Knight of Sherwood

by N B Dixon

  “Give him to me.”

  Will surrendered Robin into John’s massive arms. John cradled him as if he were a baby, and set off at a swift lope through the trees. Will ran after him.

  Chapter 21

  From her window, Marian watched them approach. The large outlaw was in front, an inert body in his arms, the head swathed in a hood. Marian was overcome by a sudden wave of foreboding.

  She scanned the rest of the group. Robin was not among them. Was the body his?

  One of the men pounded on the abbey gate. The sound drew Ursula’s attention, and she joined Marian at the window.

  “Someone must be injured,” Ursula said.

  Marian’s panic grew. It couldn’t be Robin. He had left her mere hours ago. What had happened?

  “I don’t see my brother,” Ursula said.

  Another one of the outlaws was keeping close to the large one, his sword in his hand, his attitude unmistakably protective. Was that Will Scathelock? He, too, wore his hood up.

  “I think the body must be Robin. He’s hurt. An ambush, maybe?”

  Ursula tried to reassure her. “We don’t know that, My Lady.”

  The outlaws were admitted and vanished inside. Turning from the window, Marian flung open her chamber door and ran as fast as she could for the infirmary, Ursula hard on her heels.

  There was a small group outside the door. Two women—one of whom Marian recognised from the night when Gisborne’s men had attacked the abbey—and two men, one of them a cripple. The fifth was a boy Marian vaguely recognised. The men stood on either side of the door as though to bar it from all comers.

  “Let me in, please!” Marian panted.

  One of the men shook his head. “No one can enter.”

  “What has happened? You can tell me that, at least.”

  “An attack on the camp. Gisborne’s men.”

  Marian felt sick with fear. “But how did they find you?”

  “We were betrayed.” The red-haired woman fixed Ursula with no very friendly stare. “Your brother led the soldiers right to us.”

  Ursula blanched. “Not David. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  “The soldiers were disguised as monks,” the cripple said. “He brought them right to our camp.”

  “Is he…?” Ursula left the sentence hanging.

  “Dead,” the red-haired woman said shortly.

  Ursula covered her face with her hands.

  Marian turned to the man who had first spoken. He seemed the most reasonable of the group. The others were looking at her with hostility, as though this was her fault. “What is your name?”

  “I’m Alan a Dale, My Lady.”

  “Alan, please tell me. Is Robin badly hurt?”

  Alan looked her up and down as though taking her measure. Finally he said, “He was shot with a crossbow, a bolt straight through the shoulder. It was David.”

  Ursula let out a soft moan.

  Marian’s knees threatened to buckle. She leaned against the wall for support. Beside her, Ursula was in no better state. Silent tears slid down her cheeks.

  “Will he live?” Marian whispered.

  “Hard to say. They are taking the crossbow bolt out right now. Tuck and Lara are in there with him, along with Will and John. Two of the sisters are with him as well. If the wound doesn’t become infected and he doesn’t take a fever…”

  The rest of Alan’s words were drowned out by a terrible scream. It chilled Marian’s blood and she took an instinctive step forward.

  Alan thrust out an arm, barring her way. “Don’t go in there, Lady Marian. There’s nothing you’d want to see.”

  Marian opened her mouth to insist he stand aside. She braced herself to shove against him, but another cry, as heart-wrenching as the first, came from behind the closed door, and she recoiled.

  “You can do no good here, My Lady,” the other woman said. She looked as sick as Marian felt, as if Robin were important to her.

  Marian experienced a sharp stab of jealousy. The woman had no right to tell her what to do. But there was no getting past this group.

  “Come, Ursula.” Marian rested a hand on her arm. She supported her back down the corridor and out into the cloisters. Once they were back in Marian’s room, the last of Ursula’s composure deserted her. She sank onto the edge of the bed, head bowed and shoulders shaking.

  Marian did not know how to comfort her. She was sorry for Ursula’s loss, but it was David’s betrayal that had caused Robin’s injury. Because of David, the life of the man she needed hung in the balance.

  “Why would he do such a thing?” Ursula sobbed. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  More than likely there had been a row, perhaps after Robin had caught him and Will together, and David had reacted out of jealousy. That seemed the most plausible explanation. Marian kept this to herself.

  Guilt threatened to overwhelm her. It was she, after all, who had arranged that little meeting. She’d hoped to bring Robin to his senses. Because of her meddling, Ursula’s brother was dead, and Robin was set to follow him to the grave.

  Wrapping an arm around Ursula, she let her cry. Tears stung her own eyes. A few hours ago, she had lain in Robin’s arms. If only Robin had stayed with her a little longer. He would not have been there when Gisborne’s men attacked. Better any of the others dead than him.

  ***

  Will looked down at the broken crossbow quarrel in Tuck’s palm. It was smeared with Robin’s blood. For as long as he lived, Will did not think he would ever forget watching that bolt come out. It had been in deep and had become lodged somehow. They had hoped Robin would remain unconscious throughout the procedure, but he had woken as Tuck began to cut the bolt free. Will and John had been forced to hold him down. His cries had pierced Will to the heart.

  He lay on his side, motionless. Will rested a hand on the back of his head, not caring what anyone thought.

  Lara, white-faced and shaking, was emptying bowls of bloody water. John stood as solid and silent as a rock. Only the fact that he was paler than usual betrayed his distress.

  “Well?” Will demanded, glaring from Tuck to Sister Agnes. “Will he live?”

  “We have done what we can for him.” Sister Agnes’s voice was matter-of-fact. “I have cleaned the wound and stitched it as best I can. He is in God’s hands now.”

  “We cannot thank you enough, Sister,” Tuck began, but the nun waved his words away.

  “This man is an outlaw. Having him at the abbey puts us all at risk. It is bad enough that we shelter his woman. I am all for helping those in need, but the fact remains that this outlaw puts us all in danger. If the sheriff were to learn he was here, it would bring down his wrath on our heads.”

  “As soon as he is well enough to move, we shall take him from here,” Tuck promised. “We do not wish to put you in any more danger.”

  Will turned to John. “We’ll stay at the abbey as long as Robin is here. I wouldn’t put it past Gisborne to send someone to finish him off. This is the logical place for us to bring him.”

  John nodded. “I’ll speak to Abbess Evelyn. We can camp in the abbey grounds.”

  “Daphne, Jane and I can nurse Robin,” Lara said, glaring at Sister Agnes. “That way, you will not have to care for an outlaw.”

  “Absolutely not!” Sister Agnes placed her hands on her hips. “This is not a harbour for criminals. We have tended your men before at great personal risk.”

  “We shall see what Abbess Evelyn has to say,” Tuck said.

  “I think it is an excellent idea, Sister Agnes.” Abbess Evelyn came striding up the long room to the group gathered around Robin’s bed. She gazed down on him, a look of compassion on her homely face.

  “It is hard to believe that one human being could do this to another.” She turned to Sister Agnes. “Robin Hood has been good to us in the past. I will not turn him away. His friends can help to nurse him, so you may not neglect the other patients who require our care. We will need their protection. I a
m sure this good priest here will also stay in the abbey. We shall need his prayers.”

  “I am no longer a priest, Abbess,” Tuck said. “The Abbot of Saint Mary’s has had me excommunicated.”

  “You are a true servant of the lord. That is good enough for me.”

  “But the danger,” Sister Agnes protested. “Abbess, surely you should reconsider. If the sheriff were to send his men—”

  “Sister Agnes, did you or did you not take a vow to help those in need?”

  Sister Agnes flushed. “I—”

  “Our Lord Jesus did not turn his back on anyone in need of His help, whether they were sinners or not. You would do well to remember that.”

  Sister Agnes bowed her head. “Yes, Abbess.”

  Will could not help wondering if Abbess Evelyn would be quite so understanding if she knew that a sodomite was currently under her roof.

  Abbess Evelyn addressed him. “You and your men have my permission to stay within the abbey walls. The women of your party are free to use the abbey guest quarters.”

  “Thank you, Abbess.”

  John turned for the door. “I’ll let them know.”

  No sooner had he opened the door, than Lady Marian barged past him.

  “At last! I’ve been waiting for news. How is he?” She hurried to the side of the bed, stopping short when she saw Abbess Evelyn. She dipped in an awkward curtsy.

  “I beg your pardon, Abbess. I’m so worried about Robin.”

  “As you see, child, he is resting. I think the best we can do is to leave him be.” She turned to Will. “I imagine you and your large friend will be taking it in turns to guard this door. I shall have food sent up to you.”

  “Thank you, Abbess.”

  Marian was leaning over Robin. She stretched out a hand as if to touch his bandaged shoulder. Will’s own hand darted out before he could think better of it, closing on her wrist. She gasped.

  “Leave him, lass. He’s not likely to get better with you pawing at him.”

  Their eyes met and held for a few seconds, and Marian was the first to look away.

  Abbess Evelyn laid a hand on her arm. “Come, child, let us leave this man to rest. Father Tuck, you will stay and pray beside him?”

  Tuck nodded.

  It took every ounce of strength Will possessed to follow the women out of the room. He wanted nothing more than to stay by Robin’s side, to watch him for any signs of fever, but Abbess Evelyn was right. Robin would need twenty-four-hour guarding. He, John, Alan and Much could take turns.

  Will met up with the others in the abbey refectory. All were there except Tuck.

  “I don’t understand why David turned on us like that,” Edward said. “How could he shoot Robin after he took him in?”

  “David was never happy,” Alan said. “The outlaw life wasn’t for him.”

  “Perhaps he would have been if you’d been a bit kinder to him,” Jane said, with a pointed look at John.

  John’s mouth tightened. “There’s no excuse for betrayal. Robin’s tough. He’ll fight this.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as the rest of them.

  “That’s if Gisborne doesn’t finish him off,” Much said. “He won’t take the chance that Robin will survive to fight another day.”

  “I’ll kill the horson with my bare hands if he dares show his face,” Will growled.

  Alan laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll all protect him, Will. Gisborne’s men won’t get near. I’ll ride back to camp and get our supplies. Much can come with me.”

  Much opened his mouth, but Alan forestalled him. “There’s nothing we can do here, and I can’t carry everything on my own. We’ll be back later and then we can sort out a guard rotation.” He turned to Will with a forced smile. “You’ll have to sleep sometime.”

  “I’ll scout around, make sure the soldiers have really gone,” Edward volunteered.

  John nodded at him. “Good lad.”

  “Lady Marian may want to take her turn at nursing,” Jane said. “She’s sweet on Robin.”

  “She barely knows him.” The words came out more harshly than Will intended.

  Jane gave him a look that was all too understanding, but said nothing.

  One by one, they left. Will barely noticed them. He sat staring into space, seeing over and over again in his mind’s eye the crossbow quarrel slamming into Robin…Robin falling. They had both sustained serious wounds during the Crusade. Robin, in particular, had undergone brutal suffering and come out the other side. Will had to believe he would do so again.

  “What happened on the hunt?”

  Will started. He thought John had left with the others. He struggled to find an answer. John had witnessed the scene between him and David. No doubt, John blamed Will for what had happened. He was right to.

  “We quarrelled.”

  John nodded as though a suspicion had been confirmed.

  “Why don’t you say it?” Will snapped. “He’s lying near to death and it’s my fault.”

  “No. It was David’s choice.” With that, John strode from the room.

  ***

  “You’re sure he is dead?” Guy leaned forward in his chair, gripping the edges of the table in white-knuckled hands. Could it really be true? Was Locksley finally dead? Prince John was due to return to Nottingham Castle in a month or two. What a relief it would be to tell him that their mutual enemy was no more. Guy’s position as sheriff hung by a thread. If Locksley was still alive and free by the time John arrived at Nottingham, Guy knew it would all be over for him. He would lose everything: power, position, maybe even his life. John did not take disappointment well.

  Philip Mark remained unmoved. “I saw it with my own eyes. Locksley was shot through the shoulder with a crossbow bolt by the outlaw who led us to his camp.”

  A nice touch, that, Guy thought.

  “Is the outlaw dead?”

  “One of Robin’s lieutenants killed him—the giant.”

  “What about the rest of Locksley’s men?”

  “They survived.”

  Guy’s eyes narrowed. “I gave you specific instructions. You were supposed to leave none of them alive.”

  For the first time, the mercenary looked uncomfortable. “They had other archers—women.”

  “Women.” Guy poured as much contempt as possible into the word. “The fearsome Philip Mark was defeated by a bunch of women?”

  “A bow is deadly in skilled hands, no matter whose they are.”

  “You’re as incompetent as Beaumont.”

  “They are no threat without Locksley. You can hunt them down at your leisure.”

  “Except Scathelock, perhaps. He will want revenge for Locksley’s death.”

  “It was always Locksley the people loved and protected. They will not be so loyal to his men. I am sure we will be able to catch Scathelock and the rest of them soon.”

  A nagging doubt still haunted Guy. This all seemed too good to be true.

  “You say he was hit with a crossbow bolt. Did you actually see him die?”

  “I saw him fall. He was grievously wounded.”

  “Wounded does not necessarily mean dead.”

  “The odds of him surviving such a serious injury are slim. Even if his men were able to remove the bolt, there is a strong likelihood of infection setting in. Once that happens, there is no hope.”

  “I prefer to leave nothing to chance,” Guy said. “There is too much riding on this. Where would the outlaws take Locksley?”

  “Kirklees Abbey. It has the best healers for miles.”

  Guy cursed. He was beginning to hate that abbey. If he had his way, he would burn it to the ground and kill everyone inside, but the Abbot of Saint Mary’s had spoken out against that proposal, and the prince had sided with him. The abbey was rich: the sister abbey to Saint Mary’s. Plus, they would risk arousing the ire of Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury and one of the most powerful men in England, as well as being a staunch supporter o
f the king.

  Locksley was helpless. It would be easy enough to send soldiers to the abbey to finish the job. But Guy had been down that road already. He needed a new strategy. There were at least two of Locksley’s lieutenants who were almost as dangerous as himself. Scathelock and the giant would be keeping a close watch on their fallen leader. All it would take was several well-placed arrows and they would be able to take out an entire company of soldiers, as had been proved this very day.

  “Send my bailiff to me, and gather a group of men at arms. A dozen will do.”

  If Philip Mark was surprised, he gave no sign.

  Where brute force had failed, cunning would succeed. Soon Prince John would be reminded why he had made Guy Sheriff, and his precious protégé would be revealed as the fool he was.

  ***

  Cedric stared into the depths of his ale, willing it to show him answers. None came. It had been three days since Gisborne’s tax collectors had ruined his life. They’d destroyed everything he had, simply because he could not pay the outrageous new taxes Prince John demanded. His family had not eaten since then. There were only two options open to him. He could steal some food and risk the penalty. It would mean the loss of a hand if he was caught—maybe a hanging, depending on the sheriff’s mood. Or he could try his luck in Sherwood. It had been years since he had shot an arrow, and he was out of practice, but there was nothing like the crying of your children as a reason to learn.

  He pushed his mug away. It had been a gift from the tavern keeper, who’d heard what had happened. Cedric had been spending a lot of time there lately, unable to bear his wife’s tears. He knew she didn’t blame him, but he felt guilty all the same.

  A smattering of conversation drifted across to him from a nearby table.

  “He helped old Maggie Tyler after her husband was killed. He’s a saint, that Robin Hood, a saint, I tell you.”

  Cedric’s ears pricked. Robin Hood. Perhaps he would be able to help them—assuming Cedric could find him. Everyone knew his camp was hidden deep in Sherwood. The sheriff’s soldiers had searched the forest many times but never found a trace of it. Then again, Cedric reasoned, the outlaws would hide from soldiers, but surely not from him. It was worth a try.