Knight of Sherwood

by N B Dixon

  Daphne’s legs propelled her forward without her brain stopping to think about it. Stooping, she snatched up Edgar’s fallen knife. Another stride took her to his prostrate body. He opened his eyes blearily as she bent over him, and they widened in shock as she plunged the knife down once, twice.

  The fighting froze. Everyone, outlaws and soldiers alike stared down at Edgar and the knife protruding from his chest. Daphne looked, too. Bile rose to her throat. Horror washed over her in waves, but mingled with the horror was a guilty satisfaction. This man had tormented her for months. He would never hurt her or her village again.

  The soldiers who were still left standing threw down their weapons and fled, taking their wounded comrade with them. Within seconds, the churchyard was clear of enemies.

  Daphne found herself being swept into John’s embrace. He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe, but she burrowed her face into his shoulder as her excitement ebbed. She realised she was trembling. His big gentle hand, the same one that had wielded the axe, rose to her cheek.

  “It’s all right, lass, it’s all right. You’re safe.”

  “But she cannot now return to her village,” Father Tuck said.

  When Daphne raised her head, she found him watching her. There was no judgement in his eyes—only pity.

  “It is a grievous thing you have done, my child. Come with me into the church, confess your sin and be granted absolution.”

  “Wait a minute.” John was bristling. “The filthy swine kidnapped her. For all we know, he might have…” He stopped, unable to put his fear into words.

  Daphne shook her head, trying to reassure him.

  “An unpleasant man he may have been, but one wrong does not cancel out another. He was slain while he was defenceless.”

  “I dread to think what the sheriff’s going to say when he finds out,” Wat remarked.

  John paled. He clutched Daphne to him even more fiercely and turned pleading eyes on Robin.

  Daphne had never seen him look that way at anyone. Normally, he was the one in charge. His size and taciturn manner intimidated others. They feared what he would do if they annoyed him. What was it about this Robin Hood that made others defer to him?

  “She’ll have to come with us.”

  “I can’t,” Daphne protested. “What about my da?”

  “He wasn’t involved in this. He was safe in his village.”

  “There will be reprisals, John,” Robin said. “We shall have to bury Edgar’s body in Sherwood. If it is discovered in any village around here, the repercussions would be disastrous.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Father Tuck’s voice brooked no argument. “Whatever this man’s crimes, he deserves the last rites and a Christian burial.”

  Robin turned to the other swordsman. “Will, see if you can find us a cart?” To Daphne, he remarked, “You’re a brave woman. You’re welcome to stay with us, at least for now.”

  John was still glaring at Father Tuck. “If you are coming, Father, perhaps you’d be kind enough to marry us.”

  Father Tuck looked between them. “I think that might be a good idea.”

  ***

  “Repeat that again.” Guy’s voice was soft, but the soldier still cringed.

  “We were robbed in Sherwood, My Lord. Robin Hood and his men took everything. Then there was a fight, and Edgar was killed.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “A woman, My Lord. The sweetheart of one of the outlaws.”

  There was a long silence. The soldier hovered, unsure whether or not he was dismissed.

  When he could apparently bear the tension no longer, he spoke up with a timid, “My Lord?”

  “My apologies,” Guy smiled. “I was debating whether to hang you now or tomorrow.”

  The soldier blanched. “My Lord, mercy, I beg you. I have a family.”

  “Mercy?” Guy’s control shattered. “Robin Hood escaped from under our noses. The prince barely let that slide. Now he has stolen the prince’s taxes—again—and was an accomplice to the murder of my steward. Someone needs to pay.”

  The soldier fell to his knees, his hands outstretched in supplication, but Guy was already calling for the guards.

  He was on thin ice with Prince John. There was no way to salvage this disaster. The only reason he wasn’t already dead was that Prince John had found no one to replace him. If he did not produce Robin Hood soon, it would be his own head on a spike over the castle gates.

  Chapter 15

  They buried Edgar in an unmarked grave far from their camp, after which Father Tuck conducted a simple wedding ceremony in the heart of Sherwood.

  The bride wore no finery, and her face bore the marks of her recent ordeal, but watching them, Will had no doubt she would adapt to life in the forest without any problem.

  Father Tuck stayed for the wedding feast. He volunteered to ride over to Hathersage the following morning to apprise Jaspar of what had happened and also to encourage him to go into hiding. Robin was certain Gisborne would send men to interrogate Jaspar once Edgar’s death became known, and Will thought he was right. He did not think Gisborne would grieve much at the loss of his steward, but it was yet another insult to his pride.

  The outlaws retired to bed later than usual, except Edward, who took first watch. John and Daphne drifted away by themselves. The night was warm, so those who remained made their beds under the stars.

  As the others dropped off, one by one, Will lay awake, listening to the sounds of the night. Misery gnawed at him. Most of the time he could ignore it, but it took watching a loving couple to bring it home.

  What kind of world was it that allowed a man and a woman to make promises to each other in the sight of God, but forbade two men from doing the same? How long was he supposed to live like this? As long as he held out any hope of Robin ever coming to him, he would never be able to love another.

  Robin began to toss and turn, moaning in his sleep. The others did not stir, too used to this to be startled awake by it anymore. Will, however, watched as Robin’s movements grew increasingly agitated. Robin turned onto his back with a gasp. His eyes flew open, and Will shut his quickly, not wanting Robin to know he was awake. He listened as Robin’s ragged breathing calmed. Then came a gentle rustle. Will risked cracking open an eye. Robin had pushed back the threadbare blanket covering him and got to his feet. With practised skill, he picked his way between the other sleepers. Will made a split second decision and followed him.

  Robin seemed to have no particular destination in mind. He flitted through the trees like some nighttime forest spirit, never missing his footing, scarcely making a noise. He carried neither bow nor sword.

  They had walked for several minutes, and Will no longer had any idea where they were, when Robin stopped abruptly and turned.

  “Is there a reason you are following me, Will?”

  Will’s heart began to race. He took a step towards Robin. “There is, actually.”

  He saw the instant wariness in Robin’s posture, the tensing of his shoulders. It enraged him. Why was Robin treating him like this? As though he were something to be afraid of, something wrong? He took another step, closing the distance between them. Robin did not retreat, but there was a definite warning in his voice.

  “Whatever this is about, can’t it wait until morning?”

  Will didn’t bother speaking. He simply reached out and yanked Robin to him. He’d thought to take his time, to arouse, but need for Robin consumed him. He’d fantasised about doing this for months. His mouth came down on Robin’s, hard.

  Robin’s lips softened under his. Will knew a second of triumph, but then Robin tried to jerk his head aside. With an incoherent sound of frustration, Will tightened his arms and deepened the kiss. He could feel Robin’s arousal, but then Robin’s teeth bit down on Will’s lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. Robin succeeded in tearing himself free. He was breathing hard.

  Will was abruptly furious. He was sick of this pretence, sick of bein
g welcomed one moment and rejected the next. It was time they had this out once and for all.

  “Don’t stand there and tell me you feel nothing. Is it because of what your priests have told you? You think to desire a man is wrong, sinful—isn’t that what they call it? Who says they’re right? Have any of them spoken to God in person?”

  Robin’s face twisted, but not with revulsion. There was pain in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? You’re happy to sample the goods on offer, then walk away when it suits you. The great Robin Hood is nothing but a coward.”

  Robin’s fist slammed into the side of Will’s face, causing him to stagger back a step. Robin’s eyes were slits of fury.

  “You want the truth, is that it? Very well then, listen carefully.

  “You remember back in the Holy Land, the scouting mission you went on instead of me?”

  Will nodded. Dread’s icy fingers danced over his skin. Part of him wanted Robin to stop, but he knew he couldn’t have spoken if he’d tried.

  “Gossip must have spread about us, and there were some who thought it was wrong, filthy. They took matters into their own hands.

  “I was alone in the tent when they came for me. I recognised one of them, Roger of Doncaster. The others were strangers.

  “They dragged me outside. There were four of them altogether. The beating went on for a long time. I was still weak from the fever, and had no strength to fight them off. By the time they stopped, I was half-conscious. But that wasn’t the end of the matter. They wanted the whore to be taught his place, to be shown how unnatural his desires were.”

  Horror washed over Will in sickening waves. “They didn’t,” he got out, his voice raw. “Christ, Robin, tell me they didn’t.”

  “The other three backed away. They had done their part.” Robin enunciated each word. “It was Rodger of Doncaster who did the actual deed. When he was done, they left me there. I managed to crawl back to the tent. That’s the last thing I remember until morning.”

  Will saw again Robin as he’d found him on his return—battered, bloody, barely conscious. He’d never imagined anything like this. That Robin had gone through something so horrific, and worse; that he had been alone. Guilt threatened to unman him. He’d left Robin, knowing he wasn’t fully recovered. The fact that he’d been following orders didn’t matter.

  They’d known Rodger of Doncaster, had drunk and played dice with him, even fought alongside him.

  “Sorry,” Will whispered, his voice breaking. “Christ, Robin, I’m so sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Robin’s voice was dead, the anger spent.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” The words were torn from Will’s very soul, containing all his horror and revulsion.

  “What could you have done?”

  “I’d have killed the filthy bastard. I’d have fed his balls to him first.”

  Robin raised a hand to rake fingers through his hair. “I never wanted you to know.”

  Will reached out instinctively, but Robin’s hands came up, warding him off. “I don’t want your pity.” He turned away. Within moments, Sherwood had swallowed him.

  Will slid down to sit against a tree. Rage made the backs of his eyes burn—rage at the monster who had done this, who had destroyed some vital spark in Robin that might never reignite. For a man like Robin, used to being the strong one, used to defeating his enemies, the shame would be unbearable. However many people he saved, his self-worth was gone. The horson had taken it from him.

  ***

  Days slipped into weeks. A spell of rain pleased the local farmers, but the hot weather returned with a vengeance. Will was in hell. Robin barely spoke to him unless it was unavoidable. He was remote and distant with everyone, and there was general dissatisfaction among the band.

  David continued to be a disappointment. On one raid, when he witnessed the killing of some men at arms, he vomited up his breakfast. John had called him a mewling boy and given up any attempt to train him. From then on, he stayed behind. John, Wat and Edward hardly missed an opportunity to make some derisory remark out of Robin’s hearing. Sir Richard reproached them, so they waited until he was out of earshot, too.

  One afternoon, about a month after Daphne had come to join them, the outlaws had gone on yet another raid. David had been left behind as usual, and this time, Will was also staying. He had been afflicted by a flux of the bowels. It had left him weak and with little energy. Robin had told him to stay behind, and Will had required little persuasion; Sir Richard had gone in his place.

  Will soon grew bored of lying around in the sun. He’d always been an active man, and any period of inactivity irritated him.

  He found David sitting alone, attempting to fletch an arrow. His mind was clearly miles away.

  “Here.” Will bent to take the arrow from him. “You’ll break it if you’re not careful.”

  David looked balefully at him. “Does it matter? I can’t use it, anyway.”

  Will sat beside him. He felt sorry for the man, even though he agreed with John that David would be better off elsewhere. The truth was, the man had no skills, so he couldn’t make his living at some trade or other. For better or worse, he was stuck with them. David was clearly miserable.

  “Did you always want to be a monk?” Will asked.

  David was wary, probably expecting mockery. Then he seemed to realise Will was genuinely interested and nodded.

  “From an early age, I knew I was meant for the Church.”

  “So why did they throw you out?”

  David studied his boots. “I’d rather not say.”

  Will’s curiosity was piqued. “If you think I’ll tell John and the rest, you’ve nothing to fear. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  David lifted pleading eyes to Will’s face. Will was shocked at the pain he saw there.

  “The abbot had a nephew,” he began haltingly.

  Will thought he knew where this was going, but he stayed silent.

  “He…he said he loved me. May God forgive me, I always knew I liked…” David faltered, unable to complete his admission.

  “I’m sure God has other things to worry about than whether you have let some man inside your britches.”

  “No!” David was vehement. “Our Lord sees all. He punishes all wrongdoers.”

  Will thought of Robin. Did he believe God had punished him for wanting Will?

  “That depends on what you consider to be wrong, but go on.”

  “They caught us together. He said…he said it was my fault, that I seduced him. He was the abbot’s nephew and so they believed him. They cast me out.” David’s lip trembled, and Will saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

  “What happened then?”

  “I fled to Nottingham. My sister works in the castle. I thought I could get work, but I was hungry and I had no money.”

  “Let me guess. They caught you stealing.”

  “They were going to hang me. They were only waiting for permission from the Church. The monastery washed its hands of me. They said I had forfeited their protection.”

  “Well, perhaps God was watching over you.” Will’s tone was light. He’d never put much store by religion. If there was a God, it seemed to Will He was a distant being, not interested in the affairs of the people He professed to care about. Will had seen what terrible things men did in the name of Christianity. Any deity that could sit back and allow that sort of thing to happen was no God Will wanted to worship. Which was enough to get him burned as a heretic.

  “You think so?” David’s tone was morose. “This is my punishment. He let me be rescued so I could live in this den of sin.”

  “We’re not so bad,” Will countered, but David had already got up and walked away.

  From that day on, Will made a conscious effort to speak to David. For his part, David gradually softened towards him. Will caught the other man looking at him when he thought he was unobserved. He was experienced en
ough to know that he was becoming the object of David’s desire. At times, he even thought of taking him up on it. David was handsome, or, at least, he would be if he lost his perpetual sour expression. He had filled out since leaving Nottingham’s dungeons; his tonsure had grown out as well.

  Something held Will back, or, more accurately, someone. He understood Robin’s behaviour, even if he didn’t like it. As long as Robin believed he was better off repressing his feelings, there was no chance for them.

  Will warned the others off when they began picking on David, and gradually, the bullying ceased. For the most part, David was ignored.

  Daphne, on the other hand, had fitted in seamlessly. At her insistence, she had begun learning to use the quarterstaff and the hunting bow John had bought for her, and was proving adept at both. Wat’s complaints about having a woman in the band soon dried up.

  Gisborne had sent men to Hathersage to arrest Jaspar, but the outlaws managed to make sure he was well away when they came. Prince John was gone for now, and an uneasy peace had settled between the outlaws and men at arms. But it could not last.

  ***

  John took a sip from the water skin he carried before passing it to Robin. “They aren’t coming. David must have got the time wrong. We’re crouched here like fools baking in this cursed heat because of some rumour he heard while skulking in a tavern.”

  Robin shrugged. “It’s early yet. Three lords will make for rich pickings. They’ll have to pass this way.”

  John was not placated. Robin had noticed that the hotter the day, the worse John’s mood became.

  “Maybe David mistook the day. I don’t know why you didn’t get shot of him long ago.”

  “God’s blood, John, drop it.”

  It had been Will’s idea. David’s nondescript appearance made him the ideal spy, and he’d managed to bring several lucrative opportunities the outlaws’ way.

  “I still say we should have kept a watch on the inn, had someone follow them when they left.”

  Robin ignored John. His thoughts shifted away from their conversation to Locksley, where David was even now with Sir Richard, collecting various medicinal herbs from Father Tuck.