Hood put his hands on his hips. “Why should I be—”
It was Marian who dared to interrupt him. “They are right, my Lord. They know that any defeat now will be worse for us than any other before. So let us look to the crofters nearer to Nottingham, and take our pleasure there. Leave Wainford Croft for later, when no one opposes us. If we choose a croft or a hamlet near Nottingham to sack, word will be carried to the Sheriff quickly, and he will know he has been overwhelmed by us.” She climbed onto the table, stepping carefully to avoid treading on the small puddles of blood that had dried on the table. “There are crofters near the Abbey of Saint Felix the Roman. You know the ones I speak of, not two leagues from this place. They are easily reached, and easily taken. You haven’t attacked there in some time, and they will not expect to fight you now.”
“And what of the monks in the Abbey?” Hood asked.
“We can take them at our leisure, for they suppose their Abbey walls will protect them from us,” said Marian. “They will have to open their doors to the villagers and we may enter with them, on their invitation.”
Hood nodded slowly. “You convince me.” He looked over at Little John. “For now.”
“Then let us gather our bows and arrows and take to the woods,” said Scarlet audaciously.
“That is my order to give,” Hood reminded him in a cutting voice.
Scarlet took a step back. “Yes. It is. As we all know.”
“See that you remember,” Hood warned, then gave the order to his men to arm themselves.
“And may I come with you?” Marian asked.
Hood regarded her for a short while, then said, “I’d rather you keep watch on the Old Ones. I don’t trust the scholars to keep them in check. They’re becoming restive, and that could be a problem if it continues.”
Marian was disappointed, but she nodded once. “I’ll attend to the Old Ones, then. May you have a good hunt.”
“I’ll bring you back fine plunder,” Hood promised as he got down from the table and reached for his bow.
What deSteny, Prince John,
Baron deGisbourne, and
Mother Barnaba Decided
THERE WERE four of them around the small book-table in the study of Nottingham Castle. Vespers had been sung and now the town was preparing to ward off the night. In the castle, Guardsmen patrolled the corridors as well as the ramparts, and there was a pervading aura of menace hanging invisibly in the air.
Prince John, wearing no sign of rank other than his Regent’s ring, sat nearest the fire, his face somber, his eyes in darkened sockets; lack of sleep was telling on him. To his right, deSteny held a pair of rolled scrolls. He was tired and his head ached, so he had a cup of wine mixed with pansy and willow in front of him. Across from the Prince sat Sir Lambert, Baron deGisbourne, his long surcote of marten fur and boiled wool keeping out the chill. There was nothing that could alleviate the icy light in his eyes, or the cold purpose in his manner. Mother Barnaba had the fourth chair, on Prince John’s left. She was a bit pale, which was emphasized by her gorget and wimple, but she was not consumed by terror as so many others were. Of the four, she was the most obviously alert, and the most anxious to be active.
“I don’t suppose we can hope that Hood will not strike again?” Mother Barnaba asked the three men.
“I should think just the opposite,” said deSteny. “He has tasted success and he will want to make the most of it, as any victorious captain would. I think we must prepare for more audacious attacks, attacks intended to be vicious, so that he may show his power.”
“True enough,” said Sir Lambert heavily. “He will take advantage of our failure here to prey upon more unfortunates.”
“And for that reason we must stop him, and quickly,” said Prince John. “We must make him come to us, to his ruin.”
“But Hood is likely to expect another trap, and he will be twice-wary to enter one, unless he has the might to win free of it, and inflict damage in the process,” Mother Barnaba said in response to their latest scheme. “He is no foolish bear, to stumble into a fall, nor is he a wolf, to be tempted by an easy meal.” She put her hands on the table. “We must not make the same error again as was made here. It would be catastrophic.”
“No, we must not fail again,” said deSteny, taking the responsibility onto himself. “It is too much to endure.” His golden eyes seemed to have changed to bronze.
“All of us have something to answer for,” said Prince John, trying to soothe deSteny. “We underestimated Hood. We must not do so next time.”
“Do you think he can be lured into the open?” Sir Lambert asked.
“I think it may be possible, but not by the likes of us; he has become too clever for that,” said deSteny heavily. “Whatever we do, it cannot seem to originate here. Besides, Sir Humphrey will not allow any more of his men to be sacrificed to this battle—he told me so himself not long after mid-day.”
“And who is to blame him?” asked the Baron.
“Not I,” said deSteny.
Prince John cut this short. “Do not wrangle, I pray you. We have trouble enough without discord striking us.”
“Amen to that,” said Mother Barnaba. “We must keep in mind all that we have to face, and hope that our good Saints will preserve us from harm.”
“Nottingham will not tolerate any more dangers from Hood,” said deSteny. “The people here have reached their limit.”
“They have, and rightly,” said Prince John.
“Then it behooves us to make our efforts in other places,” said deSteny, trying to show his purpose without appearing to be dangerously impetuous.
“That may is so,” said Mother Barnaba. “But what location can serve our intentions better than this one? My nunnery isn’t well-located to work as a lure for Hood—there are too many opportunities on the Great North Road to claim his attention.”
“We will not have nuns taking risks that men-at-arms shun,” said Prince John in a voice that brooked no opposition.
There was a brief silence, and then Sir Lambert spoke up. “If my holdings could be of any use in this venture, I make them available to you, Your Grace.”
“Have you some notion how we might use your castle, or any other part of your estate?” Prince John asked.
“I have not, not yet.” He sighed. “But with what has happened, it would restore the honor of my House to have a part in the ending of this bane that has come upon Sherwood. I am more than willing to have you undertake your strikes from my castle.”
“A brave offer,” Prince John approved. “In what way do you propose we should make use of your estate?”
“But consider—you are Sir Gui’s father,” deSteny protested. “You might be expected to seek vengeance, and that would put Hood on notice of your intentions.”
“That might attract him, as well; he is growing more brazen with every sally he undertakes,” said Mother Barnaba. “He would rejoice in the chance to show up deGisbourne a second time, to complete his conquest of the House. Though he suspected another trap, he might be proud enough to undertake such a mission, particularly if he decided it would strengthen his hand and his hold on the forest.”
Prince John tapped his fingers on the table. “I have been reading most of the day, and I have hit upon a number of contingencies that may serve us, each not without risk, but all capable of bringing a fine reward,” he announced, and, seeing he had their fixed attention, went on, “It seems to me that we may be able to turn Baron deGisbourne’s offer to our advantage if we will but take a little time to plan how we will do it.”
“I don’t think you can bring Hood to Nottingham again, even if the people were willing to undertake so hazardous a campaign, and, after what’s happened, they would not tolerate another such attempt at capture,” warned deSteny. “Sir Lambert may have given us a c
hance we wouldn’t have otherwise.”
“So he might,” said the Prince. “It is a very chancy business.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward into his laced fingers. “I think it would be well to find the Old Ones, if, indeed, they are still in Sherwood, and enlist them in this fight. They may have recommendations of their own to make, if they will only hear out our offers. But that is a very dangerous venture in its own right, and—”
“I’ll do it,” said deSteny. “Sir Humphrey can fill my office while I’m gone, or you may appoint another in my place if Sir Humphrey would prefer to be part of the hunt. The Old Ones will have much to tell us if I can persuade them of our shared need when I discover where they have gone. It is a tricky matter to locate them, I have no doubt. But I will find them, if they are to be found. What troubles me is what am I to do then?”
“Persuade them to attack Hood’s band once we have Hood separated from them,” said Prince John. “They will know what will stop these undead creatures, for they are also of that tribe, and they will have the knowledge of how to ensure a defeat in ways that we living cannot. If we provide them the weapons they need, then they have good reason to act for us.”
“You mean our wooden arrows?” deSteny inquired.
“The same, if they have any use for them. More than that, we can lend them a dozen archers or more, if that would help,” said Prince John. “There are archers who would walk to Jerusalem for the satisfaction of defeating Hood. If that is so, then they will enter the forest willingly, too.”
“It is to be hoped,” said Sir Lambert. “If the Old Ones can be found, and persuaded to assist us, then we will need to provide support for them.”
“Do you think it will be possible?” Mother Barnaba worried at the cuffs of her habit’s sleeves. “Really?”
“Do you doubt it?” asked Prince John. “You have volunteered to help. Why do you, if you think we cannot prevail?”
“I saw what those few vampires did—there were fewer than ten of them in a Hall of more than sixty soldiers,” she answered, her voice hushed. “And that was here, against a castle filled with soldiers beyond those in the Great Hall. In the forest, with many more of them, where they have so great an advantage, how might we bring enough force to promise victory? Our enemies have much power—we need not permit them to have any more.”
“We will be the ones choosing the time and place,” said Sir Lambert. “That will put surprise to our advantage. Then, we shall be prepared with the proper weapons, and that will make matters better, as well. We will know what we fight, and so we will give protection to all those who stand with us.”
“Yes,” said the Prince. “Each man will have Holy Water on his person, and each will have been shriven before beginning the attack. That will make us stronger than we were in the Great Hall.” He glanced at the Sheriff. “What do you think, deSteny?”
“I think it will help, but it won’t be enough unless we bring superior force to bear as well,” he replied. “These vampires are not easily defeated, even when one is prepared. I know. I tried to stop them in the Holy Land, and although I was as protected as I could be, I still failed to root out their evil.” He leaned back in his chair, staring toward the fire. “I was so certain, and I was so—”
“Well, you will advise us, so that we will not emulate your errors,” said the Prince.
“All I know is at your service,” said deSteny, self-chastened by his memories.
“As is all I am learning,” said Prince John. “So. Let us consider what we are to do: you, Sheriff, will seek out the Old Ones to try to convince them to help us. You, Baron, will return to your castle to make ready for ensnaring Hood, with or without Sir Humphrey. Mother Barnaba, you will accompany him, to assist him in his plan. And I will remain here until deSteny returns from the forest at the conclusion of our campaign, so the vampires cannot boast that they have driven the mighty from Nottingham. I will send for more soldiers to shore up the numbers of those defending this place.” He rose and turned toward the fire. “I have books with me, and there are many more I may consult here.”
“So there are,” said deSteny. “Any I have are—”
“Have no fear, Sheriff. I will make no decisions without consulting you,” Prince John raised his head as a page appeared in the doorway to announce that the evening meal was ready to be served.
“I’m not hungry,” said Mother Barnaba as she rose from her place at the table.
“Nor am I, but it is a long way to my castle, and finding food on the road is always uncertain,” said Sir Lambert.
She nodded and blessed herself. “We must all do our part,” she declared. “Which includes not giving way to despair.”
“You would have been a fine knight, Mother, had you been a boy,” said Sir Lambert.
“I am the daughter of a fine knight,” said Mother Barnaba. “I heeded all he told me, and have never forgotten it.”
“Would that all children were thus attentive,” said the Baron sadly as he and Mother Barnaba made their way from the room.
“What do you think?” deSteny asked when he and Prince John were alone.
“I think we have a hard way ahead of us,” said Prince John. “And I think not all of us will arrive safe at journey’s end.”
“It is a fear I share,” deSteny admitted.
“Mother Hezibeth, the herb woman—does she know more than herbs and simples?” Prince John asked.
“Do you mean does she know any of the ancient spell-craft?” DeSteny shook his head. “No, not that I ever heard.”
Prince John considered the fire a short while. “Simon. The Jew who keeps your records for you?”
DeSteny was startled by the question. “What about him?”
“Is he a well-informed man?” the Prince enquired.
“I suppose so—why?” DeSteny tried not to sound suspicious. “He has no connection to the vampires.”
“No. I didn’t think he had.” He paused. “They say the Jews have powerful mystical writing. Do you think your Simon may know of such things?”
DeSteny shrugged. “Send for him and ask him,” he suggested.
“Yes,” said Prince John. “While you’re away, I’ll do that.”
What Befell deSteny in his
Search for the Old Ones
A BRISK east wind cracked at the walls of Nottingham as deSteny, on his favorite sorrel mare, went out the gates toward the forest in the first, shattering light of the November dawn. He rode alone, having turned down the offer of company from three woodmen as well as two warders. “Better to lose one man than two,” he had said to each as they came to him. Now, looking at the vast expanse of green ahead, he wondered if he had been wise to refuse. Fallen leaves muffled the sound of the mare’s hooves as deSteny went into Sherwood, and the pungent odor of loam and mushrooms thickened the air as the branches creaked and bowed above.
By mid-morning, deSteny reached the ford at Pennyroyal, and he stopped long enough to let his mare drink from the stream. He approached a small shrine beside the ford and peered in at the worn wooded statue, wondering if it was a saint, or an older, local deity that was represented there.
“Naught you can do for him,” said a rusty voice from a nearby thicket.
DeSteny turned around, stepping back into the stream, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other holding his mare’s bridle. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
“Who asks?” the voice challenged.
“Hugh deSteny, Sheriff of Nottingham,” he answered with authority.
The twigs of the thicket crackled as a hunched-over figure emerged. He was ancient, his long, tangled hair white, his face as seamed as a walnut shell. His leather garments were old and badly worn, and he moved with a pronounced limp in spite of the tall walking stick he used to steady himself. “I am Sir Maynard deCoverleig
h, once of His Grace’s, King Richard’s escort in the Holy Land, now, as you see me, a penitent wanderer in Sherwood Forest.”
“Indeed,” deSteny said skeptically.
“Upon my soul and my hope of Paradise,” said the man.
“Well,” said deSteny, “and why is it you are now a penitent in Sherwood Forest?”
“I have sins upon me. Too many sins. I have put myself beyond hope of redemption. I tried to expiate my errors in the Holy Land, but I am not worthy to walk such hallowed ground. So I was posted back to England, to search for salvation.”
DeSteny had known of others so sentenced, and that alone gave credibility to the old man’s assertions. “When did you return to England?”
“Not quite four years ago,” he said. “I have been in the forest ever since, as you see me.”
“I’ve heard no mention of you, not from the woodsmen, not from the foresters, not from the warders,” said deSteny.
“I have never approached any of them,” said the self-proclaimed Sir Maynard. “I am to remain isolated.”
“Then why are you speaking to me?” deSteny asked.
“Because you are a man like other men, and not one of those undead things who roam this forest.” He lowered his head. “I should not have spoken, but after seeing so many of Hood’s minions in the forest, the sight of a man traveling alone was too much to walk away from. If nothing else, I knew I should warn you of the dangers you face here, on your own as you are. The vampires will stalk you as a wolf stalks lambs.”
“You mean you hide from them?” deSteny inquired, curious in spite of himself. “From Hood’s comrades?”
“And many others as well,” said the old man. He leaned heavily on his staff as he came nearer. “I have had time to learn much about this place.”
“No doubt you have, and may that help you in your search. I wish you may find what you seek,” said deSteny, preparing to remount his horse. “Travel unhampered, old man.” He put his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself upward.
Trouble in the Forest Book Two Page 18
