Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1)

by M. C. Frank

  “I can’t help but hate her, you know. Thinking how Joanna would be, and comparing and…”

  “I don’t know that you can’t help it, Julian,” Robin answered after Julian’s sentence trailed into silence.

  “Oh, but I can’t,” Julian said and got up abruptly. In a minute, he had disappeared into the darkness ahead.

  Robin sighed and got up too. It had hit him hard, Julian’s story, and he needed to walk for a couple of minutes to cool his head. He had only reached the fringe of the thick bush behind him and Alan’s melody was fading in his ears, sweet and sad, when he heard a sob. He squinted into the darkness and saw a slight figure on the ground.

  “Rosa?” he whispered as he approached her quickly.

  As soon as they had arrived back at the camp, he had done his best to avoid her and to go back to his previous mode, but he found that the kiss they had exchanged had widened the hole in his chest instead of satisfying him temporarily as he had thought it would. He went to Paul and told him to dress her blisters properly and had not spoken to her since.

  But now, seeing her crouched at the root of the tree like this, sitting alone in the darkness and hearing her distress, he didn’t think twice before he reached her and took her in his arms.

  And then she was crying against his chest, her arms folded against him, her narrow frame wracked by sobs, her tears saturating his tunic. His heart ached for her pain, whatever it was, but he couldn’t help being glad also, in a perverse kind of way, that she was once more where she belonged, in his arms.

  He held her and stroked her back murmuring comforting words until her sobs calmed a little, and then he peered at her face trying to decide what was the matter.

  “Tell me,” he said simply.

  Then he looked at her again more carefully as she tried to wipe her cheeks, although new tears were coursing down them, and he knew.

  “You heard everything,” he said, not asking.

  She nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and her voice was husky with tears, “I didn’t mean to, but I was coming to sit with you all, and I heard him talking and I turned to go back because I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but I couldn’t go, I wanted to hear the story, and then he came to you and said…”

  “I know,” Robin interrupted her, “I know.”

  He lifted a finger to her eye, wiping away a freshly-fallen tear and folded her again in his arms, trying to still her trembling.

  “Shhh,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

  “It’s not that he hates me,” she said, her voice sounding muffled, “it’s not that, I felt that from the first moment, and I know there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “That what is it?” Robin asked, confused.

  “That girl, Joanna,” Rosa said. “I don’t know why, but I’m crying for that dead little girl.”

  …

  In two day’s time, Rosa’s hands were sufficiently healed for her to be able to handle a bow again. She didn’t want to wait any longer, for she feared she would forget the little she had already learned. She waited for her lesson with much anticipation, but was rather disappointed when Robin was completely businesslike and serious with her. Although he proved himself to be a gentle and patient teacher, the warmth they had shared that first day of lessons was completely gone.

  She tried to tell herself that she didn’t care, that all that mattered was that she was with him, but it really hurt her and it puzzled her, why he was blowing hot one day and cold the next.

  In later days she thought that if she had known what was to follow that second archery lesson, she would have made the most of it. She would have savored every single moment of Robin simply being beside her, and she wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to decipher his attitude towards her, but would simply have enjoyed his presence.

  As it was, however, she had no idea of the grief that was in store for them both, and concentrated on her lesson as if there were a million more to come.

  In the afternoon she sat with Gilbert, Paul and Will, who insisted she help them with the upcoming feast, since a woman’s touch was much needed and would be extremely appreciated. She wasn’t exactly sure of that, but she threw herself in the plans with energy and started trying to explain to them why a feast -even one meant for a band of men- would be absolutely unthinkable without flower decorations.

  She was in the middle of a heated argument with Little John, who had happened to walk by and accidentally heard the word “winter roses”, which he then couldn’t pass by without a comment, when Much, who was on guard duty that day, flew in the camp to announce that a rider was circling an area near the camp as if “looking for trouble.”

  Robin took a few of his men to investigate.

  They came back but a few minutes later, with a black horse in their midst; a black horse, its fur slick with sweat, with a black-clad rider on top.

  “Wait there,” Rosa heard Robin’s voice commanding his men as she turned to take a better look at the visitor.

  She hadn’t had time to discern his features, although she was pretty sure she had recognized him already, when Robin reached her in a few wide strides and was suddenly bending towards her, his expression anxious as she had rarely seen it. He stood before her so that she was concealed from the stranger by his back, and his black eyes were studying her intensely, as they so often did.

  “Look discreetly,” he told her in a low voice, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder, “so that he doesn’t see you. Do you know him? He says he knows you.”

  “I do,” Rosa said, “and he does. He’s Sir Hugh DeHavenger, my father’s…”

  “I know who he is,” Robin said impatiently, and squatted down in front of her.

  “Will you do something for me?” he asked.

  “Anything,” she answered immediately.

  “I don’t ask that often of you,” Robin began tentatively, as if he was afraid she would refuse. “But I am asking it now. Will you please go and hide somewhere with…” he looked around quickly. “With Will,” he finished. His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to understand.

  “Of course I will do what you say, master,” she replied at once, worried by his urgent expression. “What troubles you?”

  A fleeting smile crossed his face at her concern.

  “I don’t like this,” he said. “The man comes straight from your father’s house, yet he speaks of you as though you were dead. He seems angry, furious… I don’t know what they are playing at this time, and I want you out of the way until I find out.”

  He looked at her for a minute, holding onto her arm when she would have gotten up.

  “I swear you shall be safe, although I can’t come with you,” he said. “You… you are not afraid?”

  “Only for you, master,” she replied.

  He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss on it. He lifted his eyes to her face and was gone.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE DUEL

  Will took Rosa to her cabin, which was some distance from the clearing, and they settled down to wait.

  Meanwhile, at a nod from Robin, Sir Hugh was alighting from his horse, his eyes gleaming hatred and his long cloak billowing about him.

  He did not make an attempt to draw his sword, but neither did the men disarm him. Robin had said not to. The man had simply asked to talk to him, and he was willing to show him a certain amount of goodwill.

  “What can I do for you this fine evening, Sir Hugh?” Robin asked in his sweetest, sarcastic voice.

  “Only this,” Sir Hugh answered, folding his hands across his chest.

  “Let’s hear it,” Robin said under his breath as the other cleared his throat dramatically.

  “I have come,” Sir Hugh finally said, “to duel with you, Robin whom they call of the Hood, to the death. Do you accept my challenge?”

  With this, he at last drew his long sword out of its sheath.

  The men rushed to detain him.

 
; Robin suppressed a laugh.

  “Who do you think you are, Sir Hugh DeHavenger, coming here and demanding a duel you have no chances of winning, from a man you’ve never met before, for a reason that God only knows?” he said, all in one breath.

  The men cheered.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Sir Hugh replied, not losing his calm, “you fight me all the same and if you get out of it alive, you’ll try to find out the answers to all these questions.”

  Robin had by now realized that this was not an enemy to be thought of lightly, and that in contrast to his colleague the Sheriff, this man had brains and courage to boot.

  He stretched his arm and one of the men put his sword in his fist wordlessly. He raised an eyebrow at Sir Hugh.

  “Was there ever any doubt that I would accept?” he asked mockingly.

  “Seems to me we wouldn’t stand here talking if there wasn’t,” Sir Hugh answered in the same tone.

  And they began.

  …

  Rosa tried to sit still for all of five minutes, and then her patience was at an end. She looked inquiringly up at Will and he winced in sympathy. He, too, was sitting quietly, but it was obvious he was straining his ears, trying to hear what was happening at the other side of the clearing.

  They had heard cheering and shouting at first, but now all was silent. After a couple more minutes had passed, neither of them could stand it any longer.

  “Do you think I should go, see what’s happening?” Will asked her, hesitating.

  “I think you had better,” she answered quickly.

  “But if Robin should say that I was supposed to…”

  “Just take a quick look around, see if they are gone, for I can no longer hear them.”

  He nodded, persuaded.

  In a minute, he was gone, his light step silent as he ran through the forest.

  More than a quarter of an hour passed and he was not back yet.

  She went after him.

  Rosa heard the clanging of the swords long before she had the first glimpse of the scene. All was silent, except for the sound of metal upon metal. Robin and Sir Hugh were fighting with all their might, their hair matted with sweat, their lips pursed in grim determination, their legs swift and agile, their sword-carrying arms strong and steady.

  A bright streak of red ran down Sir Hugh’s left cheek, starting on his forehead and dripping on his eyebrows, threatening to blind his vision. Robin’s right sleeve was torn, but he seemed as fresh and cheerful as if he had had a long night’s sleep right in the middle of the duel. Sir Hugh, on the contrary, the heavier and older man of the two, was quickly tiring, but hid it well. His eyes were steely, full of hatred and revenge.

  He seemed to have aged since she had last seen him, to have somehow changed. His cheeks were more sunken, his grey-blue eyes dripping ice, his lips thinner than ever. And he had always been clothed in black, but today his garments seemed to reflect something dark that was lurking deep into his soul.

  He looks like he is in pain, she realized. And not from the cut on his brow.

  She stepped forward to take a better look at him, her heart filled with sudden sympathy.

  No one had noticed her until then, for the men -including Will- were standing all around the dueling men, watching mesmerized the expert footwork, the artful strokes, the exceptional skill of their every move. They did not speak, they did not cheer. They stood in silence, hardly daring to breathe, suspense hanging in the air like thick fog.

  She wasn’t very far from the first row of watching men, when she suddenly caught Sir Hugh’s eye.

  Perhaps because she was the only moving thing around them, or maybe because she was briefly in his line of vision and she was looking so intently at him, his eye strayed from his opponent for a mere split second and found hers. Immediately he stopped short.

  He gripped his sword again in a heartbeat, but his small hesitation had been enough for Robin. Before he knew what had hit him, his sword was knocked from his hand and Sir Hugh found himself on the ground, facing the outlaw’s looming form overhead and feeling cold steel pressed to his throat.

  “Out of mere curiosity,” Robin said, and although he was panting slightly, his tone had an air of irony mingled with authority that even his own men found most intimidating, “will you state your business finally now, or wait till after I have plunged my sword through your throat?”

  But Sir Hugh seemed not to listen. His eyes were on something behind Robin.

  Rosa approached and as Robin turned to see what had drawn his opponent’s attention nearly slashed her clear with his sword. She stepped back at the last minute.

  “Have I injured you?” Robin asked and then, abruptly, “Why are you here? Will?”

  Will was rather reluctant to come forward just then, but he would have, only Rosa answered before Robin’s anger had a chance to become full-blown.

  “Forgive me for interrupting you,” Rosa said although she did not seem the least bit sorry.

  Sir Hugh continued to watch her, speechless, from the ground.

  “My father told you I was dead, didn’t he?” Rosa told him calmly.

  He got up abruptly, as if only just remembering he had been prostrate on the ground all this time. Robin, puzzled, made as if to detain him, but quickly he saw that the man was no longer dangerous. White as a sheet, he seemed more likely to faint than to do anything else.

  “You -you are alive?” he croaked through dry lips.

  “As you see,” Rosa replied.

  “He said the outlaw had killed you,” Sir Hugh went on, his eyes void, as if he was in a trance. “He said he did it to spite him. I came to avenge your death. I came to tell him you had died for him once already, hadn’t that been enough?”

  Robin started to ask a question, but Sir Hugh went on.

  “I came to kill him,” he said as though Robin wasn’t standing right next to him. “I knew he was good with the sword and the bow, better than most men really, and I knew he had many on his side and I was only one, but I thought, surely I was angry and desperate enough to kill him in one swoop.”

  He sat down abruptly. He closed his eyes and leaned back and Rosa thought he would collapse there and then, before Robin Hood and all his men. He seemed to pull himself together however, with a great effort, and lifted his eyes to hers once more.

  The hatred was gone now.

  His eyes were pleading, sad. They were bereft.

  “You had already died for him once,” he repeated.

  …

  “Is this acceptable?” Robin asked Rosa through gritted teeth nearly an hour later.

  She nodded, trying to still her racing heart. She looked frantically around, looking for another opportunity to postpone the inevitable, but judging by Robin’s impatient pacing, he wasn’t likely to wait for much longer. And neither was he going to forget Sir Hugh’s declaration of her ‘already having died’ for Robin.

  She had managed to buy some time by asking that they go back to the camp and calm themselves, dress their wounds and wash. Robin had no intention of letting the matter drop, but her pallor and the gathering darkness persuaded him after a while. Once they were back at the camp she insisted that they all try to eat something, but both Robin and Sir Hugh declined, staring icily at each other.

  Now the night was enveloping them all like a velvet cloak and the men were waiting in silence for Sir Hugh’s next words.

  Yet he hesitated.

  Rosa sent one last look full of anguish in his direction. “You promised,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  “Forgive me, my lady, I do not wish to break my promise to you,” he said and clamped his lips shut with determination.

  Robin almost throttled him on the spot, but someone restrained him.

  “You’ll never learn this way,” Little John said.

  “Then how will I learn?” Robin cried desperately. “She won’t tell me, that’s for sure.”

  He pointed at Rosa and it was the first ti
me he had spoken to her in anger. She looked up, surprised.

  “I will tell you, master, if you command me,” she replied, evenly.

  “I would never command you, you know that,” he said, somewhat more calmly. “Just, please, someone tell me,” he went on in a tormented tone, his hands clenching each other until his knuckles turned white. “I think I might go mad. Please, take pity on me, my lady.”

  He spoke these words softly, for her ears only, and his black eyes spoke more eloquently than his tongue. She couldn’t stand it.

  “You may tell what you want,” she told Sir Hugh, resigned, and hoped for the best.

  Sir Hugh’s narration was rather more detailed than Rosa had expected.

  He described everything, from the throng of people gathered to watch the scene, to the blood that soaked Rosa’s elegant dress.

  Robin’s face paled. The men gasped. Little John leaned forward, all attention. Father Tuck grasped Will Scarlet’s arm for support. And still Sir Hugh went on.

  Rosa wanted to run and hide behind the trees like a child, but she held herself in check. What she found she couldn’t endure however, was the look of pure torture on Robin’s face when Sir Hugh described the Sheriff’s dagger plunged into her heart. He then went on to say that thankfully it hadn’t been her heart, but her left lung, and that was the reason for her recovery, impossible as it had seemed at first that she would live.

  “You must remember that day, ‘chief’,” Sir Hugh said to Robin, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You had foolishly come to mass without any of your men. Mayhap you had one of your hot-headed arguments with your giant here, for which you are both infamous. Or else you grossly overestimated your abilities, for if memory serves me well, the Sheriff and no more than ten of his men had you surrounded and bound within seconds. A boy you had once fed recognized you, remember? I’m sure you cursed the day you’d ever stooped to do good to his family of coarse peasants. He ran to you and hugged your knees, crying to his mama: ‘Robin Hood’s here!’”