by M. C. Frank
The next morning she found out that Sir Gavin had left on business and would return shortly. In the meantime, everyone in the castle had received orders concerning her.
The “lady Mary” -so he has not yet shared my secret with everyone, thought Rosa- was not to be allowed to work in the kitchens, although she was welcome to roam the winter gardens, and the grounds, and to have any selection of the horses she wanted. She was not allowed to leave the castle for any reason whatsoever.
Soon enough, and to her dismay, Rosa realized that Sir Gavin's servants were loyal to him and obedient to a fault. She couldn't work and she couldn't leave. That was that.
Sir Gavin had gone to visit some friends in the neighbouring county, or at least that was the pretext: the real purpose of his journey was to clear his head. What to do with the lady, that was the question.
He turned it over in his head, unable to sleep at nights, and yet the days passed and he had no clear idea formed in his head. Mayhap she could fit into his plans for revenge and justice, but he could see no distinct way that would ensure both his success and her own safety.
He decided to return one day earlier than he had planned, leaving his futile attempts behind and, gathering his retinue hastily, he started on the short journey back home.
A steady fall of snow had begun a few minutes after he set forth and he was wet and tired to the bone by the time the buttresses of his castle came into view. Immediately as he saw them, however, he reigned in his horse and came to a halt.
Instinctively he knew something was wrong.
It was the flag.
On the second buttress to the right, one small red flag bearing the colours of his crest, was slightly askew. His gaze immediately flew to that particular flag, because that was the signal between him and the head of his trusted guard. If there was any danger, he would knock that flag down, and Sir Gavin would run the last few miles to defend his home from any enemy.
The flag wasn’t down, of course, not completely. It was slightly askew, standing out among the other, straight ones only to a trained eye, and that was all.
A cold shiver travelled down his spine.
It looked like someone had tampered with it.
Like someone had tried to knock it down, to send the signal of danger, but had been prevented at the last minute. Stopped short. Struck down.
Sir Gavin rode like the wind.
Then, before the large gate came into view, he dismounted and told his followers to hide.
He approached the gate from the side.
Guards stood watch, as usual. Only, as he approached them, he realized that they weren't his guards. They only wore their clothes.
Then he heard a scream.
A bloodcurdling scream, almost inhuman with pain.
Then another, and another. It was high-pitched as though it belonged to a woman, and as soon as he realized what that meant, Sir Gavin almost doubled over in shock.
He didn't know how he knew this, but he did. It was her.
He turned back and met his men.
After a few moments of deliberation, he knew he had no choice in the matter. There was only one man who could help him, and although he himself had not heard only good things about the outlaw, right now he needed help. Immediately.
He mounted his horse again, praying that he could find the wild thieves and persuade them to help him before it was too late. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he had a fair idea who the men were who had replaced his guards.
They were Nottingham's men.
Which meant the Sheriff now thought he, Sir Gavin himself, was in league with his daughter, scheming against him. And which in turn meant that neither he nor the lady Rosa had much time for negotiations.
Judging from that scream, she might already be dead.
But no. The Sheriff wouldn't kill her. Not until he had what he wanted. Sir Gavin cursed under his breath and gripped the reins tighter, refusing to consider the possibilities of losing even more than he already had.
He turned his horse towards Sherwood Forest.
CHAPTER 12
THE RESCUE
“I am in need of your help,” sir Gavin gasped to the huge man standing before him.
The giant regarded him coolly. He was dressed in a light, summer tunic that could have been green at some point in the past, but was now of a nondescript color, fraying at the hem, and gaping with holes at the back. The cold was bracing, and still the man appeared unfazed in his light clothes, although his cheeks were red and his beard white with snowflakes.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he said dryly. “Everybody is in need of our help.”
Sir Gavin sighed heavily, acutely aware of the dimming daylight around him. He had lost too much time already. Too much precious time. Maybe she was dead already anyway. He dismounted his horse, trying to rein in his temper.
“You are the outlaw Robin Hood, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I am Little John,” the man replied, “who stands in for Robin.”
What does that mean? Sir Gavin wanted to ask, but there was no time to waste in questions. He had heard that a man had only to wander into the Sherwood Forest with a fat purse at his side, and immediately he’d be discovered by the outlaw and his men. However, that had not been the case today.
He and his retinue, although obviously wealthy and well-dressed, had been left alone for the better part of the day, and when finally two filthy-looking men had demanded their money on behalf of Robin Hood, he had had a really hard time persuading them to take him to the outlaw. Why, he almost had to bind his own hands to make them trust that he meant no harm. All this, after he had willingly placed in their surprised hands all the monies that he carried with him.
The camp looked to him empty and neglected, dead and bare as though winter itself had taken permanent residence there, but it was none of his business how these rough, unhappy men lived, although he was beginning to wonder why these sour-faced fellows were called “the Merry Men”.
“Please, may I see the outlaw Robin Hood?” he said now, with pretend politeness, barely containing his impatience.
The tall man, called John, sat on the ground suddenly, as though exhausted.
“Robin doesn’t… He isn’t here,” he said tiredly. “You can tell me what it is you want. And quick, mind you. I haven’t got all day.”
It was beginning to look like a seriously bad waste of time to have come down here, Sir Gavin thought. He placed a finger at his throbbing temple and massaged softly. It had seemed like his only option right then, but now he clearly saw that these outlaws’ fame had been grossly exaggerated. Except for disorganized, grumpy and leaderless, these men looked positively malnourished.
“There is a lady in grave danger as we speak,” he began, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Little John lifted his hand to stop him, already looking bored out of his mind.
“Look after your soft-skinned, fanciful ladies yourself, my lord,” he said sarcastically. “We are here for the poor. For the ones who have no one to defend them but a bunch of worthless criminals.”
“You don’t understand, you don’t even know who she is yet…”
He was beginning to wonder if the rumors about Rosa’s living in the forest had any truth in them at all -after all she hadn’t exactly confirmed it herself the other day- but he had to ask.
“Did someone by the name of…?” He was rudely interrupted once more.
“My men will escort you into the forest,” Little John said, and got up to leave. “And be warned, you stepped willingly into our camp, so you are fair game to them. Whatever they choose to do with you they are free to do before they send you back to the vile Sheriff, or whoever sent you here with hopes of besting the famous Robin Hood.”
It was no use.
The man was clearly not interested in listening to him.
“Wait!” Sir Gavin shouted desperately, trying to quench the hint of hysteria he heard in his own voice.
The giant stopped and turned to look at him with disgust.
“I hear that there is a holy man living here with you,” Sir Gavin said, feeling a bit foolish. “Surely you won’t deny me a prayer.”
“Go to your own parish, I am sure that we do not have the required display of opulence here to suit your tastes.”
“John, you are getting bitter,” a short man that Sir Gavin hadn’t even noticed, admonished quietly. He had been standing in the shadows all this time, silently observing, but now he came forward. “I am Father Tuck,” he said simply to Sir Gavin. “Who would you like me to say a prayer for?”
At this point Sir Gavin was thinking already of whom he could appeal to next, but seeing as it was the Sheriff himself who had attacked his property, he wasn’t sure he had any other option left.
“Lady Rosa Fitzwater,” he said, and his voice came out as a discouraged whisper.
Everything around him seemed to freeze at once.
The tall man, along with the priest held their breath. Then,
“Robin!” the giant shouted at the top of his lungs.
“I heard,” a rough voice said behind him.
…
He would never had imagined this unkempt man to be the prince of outlaws, the man said to be England’s best hope of regaining the rightful King. This man was no prince. He was dirty and hollow-cheeked, as though recovering from a great illness.
However, he had organized his own men as well as Sir Gavin’s within minutes and taken the whole situation so skillfully in hand, that Sir Gavin had prepared reluctantly to trust him.
Now, as they approached the castle in the night, he rode beside him tight-lipped and white-faced, and Sir Gavin was suddenly sure that the rumors about Lady Rosa living in the forest were absolutely true.
“What did you say you heard as you were standing right outside the east gate of your castle?” Robin asked him tensely for the hundredth time.
“Best not to dwell on that,” Sir Gavin replied calmly, as to a child.
“How did you know her, at first?” Robin pressed on. “I thought she might be in hiding.”
“She was. Disguised as a kitchen-maid, I found her. Then she met some trouble at the household she was working at, from what I understand, and ended up half-frozen on my doorstep.”
The outlaw inhaled briefly and his horse faltered.
Sir Gavin stole a sideways glance at him. The man looked ready to be sick.
“I thank you,” Robin said surprisingly as soon as he had caught his breath.
“I did not do it for you,” Sir Gavin answered abruptly. “Anyway, I recognized her because of my friend, Sir Hugh…”
“Oh yes, I forgot, you said so already. And I guess it was you who had the fine and brilliant idea to tell him to alert the Sheriff to her presence.”
At this, Sir Gavin had no ready answer. He had, indeed, foolishly told his friend of his discovery, for Sir Hugh had been in such low spirits that he’d felt sorry for him. Besides, at the time, they were both away from home, so he thought there was no danger of Sir Hugh’s telling the Sheriff -even in foolishness. Apparently, he had been terribly wrong.
“She was…” Robin hesitated. “She was well?” he choked out the last word.
“If by ‘well’ you mean feverish for days, emaciated and in mortal terror of her father finding her, then yes, I think she was extremely well, to put it that way. She was, in fact, so well that after I found her…”
“Enough!” Robin growled.
In a minute, he added, more calmly, “I will thank you to tell me more details later. I find I cannot stomach the pain of it just now. Let us rather focus at the task at hand.”
“By the looks of you, you do not seem to have been able to stomach any food either for some time now,” Sir Gavin observed dryly.
“Not since she left, some three months ago,” Robin replied in the same tone.
The Sheriff himself was not there, after all. There were, however, nearly two score of his men who, having overpowered the guards of the castle and the entire servant staff, were now busy watching and jeering as Rosa was being held for torturing and questions.
Robin and his men got in easily and noiselessly, after having disposed of the men who were placed at the entrances of the castle’s outer and inner gates. Then they climbed the stairs, Robin leading the way as he took the steps five at a time with his long legs, throwing an absent-minded punch here and there, whenever a soldier appeared who would have blocked his way.
He reached the grand hall before anyone else did.
He was standing briefly at the entrance, observing the scene before going in, right outside the common area where most of the men were celebrating their easy victory by raiding Sir Gavin’s collection of spirits, when he heard a loud, mocking voice, screeching in one of the inner rooms behind him.
“We will stay here, my lady,” the voice sneered, “for however long it takes for your memory to be refreshed. The good duke’s kitchens are filled to capacity with food, and my men will not lack entertainment, as long as you are in our midst. So, now, tell me if you please, where I can find the outlaw called Robin of the Hood…”
A harsh sound, like that of leather hitting human flesh broke the laughter of the men.
Then, a scream.
That was all. Robin erupted.
After, everything was a blur in his mind.
All he knew was that he simply took out any man that he found in the way, between himself and the figure hanging upside down from a rope on the ceiling, upside down, dripping with blood, long copper hair trailing down and sweeping the floor. The rest he left to the men who he knew were coming behind him.
He slashed with his sword, he thrust his knife fearlessly, and he knocked with his fists, hardly knowing what he was doing. All he could see was Rosa’s small form suspended from the ceiling, bleeding and awfully still. And all he could think was that she was far, still too far away from him and his heart leapt in his mouth at the sudden horror that he wouldn’t reach her in time.
Finally he was beside her.
He grabbed her by the waist, before reaching up to cut the rope around her ankles gently but effectively, and caught her in one lithe movement as her body fell, before she could hit the floor.
He crouched on the dirty floor and cradled her in his arms, wiping the trail of blood that was running down her lower lip, completely oblivious to a sword coming for his neck from behind.
“Rob!” one of his men shouted in warning, but before he could turn, the guard fell with an arrow in his heart. Robin nodded to the man who had sent the arrow -he saw it was Julian- and turned his attention back to Rosa.
It was not long before she awoke, right as the clamor of the battle around them was beginning to subside, for she was not seriously wounded, although weak from blood loss and pain.
She opened large eyes that met his and his breath caught in his throat and he tried to swallow his fear down.
“No,” was the first thing she told him, and then she closed her eyes against the pain and leaned back. He moved his arm to cushion her head and brushed his fingers against the bruises on her cheeks.
“No, what?” he whispered, his heart breaking within him.
“No, I do not want to leave you, I don’t want to leave the forest.”
For a minute he panicked, for he thought her mind was wandering.
“That’s what I should have said,” she went on, “instead of running away from you like this, thinking you didn’t want me.” She coughed weakly, trying to breathe past the pain, and then went on in a small voice. “Although maybe truly you didn’t want me anymore; after all you said so that last night… Maybe you’d truly tired of me. I’m sorry.”
“You -you are sorry?” Robin sputtered, incredulous.
She tried to raise herself to take a better look at his face, but she fell back, wincing at the pain.
“Have you been ill?” she asked him abruptly, gazing anxiously into his dark-rimmed eyes
, “I don’t remember your cheekbones being quite so pronounced in your face before”, she murmured, and then her voice faded and she fainted again.
“She lives?” a voice asked, panting, right above Robin’s shoulder.
It was Sir Gavin, disheveled from the fight, leaning down to look at Rosa.
“You are bleeding at the arm,” Robin told him.
“So are you,” he replied, sheathing his bloodied sword. “And at the leg too, for that matter.”
“She lives,” Robin said softly. “She is bleeding heavily however, so, if it’s safe, we’d better get her out of here, tend to her wounds.”
“I don’t think…” Sir Gavin frowned.
“Yes?”
“Is it possible that we could manage to conceal all this… this massacre from the Sheriff?” Sir Gavin inclined his head to the prone form of Rosa. “I don’t think it would be safe to move her from this house yet. But if he should take it to his head to attack again…?”
“We all know he is one to nurse his failures for at least two months at a time, like an indulged child,” Robin said as he got up with Rosa in his arms. “I will stay, however,” he added.
“That may not be necessary…”
“I beg of you to let me stay,” he insisted.
“The great Robin Hood begging me?” Sir Gavin raised a delicate eyebrow in mockery. “What an honor.”
“I am not great. Not anymore, nor was I ever. What was great in my life lies wounded in my arms, lost to me forever.”
Sir Gavin’s brow furrowed.
“You just said, man, that she was in no great danger,” he hissed at Robin.
“Oh, she will get well, I think,” Robin replied, “if she is cared for properly. She’s stronger than she looks. But I bet she won’t want to lay eyes on me again ever.”
“You underestimate her, my friend,” Sir Gavin said quietly.
“And speaking of friends,” Robin said as he began to climb the stairs with Rosa in his arms, trying not to jostle her very much, “see if you can get that miserable friend of yours, Sir Hugh, to work in our favor for once. He might be willing to lie to the Sheriff for her sake, if not for his own. Excepting of course that he did all this out of malice instead of stupidity, as I suppose.”
