Falconer's Prey

by April Hill

  “I’ve made no threat, sir,” Fletcher said, sighing. “And I have asked politely, have I not?”

  “Will you die politely as well, fool?” The thin Forester joined in the fat one’s laughter, then drew his sword and advanced toward Fletcher. At that moment, three of Robin Hood’s best marksmen stepped silently out of the trees, arrows nocked and ready. The fat Forester looked at the thin.

  “Step back, please,” Fletcher advised the startled foresters. “Quiet your dogs and lay down your arms.”

  But the forester holding the crossbow had no intention of backing down.

  “Stand down, at once!” he shouted to Robin’s marksmen. “Or your leader, here, will have an arrow through his heart before your own are in the air!”

  Will frowned, shaking his head a bit sadly. “Ah, but leaders are easily come by, you see, and I am probably of scant value to these good men. But the good fellows are weary, and if you should happen to shoot me, it may well annoy them, and they will then – of course – shoot you. Then I shall be dead, and two of the King’s best men shall be dead, and what will have been gained?” he asked mildly. “Why not simply leave the lady to us, take your dogs, and go in peace. Surely there are still a few genuine poachers out there for your animals to eat, or for you to shoot.”

  “The woman is an escaped fugitive,” the fat one said. “We are taking her into custody.”

  “Escaped fugitive!” Fletcher whooped. “This slow–witted pile of rags? The dirty wench is nothing more than a drunken scullery maid and Saturday night whore, run away to avoid a sound thrashing by her honest employer. We sent for him to take the ungrateful bitch back, though, by tonight. I’ll wager she’ll be wishing she were in jail. She’ll not sit on that plump ass of hers, or lay down easy for a week after the fierce strapping she’s due, and she’ll eat what scraps she gets under the stairs. Come down here, Fanny, you stupid girl! You’re lucky the King’s good men, here, haven’t put an arrow in your worthless rump!”

  The thin forester looked from Alice to the three archers and motioned his fat companion. “Leave her to them. What matter to us if…”

  “We dare not!” the fat one cried. “The Sheriff will have our….”

  The thin one narrowed his eyes and glanced nervously at Robin’s men. “She’s nothing but a scullery maid, idiot! It’s plain to any fool.”

  They whistled to the dogs and walked quickly away in the direction from which they’d come, looking back only once before they disappeared into the forest.

  Alice let out her breath in one great sigh of relief and crawled back down the tree, jumping the last few feet from a lower branch.

  “They believed you!” she cried.

  Fletcher laughed. “Nonsense. Not only did they not believe that silly pack of lies, but they know quite well who we are. Our beloved monarch’s minions aren’t paid nearly well enough to die nobly in his service.”

  “But will they not report what they saw?”

  “And risk the Sheriff of Nottingham’s notorious wrath? I think not. We, and you, Mistress, are invisible. No more than rumors, or ghosts of the forest. Had there been more of them, however….” He pointed east and began walking very fast, with Alice running as quickly as she could to keep up with his long strides. Despite his deceptively amiable words, she was uncomfortably aware that she was in a great deal of trouble.

  Chapter the Third

  In Robin Hood’s Camp on The Eighteenth Day of March, in The Year of Our Lord 1193. May God Save Good King Richard!

  By the time they arrived back in camp after her rescue from the King’s Foresters, Will Fletcher’s anger at Alice for having to search for her was very apparent. When they entered the clearing, he ordered her to stay at the fire–pit with Fanny and then strode away. When Alice began to describe her frightening encounter with the foresters, Fanny was decidedly unsympathetic.

  “Not a week ago, ye watched me take a hard hand to the backsides of two other little fools who got themselves ‘lost’,” Fanny growled, “and there wasn’t half the time wasted lookin’ for the two of them as was for you. Nor did them little girls draw the eye of the King’s men. Was I to be asked, Mistress, I’d say yer own sorry rump wants worse than theirs got. I’ll not be surprised if ye find yerself over that anvil of Bri’n’s – for a good, hard strappin’.”

  “But I am not a child, Fanny!” Alice protested, looking about nervously.

  “Aye, but ye’re none smarter than one, it seems. I can tell ye one thing. Many ’s the lass a good deal older ’n ye who’s had her backside strapped red and purple by Bri’n, and fer less than ye’ve done. They all lived to tell the tale, so don’t get yourself sick o’er the idea. It ain’t the worst thing can happen. Anyway, with Robin away, what happens to ye now is Will’s call, but to my eye, he looked none too pleased when he come in.”

  It wasn’t long before Will Fletcher reappeared and beckoned to her as he walked toward his hut. Fanny nodded her head in his direction.

  “I’d not keep ’im waitin’, if ’t was me,” she said under her breath. “Will’s a good man, but there’s not many would call him a patient one.”

  Alice straightened her spine and faced Fanny squarely.

  “I am not frightened by William Fletcher, Fanny!”

  Fanny dropped her spoon and bent over laughing.

  “I’ll make ye a wager, Mistress,” she sputtered, wiping her eyes and holding up the corner of her stained leather apron for Alice’s inspection. “Come out of Will Fletcher’s hut ten minutes from now and tell me that again and I’ll eat this apron here, top to bottom, with nary a bit o’ jam on it!”

  Fletcher beckoned again, his face darkening. Alice took a deep breath and crossed the wide clearing.

  “Bri’n is not in camp,” he said as she entered the hut. “He’s… I don’t know the devil where he is! But you and I have a matter to settle, Mistress. You’re due a hard whipping, as any other would be, who did what you have!”

  “I was lost!” Alice protested. “I have done nothing to warrant such a disgusting penalty!”

  “You have disobeyed an order, endangering our men and yourself. Were I of a mind to mete out a truly just sentence, your disobedient rump would be whipped before the entire camp, as was Mrs. Nubbs! As matters be, they’ll have to content themselves with your howls of agony and your peculiar walk when you leave here today. Lift your skirts and bend over that barrel.”

  “You may go to hell, sir!” she snapped. “I’ll not be whipped like some disobedient child. Certainly not by a ruffian and a scoundrel who….”

  “Ruffian, I am, and scoundrel, probably, but you will be whipped, until your deserving backside catches fire and bursts into flames, if I’m able! Were Bri’n here, I would defer to his age and expertise, because believe me, Mistress, I wish very much for this thrashing to be an excellent one in every detail. I have wasted a full day’s hunting while searching for you, and put several excellent archers in harm’s way. But it is only you and I here, and this is one whipping that won’t wait for Bri’n’s return. I’ll have you over that barrel now, with your skirts raised to your waist. The sooner we’ve done with this, the sooner I can return to my duties and you can get your idle rump back to the kitchen.” With that, he unbuckled the wide belt he wore, and removed it. Out of the corner of her eye, Alice spied the thick black leather strap and groaned silently.

  “You are a cad, a brute, and a pig!” she hissed.

  Fletcher slapped the strap against his thigh once, with a thwacking sound that made Alice’s stomach twist. “And you have a talent for saying the wrong thing, mistress. Your tongue has just earned you an additional ten blows. Now, close your mouth and lift your skirts, or you’ll have twenty more.”

  Finally, with no one to call to her aid and with a grudging understanding that what was about to happen was in one sense fair, Alice did as he ordered and leaned across the barrel as far as possible, gathering her skirts to her waist as she bent over. There was a slight pause and then Fletcher
chuckled – at her undergarments, presumably.

  “And what have we here?” Fletcher asked. Curiously, he patted the threadbare seat of the garment with his hand, although his pat was rather too hard to be merely exploratory. “A well–born lady like yourself, in such a peculiar garment? Is it not witches who don men’s apparel?”

  “Leave me be!” she yelped as he swatted her rump again, quite a bit harder. “I wear the item merely for warmth!” It was a pair of braies she wore, which she had stolen from the Abbey’s gardener before she escaped. Women wore nothing of the sort, by custom, but it was an unfair one in Alice’s estimation, for men were no doubt much warmer in them.

  “And warm you shall be, quite soon. Warmer in that area than I suspect you would wish. I promise that very shortly you’ll not need the warmth this gruesome garment provides, and were I not the gentleman I am, I would dispense with it completely and thrash you as you deserve backspace–bare.”

  Alice moaned, recognizing by his tone that Fletcher was actually enjoying her misery. While her face was burning at her undignified appearance and ungainly position, she took a small measure of solace in the coverage her unlovely undergarment provided, since she suspected that beneath it, her bottom was probably blushing as red as her face.

  A moment later, with no further word and very little remaining humor, Fletcher laid the strap across her buttocks, hard and fast. As the first shocking blow landed, Alice forgot her vow to remain stubbornly silent and howled at the top of her healthy young lungs.

  As the whipping progressed, the unsteady barrel proved to be a poor choice for a whipping block. Alice’s kicking legs and frenzied bucking made the thing wobble dangerously. Possibly with the victim’s comfort and safety in mind, Will Fletcher yanked her up by one arm and dumped her instead face down across the end of the long table, causing her to nearly lose her hand–sewn “drawers” during the transfer. She reached frantically back to pull them further up, and heard Fletcher’s chuckle at her humiliating predicament. Alas, as her stability improved on the table, so did his aim. Time after time, the broad strap cracked across Alice’s soft, round backside, bringing forth groans and agonized yelps when the leather found its mark on an already scalded and beet red spot beneath the flimsy cover of her garment. After that first astonished wail of pain, though, Alice managed one small triumph. She denied him the satisfaction of hearing her open, prolonged shrieking. “Better than nothing,” she thought bitterly.

  Fletcher signaled that the whipping had ended by replacing the belt around his waist and pointing rudely to the doorway, motioning for her to leave. With some difficulty and with her buttocks “on fire” exactly as he had promised, Alice made her way with a modicum of dignity through the curious group that had gathered and back to her own hut. There, she lowered her undergarment to feel the cool air across her aching bottom and fell gratefully on her stomach onto her crude sleeping palette, as she began to plot Will Fletcher’s death.

  * * * * *

  As the days passed, Alice’s despair grew. Her first weeks had not been pleasant and though she knew herself to be safe from her pursuers in Robin Hood’s well–defended camp, she knew also that being recaptured and returned to St. Mary’s was still a possibility until she reached London. And without help, such a journey would be both arduous and dangerous.

  Even worse news arrived three days later, when Arthur returned from Nottingham with the terrible tidings that Uncle Henry had been arrested and was at this very moment imprisoned in the dank, squalid, cave–like dungeons beneath Nottingham Castle.

  “Is there nothing to be done?” she wept, pleading with Will Fletcher. “My uncle has been a loyal subject to King Richard and a good friend to Robin Hood himself, and now he languishes in a foul prison with no one to come to his aid? Has your band…Has Robin Hood himself not rescued people from the Sheriff’s hands in the past?”

  “He has, indeed, Mistress, but once a man is already under lock and key, such a rescue would require storming Nottingham Castle itself, and that, even our bold Robin cannot do with impunity. I know of no reason why your uncle should be arrested, unless he has been more careless than usual. The Sheriff and the Bishop are known to be close, and your uncle is no doubt suspected of aiding in your escape. Still, Burden is too good a friend of King Richard’s to be treated with the Sheriff’s customary harshness. From what our spies tell us, your uncle is in no genuine danger at the moment and he appears to be in good health. We’ll wait a few days for word and to see what charges they lodge against him, if any. But I must warn you, the wait may be a long one –too long – perhaps weeks. The Sheriff enjoys taking his time in dealing with these matters. It’s his way of harassing those he most dislikes.”

  “If I am to receive no help from you and my uncle cannot be reached, I have no further choice,” Alice said firmly. “I will attempt to make my way to London alone. Even now, I’m expected, and my…my friends will be frightened. I can wait no longer.”

  Fletcher crossed his arms. “On the contrary, Mistress, you will wait, and wait as long as necessary,” he replied. “Should you try to reach London without safe escort and proper papers, you’re in danger of being retaken and returned to St. Mary’s, and I believe you know what awaits you there. The Abbott looks with extreme disfavor on malcontents and on those who defy his authority. The merciless daily beatings and ‘lessons in humility’ you endure there will be the least of the penance extracted. You could be whisked away to a desolate foreign cloister and never seen again. No, the wise thing is still to wait.”

  Alice responded with undisguised contempt. “I thank you for your counsel, Master Fletcher, “but you, of all people should know that I have not been well treated here. If I choose to take the risk upon myself, may I ask the return of my horses, at least, and Arthur’s company?”

  “You may not,” he said bluntly. “Arthur is far too young and foolish to undertake such a perilous mission and I’ll not have him slain to suit your impatient whims. With Robin away, the decision is in my hands and the answer is still no.”

  “Then, I will expect… demand, merely the return of the two horses with which I arrived,” she insisted stubbornly. “I am certain my uncle would want nothing less.”

  “What your good and wise uncle would no doubt want, Mistress, and what you can expect, should you attempt to step one foot beyond the boundaries of this camp, is to have your backside birched until it glows like a winter bonfire, and then to be tied to a tree, in the way we do with small children to prevent their wandering off into the forest.”

  “But I am a free citizen!” she wailed. “You surely would not do such a thing!”

  “Please do not ask me to prove to you that I would,” he said. “Henry Burden would take it very unkindly if we allowed his niece to wander the highways unguarded, to be taken again, or to be injured. We will wait.”

  “Then I beg you again to take me to London yourself,” she cried. “Or send men with me!”

  “As I have told you before, in the winter months, we are without our full contingent,” he explained again, very calmly. “Many of the men must spend the hard winters with their families. They will return in the spring, but until then, we cannot spare even one man, especially on a fool’s errand. Nor will I see good horses wasted on such a frivolous venture. I’m sorry, but the matter is settled. We wait.”

  As he turned to leave, Alice took his arm to stop him. “I would point out, sir, that my friends have more than sufficient funds to amply compensate you for your trouble,” she said smugly. “If money is your concern, I assure you that you will be handsomely rewarded.”

  “As will you, Mistress, if you continue this nonsense,” Fletcher replied irritably. “Indeed, your next reward is but moments away, as close as this belt at my waist or the sturdy switches on that tree there. Either of which I promise will leave you amply rewarded for your selfishness. I repeat. We will wait!”

  Unwilling to risk another thoroughly disagreeable trip over Will Fletcher’s dining table
, Alice declined to argue the point further. She would make her own plans in private, without his help.

  Since the whipping he had administered to her, there had been an uneasy truce between them. The event had convinced her, as he had no doubt intended, that his authority was not to be challenged without penalty. Yet after the event itself, he had not seemed vengeful in his dealings with her and always spoke as pleasantly to her as he did to the other women. Indeed, Alice found his even–handed treatment of her somehow insulting, after the peculiarly intimate moments they had shared. Her feelings were complex and troubling. This man, whom she barely knew, had openly flirted with her, saved her life, and then, with no apparent compunctions whatever, had chastised her as he would a disobedient child! And then, worst of all, he had then ignored her! In spite of the harsh manner in which he had sometimes treated her, something in Alice was drawn to Will Fletcher. And now his apparent blindness to her changed feelings was beginning to annoy and frustrate her.

  It was not as if Alice was unaccustomed to rejection. Her own father had chosen the scheming, lying and evil Isobel over her, his own daughter. And when she had tried, in her childish way, to embrace her father’s new wife as a mother, the vicious shrew had arranged for her to be carried from her home, screaming with grief, to be locked away in a prison, doomed to a life without marriage or children, or free thought.

  And now, when she had finally escaped that prison, and as she was rushing toward a new life – a thrilling, secret new life she had told no one of – she had met Will Fletcher, a man who both troubled her and made her question the choices she had been so confident of just weeks earlier.

  * * * * *

  That evening sometime after dusk, Alice heard a commotion in the camp and ducked outside to see what was happening. In the middle of the wide clearing, obviously just arrived, was a bearded man of medium height dressed in a cloak, jerkin and hose all of the same dark, Lincoln green. The new arrival was surrounded by a group of laughing men, all of whom were talking at once and attempting to slap the fellow on the back or to shake his hand. Dressed as he was and with a stout longbow and rawhide quiver slung over his shoulder, the man could be none other than the wrongly ousted Lord of Locksley Manor himself, Robin Hood. Standing beside him and holding the reins of a massive white horse was a heavily bearded giant of a man. The man was clothed from head to toe in sewn animal skins and in one mighty fist, he carried a thick, knobbed quarterstaff – Robin’s almost constant companion, of course, the able archer and swordsman, John Little – called “Little John.” Alice stepped from her hut and approached the crowd, eager to see with her own eyes the most famous outlaws in all England.