“There! That’s them!”
“Get the outlaws!”
Robin turned tail and ran. “Run! Much, take Ginny home, and then get the others!”
Much picked Ginny up like a sack of flour and took off into the woods. Maggie, Kitty, and Robin waited until the last possible moment as the riders came into view to start sprinting in the opposite direction. They broke off from there, prompting shouts and cries from the riders—and the Bishop—who insisted on following Robin.
She rocketed along the deer path, the hooves behind her sounding more like a drumbeat to her death, and carved a path away from the clearings their home stood in. She disappeared into a thicker section of forest, and though the Bishop and his soldiers were forced to dismount and pursue her on foot, they still came.
Robin fell through a tangle of brambles in a part of Sherwood she’d never been in, and she was thoroughly surprised to find a cottage standing in front of her. She looked briefly over her shoulder. The Bishop and his men, shoulder to shoulder and combing the forest, were getting closer with every minute she hesitated.
“Why, it’s Rhiannon of Lockesly, come to my door,” said a voice from, what Robin had—wrongly—assumed to be a pile of rags by the door. “What brings you to my part of the wood?”
“The Bishop of Hereford is after me.” Robin crept a little closer, finding her potential savior was the haelan who’d saved Will’s leg and life. “He’ll hang me if he gets me.”
The old woman unfolded herself from her stool and peered at Robin. “Aren’t you prepared to atone for your crimes?”
“Perhaps if I had done something to merit such a punishment,” she said slowly. “The only thing we’ve done to the Bishop is make his purse a little lighter. To give back to those he’d taken from who could ill afford it to begin with. That’s all we’ve ever done.”
The haelan seemed to carefully consider Robin’s words. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “I’ve no love for the Bishop of Hereford, like I’ve no love for the Sheriff or the bastard of a knight he’s cavorting around with.” She slipped off her own cloak, the one Robin had mistook for a bundle of rags. “Give me yours, and put this on.”
Robin shed her hooded coat and handed it over. She looked at the haelan’s cloak with a sniff. Realizing she didn’t have another choice, she threw it over her shoulders and hunched herself up in a way as to be a convincing old crone. The haelan, with her face covered mostly by the hood, looked a convincing Robin Hood, so long as no one looked at the pair of them closely.
She hoped the Bishop would be too happy with his capture to inspect her properly.
With surprising swiftness and dexterity, the haelan went into the depths of the cottage. Robin blinked. Several people crashed through the underbrush once more, and she shied away from the appearance of the Bishop and his men. As they were dressed in black and hadn’t any visible insignias or symbols, Robin figured they had to be mercenaries from somewhere up north.
“You! Hag!” The Bishop pointed to her. “Where have you come from?”
“From—from my cottage. There.” Robin didn’t dare raise her head as she croaked out the words.
“And have you seen anyone in the wood today?”
“A woman in a hood,” she rasped. “She entered my cottage a short time back.”
The Bishop didn’t need to hear more. “Now we have her! Get in there and seize her.”
His need to capture the outlaw he’d hunted so great, Robin found herself unwatched and unattended. She slipped quietly back into the thicket. When she was sure enough they wouldn’t hear her, she straightened up and began running for home. She took shortcuts she never would have dared before, and she skidded into view of Tuck’s cottage as the others prepared to head out.
Maggie and Kitty weren’t there among the familiar faces.
“Who’s—stop there!” Will pointed one of her own arrows at her.
“It’s me, you idiot,” she yelled, yanking the hood off. “Where’s the girls?”
“Much and Ginny are in Tuck’s cottage,” Lia said, one of her tinker’s blades in her hand. “They’re both fine.”
“Maggie and Kitty?”
“Still out there.” Tuck banged his walking stick on the ground. “Why are you dressed as a haelan?”
“I’ll explain later. We need to get the girls.” She held her hands out for her bow and quiver.
Will handed them over without comment.
They made their way through the greenwood on silent feet. Robin took them on a curving path, dropping them out on the road behind the first group of the Bishop’s men, even as the Bishop himself and those who had helped him capture “Robin Hood” rode slowly up.
Robin stood in the middle of the road, nocked an arrow, and drew it back to her anchor point, the Bishop sighted down the shaft. She knew the moment it sunk in.
“But if—then who’s this?”
The haelan, seated on a pony next to the Bishop’s horse, began to laugh. It was an odd, eerie sound that sent chills through everyone. She pulled her hood back and smiled toothlessly at him.
He recoiled so much he nearly threw himself off his horse.
“What a clever bishop,” she cackled, “to confuse one such as me for the Lady of Sherwood!”
Robin’s chest lifted. Lady of Sherwood. It was fitting, in a way, and it felt more right than Robin of Lockesly ever had, even after Sabine’s death.
“Let them go,” Robin said. “Let them all go.”
Maggie and Kitty stood between another pair of mercenaries. Robin spared them a glance, though she kept the majority of her attention on the Bishop. He was the one pulling strings, and as such, he was deadliest of them all.
“If I don’t?” he asked.
“I’ll make you bleed more than money.”
She should have remembered, in that moment, that while Much had the patience of a saint, Maggie did not. Especially if it concerned Kitty in any way. So when Maggie jabbed her elbow in her captor’s midsection, Kitty kicked hers in the shin, and as the whole situation dissolved into chaos, Robin loosed her arrow and took a sizeable chunk out of the Bishop’s right shoulder.
He did fall off his horse—with a shriek—as the haelan continued to cackle, and the rest of Robin’s band rushed forward with several somewhat terrifying war cries of their own. Jemma thumped heads with her staff. Will preferred to use his fists. Much wielded a hammer, of all things, with mystifying efficiency, and Robin picked off those she could with her arrows. When that didn’t work, for they were too close, she whacked at them with the bow itself.
One of the Bishop’s men went down and didn’t get back up. A slash across his neck showed the cause, and as Robin dodged a ham-handed fist, she noticed both the Bishop and the haelan were gone. Most likely in opposite directions, of course, but both were missing.
Her inattention cost her, and between one heartbeat and the next, she found herself on the ground with her ears ringing. She struggled to draw breath, and another boot to the side forced what little air she had in her lungs out.
“I’m going to gut you like a fish, you bitch,” he snarled, the words almost drowned out by the slide of metal on leather.
“Robin!”
She twisted away from an attack that never came. Kitty led the charge, followed closely by Jemma, to bring him down. The three of them landed in a heap. Robin scrambled to her feet as the other two backed off. She gathered them close as his sightless eyes stared up at the sky above them.
“He’s the last one,” Jemma said.
Kitty took a breath and straightened with a grunt. Robin looked over as she bent at the waist again.
“Kitty?”
Quiet descended on the forest.
She turned, her palm out, skin coated with red, and met Robin’s eyes with a soft, “Oh.”
“Kitty!” Robin caught her as her legs gave out, and they sat down heavily, Kitty cradled against Robin’s chest and shoulder. “Breathe. Breathe for me.”
She did
her best, hitching breaths that sounded labored. Robin pressed down hard over her wound, and she could feel where the knife had slipped between her ribs. She didn’t know much about anatomy—Sabine hadn’t considered it a subject a lady should study in depth—but Robin had learned enough to know the ribs protected the vital organs. It was why she knew that to kill a deer with minimal pain and fear to the animal, she needed to aim for the heart.
Jemma—joined by Will—crouched in front of her.
“I’m not going to get lucky, am I?” Kitty whispered.
Robin rested her cheek against the other girl’s. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t force the words out from behind the lump in her throat.
“It’s—it’s okay.” Kitty’s hand—the one not sandwiched between Robin’s and her own body—flailed, until Robin held it tightly with her own. “It’s… I don’t regret it.”
“Are you sure?” Robin asked. She had to. She had to know.
“‘Course not.” She took another deep, hitched breath. She smiled at Jemma. “Don’t—don’t cry, Jemma.”
“What do you want?” Will’s voice was soft and tender, and it nearly broke Robin then and there.
“Not to be alone.” She shivered. “I want—I want to see everyone.” She waited until Will had gone to round up the rest of them, and then nuzzled against Robin’s cheek. “You’ll—you’ll tell Ginny I love her? Graham, too?”
“We’ll make sure they know,” Jemma assured her.
“Good.” Kitty began to shiver in earnest. Robin rocked her carefully side to side to distract her from it. “I’m cold, Robin.”
The others arrived then, silent and subdued. Maggie stripped out of her coat and laid it carefully over Kitty, tucking the ends in around her. Gently, she pushed Kitty’s sweat-soaked hair off her clammy forehead.
“I had—I had fun. And we did right.” Kitty drew in another breath, held it, and deliberately breathed it out. “Promise me you’ll still do right. All of you.” Her glassy eyes were calm as they searched each face. She seemed satisfied by what she saw, and then snuggled back against Robin, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I always—I always did want sisters. And God saw me fit for them, and He gave you all to me.”
With her eyes half-lidded, and her head resting where Robin’s neck met shoulder, Kitty went still and the sounds of her breathing ceased.
Robin wrapped both arms around her shoulders, held her close, and rested her chin on Kitty’s soft hair. She looked helplessly from Jemma to Lia to Tuck, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. It was Maggie who came forward and gingerly wrapped her arms around Robin, cradling her head against her belly as she sobbed.
***
Will carried her back to their clearings.
Robin walked beside them, holding Jemma’s hand tightly. Maggie and Much went to fetch Ginny and Graham. They all knew the moment Ginny was told. The little girl screamed, and her sobs from inside Tuck’s cottage were audible to all. Graham did a little better. Lia held him close as he cried on her shoulder.
“She gets a proper Christian burial,” Much said firmly. “Please.”
“It’s what she deserves.” Maggie’s voice was a rough rasp, as though she wanted to cry but hadn’t yet allowed herself to.
Ginny, much calmer, sniffled, and then pointed to a spot in the yard where, no matter what time of day it was, the sun always seemed to shine. “There.”
“We’ll clean her up,” Robin said. “Will?”
“I’ll dig.” He went inside to Tuck’s cottage first to lay Kitty gently on a pallet. He hesitated at the door, looking at Robin. Finally, he took the shovel from beside the door.
Together, Robin and Jemma cut away Kitty’s bloodstained clothes and cleaned her up. They gently eased her into a white shift. Jemma carefully braided her hair, and then tied it off with the ribbon they’d given her when all of them had first arrived in Nottingham.
“She looks so peaceful,” Robin murmured. “She could—it’s like she’s sleeping.”
Jemma snorted. “Have you seen her sleep? She’s all over the place.” She pushed her sleeve up to show Robin a good-sized bruise on her arm. “Nobody wants to sleep next to her; she moves too much. Much is the one who sleeps like she’s de—like… damn it.” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
“Like she’s dead,” Robin said softly.
“What are we doing, Robin?” Jemma’s watery eyes met Robin’s over Kitty’s body. “What are we doing out here?”
“We’re helping people.” Robin scrubbed her hands over her face. “We’re—we’re helping those who can’t help themselves.” She tenderly brushed her thumb over Kitty’s cheek. “She made us promise, Jemma, to do right.”
“Men died today.” Jemma smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in Kitty’s shift. “We killed people, Robin. How are we going to explain that to a law that can’t protect us?”
Robin drew her knees to her chest. “We can’t. We’re just going to have to hope for the best, Jem. Hope for a little help when the time comes.” She shook her head defiantly. “I’ve no intention of dying at the hands of the Sheriff or Gisborne. And I’ve no intention of seeing any harm come to anyone else, either. This loss as it is… I miss her already.”
“She walks with Marcus, Sabine, and Ana. And they walk beside us all. Always.”
What had Elena said? They carried their loved ones with them always, in their soul. Robin made room for Kitty, tucking the memory of her carefully away between her parents and Marcus, next to the memory of the little girl Robin had been before her father had introduced her to archery.
That little girl was just as dead as the rest of them.
Robin took a deep breath. Between the two of them, they lifted Kitty and carried her from Tuck’s cottage. The grave was lined with blankets, and with Will’s help, they lowered her into it. Ginny held her hand out. Jemma took it, and held Robin’s with her other one. Will hesitantly slid his fingers through Robin’s, and Robin squeezed hard.
Later—much later—Robin would fail to remember what Tuck said as she opened her Bible and read. Robin remembered it more viscerally. How the wind shifted through the trees, and the clouds parted enough for the yard to be lit by dappled sunlight. It illuminated Kitty’s pale face against the dark brown of the earth, and for one brief moment, Robin smiled gently.
Tuck made the sign of the cross, and they all said one last silent goodbye.
Robin ran the tip of her knife beneath her thumbnail, glaring over at Jemma and Maggie.
Jemma returned her look with one of her own. “Bug crawl up your britches today, or what?”
Maggie dissolved in helpless giggles.
“What’s with the look?” Robin asked, gesturing with her knife.
Maggie tipped over backward, arms wrapped around her belly as she guffawed loudly. Jemma spared her a raised eyebrow, but the majority of her attention was for Robin. “What look?”
“That look,” Robin said calmly, moving to another nail. “And don’t start that shite with me today.”
“How long are you going to wait, then?”
“Wait for what?”
Jemma’s eyes narrowed in her tried and true Robin, don’t be dense expression, and Robin’s shoulders crept for her ears.
“She means how long are you’re going to wait to ravish Will,” Much said, tossing a still-too-warm pastry between her fingertips even as she dropped to sit on Jemma’s other side.
Robin nearly sliced the end of her finger off, and decided that, for this particular conversation, she might not want to try to do two things at once. She slid her knife back in its sheath, and then took several deep breaths.
“We thought you would have ravaged him by now,” Maggie added, pushing up on one arm while she wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks with her free hand.
“Ravished, Mags,” Much corrected absently. “He’s a person, not a plague-ridden village in the countryside.”
“Thank God for that,” Lia added with a shudder. She had her
pastry wrapped in a cloth. “Can you imagine?”
Jemma glared at the tinker. “I can now, thank you.”
Robin leaned forward and gestured to the lot of them. “And you—you talk about this? Frequently?”
“Only when you’re being dense as a tree trunk.” Lia took a bite of her pastry and moaned. “You—Much, you have outdone yourself.”
Much grinned. “You think so?”
“Dense. As a tree trunk.” Robin repeated it slowly.
“Not every day,” Jemma assured. “Just most of them.”
There were more giggles. Robin dropped her head and silently prayed for patience.
“So, on my dense days, what am I waiting for?”
Alan cuffed her gently on the head on his way by, and he folded gracefully to the ground by Lia. He began signing, his eyes not leaving Robin’s face even as Lia translated.
“It’s not what you’re waiting for—it’s why you’re waiting.”
He rested his hands in his lap.
“Why are you waiting, Robin?” Jemma asked softly.
“I don’t… I don’t want him to think it’s… it’s not because Kitty died,” Robin said gently. It had been little over two weeks since they’d buried her, and her absence was still very noticed by them all. Ginny still cried herself to sleep occasionally, though she’d gotten much better recently.
“It’s not because—I want him to know it’s because it’s what I want,” she said. “That I want him in that way, and I lo—have feelings for him.”
“So tell him, you idiot.” Jemma looked hard at her. “If you tell him, he’ll know.”
“Can’t screw it up that way, either,” Much added with a smile.
Robin opened her mouth to protest, and the words died on her tongue. It didn’t seem like it should be that simple, but it was.
“He’s by the stream,” Jemma said.
Before she could over-think it and talk herself out of it—for whatever reason—she scrambled to her feet and took off in the direction of the stream. There were giggles, laughs, and a whistle that had to be from Lia, and she let the sounds settle warmly in her chest as she stepped lightly down the path.
Lady of Sherwood Page 21
