The Wolf and the Raven

by Steven A McKay

  Robin got to his feet and warded off another of Gisbourne’s blows, this time using his own greater bulk to lean into the lawman’s attack and force him stumbling backwards.

  Wanting to finish this as soon as possible, the outlaw moved after his foe, raining blow after blow on him. Gisbourne somehow parried them all, and as Robin moved to take another swing the Raven unexpectedly jumped forward, smashing his forehead into Robin’s face.

  Again, the women cheered and hollered, almost in a frenzy as the outlaw collapsed on the ground, blood dripping from his broken nose. Gisbourne laughed and kicked Robin in the ribs.

  “Take him away. It seems the tales of Robin Hood’s fighting prowess have been wildly exaggerated.”

  As he was dragged by the arms back down to the dungeon, the mocking laughter and catcalls of the noblewomen ringing in his ears, Robin felt despair again, this time like an evil black wave that washed over him, filling his soul. Drowning him.

  When he was thrown into his freezing cell again he curled into a ball and wept.

  * * *

  “Where’s Robin anyway?”

  It had taken a couple of days, but Tuck was just about able to sit up now and, as Will handed him another steaming bowl of spring vegetable soup, he asked the question all the outlaws had been asking.

  “We don’t know,” Will admitted. “Him, Much and Matt went off a couple of days ago, hunting. We haven’t seen any of them since.”

  Tuck’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve looked for them surely?”

  “Of course we have! The problem is, Robin said they weren’t going far, then planned on finishing the day fishing and drinking. We’ve searched all around but can’t find any trace and – well, Barnsdale’s a big place. They could be anywhere.”

  Tuck tipped the rest of his soup into his mouth and sighed. “Funny they took Matt with them.”

  Will shrugged and explained how Matt had escaped from Sir Guy of Gisbourne while Paul and James hadn’t been so lucky.

  Tuck shook his head and tried to stand up, but his legs were still shaky and he slumped backwards onto the pallet, head spinning so badly he almost threw up.

  “Where? Where did Gisbourne kill Paul and James?”

  Will spread his hands wide, his eyebrows drawn in consternation. “I don’t know – somewhere close to Darton. That’s where they’d been visiting that day, trying to buy rope.”

  “You must send some of the lads to look close to Darton then!” Tuck gasped, exhausted even after his moment of exercise.

  “John! Arthur! Come here!”

  The two men hurried over at Will’s shout, worried something was wrong with Tuck, but the friar explained his fears to them.

  “Matt conveniently escapes from Gisbourne and his men,” he breathed, resting his arm on his forehead, “then the next day he goes on a hunting trip with Robin? We all know they can’t stand the sight of each other.”

  John and Will exchanged glances, understanding better than anyone that Robin had come close on a couple of occasions to casting Groves out of their group, or even killing the obnoxious older man. Arthur just looked baffled.

  “None of you thought that odd?” Tuck demanded, incredulous.

  “Well, no, not really.” Little John looked at the ground, like a little boy being scolded by his father. “Matt seemed upset by what had happened to James and especially Paul – they were close in age. I thought Robin and Much just took him along with them because they felt sorry for him.”

  “Aye,” Will agreed. “You know what Robin’s like. Always tries to be the good leader – the better man. If Matt had asked me to go hunting with him I’d have told him to fuck off, but Robin’s not like the rest of us.”

  Tuck recognised the truth of what they were saying, and he lay his head back down on the pallet, somewhat mollified.

  “Well,” he went on, his eyes closed as he fought the damnable exhaustion that had plagued his few waking moments for the past two days, “it seems to me, Matt was hired by Gisbourne to lead Robin into an ambush. It wouldn’t have taken a lot for the bastard to betray Robin, would it? And the simplest place for them to take him would be wherever they’d met the previous day. So…”

  He opened one eye and glared at the three outlaws. “What are you waiting for? Go and find Robin and Much!”

  * * *

  Will felt they were wasting valuable time travelling to Darton to hunt for their missing friends, but Little John knew there was no choice.

  “We don’t know if Tuck’s idea is right,” the giant outlaw grunted as they raced through the greenwood. “For all we know they were injured by a stag or something and are lying waiting for us to find them.”

  “A stag?” Will laughed in disbelief.

  “Now you mention it, I heard Matt saying something about seeing a big stag on his way back from Darton, before Gisbourne caught them.” Arthur nodded agreement as he pushed past a small clump of gorse, pollen from the bright yellow flowers staining his brown breeches.

  “There you are,” John nodded at Will. “We can’t just go chasing off to Nottingham expecting to find Robin and Much have been captured and taken there. Not until we check out Tuck’s guess about what happened.”

  “What will we do if they have been taken to the sheriff?” Arthur wondered.

  Neither Little John or Will Scarlet could offer a reply. If Robin and Much had been taken to Nottingham they were as good as dead. It was as simple as that.

  A few outlaws weren’t enough to storm the castle, which sat on a hill inside the city walls, and mount a successful rescue.

  Little John lengthened his already enormous stride, praying his friends were safe somewhere, while Will and Arthur fell silent, conserving their breath for running behind their big friend.

  “Trust in Robin,” John growled, his eyes fixed straight ahead as he ran. “A Raven is no match for a Wolf.”

  * * *

  “It hurts!”

  Matilda's mother, Mary, grasped her daughter's hand, and nodded sympathetically. “I know, but it'll all be worth it, I promise you.”

  Matilda's baby was going to be a handful, Mary could see. The child kicked her daughter relentlessly through the nights, so hard you could see the little feet pushing against Matilda's belly.

  Mary didn't think the pain could be that bad, but she knew the constant movement inside you made it impossible to sleep properly and Matilda was exhausted now.

  First had been the morning sickness, which had lasted for weeks, and now this. Matilda often told her parents she wished she'd never let Robin get her into this state, but they knew those feelings would pass once the babe was born.

  Didn't all women feel the same during pregnancy, Mary wondered?

  Still, for all her wisdom, Mary – and her husband, Henry – didn't know how to react when their daughter cursed Robin Hood. On hearing her anguished cries during the night they instinctively, inwardly, agreed with Matilda in wishing the wolf's head had picked another young girl from Wakefield to fall in love with. And yet, both Mary and Henry knew Robin was a good man who would like nothing better than to be here to comfort his pregnant wife.

  “I'd have been better letting that bastard Woolemonger lie with me,” Matilda grunted, doubling over on the bed. “At least he wasn't an outlaw!”

  Mary glared at her husband, warning him not to respond to that. Simon Woolemonger had been killed by John Little the previous year after he'd tried to assault Matilda then informed on her to the old bailiff which had led to her being arrested. Woolemonger was scum, and Mary knew Matilda didn't mean what she was saying.

  “Hush, child,” she whispered to her daughter, gripping her hand tightly as Henry looked on, bewildered, as men always did when it came to situations like this. “Robin will be pardoned one day, and the three of you can be a family.”

  Matilda grimaced as the baby kicked again, hard, and Mary shook her head, wishing she could do more to ease her girl's pain. She knew Robin and Matilda were meant to be with each other and
yet...sometimes, as a parent, she did wish her daughter hadn't fallen in love with a wolf's head.

  He was probably having a great time hiding away in Barnsdale just now, she thought, looking down at Matilda's tired, pale features. He'd be drinking ale and singing songs with his friends while her daughter – his wife – tried to deal with the child growing inside her.

  Men. They thought they knew about pain, but they had no idea!

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Even if they were ambushed and are lying injured or…” Arthur couldn’t finish the sentence. “Well, they could be anywhere! We can’t search the whole forest.”

  They'd almost reached Darton and had still seen no sign of Robin, Much or Matt.

  John knew his young companion was right, but they had to keep looking.

  “Why don’t we go to the village and find someone with a good dog?” Will suggested, and the other two nodded agreement.

  “Aye, good idea,” John replied as they barrelled through a cluster of bracken that had grown right over the path. “A dog will” –

  The three outlaws stopped in their tracks, staring in shock at the ground just a short distance ahead, then they broke into a run.

  “It’s Much!”

  It was instantly obvious their friend was dead. If the terrible wound in his stomach wasn’t enough, the crossbow bolt embedded deep in his chest and the blank stare in his eyes confirmed it.

  “No!” Little John’s anguished cry was swallowed by the trees as he knelt by the body, placing a big hand almost tenderly on the unmoving chest. “Not Much…he was a good lad – not like the rest of us!”

  “That bastard, Gisbourne!” Will shouted, his eyes transfixed by the black crossbow bolt protruding from Much, voice cracking with anger and despair. “He’s destroying us, one by one!”

  Arthur stood at the side quietly, numb with shock, but his eyes scanned the thick trees and bushes around them.

  “Where’s Robin and Matt?” he mumbled.

  Scarlet was lost in a world of his own, consumed by rage and grief, but John realised they could be in danger and he stood up, grabbing Will by the shoulders.

  “They’ve taken Robin – probably to hang him. We have to take Much back to Wakefield and give him a proper burial.”

  “He’s dead!” Will roared. “We can’t do anything for him – we need to find that bastard Gisbourne and help Robin!”

  John could feel Scarlet’s anger as he held him by the shoulders, but he stared down, deep into Will’s eyes in determination.

  “They’ve taken Robin, probably to Nottingham for a show trial. We can’t just chase after them – three of us! On foot! We take Much home, and then we talk to the rest of the lads and decide what to do.”

  Will glared up at the big bearded giant, but the sense of it finally penetrated his fury and he nodded, leaning down and lifting Much’s arms. “Fine – one of you grab his legs then and let’s move. Quickly now!”

  They were all tired after their journey here, but their anger spurred them on as they made their way back towards their camp with their dead friend, taking turns to relieve one another – especially the much slighter Arthur.

  “Don’t despair lads,” John growled, gazing at his two companions. “Robin is still alive, maybe in a dungeon somewhere, but still alive until they can make a show of him.”

  Arthur didn’t reply, his whole body aching from carrying Much’s corpse, but Will spat on the thick undergrowth beside them.

  “I owe Robin for what he did, saving Beth,” he muttered, to himself as much as anyone else, remembering the previous year when Robin and Allan-a-Dale had posed as minstrels to sneak into the manor house where his little daughter was being held as a servant and rescued her. “If he’s in a dungeon, I’ll kill myself trying to get him out. ‘The Raven’,” he spat the epithet in disgust, “better watch his fucking back! As soon as we’ve taken Much home, I’m going to Nottingham.”

  * * *

  “How’s your father?”

  “Eh?” Edmond had been staring at the road ahead, but now he turned, casting a venomous look on his noble captive.

  “Your father – the tanner?” Sir Richard asked again.

  “None of your fucking business,” Edmond spat. “You don’t know him, so what do you care?”

  “On the contrary,” the Hospitaller replied. “Your father has been making harnesses for my horses for years. I remember you and your brother running around outside his shop as children…”

  Edmond’s eyes became damp again, but his throat tightened and, when he tried, he couldn’t tell the knight to shut up.

  “I am truly sorry for Walter.” Sir Richard’s voice was calm, and the sincerity in his words was obvious from his resigned tone and the look of sadness on his face. “My own boy was taken from me not long ago…I’m getting too old…seen too much death. I’m sick of it.”

  The tears spilled from Edmond’s eyes at the thought of his beloved brother – who’d never had a real chance in life from the day he was born – lying dead and unburied miles back along the path as he shepherded their old lord to his death.

  Edmond knew, deep down, his brother’s blood was on his hands. He had been the one who wanted to capture Sir Richard, even though the Hospitaller had been a good lord to the people of Kirklees.

  Edmond had been the one who'd wanted to make a name for himself by capturing a rebel.

  As he thought of his brother’s body lying cold and dead in the undergrowth he wondered if Sir Richard had been worth it, especially since their father had died not too long ago and Edmond was now all alone in the world.

  “Shut up you bastard!” he screamed, kicking the knight in the back through his tears, almost sending the big man falling to the ground.

  “You’re going to hang!”

  * * *

  “What are we going to do?” Will Scarlet furiously repeated Allan-a-Dale's question. “I don't know what anyone else is doing, but I'm going to Nottingham to find Robin!”

  “Peace, Will.” Friar Tuck raised his hand, shaking his head in resignation. “This is no time to be haring off in a blind rage. We'll have to think about it.”

  “What is there to think about?” Will demanded. “We know Gisbourne's taken him to the castle and plans on hanging him. Sitting here planning isn't going to do anything – no plan in the world's going to make this easy.”

  Tuck made to reply, but Little John clapped a meaty hand on Scarlet's shoulder. “I agree with Will,” he rumbled, bringing a look of surprise from the weak friar. “We don't have time to mess about, trying to think up a clever plan. Besides, Robin's the one for that, and he's not here.”

  Tuck closed his mouth and nodded for John to continue as the rest of the outlaws gathered round, wondering where this would lead.

  “All we can do is be direct,” the massive outlaw asserted. “We have to get into the castle, kill or otherwise incapacitate the guards, and somehow get out of the city with Robin.”

  “Is that all?” Allan snorted sarcastically. “Piece of piss.”

  “We can't all go,” Gareth said. “They'd spot us straight away, especially you,” he nodded at Little John. “Not many people in Nottingham are as big as you. Probably no one!”

  “Maybe we could disguise him as a dancing bear,” Allan grunted, nodding at John. “Wouldn't take much disguising.”

  No one laughed and Allan fell silent, embarrassed to have made the silly joke at such a stressful time.

  “I'll go in myself,” Will stood up, patting his weapons instinctively to make sure they were all in place. “One man has a better chance than all of us together. I'll find a way to get inside and free him.”

  “Wait.” All eyes turned to Tuck again as he swung his legs off his pallet and shakily got to his feet. “I'm coming with you.”

  “Don't be bloody stupid,” John shook his head in disbelief. “You're too weak. How will you be any use?”

  “I'm not that weak,” the friar retorted. “The journey south w
ill build my muscles back up and I'll be able to help Will get into the city if nothing else. Remember, everyone – including the sheriff's men and Gisbourne – think I'm dead. And thanks to this” – he rubbed the short bushy beard that had grown on his face while he was unconscious – “they'll never recognise me anyway.”

  Will agreed. “He has a point, John.”

  “This is insane,” the giant grumbled. “The only exercise you've had in the past few days is the odd wander around the camp. How are you going to walk to Nottingham? You might have lost some weight, but you're still too fat for Will to carry all the way there!”

  “I'll go on ahead to Royston,” Gareth volunteered. “I'll buy a horse and bring it back. You,” he nodded at Tuck and Will, “can meet me on the way.”

  “Perfect,” the friar smiled at the young lad appreciatively. “I can alternate between walking and riding. I've got my appetite back, so by the time we reach the city I'll be my old self again.”

  “All right then,” Will began packing some food and drink for himself and Tuck. “Take five pounds from the common fund to pay for the horse and head off to Royston. We'll meet you on the road.”

  Gareth nodded and headed over to the big wooden chest where the outlaws stored their money as Tuck got himself ready for the journey.

  “Here,” Little John tossed his great quarterstaff to the friar. “You can use that to steady yourself until you get stronger.”

  “Thank you,” Tuck replied with a grateful smile. “But it's much too big for me – it'd make me stand out and that's exactly what we have to avoid. I'll take my own staff.”

  Gareth gave a wave and raced off into the trees, his spindly limbs allowing him to move much faster than any of the other outlaws. Will and Tuck clasped arms with the rest of the men who wished them luck and promised to pray for the success of their mission.

  John wished desperately he could go along with them, and he unashamedly grabbed Scarlet in a great bear-hug as they said their farewells.