Chapter 33 #2
“One hundred twelve,” Baron answered promptly. “It was one hundred thirty-seven last fall, but several quit on the way to our winter accommodations because they didn’t care for the living conditions and low pay for entry-level recruits.”
“And patrol routes?” Alan asked.
Baron listed them out with crisp efficiency. Will Scarlet muttered, “Well, he certainly sounds like a Blackwell,” while James frantically drew routes and took notes.
Little John scratched his beard. “And what about the armory? Supplies? Weak points? If we’re about to trust a Blackwell, we’re going to be thorough about it.”
So Baron told them everything. He described the guard rotations and training schedules. He explained about the low rations and even lower morale under the sheriff’s leadership.
“All right,” Little John said after several minutes, exchanging a glance with Father. “Now tell us exactly how you covered our tracks after bringing us here.”
Baron went through it step by step. Then Little John had me recount my northbound trail, and James had to shake out his hand from all the note-taking.
By the time they finished sorting through plans for food, bedding, watches, and the dozen other crises facing a cramped cottage full of half-starved outlaws, night had nearly fallen.
“Baron, would you be willing to take the first watch?”
Baron straightened, eager for the chance to prove himself. “I can take it.” He shot me a brief, hopeful smile then went outside, following Sam and Tildy who had gone out to do their evening chores.
The door shut behind him.
Little John folded his arms. “I don’t trust him.”
A couple of men murmured agreement.
My instinct was to defend Baron immediately but I held my tongue. If I even hinted that I had feelings for Baron, I was sure they would claim I was too blinded to see the situation clearly.
“He says he’s on our side,” Little John continued. “But why now? Why not months ago? Jerome and Much might still be alive. What made him suddenly change loyalty?” He shook his head. “It seems too sudden. I smell foul play.”
“I do, too,” added Will Stutely. “He could have set it up with the sheriff. Just imagine—he takes us from jail to win our loyalty, learns out secrets, and then betrays us. It’s too easy.”
“Easy?” harrumphed Lincoln. “That wasn’t easy. And he just gave us information on their movements, didn’t he?”
“Blackwell never would have agreed to let us out of prison,” Father added, and my heart swelled with hope. Did Father trust Baron? “And he did give us information…but he’s still Blackwell’s son.”
“He could’ve made up all the information he gave us,” Little John pointed out.
“Words are just that—words. What a man does says far more about his character than what he says. He says that he decided to turn on his own father and leave a very comfortable position high up in Prince John’s military just so he can release a prisoner and plan a jailbreak for some men he’s never met.
I wouldn’t do that. And anyone who turns on his allies that quickly cannot be trusted. ”
“It could be a trap,” Alan pointed out, and several men nodded in agreement.
“My thoughts exactly,” Will Stutely said. “It would be a perfect plan—get the prisoners to think you’re on their side so they spill the beans about everything, then turn in all the prisoners and earn a nice commission for a neat job well done.”
“We could just ditch him,” Will Scarlet suggested. There were murmurs of agreement.
“Now wait just a minute!” I said angrily, unable to contain myself any longer. “Everyone was treating him so nicely just this morning, dancing around with him like he was one of our own, and now you want to run out on him? He turned his back on his entire life for…us!” I had nearly said me.
“Of course we’re going to treat him well,” Dale piped up. “You don’t let someone know that you are onto their little game!”
“But there was no need for games to turn us in. You all were already in prison.”
“Because he was using you as bait,” Alan answered.
Little John looked hard at me. “And Laurel, we’ve all seen how boys act around you. You don’t have to keep pretending anymore, if that was your plan. You got us out, and you did a great job. But we don’t have to keep him around. You have us now; you don’t need him anymore.”
Again, I felt betrayed, but this time by my life-long friends.
I had assumed that when Baron and I showed up, the men would welcome him with open arms. But now here they were, all wanting to run out on Baron when he had done so much for us.
They were prepared to leave him high and dry with nowhere to go.
I understood that they had been through a lot for me and that Baron as my captor was one of the last things they had seen.
But surely, they would know that I would never bring anyone into our band whom I didn’t trust.
Father had been watching all of this play out, but now called for order. “Stop it, all of you,” he snapped, wincing as his forceful tone put pressure on his ribs.
“Forget about Baron for a moment,” he told us firmly. “Does everyone in this room trust each other?”
We looked around the room, the bond between us almost tangible.
Each man had been willing to lay down his life for mine, and two weren’t there who had already done just that.
I had helped every one of them in return, our loyalty forged through years of danger and sacrifice.
They weren’t just my comrades—they were my family. They all nodded.
Father gestured for me to stand. “Does everyone trust Laurel’s judgment?”
Again, all the men nodded solemnly.
Father then addressed me personally. “Laurel, you’re the only one of us who knows Baron at all. You’ve spent a considerable amount of time with him in the last six months, right?”
“All day, every day,” I responded. At this, several men began to protest indignantly, but Father gave them a piercing look that silenced them immediately.
“Then you know him best. What is your honest, objective opinion? Can he be trusted?”
My stomach twisted. I sifted through months of memories, forcing myself to look past my own personal feelings and to judge fairly.
I thought of the days he dragged me back to camp against my will when I tried to escape.
There had been orders he had disobeyed because he refused to mistreat me, but he had no qualms about sentencing Dorian to a vicious whipping. He was kind to me and feared by others.
“He isn’t without flaws,” I said at last. The whole room seemed to inhale. “But I’m confident he doesn’t want to go back. He kept me safe when no one else in that camp would have bothered, so yes, we can trust him.”
Father smiled. “That settles it then.”
A few low grumbles followed, but no one argued. Their acceptance, however grudging, meant they trusted my word and they trusted Father’s leadership.
He noticed their reluctance and rolled his eyes. “We’re not inducting him, boys,” he said dryly. “But we’re also not kicking him out. He won’t be allowed in any formal meetings and someone will stay with him at all times, but we will treat him as one of our own. Laurel—does that work for you?”
I nodded, fighting down the smile that wanted to spread across my face. Baron would be able to stay with me.
When Baron returned, a few of the men made a deliberate effort to seek him out to engage in small talk, ask questions, and give him the kind of easy smiles that made people feel welcome.
Sam and Tildy slipped back in from their chores, and just as the next patrol group began gathering their cloaks, Father lifted a hand.
“I have something to say.” He stood, wincing as he placed a hand to his ribs, and limped slowly to stand in front of the fire. Then he nodded to Baron.
“Come here, son.”
Baron stepped forward, shoulders more tense than usual.
Father studied him a long moment before speaking. “You sacrificed a great deal for us,” he said quietly. “You walked away from your position, your only family, and really from your entire life to help us.” His voice softened. “For that, you have all of our undying thanks.”
Baron swallowed, gaze dropping, as if he didn’t know what to do with gratitude freely given.
“But more than that,” Father continued, and Baron’s head snapped up again, “you protected my daughter. You kept her safe for months in a place where safety was not guaranteed. That is a debt no parent can ever repay.”
Father drew a slow breath, then added, “And if you ever need a father figure in your life, I’ll be here. You can always count on Robin of Locksley.”
He held out his hand.
Baron stared at it, stunned, before a slow, almost disbelieving smile pulled at his mouth. He reached out and took Father’s hand, and Father immediately covered it with his other, clasping him firmly and without reservation.
For a heartbeat, Baron just stood there, looking as though someone had handed him a piece of a life he’d never dared imagine he could have.
The men broke out cheering and Sam bounced up and down and cried, “Wha’ a good chap that Robin ‘ood is, such a good chap! Three cheers for Robin ‘ood! Let’s ‘ave it, lads!”