by N B Dixon
Will’s hands continued their inexorable journey, always drifting lower. Now he was attending to Robin’s arm, his touch so light Robin barely winced. The salve soothed the relentless burning, but that was the only part of his body that was cool. The rest of him was on fire.
Will probed Robin’s ribs delicately, skimming over his skin, making him gasp.
“Nothing broken.” He began wrapping bandages around Robin’s torso, yanking them tight.
Robin’s breathing came hard and quick. He hoped Will would think it was the pain, although if he chose to look down, it would be pretty obvious what was causing Robin’s agitation. It was so intimate that it was all Robin could do not to lean into him. He was seized with a fierce temptation to pull Will’s face down to his.
Robin jerked away from Will and bent to retrieve his tunic, causing his ribs to protest strongly. When he dared to look up again, Will was watching him. His expression was unreadable.
“That will do for now.” Will’s face settled into a neutral mask, but Robin knew him well enough to guess at the thoughts behind it.
You do feel something. You can turn away from it all you like, but someday, you will give in.
***
Will wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of one hand. They were well into summer, and the days were hot and sultry. Even the bush behind which he crouched provided little relief. His eyes travelled up and down the empty road, but his thoughts were with Robin, stretched above him on a nearby tree branch.
Several months had passed since Robin’s arrest. Physically, he was as good as new, though the brand left by Beaumont would always leave a scar.
He was guarded around Will. Never again did he allow his true feelings to show, as he had when Will tended his injuries.
Beside Will, David shifted uneasily. A twig cracked.
“Quiet.”
David flinched and Will softened his voice with an effort. “This is the hardest bit, the waiting. Someone will be along soon enough.”
David clutched the quarterstaff he barely knew how to use. Even months under John’s tutelage had done little to improve his skill. This was to be his first robbery, at Robin’s insistence. There was nothing like real experience. Under normal circumstances, Will would have agreed, but if ever there was a man not cut out for the outlaw life, Will was looking at him.
“What do we do when we see someone?” David whispered.
“We hold them up and take whatever they’re carrying.”
“Will there be fighting?”
“Not always.”
David did not seem reassured. Will struggled to keep his annoyance in check. He knew why Robin had asked him to watch over David today. John and Wat were mistrustful of the man. John had pronounced him, out of David’s hearing, to be ‘a lily-livered milksop’.
“We should send him on his way,” Wat had agreed.
“Where else can he go?” had been Robin’s answer. And there was the point. As an ex-monk and with no skills to speak of, David had no future. He would be as wanted as any of them. He was biting his lip like a scared child.
“You don’t have to do anything today,” Will said. “Just watch and see how it’s done.”
A bird call drifted across to them. Edward had seen something. He had the eyes of a falcon. Will’s hand dropped to his dagger. Beside him, David swallowed audibly.
Will recognised the man at the head of the small procession. It was Edgar. A smile split his face. Inconveniencing Edgar would be a pleasure.
Robin dropped soundlessly to the road. The driver brought the team of oxen up short.
“Good afternoon, Edgar. You’re looking well.”
Edgar glared down at him from his seat on the cart. “Which is more than can be said for you, outlaw.”
“On the contrary, I think my day is about to get a lot better.”
“Take him!” Edgar shrilled.
Before the men with him could so much as move, arrows from Edward and John thudded into their midst.
“Get down from the cart,” Robin ordered.
Edgar did so reluctantly.
Robin whistled. Wat and Will left their hiding places, Will with a final “Stay there!” for David.
They approached the cart. One of Edgar’s escorting soldiers drew his sword. An arrow from Edward nocked it clean out of his hand. The boy really was becoming good with a bow.
“You can’t do this,” Edgar pleaded, his bravado abruptly deserting him. “If I return to Nottingham Castle empty-handed, Gisborne will demand my head.”
“You should have thought of that when you decided to turn traitor,” Robin said coldly. “If I were you, I would keep running until you are miles away from here. Perhaps you can take up the outlaw life. I hear Barnsdale Forest is a popular hideout.”
“This chest weighs a ton,” Wat remarked with undisguised glee.
Robin fixed Edgar with a cool gaze. “This is a month’s worth of taxes?”
Edgar nodded miserably. “The prince has raised them again.”
“And in the process, bled the villages dry. On your way, Edgar.”
***
He was a dead man walking and he knew it. The nerve of the outlaw was beyond belief. He had barely escaped the gallows by the skin of his teeth, and he was robbing travellers as if he’d never been arrested.
Edgar put his head in his hands. The sheriff’s words still rang in his ears. “Prince John is in no very sweet humour after Locksley’s flight. Take these taxes to Lincoln. If anything happens to the money, it will be more than your life is worth.”
He could not return to Nottingham Castle. He had backed what he thought was the winning side, and lost everything. Daphne was beyond his reach, or was she?
He had nothing more to lose. He would have to run for his life. Blackmailing Jaspar had achieved nothing. Why not simply take Daphne and go? He turned to his escort, who had been watching him with varying degrees of sympathy and derision. They were under his command until he chose to release them. Their heads were also as likely to roll once the robbery was discovered.
“To the village of Hathersage.”
“Why?” demanded the leader.
Edgar bristled. These men never spoke to him with any respect. He knew they viewed him as little better than a servant. “Because I have something to collect there.”
***
Daphne joined the queue of women waiting to collect water from the well. The sun beat down on her unprotected head, while the grass at her feet was parched and yellow. This drought was worrying. If they did not see rain soon, the crops would fail. The well, too, was running dry. Her da had rationed the amount of water people could now take. It wasn’t enough, but they had little choice. Daphne swatted at a fly buzzing around her face. The women in front of her gossiped, their words washing over her.
A sound broke in on their chatter, a sound all of them knew only too well. Daphne turned to see soldiers coming over the brow of the hill. In front rode Edgar. Her heart plummeted. Surely he could not be back for taxes already. John and his outlaws had been keeping Hathersage supplied with enough money to meet the sheriff’s demands, but Edgar was not due to appear for another week. Perhaps the sheriff had finally grown wise to the outlaws’ plan and sent him early.
The other women had seen the soldiers, too. They exchanged frightened glances.
“Return to your homes,” Daphne said. They did not need telling twice. She watched as they scattered, their water buckets forgotten. Her instinct was to follow, but the soldiers would be upon her long before she reached her da’s cottage.
Edgar had seen her. A lecherous smile creased his rat-like face. Daphne planted her hands on her hips.
“If you’re looking for my da—” She never finished the sentence. At a sign from Edgar, the soldiers surrounded her. Daphne’s head darted from side to side, but her every line of retreat was cut off.
“Take her,” Edgar ordered. A soldier dismounted in one smooth movement, reaching for her. Daph
ne struggled, outrage and fear lending her strength. She kicked out, catching the man holding her on his knee. He grunted and backhanded her across the face. Daphne opened her mouth to scream, but a fleshy hand clamped over it, stifling the sound in her throat. Her arm was twisted behind her back, so cruelly the tears sprang to her eyes. She was dragged to Edgar’s horse. He dismounted.
“Tie her on.”
She was snatched up like a sack of grain and thrown across the horse’s back. She lay there, face down, breathing in the smell of horse hair and sweat while her arms and legs were lashed to its flanks. Her thick braid hung down, trailing in the dirt.
By now, people had come running, many of the men brandishing sticks. The soldiers beat them back with their swords.
“Release my daughter,” Da bellowed.
Edgar mounted behind Daphne, gripping her with one hand and the reins with the other. “She is mine, Jaspar. I gave you the chance to hand her over freely. You refused.”
“You have no right—” Da began, but Edgar cut him off.
“I have every right. You are serfs, the property of your lord and master. Since Hathersage has been without a lord for too long, Prince John has appointed the sheriff to oversee its management. I have his permission to wed your daughter.”
Daphne tried to strain her head upwards to see her da’s face, but Edgar forced it down again. He kicked his horse into a trot.
For a while, everything was discomfort. Daphne could not shift position, could not raise her head. Edgar’s grip on her was merciless, and struggling achieved nothing. Terror spiked inside her, alternating with rage.
When, at last, the horse came to a stop, Edgar dismounted. The ropes binding Daphne to the saddle were cut through and she tumbled to the ground. She was up again at once, despite the cramps in her arms and legs, her eyes darting about for a weapon, but Edgar was taking no chances. He seized the end of her braid and began dragging her forward like a dog on the end of a leash. It was only then that Daphne realised where she was. This was Locksley Manor. She had visited it once before with her da.
She was taken to one of the outbuildings, a barn used for storing hay. The door was secured by stout bolts. Daphne knew there would be no escape once she was inside. She dug in her heels in a desperate effort to halt Edgar’s progress. He struck her hard and she fell.
He stood over her. “You thought you could outfox me, you and your father. Well, now you’re mine. We’ll be married this evening, and then I’ll take you away from here.”
Daphne spat out a mouthful of dirt and blood. “I thought you had the sheriff’s permission for this abduction.”
Edgar said nothing.
“You’re running away, aren’t you?” Daphne did not try to hide her scorn. “You’ve fallen out with the sheriff, and now you don’t dare show your face. You’ve got to leave here, and you thought you’d take me with you.”
For answer, Edgar flung open the barn door. One of the soldiers picked up Daphne and threw her inside. The door slammed and the bolts shot home.
“Enjoy your solitude while you can,” Edgar called. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve found the priest.”
***
It was John’s turn on sentry duty. Concealed in the broad branches of an oak, he listened to the sounds of the others below, counting the day’s takings and preparing for their evening meal. David sat apart from them on a log. John sighed. He knew Robin had meant well, but his soldier’s instinct told him that David would be a liability. The man was no fighter.
His keen ears caught the sound of someone approaching. A horse was crashing through the forest, its rider making no effort to move stealthily. John fitted an arrow to his bow and watched. The horse burst out of a thicket, its sides lathered with foam. John fired a warning arrow into the camp below, then dropped from his perch. As he did so, he recognised the rider.
“Jaspar? What are you—”
“He has her!” Jaspar’s face was scarlet with exertion and he was breathing as hard as his horse.
“What?”
“Edgar. He came to Hathersage. He had men with him. We tried to fight them off, but we couldn’t. He carried her off.”
Dread tightened John’s chest. “Daphne?”
A faint rustle announced the arrival of Robin and Will. Both of them had drawn swords, but they lowered them at the sight of Jaspar.
“What brings you here so late?” Robin asked.
“Edgar took Daphne. He said he had the sheriff’s authority. He’s been after me to let him marry her for months.”
John uttered a low growl deep in his throat, his hand closing around his axe.
“Easy,” Will murmured.
“I need your help,” Jaspar pleaded. “Once Edgar finds a priest, it will all be over.”
“The nearest priest is Father Tuck,” Robin said. “Edgar will have to take her to Locksley.”
“Then let’s go,” John urged. “When I get hold of that steward, he will wish we’d killed him on the Nottingham road.”
***
It was dark when Edgar came for her. He had soldiers with him, though fewer than before. Daphne suspected some had left in disgust. The others were thugs who would never resist the chance to torment anybody weaker than themselves. Once more Daphne was dragged out into the open and thrown across a horse. She didn’t bother to ask where she was being taken—she already knew. She made no attempt to struggle this time, conserving her energy. If the chance came to run, she had to be ready. Her face throbbed where Edgar and the soldier had hit her.
She had one hope: that the priest of Locksley would refuse to marry them. She’d heard he was a decent man, but many a so-called decent priest could be bribed with the right amount of coin.
Her biggest fear was her da. She was sure he would attempt a rescue, and she was equally sure that such a mission would be suicidal. Had he told John? The thought of him made her eyes sting.
Several people stuck their heads out of their front doors as they passed, and just as quickly withdrew.
The priest appeared at the front door of his church as they rode up. His eyes widened at the sight of Daphne trussed like a carcass. He watched in stony silence as Edgar and his men dismounted and Daphne was once more released and fell to the ground. Edgar took a firm hold of her arm.
“What is the meaning of this?” Father Tuck demanded.
“I want you to marry us,” Edgar said.
Daphne shook her head once.
“I do not believe the lady is willing. I will not force anyone to marry against their inclination.”
One of Edgar’s thugs whipped out his dagger and set it against Father Tuck’s neck.
Daphne gasped. Father Tuck was, after all, a man of the Church.
“Let go of him, you bastard. Is that the only pleasure you know, tormenting priests and girls?”
Edgar hit her again. “Silence.”
Father Tuck and Daphne were hustled into the church and manhandled over to the altar.
“Begin the ceremony,” Edgar ordered.
“I cannot do that,” Father Tuck said calmly.
Daphne admired his bravery. The man had to know Edgar would kill him, but he still stood his ground.
“I’m running out of patience,” Edgar said through gritted teeth.
“He means he’s afraid Gisborne will find out what he’s doing and stop him.”
Edgar raised his clenched fist but Daphne went right on speaking.
“It seems his precious steward here has done something to upset the sheriff, and he’s on the run.”
“I did nothing!” Edgar shouted, his voice echoing around the church. “It was that filthy wolf’s head, Robin Hood. Thanks to him, I’m ruined.”
“What has he done?” Father Tuck asked.
“He stole the taxes.” Edgar was almost incoherent with rage and fear. “Gisborne will have my head, or if he does not, Prince John will.”
“And you wish to drag this girl into danger?”
“She and her
father have defied me too long. I asked nicely.”
“You tried to blackmail us,” Daphne interrupted. “If it weren’t for Robin Hood, you’d have taken everything we had and watched us starve, but that wouldn’t matter to you as long as you got what you wanted.”
“Marry us!” Edgar shouted. “Or your head will decorate your own altar.”
Before either Daphne or Father Tuck could speak, there was another roar of rage even louder than Edgar’s. The side door of the church burst open to admit John and the rest of the outlaws, all of them armed. Edgar released Daphne as if he had been burned and fumbled for the knife at his belt. His men drew weapons.
“You have no business here, wolf’s head,” Edgar snarled. He wasn’t looking at John, but at a man Daphne assumed was Robin Hood.
“I’m giving you one chance to leave, Edgar,” Robin said. “Take your hired bullies and go.”
“I’ll see you in hell first.” There was a manic gleam in Edgar’s eyes. “Gisborne will reward me if I bring your head to Nottingham Castle.”
The two groups of men charged, but Father Tuck’s voice rose loud and strong. “No! I will not have murder done in the house of God. If you must settle your quarrel with violence, you will kindly do it outside.”
The men surged out of the open side door. Father Tuck tried to hold Daphne back, but she broke free of his grip and followed them out. She only wished she had a weapon.
John severed the arm of the soldier coming at him. The man fell to the ground, clutching the bleeding stump. Robin Hood and another man were engaged in fierce skirmishes with two more of Edgar’s men. Edgar himself was fighting Wat, but his knife was no match for the other man’s whirling quarterstaff. As Daphne watched, a clout to the side of Edgar’s head caused him to sway on his feet. His knife dropped from his hand and he collapsed.
