Knight of Sherwood

by N B Dixon

  “Damn it, Will, what did you have to do that for?”

  “You cried out in your sleep loud enough to wake the dead. There are plenty of other outlaws in Sherwood besides us. Best not advertise the fact we’re here.” He reached out once more, thinking to offer comfort, but Robin flinched back from his touch.

  “Don’t. It was a nightmare, that’s all.”

  “The third this week.”

  “I didn’t realise you were keeping track.”

  Will ached to hold Robin, to drive the haunted look from his eyes. He held himself back with an effort.

  “What was it about?”

  “I don’t remember.” Robin got to his feet. “I think I need some air.”

  “But it’s freezing out there,” Will objected.

  Robin ignored him. He left the cave, stumbling as though he were exhausted, or, Will thought, as though he were keeping himself from running, with difficulty.

  Will followed without being asked. Outside, Robin wrapped his arms around his body as if to hold in what he was feeling. The air was bitter and neither of them wore protective clothing. Snow had blanketed everything in white, and there wasn’t a breath of wind to stir the trees.

  “Tell me about it,” Will urged. “Whatever this is, whatever has got you all riled up, talking about it will—”

  Robin rounded on him, his eyes cold. “I told you, it was a nightmare, Will. People have them. Don’t read more into it than there is. If I’m keeping you awake, then go and sleep somewhere else. In fact, it might be better if you did.”

  The words struck Will like blows. It had been this way for months. He had no idea what had gone wrong between him and Robin. There was a time when he’d hoped…but he’d been mistaken. Robin was pleasant enough to him the majority of the time, but he kept Will at arm’s length, never allowing him close, and yet every so often, he would suddenly show a moment of tenderness. Will’s thoughts flashed back to a few hours earlier when Robin had wiped the trickle of blood from his mouth.

  A shuttered look had fallen over Robin’s face, and Will knew that whatever he said, Robin would not hear him. He had locked Will out behind walls and ramparts, and there seemed no way to reach him.

  ***

  The day was barely begun when the soldiers returned. Much heard them as he made his way back from the privy. He paused, listening to the shouts, the clopping of hooves and the jingle of harnesses. Banging started, likely a soldier hammering on a cottage door with the hilt of his sword. Much hurried back to the mill as fast as his crippled leg would allow.

  His mam and da were already outside. Da’s face was set, Mam’s, afraid.

  “Thought they’d be back,” Da muttered.

  Fear clenched a tight fist around Much’s heart. “Do you think they have him?”

  “He’s wily enough to evade capture. I’m sure they’ve come back to question the rest of us.”

  It struck Much then how old his da was looking. His hair was grey, and there was a slight stoop to his shoulders. His face was lined with years of manual labour and suffering. His mam looked frail and thin, not at all the robust, energetic woman Much remembered from his childhood.

  “We’d best get this over with,” Da said. “They’ll come and drag us out if we don’t go of our own accord.”

  The villagers were assembling on the green. Everyone looked fearful. Women gathered in their children, hugging them close. Lara moved to stand next to Much, and took his hand. He could feel the tremor of her fingers as they gripped his, and he squeezed them in a futile effort to reassure her. Edward joined them, his face defiant rather than frightened.

  “What do those bastards want?”

  “Hush!” Lara hissed with a terrified glance at their unwelcome visitors. Edgar was among them, conspicuous in his gaudy clothes.

  Much felt his stomach twist with the familiar hatred at the sight of him. How could this man, one of their own, turn on his people? The cynical answer popped into his head—money, power. They were food and drink to men like Edgar.

  The soldiers surrounded the villagers. All of them were armed and nearly all wore helmets with the Norman nose guard obscuring their faces. Edgar carried no weapon, but his horse was as fine as any of the soldiers’ and the sheriff’s insignia showed up brightly against his expensive tunic.

  Much saw Alan and Jane in the crowd. They stood holding hands, their faces set. They, like everyone else, knew why the soldiers were here.

  With a feeling of dread, Much wondered what the soldiers would do when they failed to learn where Robin was. They’d never believe the villagers’ stories. They would assume they were purposely holding back the truth. Much shuddered to think what the consequences would be.

  “Where is Locksley?” Hugo Beaumont demanded. He was the only one not wearing a helmet. His cruel eyes wandered over every villager, settling for an instant on each face and looking away only when they flinched or lowered their eyes. There was silence.

  “Speak up, you fools,” Edgar snapped. “It will go better for you if you do. Locksley is nothing to you now, an outlaw. Tell us where he is.”

  “Haven’t you caught him, then?” Matthew the blacksmith called. Without warning, the nearest soldier swung a mailed fist. It impacted against Matthew’s jaw with an audible crunch. Matthew staggered, but managed to remain on his feet. His daughter let out a low moan as she reached to steady him.

  “We’ll have less of that lip,” Hugo called. “It is no secret that you are friendly to the wolf’s head. Tell me where he is hiding. Speak up now, and I shall be lenient. If I find any of you are hiding him here, there will be no mercy for you or your family.”

  Da spoke up. “Do you think he would be foolish enough to return here, seeing as how you are all searching for him?”

  Hugo’s eyes lingered on him. “It’s Harry the miller, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

  With startling swiftness, two soldiers seized Much’s da, dragging him away from his family and throwing him face down in the mud.

  Much’s mam cried out and tried to go to him, but she was seized by Lara and Jane. Much, too, had stepped forward.

  “Leave him alone. None of us knows where Robin is.”

  “I’m afraid that is the wrong answer.” Hugo gestured. A soldier seized Much’s da by the hair, yanking him back up to his feet. “I think you know where he is. Tell me or your father will die.”

  Much and Edward both lunged forward, but both were grabbed and held fast. Much struggled futilely against his captor, desperate to reach his da.

  “I’m telling you, none of us knows where he is. Let him go.”

  For answer, Hugo backhanded Da across the face. Blood fountained, and Da sagged, only the soldier’s grip on his arms keeping him from falling.

  Mam let out a wail, fighting harder against Jane and Lara’s restraint.

  “I’m losing patience,” Hugo said. He strode over to the women, striking Lara and Jane to the ground with two negligent blows. Alan was beside Jane at once, hauling her up, his eyes speaking his hatred.

  Edward let out a torrent of invectives, which were cut off as the soldier holding him pressed a dagger to his throat.

  Much’s blood turned cold as Hugo forced Mam to her knees. Da struggled to go to her, but he was obviously still woozy from Hugo’s attack. Much’s captor also pressed a dagger to his throat, making it clear what would happen if Much tried to interfere.

  “All right, woman,” Hugo snarled. “Tell me where Robin Hood is, or your son and husband will die.”

  Mam began to sob.

  Then a new voice broke in.

  “Captain!” It was Father Tuck. He faced Hugo, unarmed, his expression stern. “Robin of Locksley—”

  “He is not Robin of Locksley,” Edgar cut in. “He is a worthless outlaw, and one you would be fools to protect.”

  Father Tuck was unruffled. “Whoever he is, he’s no doubt hidden deep in Sherwood. He has been nowhere near this village. Please, spare these good people. They know
nothing.”

  “Search the village,” Hugo barked.

  Several men attempted to go to the aid of Much and his da. A wall of swords prevented them.

  “Stay where you are,” Hugo hollered, “or these—” he indicated Much, his da and Edward “—will lose their lives.”

  Much’s mam was now sobbing hysterically. The sound cut into him like a knife.

  He watched in helpless fury. Sounds reached him—doors being wrenched off their hinges, pots being smashed, lives being ruined. Soon, Mam was not the only woman weeping. The children, affected by the sound of their mothers’ distress, also began to cry.

  At last it was over. The soldiers returned empty-handed, some with chicken feathers and fresh blood staining their tabards. They added their swords to the wall keeping the villagers back.

  Hugo’s expression turned thunderous, but Father Tuck spoke up before he could.

  “Now you see he is not here, perhaps you will leave us in peace.”

  For answer, Hugo made a sign. It happened so quickly, for a second Much doubted his own eyes. One moment his da stood upright, battered but alive, the next, the man holding him had slashed his dagger across his throat. His mam’s piercing screams split Much’s eardrums. He stood frozen to the spot. His da lay motionless on the ground, his lifeblood turning the snow around him red.

  Much heard a guttural yell, which some part of his brain realised came from his own mouth. He was barely aware of breaking free from his captor and lunging towards his da’s murderer. His bad leg gave way under him, and he stumbled. Something ploughed into his stomach with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. He crashed to the ground where a weight immediately pressed on his spine, forcing his face into the snow. It clogged his mouth and nose, making him splutter as he tried to breathe. He heard shouts, weeping, and then Hugo Beaumont’s voice rising above the din.

  “People of Locksley. Look on this man. Remember what you have witnessed today. This is what will happen to anyone who gives aid to the wolf’s head, Robin Hood. If you wish to save your loved ones, you will bring the outlaw to your sheriff at the first opportunity. If Robin Hood is found within this village again, you will be shown no mercy.”

  The weight lifted from Much’s back. Beneath his head, the ground reverberated. It took his befuddled senses a few seconds to work out what was happening. Slowly he sat up and watched as the soldiers mounted their horses and rode away. Hugo was the last to depart. He gave Much a single disdainful glance before spurring his mount into a canter.

  From his own horse’s back, Edgar called, “Mind what the captain said. I shall be keeping a close eye on all of you, particularly those known to be friends of the outlaw.” His gaze lingered on Much. Then he, too, cantered away.

  Lara was at Much’s side in an instant. She helped him to his feet and flung her arms around him, hugging him so hard Much was sure his ribs must break. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she was trembling. Much knew he should comfort her, but he hadn’t the words. Together, they walked to where his da lay.

  His mam sat on the snow, cradling her husband’s head in her lap. She rocked backwards and forwards, a low keening coming from her. Jane was trying to console her, her own cheeks wet with tears. Father Tuck was on her other side, speaking softly. Much wanted to go to her. His place was beside his mam. He wanted to cry his grief and helpless rage to the skies, but his chest was constricted, making emotion of any kind difficult. He could only watch, as if it were someone else’s da lying dead on the ground and not his own.

  A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him to his senses. Looking up, Much saw Alan, his face pale and grim. Edward was with him, too, his eyes blazing.

  “We should kill them all,” he snarled.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Alan said sharply. “What do you expect us to do against armed soldiers? Would you have our loved ones go the same way as Harry?”

  “So we should do nothing? We should sit back and let them trample over all of us?”

  “I didn’t say that. Rushing off blindly and attacking Hugo and his men will get us nowhere.”

  Edward lapsed into sullen silence, but his outburst had freed something in Much, enabling him to speak.

  “Robin should be told about Da.”

  Alan nodded. “If we only knew where he was.”

  “I’ll go,” Edward offered. “I know the forest better than any in this village.”

  Lara reached out and gripped her brother’s arm. “Edward, no. There are bound to be patrols in the forest searching for Robin. If they find you…”

  Edward shook her off. “I’ll be all right. I’ve poached in Sherwood many times and never been caught. I’ll find Robin and tell him what’s happened.”

  “Don’t bring him back with you,” Alan cautioned. “He’ll want to return once he hears what has happened, but he mustn’t.”

  He gestured around them at the villagers, many of whom were running to collect stray animals. Some—mostly men—were standing in a huddle. Much was not near enough to hear what they were saying, but their postures and manner looked resentful. They blamed Robin. The village of Locksley would be under a constant cloud of suspicion. How long before somebody cracked and turned Robin in? Much’s one hope was that there was none alive who knew Sherwood Forest better than Robin. If he stayed hidden, he would be safe, but knowing Robin as he did, Much suspected it would not be long before he showed his face. He would not rest until those who had outlawed him and subjugated his people were dead.

  ***

  Robin and Will made no sound as they moved through the dense undergrowth. They had been tracking the stag for at least half an hour, and the moment of the kill was drawing near. The stag was following a trail Robin knew well, making for a stream. When the animal stopped to drink, they would have their chance. Robin held his bow, an arrow nocked and ready. Beside him, Will drew the slender knife he always wore at his waist.

  They worked in silence as they had often done on the battlefield, communicating by look or gesture. Neither of them mentioned the incident of the night before, but it hung between them.

  Robin was furious with himself. He’d been able to keep his dreams from Will when they were in the Holy Land, but here, it was another matter. Robin had hoped the dreams would fade once he was back on English soil, away from any reminders. He’d warned Will off for now, but sooner or later, his concern would make him ask again, and Robin knew he would rather die than admit to Will the reason behind his nightmares.

  A rustling sound broke in on Robin’s concentration. It came from a nearby clump of bushes, and instinct told Robin it was no animal. The stag reacted instantly. It turned and leapt down a bank, disappearing with a flick of its tail. Will cursed. Robin levelled his bow at the bushes.

  “Come out, whoever you are.”

  The foliage parted and a figure emerged. He held his palms out in front of him to prove he carried no weapon. His tunic was threadbare, and there were twigs caught in his hair. His fingers were blue with cold, but he met the astonished gazes of Robin and Will without fear.

  “God’s teeth,” Will swore. “Edward, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “I was sent to find you.”

  Robin lowered his bow. He was impressed. That the boy had managed to track him was no mean feat. But there were more important things to worry about. Only one thing could have sent Edward alone into Sherwood.

  “What has happened?”

  “Soldiers.” Edward spat the word. “They turned up in Locksley wanting to know where you were. None of us knew, but they thought we were lying. Their captain told his men to search the village and when they couldn’t find you…” He faltered.

  For a second, Robin saw through the angry mask to the boy beneath. Dread twisted his stomach.

  “What happened, Edward?”

  Edward swallowed visibly. “They killed Harry. Hugo said it was an example to the rest of us of what would happen if we helped you or kept your whereabouts a secret.”
<
br />   Grief tore a fresh wound in Robin’s heart. Harry had been like a father to him. He’d offered Robin a home when his own father cast him out. He’d welcomed Robin into his family, and never reproached him for Lucy’s death.

  It seemed Gisborne and his men were bent on killing everyone he loved. He turned, meaning to retrace his steps, but Will’s hand on his arm brought him up short.

  “Robin, wait. Where are you going?”

  “Locksley,” Robin said tersely. He tried to jerk his arm free, but Will tightened his grip.

  “Don’t be daft. You can’t show your face there, at least, not today.”

  Robin’s voice was cold. “Let go of me, Will.” For several long seconds, they locked gazes. Finally, it was Will who looked away. He released Robin and stepped back, an expression of resignation on his face. Edward’s eyes travelled from one to the other of them, his mouth slightly open.

  Without another word, Robin melted into the trees. He didn’t bother to look back. He knew Edward and Will would follow.

  ***

  On the outskirts of Locksley village, Robin turned to Will. “You don’t need to go any further. There is no sense in both of us getting caught.”

  “I never claimed to have any sense.”

  The three of them entered Locksley village. Edward led them to the church, where they were greeted by Father Tuck and Alan.

  “I told you to give him the news, not bring him back with you,” Alan chastised at Edward. To Robin, he hissed, “You’re a fool to come here. There are some who would turn you in if they could.”

  Robin ignored the warning. “Where are they?”

  “Much is inside the church, keeping vigil over Harry’s body,” Father Tuck said.

  Robin brushed past them, entering the small church. He’d visited it more times than he could count as a child. Every Sunday, he had come to hear Mass. As a small boy, he had been brought here once a month so the priest could hear his confession and grant him absolution.