hands. They inspected every inch, the men’s tents, the animals’ stalls. If there had been any visitors surely there would remain some mark of their presence behind. But there was nothing.
“This is unlike you, chief,” John said matter-of-factly, plopping down by the remains of an old fire.
“What is?” Robin asked absently, his mind still trying to fathom the meaning of this.
“The false alarm. This… warning without a cause.”
“Who says it was without a cause?” he spun angrily around.
John laughed.
“This is rich, Robbie,” he shouted with mirth, but for once Robin didn’t share in.
“You may enjoy your throat while it is still in its proper place,” he said dryly, but there was bitterness in his voice that made John stop laughing and sit up.
“Will you tell me?” he asked simply.
Robin sighed tiredly.
“It was Rose,” he said. “Matt and I held up her carriage while she was riding through the forest.”
“Her what? The little country maid? That Rose?”
Robin laughed harshly.
“She was riding a carriage with the Sheriff’s coat of arms painted on the door. Turns out she’s his daughter.”
“What! But he has no daughter.”
“Well, he used to, and then they said she was ill or died. Apparently, she did not. Mayhap he was scheming this the whole time he kept her hidden.”
Silence fell between the two men. Each was lost in his own thoughts for several long moments. Then,
“Rosa.” John said. “Rosa Fitzwalter. That was her name, I think; I’ve been racking my brains to remember it. Spanish like, or something. They said her mother was kin to the king, but she, too disappeared. He could have killed her, couldn’t he?”
“Rose, Rosa. It was right before our eyes the whole time, wasn’t it?” Robin said mournfully. “I was such a fool, John. Such a desperate fool.”
“She found her way to all our hearts, chief,” John said quietly. “It wasn’t only yours. But…”
“What?”
“I can’t imagine how it was for you when you found out.”
Robin didn’t speak for a long minute.
“I died,” he said.
John simply nodded.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “There’s something that doesn’t quite fit, Robbie,” he went on in a minute, “I don’t think we have it quite right.”
“What is there to mistake?”
“Well, for one thing, she didn’t seem the traitorous type, if you know what I mean. Her eyes were too honest for that.”
“Too honest or too pretty?” Robin asked, speaking more to himself than to him. “Too damn beautiful and she blinded me.”
“We were not all besotted,” John said indignantly, “and we would have seen something, if there was anything to be seen. She was clear, I tell you, through and through. There wasn’t a mean bone in her whole body. She would have died for us, if need be, I always had the impression. For you she certainly would.”
Robin was silent, wordlessly defying his words.
“And then,” John went on, “she always helped us, didn’t she? And at great risk to herself too, I think.”
“It must not have been too dangerous for her, traipsing around with the Sheriff’s men ready to leap to her defense if the outlaws dared to reach a hand to her,” Robin said sarcastically.
“Yet we never had even a glimpse of them, strange isn’t it?”
Robin didn’t answer this time either.
“Couldn’t she be faithful to the king, perhaps?” John went on, relentlessly. “He is after all, her kinsman. And now that I think of it, Robbie, wasn’t the dagger Will found in his hands silver and-”
“It’s
useless,” Robin cut him abruptly. “I want it as much as you; I wish it even more, to prove her innocence. To believe her. I turned it over and over in my head all night. But it’s no use. She practically admitted it to me herself. She denied it at first, of course, but when I pressed her for answers, she had none to give me. She was what she was and we were the fools. Let’s hope we will not be dead fools, too.”
“Then how do you explain this?” John said, stretching his arms in the sunshine.
The deserted camp looked friendlier and calmer than ever and overhead the birds were chirping undisturbed. Robin didn’t know how to answer him.
…
Sometime in the darkness Rosa awoke to a cool cloth pressed against her throbbing temples. She didn’t know whether it was morning, noon or night. All she knew was the darkness. She tried to lift her eyelids open, but it was too painful, so she gave up.
“Wake up, mistress, open your eyes,” a hearty voice said, a voice that brought to mind sunlight and mouth-watering aromas and warmth in the kitchen hearth; but everything around it was obscure and diluted and it was too much trouble to concentrate.
“Come on, miss,” the voice went on, persistent. “You can’t let them win. We won’t let them win. Open your eyes, ‘tis I, Martha, the kitchen maid.”
“And Helena,” another, even more familiar voice said.
“And Jo,” added the stable boy.
“You would not let us die this winter, mistress, and neither will we now.” Martha seemed to be the bravest of the three, so they let her do all the talking.
Rosa felt something pressed against her lips and opened them obediently. The light broth she swallowed was so warm and beneficial to her aching body, that she almost forgot the pain. She opened her eyes with difficulty and looked at the kind faces that were bent over hers anxiously. She found out that she was laying on the ground as before, but it was no longer cold and unbearably hard to her tortured body. She was covered with a thick blanket that hadn’t been there before, her wounds tended to roughly, and she wasn’t bleeding anymore.
