Farther into the forest he walked without seeing a soul. He trained his ears to listen for anything out of the ordinary, and so far, he couldn’t detect any trouble. It was harder to look into the sky because here in Sherwood Forest, the trees were taller and more of them blocked the sky. Yet, he could tell by the shift of color in the sky that morning would be forthcoming. Hopefully, he could snare a rabbit so he could have some breakfast. Either that or find a pond to catch him a fish.
From somewhere inside the group of trees to the left of him, a twig snapped. Then another. Archer stilled, gripping the handle of his sword tighter. He doubted the sheriff’s men would wander into the forest this far, only because he knew they believed the stories that were going around about the Sherwood being haunted. Archer had never believed in such a thing, but there was definitely someone inside these woods who wanted to make others believe there were ghosts.
The air around him became quiet, which wasn’t normal because he should still hear chirping birds or the buzz of insects. For certain, someone was out there.
He stood straight and placed the sword by his leg. “You may as well show yourself. I know you are there.” He waited, but nobody came forth. “Would you not like to talk as civilized men instead of feeling like a hunted animal?”
Finally, movement inside the trees and bushes grew louder as he prepared for company. Seven men materialized, each one holding a sword, knife, or pointing an arrow at him. He held up his hands to show them he was no threat.
The large man with wild ratted hair, both on his head and his chin, stepped closer than the others. This man was not only large in height, but in weight.
“I’m wondering,” the wild man began, “what a fancy gent like yourself is doing in this forest.”
Fancy? Archer glanced down at his attire. He continued to wear the more comfortable clothes during his stay with Payton, but these were not his original clothes. Then again, he doubted they made this kind of cloth in his world. So apparently, to these men, Archer did look fancy.
He met the eyes of the wild man. “I have killed some of the sheriff’s men. I’m running from them.”
The group exchanged glances before the large man looked back at Archer. “What is your name?
I know this man,” another voice came from behind the leader, stepping into the clearing more. “He is Lord of Loxley.”
The younger man was probably in his mid-youth, but he didn’t look familiar at all. “Indeed, I am Lord of Loxley. Have we met before?”
The youth shook his head. “No, but a sennight ago, I heard the sheriff was looking for you. He has a price on your head.”
So, it’s been a week since I left the sheriff...and since Peter died. Murmurs rose amongst the others, and Archer could only assume what they were thinking. He shook his head, holding up a hand to silence them. “Oh, I’m certain the sheriff has a price on my head. However, I know a better way for you to get his money than to turn me in.”
The beefy man folded his massive arms across his chest, giving Archer a scowl. “And what is that, may I ask?”
Archer nodded. “Because I have worked in the sheriff’s castle, I know all of his secret entrances, and all of his hidden chambers. I especially know where he keeps his gold.”
Finally, awareness shown on their expressions, and Archer grinned. The large man scratched his scruffy chin.
“What, exactly, are you suggesting, my lord.
I’m suggesting we all work together to try and stop the sheriff from raising our taxes. I’m suggesting that we all cooperate and get along so that we can help others in our situation.” Payton’s words rang through his memory—steal from the rich and give to the poor. Archer’s smile widened. With these men helping him out, he could certainly accomplish such a feat.
“I think, my lord, that you have yourself a deal.” The large man chuckled as he stretched forth his right hand. “My name is John Little, but my friends call me Little John.”
Archer hitched a breath. That name! Payton had told him that a man called Little John would be one of Archer’s friends.
He shook the other man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Little John.”
The large man began to introduce the others in the group. When he called the young man who’d talked to him a few minutes ago, Will Scarlet, Archer recalled this was another name Payton had mentioned.
For certain, these men were meant to be in Archer’s life. He only wished Payton could be, as well.
THE DAYS WERE DRAGGING, and Payton thought she was going to die. She missed Archer so much. Everywhere she looked, she could see him. And it didn’t help when she edited the photos she took of him, getting them ready to be sold. She wanted to keep her most favorite, but all of them were her favorite. That man was just too beautiful no matter what he did.
Slowly, his scent was beginning to fade from his clothes. And she kept his armor and sword so that no other model would be able to use them. They were Archer’s, and they just wouldn’t look good on any other model.
Every day for a week now she had checked the internet for books about Robin Hood, and she was relieved to see they were back. It made her heart feel good that she had brought those books back for the world to enjoy and love. Unfortunately, that was the only thing that made her heart feel good.
Mary had reassured her that as time passed, his memory wouldn’t hurt so much. Payton could only hope her friend was right. Because Payton hadn’t smiled or laughed since she’d sent Archer home.
Actually, come to think of it, she had smiled once. Apparently, Phillip had tried to get his lawyer to throw out the contract he and Mary had signed when they had their contest, but Phillip lost his fight, once again. He had to pay up...and he had to leave them alone or they could take him to court. It sure felt good knowing Archer had played a part in helping Payton and Mary with that. He’d been wise to think up something so creative.
Payton wandered through the house, not in the mood to do anything. Mary sat at her computer probably finishing the edits on the photos that Payton couldn’t seem to concentrate on. She peeked in the room but then continued down the hall. Before she reached the kitchen, Mary’s voice rang out in the quiet house.
“Payton, come here. Quick.”
She wasn’t sure how quick Mary really needed her, but she turned around and walked back. When she entered the room, she stopped. Mary waved her hand motioning Payton closer.
“You’ve got to see this. It’s remarkable, really.”
When Payton made it to her friend’s side and could finally see what Mary was working on, she realized it wasn’t the photos as she’d first assumed. Instead, Mary had an internet article pulled up.
“It probably doesn’t mean anything,” Mary began, “but I found an article about Robin Hood and Maid Marion.” She looked up and met Payton’s stare. “Funny that I’d never read this before, but did you know they had two children—a boy and a girl?
Really?” Payton folded her arms and leaned against the desk. “I read a lot of articles about Robin Hood, and none of them said anything like that.
Well, this one talks about it. And get this,” Mary moved her focus back to the computer screen, “they named the girl Mary and the boy Payton.”
Sucking in her breath, Payton slapped a hand over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes and her chest wrenched with loneliness again. What were the odds this article was one of Archer’s relatives who had passed it down over the years? True, Robin Hood was fiction, but Archer wasn’t. If this was true, and he’d named his children after her and Mary, then it proved that he hadn’t forgotten her after all.
“And did you know,” Mary continued with a catch in her voice, “the name Payton wasn’t used until the late nineteen hundreds, and when the name was first used, it was spelled P-a-y-t-o-n. But this name,” she pointed to the screen, “is spelled P-e-y-t-o-n.
Oh, Mary,” she sobbed and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Do we dare believe this was really Archer?”
Payton sniffed. “I miss him so much.
I know you do, but you did the right thing.” She pointed to the screen again. “If not, stories of Robin Hood would not exist.
I know, but try telling the pain in my heart that.
Within time, your heart will heal.
Thanks.” She bent over, gave Mary a hug, and then pulled away before walking out of the room.
She ended up downstairs. Her gaze moved around the room, remembering when she had photographed Archer. He’d been on that chair. He’d stood in that corner of the room. He’d challenged Calvin in that spot on the floor.
Another tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away as she moved to the model’s wardrobe closet. Right away, she found one of the outfits she’d had Archer wear. She held the twelfth century looking shirt up to her face and rubbed the sleeve against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture him wearing this, but it hurt so much to think about.
Sighing heavily, she looked back at the clothes. What was she thinking? She was going half mad from the separation, and rubbing these clothes would only make her more insane. And yet, in a way, she somehow felt closer to him.
Yes, for certain she was losing her mind!
So why shouldn’t she just go with it? She could change into these clothes, and maybe even slip on his armor and hold his sword...and maybe, just maybe she’d feel closer to him. Either that or Mary would call the doctors with the white straight jacket to take her to the mental ward of the hospital.
FOURTEEN
Archer pushed his horse faster. He, Little John, and Will Scarlet had just sneaked into the Sheriff of Nottingham’s castle and taken some of his money. They had almost gotten away, but as they passed through the last door, one of the sheriff’s guards had spotted them. Now Archer and his friends rode as if the devil was on their heels.
By now, he knew these woods like he’d known his own home, thanks to the help of his new friends, anyway. In the past week, he’d taught them how to properly use a sword, along with the bow and arrow. He still thought himself the best, but at least the others fought alongside of him and they all fought for one purpose—to help the poor people regain some of their earnings after the sheriff had taken most of it.
This way of life wasn’t the best way to live, but it made his heart glad knowing he was helping these people. His men even enjoyed riling the sheriff...an added bonus, to be sure.
Archer zig-zagged through the forest, until they finally lost the guards who’d been following. Out of breath, Archer and the other two rested their horses as they hid behind a thicket of shrubbery they had made for purposes just like this one. His men were actually very creative in finding different ways to throw the sheriff off, and for stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Of course, the main reason Archer enjoyed this activity was because it kept his mind off Payton.
At least some of the times.
“I believe we have lost them,” Little John said quietly.
“Aye, we have.” Archer motioned his head for the others to follow. “Let’s return to our hideout and divide the money.”
It took another half hour, but when the men entered their hideout, they were greeted with cheers from the other men. In just a week’s time, they had gained fifteen more men. The more, the merrier! He trusted these men with his life, as they trusted theirs to him. This was his family now, and he cherished the turn of events. But still, in the dark hours of the night when he had room to think, he always thought of Payton and the wonderful days they had shared. He wondered what she was doing, and if she had forgotten about him and moved on. Although it was what she needed to do, he hoped she would always remember him—and love him. Just as he loved her.
Archer kneeled beside the pit, as he turned the rabbit over the fire. His stomach grumbled from hunger. Although these meals weren’t anything like Payton and Mary used to cook, at least they were edible and filling.
Shouts from the camp trickled through the group. Archer became alert and jumped to his feet, his hand automatically reaching for his sword. Someone had entered their camp. Panic rose to his throat. He prayed it wasn’t the enemy.
The sun hadn’t fully set, but he could only see shadows of his men assisting another person toward the fire. Jacob ran ahead and caught up to Archer first.
“My lord, we caught someone in the woods. He was injured, but he didn’t have money. He kept asking for you.
Did he say his name?” Archer asked.
“No, my lord.”
Archer pushed past Jacob and hurried to their guest. The closer he came, the more the man wearing torn and blood stained clothes with ratted hair looked familiar. No...it couldn’t be. He hurried his stride until he stood in front of the man still being held up by Allan and Thomas.
“Oh, Archer. I found you,” the man struggled to say.
“Peter?” Archer hitched a breath. “You are alive?” He reached for his friend who collapsed in his arms. Archer looked at Allan. “Quick, bring some ale and bread. This man is half starved.”
Archer took his friend away from Allan and Thomas and led him to the fire. Gently, he laid him down by one of the logs. “Peter, why did you not die? Your injury should have killed you.”
Peter gave him a weak smile. “Are you saying you wanted me dead?
Not at all. I’m just very surprised. But delighted.”
Allan came back with bread and the ale. Archer helped his friend sip from the goblet.
When Peter pulled away, he took a deep breath. “Right after you left my side, I was rescued by a fair maiden. She kept me alive and nursed me back to health.” He shrugged. “Well, as healthy as she could, anyway. But when the sheriff’s men came into her village looking for me, I knew I had to leave or else I’d put her family in harm’s way. She was too kind to me, and I couldn’t repay her in that manner.”
Archer nodded. “I’m very happy you came to find me, and it relieves me to know you had not died. Guilt had hung heavy in my heart for thinking I was the reason you were killed.
No, you were not.” He smiled again. “We are friends and we shall fight this war with the Sheriff of Nottingham together.”
Chuckling, Archer motioned his hand to the others in the camp. “Along with these good men. We shall all beat the tyrant one day, I just know it. And when King Richard returns, he will be grateful for our devotion and give us back our homes.
I pray you are right, Archer.”
He helped Peter eat some bread and drink more ale, but soon his friend fell asleep next to the log. Archer draped his blanket over the other man who needed it more than Archer did. He was very happy that his friend was alive. He wouldn’t have been able to make it through life with the feeling that he’d been responsible for his friend’s murder.
The camp grew quiet, and Archer took a moment to walk into the woods to be by himself. Every night he did this to collect his thoughts and recall those times he’d been with Payton. Would that woman ever leave his mind? Probably not. At times he wished she would so he could feel normal again, and yet he realized that he didn’t want to feel normal. He wanted to feel loved—the way she loved him. He enjoyed the way she looked on him as if she’d never seen anything so wonderful. Making her smile and laugh brought meaning into his life. And Heaven help him, he wanted it back again. He wanted his Payton here with him now, making him feel like a hero all over again.
In the sky, a star fell. Excitement shot through him, but he didn’t have time to ponder over his thoughts and weigh out the confusion. Closing his eyes, he smiled.
I want Payton in my life. Now until forever. I wish she was here with me now.
Waiting in silence, he wondered if his wish would come true. Slowly, he opened his eyes and listened to hear if there were any noises. Nothing had changed. Everything still looked the way it had when he first walked into the grove. Tears burned behind his eyes, and his heart wrenched with s
orrow. Perhaps wishing on a star and having it come true only happened in her world.
He sighed with defeat and walked back to the camp. He didn’t know how he’d be able to do it, but he must find a way to mend his heart. They could never be together, and the more he got used to that idea, the better off he’d be.
Just before entering camp, the men’s voices rose in anger. He hoped they weren’t arguing over the last loaf of bread again. Knowing he’d have to be the one to bring justice to their quarrel, he hurried toward the commotion.
His men were in a circle, their swords drawn and pointed to whatever it was inside. Curious, he pushed past the men to see what had caused their ire. Standing in the middle was a man wearing armor and holding a sword. Immediately, the style of armor looked familiar. A sheriff’s soldier!
Quickly, he reached for his own sword, but just as he was unsheathing it, recognition struck him. This man was wearing his armor—the armor he’d had right after running from the sheriff. And the sword...was his—the very weapon his father had given him before Archer left to fight beside King Richard in the Turkish War. How in all that was holy had this man gotten Archer’s belongings?
When the man’s gaze met Archer, the stranger dropped the sword. A gasp rang through the crowd, but it was that of a woman. He stood still, not sure of what to think of this stranger.
The man reached up and lifted off the helmet. Long, honey brown hair settled around the woman’s shoulders, as her mouth stretched into a wide, familiar smile. His heart leapt, yet he knew he couldn’t possibly be seeing right. Had he gone mad and was now seeing Payton everywhere he looked? Impossible!
“Archer!” she cheered.
Yet, it was her voice. No other woman’s voice could turn his insides to honey and make him want to weep with happiness.
Champion Page 14
