Chapter 2 | Robin
Isat in the largest tent in the Oak Boy’s camp, located directly in the center. Next to me were Tuck and John. Across the war table from us sat Robert, Gregory, and Briggs.
With everyone looking awkward, I opened my mouth to speak.
Robert held his hand up, first. “Hold. We’re waiting for one more.”
I furrowed my brow. “Who?”
As if on cue, the flap to the tent opened, and in waddled Bess. The large elderly woman held a tray of mugs on it, and I wondered if she was acting as our handmaid for the evening of discussions. She wore an apron down her dress that was dirtied with handprints.
“There she is,” Robert said, dispelling my belief that Bess was simply acting as our servant—an idea that dismayed me.
Bess set down the tray on the table and took her seat across from me, offering me a kind smile. “Apologies, boys and ma’am. Some dirty whelps wanted second servings before I closed up shop.”
Robert snorted playfully. “Was it Albert and his ilk?”
Bess inclined her chin. “Always is, Rob.”
I stared at Bess’ face with a mixture of awe and confusion. With her gentle, wrinkled face and round features, coupled with her dirty apron and dress, she looked like a grandmother, not a wartime advisor.
“It’s not polite to stare, young lady,” she scolded me with another smile.
I ducked my head, blinking and burning. “Apologies, ma’am. It’s just—”
“What, Robin,” Robert interjected, “did you think you were the only woman capable of making tough decisions for a group of rambunctious men?”
I shook my head adamantly. “No! It’s just . . . unexpected, is all.”
“Bess is arguably the most valuable member of the Oak Boys, sister.”
Uncle Gregory said, “The one who provides meals to the troops is not to be underestimated in any army.”
“Here, here,” Friar Tuck grumbled.
I shot a narrow-eyed look at him.
“She has an innate understanding of the goings-on and temperament of our people,” Gregory continued. “Because she overhears them during the most sacred times of the day or night: breakfast and supper.”
I had never thought of it in such terms, and I bowed my head in understanding. “Now that you mention it in such a way, Friar Tuck provides much the same for the Merry Men. He understands them, perhaps better than anyone else.”
Tuck flashed a smile. “You flatter me, little heathen.”
“It’s the truth, Tuck.”
“Speaking of food,” Bess interrupted, flapping her hand at the tray of mugs. “That’s not ale in them cups. It’s the last of the soup.” When everyone glanced over at her, she added, “You’ll need to fortify yourselves for these talks, I’ve learned.” With a sage nod, she left it at that.
Tuck leaned forward, grunting as he grabbed a mug. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said excitedly, and quickly started slurping the contents of his mug. “Mmm. Exquisite even lukewarm, ma’am. I have much to learn.”
Robert chuckled and smiled at me. “She’s also the matron of the Oak Boys, if you couldn’t tell. No one disrespects Bess Cook.”
Bess nodded her head. “Here, here,” she said confidently, mimicking Tuck and making him blush. “I could teach you a thing or two about my ways, young man. First we need to get to that point.”
It was funny, I thought, Bess calling Tuck a “young man,” since he was old enough to be my father. She probably considered me little more than a youngling.
“Then let’s get to it,” Robert said, lacing his fingers together on the table and putting his forearms down. He faced me, making it clear that he considered me the leader of the Merry Men, even with Little John right next to me.
John and Briggs had stayed quiet, glancing at each other every once in a while. I figured if either of them had anything important to say, they’d let it out. Both of our sides needed mediators for these talks.
“We want to forge the alliance you spoke of months ago, brother,” I said, looking around at the faces. Everyone nodded slowly, which gave me confidence that we were all after the same thing here.
“As do we,” Robert said. His shoulder-length brown hair had fallen partly over his face, and he tucked it aside behind his ear. My brother was as handsome as ever, and I vaguely wondered why he hadn’t found himself a strong woman to call his own within the Oak Boys. There were plenty of eligible suitresses around.
Uncle Gregory waded in. “A pact between parties is necessary for both of our survivals, if you ask this old man.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“A pact without stipulations?” Little John asked, finally speaking.
Robert turned to him. “We make no demands, John Little. And we expect the same from the Merry Men.”
“Compromises, then,” John said.
“There will always be compromises in a union, no?”
Little John sat back in his chair. “I just want to make sure no one is considered above the other in this venture. The Merry Men have done fine without the help of the Oak Boys so far.”
“Have you?” Robert spit out—a bit too fast for my liking. “Weren’t you the man who was a captive of Sheriff George just a few months back?”
Briggs cut in: “And was it not the Oak Boys who instigated the riot in Nottingham during the execution, when the Merry Men were too scared to?”
Little John’s hands tightened on the arms of his seat, making a squeezing sound. I tensed, whipping my head over to Briggs to retort—
But Uncle Gregory held a hand out before things could escalate. “Hold on, hold on. Let us not allow tensions to rise so quickly, aye?”
“Robert started it,” I blurted, and immediately felt childish for saying it.
Bess looked over at me, unmoved. “Don’t let these boys turn you into a blubbering little girl, Lady Robin. You’re better than that. Or is a matron necessary to hold everyone in check?” Her tired eyes circled the table, landing on every face.
We all fell quiet at Bess’ admonishment. All of us slightly embarrassed and ashamed.
A beat later, Robert said, “I apologize.” He bowed his head at Little John. “I suppose the insinuation that everything was fine in Sherwood Forest hit me a little harder than I expected it would.”
John said, “I could have spoken with more tact, too. Apology accepted.”
And just like that, I realized the power Bess Cook held. I would never have what she had: age and wisdom. At least not for a long time. But I wondered if there was a way to implement her sure-handedness and confidence into my own leadership style.
Despite her chiding of me—for good reason—I was impressed by her. She was a true mediator. And a provider of good food, which was treasured.
Friar Tuck cleared his throat and scratched his bald head. “If we are in agreement that unity is needed, then let’s move on. Robert and Robin, brother and sister, are the unofficial leaders of our respective gangs. Can you two be civil?”
I looked at Tuck, then Robert. He stared at me, his face unreadable.
“I can,” I said, and Robert quickly agreed.
“Then what of leadership beyond tonight?” Tuck continued, and I saw where he was going with this. “Unless we become the Merry Oak People, our two groups have become accustomed to their leaders. We both have our own ways of doing things. I know you, Robin, have worked your ass off to gain the trust of the Merry Men. I wouldn’t want that trust to dissolve overnight because a man from an outside enterprise is taking over. Brother or otherwise.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Anxiety rose up inside me. Tuck was right: Could I still hold onto my leadership position if we commingled with the Oak Boys? Would Robert and Uncle Gregory allow it?
Robert had been a soldier before this. He had a military mind, and as a man, it likely made sense for him to lead the alliance.
That was the rub, though. Because I didn’t want to relinquish the status I’d only just recently acquired. Call it selfish, but I had earned my place at the table. I wasn’t a soldier before this, yet I was certainly no princess or damsel, now, either. I had my own qualifications and strengths that Robert wouldn’t be able to replicate.
Now, if only I could figure out a tactful way of saying all that.
Robert made it easy for me, luckily, by giving me a small smile. “I would not presume to try and lead the Merry Men, or vest leadership from my younger sister. Our groups are different. We operate differently, even if we seek the same thing: peace for all of us. A life free from the despotic nature of society outside Sherwood Forest, which Prince John has thrust upon us all.”
“Here, here,” Briggs toasted, picking up a mug of soup and drinking from it.
“Then let us talk specifics,” Little John said, leaning forward. “What can we offer each other?” He looked to Robert. “What can the Oak Boys offer the Merry Men?”
“Bodies,” Robert began, counting off on his finger. “We have more recruits—more soldiers, tailors, and cooks.”
“A veil, too,” Uncle Gregory added, as if this had been scripted beforehand. “The Oak Boys are not as infamous as the Merry Men, sad as it may be for your people. Our location here is safer than anywhere the Merry Men might go.”
“That’s true,” I said, nodding. “We seem to get caught all the time by Sheriff George and his hound, Sir Guy of Gisborne.” I tilted my head, tapping my chin. “Although not recently, oddly enough. We’ve gone months without interacting with our enemies.”
“Don’t be fooled, sister. It’s coming.”
I sighed and nodded at Robert. “Which is why we’re here, brother, doing this now. It may be the only time we can come to an agreement.”
“The only time you’re not on the run, you mean?” Briggs shot back.
I rolled my eyes, and didn’t deign to give the captain an answer. If he was trying to incense me, or catch me up, then his motives were misplaced.
“Could you have a betrayer in your midst?” Uncle Gregory asked, a genuine expression of concern on his face.
I glanced out the corner of my eye at Little John, not sure how to answer that.
“It’s possible,” he said for me. “Though we’ve worked hard to mitigate that. I’ll admit, I haven’t been back with the Merry Men long enough to know for sure—I don’t know all the new recruits intimately like I once did, or hold the same status with them.”
“Pah,” Friar Tuck grunted with a wave of his hand. “Everyone loves you, Little John, and you’re still likely the most well-respected and admired among us. I won’t hear this self-pity from you. It’s gone on long enough.”
Robert and Gregory searched our three faces, a bit of concern and surprise showing on theirs.
I recognized Tuck’s mistake right away: It was not wise to sow doubt among people we’re considering forming an alliance with. There couldn’t be internal strife among our leadership, even if I understood Tuck’s frustration.
John still had not completely recovered from his . . . vicious assault, while imprisoned by Sheriff George. I feared he never would, at this point. I was the only one who knew of it, far as I knew, and I intended to keep it that way.
I gestured at my giant lover. “Little John is our most accomplished tactical mind. Robert, you have experience in that regard, as do you, Uncle Gregory. Can the three of you work together?”
Robert said, “Of course we can. I don’t foresee any issues there—”
“Having three heads in a war room instead of two is a good thing, for democracy’s sake,” Gregory pointed out. “We will always have a two-to-one vote on ideas. Good for innovation.”
Robert clamped his jaw with a glare at our uncle, evidently miffed that he was interrupted.
It seemed our side wasn’t the only one with baked-in tension.
“Except it won’t be just the three of us, will it?” my brother asked Gregory. “Briggs will be there, and Robin, I assume.”
“The mathematics still works,” Gregory drawled. “That’s five. An odd number, if I’m not mistaken.”
I recognized my uncle and my brother were getting a bit testy, and rather than sitting back to let them hash it out, I tried my own hand at mediation, by taking the onus upon myself. “You’re forgetting our three other leaders: Friar Tuck here, as well as Will Scarlet and Alan-a-Dale.” I held a hand up when I saw Gregory’s mouth open. “Which, yes, I recognize is no longer an odd number, with eight people at the table.”
“I don’t like it,” Robert said, shaking his head. “Not because of odds or evens. Because I see it playing out with everyone voting on party lines. We have three votes. The Merry Men have five. That’s hardly fair, especially given the Oak Boys’ larger size.”
He made a good point.
“Then we reduce our votes from five to three,” Little John said easily. “I’ll count myself out.”
“As will I,” Friar Tuck added.
“No!” I blurted. They can’t just give away their roles like this! We didn’t agree on any of this beforehand. If anything, I’d rather have Tuck and John in the war room than Will and Alan. Will, because he was too angry, and Alan because he was too nice.
“Then we’re back at an even standstill,” Gregory said. “Three votes apiece. Although there are worse—”
“Christ Almighty, boys!” Bess bellowed, a palm on her forehead. “You lot are giving me a headache. Talk about missing the forest for the trees!”
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the most elderly stateswoman of the group.
Bess scolded us all with her rheumy eyes. “Enough getting bogged down by numbers and votes and all that flotsam. The important question is all that matters tonight, and the details can be regarded as time passes.”
Robert tilted his head. “The important question, Bess?”
“Yes, foolish boy. Are we allying or not?!”
Her voice bounced off the thin tarp-walls of the tent.
Bess certainly had a knack for simplifying things, in a digestible way.
“Bess is right, again,” I said, nodding. “The details can wait.”
Briggs muttered, “We’ll be sorry if we put it off for too long and then can’t agree on a damn thing later down the road . . .”
“What was that, Briggs?” Bess scolded, leaning over the table toward the far side where the captain sat.
His mustache twitched, and he shrank. “Nothing, ma’am.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Briggs made a good point, I thought, but I wasn’t about to throw myself into the fire and join him—not when I’d be left at the mercy of Bess Cook. She was too formidable a presence.
“Then, for now,” Robert said, looking to me again, “let us agree on that defining principle. Fighting with each other, rather than against each other.”
Everyone nodded their agreement.
Little John said, “You never asked what the Merry Men can do for the Oak Boys.”
“Pardon?”
“You told us what you can offer us, but didn’t ask how we would reciprocate. Is that because you think we offer nothing?”
I wasn’t sure why Little John was being so combative—especially when we seemed so close to tying this thing together—but I waited to say anything, to hear him out.
Uncle Gregory spoke for Robert, saying, “My nephew meant nothing of the sort, John. We simply became sidetracked by minutiae. Isn’t that right, Rob?”
Robert nodded. “Aye. I meant no slight, John.”
Little John slowly looked between them. Blinked. Sat back. “The Merry Men have something more precious than anything else.” His eyes drilled on me. “Robin.”
My eyes bulged. “W-What?”
John spread his hand out wide, to explain. “Sheriff George and Sir Guy of Gisborne want Robin more than any of us. For whatever reason, she is important to them.”
When he stopped, Uncle Gregory was the first to realize what he was saying, with a twinkle in his eye. “And we can use that to our advantage.”
“Aye, Sir Gregory. The reason the Merry Men has a target on our backs is because Sir Guy is obsessed with hunting her. He will stop at nothing, it seems, to find her. If we have the numbers—with the Oak Boys by our side—we can set up ambushes and traps for our enemies. The Merry Men can act as the vanguard. The decoy and distraction, in this case. And the Oak Boys, with your superior manpower, can pounce. We will catch our common enemies unawares, and make them regret ever stepping foot into the forest.”
“Our Realm of Solitude,” I muttered under my breath, not sure if anyone heard me.
“It’s a risky gambit you’re suggesting,” Gregory grunted. “Especially putting my niece in danger.”
“I’ve been in danger the entire time I’ve lived in Sherwood Forest, Uncle,” I said, and then smiled at Little John. “I agree with my mate. You want to see how I’ve earned my place among the Merry Men? Then follow me into the trenches.”
John matched my smile—the first I’d seen from him tonight—and it made my heart sing. For a rare moment, I felt I had him back. The old Little John who swaddled me in protectiveness and possessiveness. The unbroken, tall, valiant man I had learned to love before he was taken from me. We had only recently begun to piece back our relationship, both of us working toward that end, and committing to it even when we faltered.
Perhaps this was a first step in returning that unrivaled confidence to the former boss of the Merry Men. And, with it, maybe our unbreakable bond.
With one statement, John had given me an in to prove myself—yet again—amidst a group of men and a singular, unique, older woman. He had put me on a pedestal of importance, because he recognized my qualities and capabilities better than anyone.
The quiet giant had made everyone stop and think.
Finally, it was Bess who nodded and grunted. “I like it. A girl with some fire in her belly is all right with me.” She said the last part to Robert and Gregory, giving her nod of approval to them both before leaning back in her seat.
Earning Bess’ blessing was perhaps more powerful than anything. As I well knew, if the strongest woman in the room agreed with me, then the others would fall in line soon enough.
To my surprise, my competitive brother did not fight me on it. He didn’t goad me or try to find a way to weasel out of Little John’s suggestion that I was more important than even he was.
Because Robert knew it was true. He had been away at war. Even once returned, he’d been hiding—he had said as much himself, and prided himself on the fact the Oak Boys were relatively unknown.
But me? I’d been here the entire time. I’d built a name for myself in Sherwood Forest, and the people of this land were starting to learn who I was. What I was capable of.
Robin of Loxley, the woman leader of the Merry Men brigands, was just as notorious as any other man in Sherwood Forest. Everyone might not like me, but everyone understood that. Little John best of all. Because he not only understood it, he knew how to utilize it.
Robert smiled at me, “I’m starting to see why you put so much faith in Little John’s strategic prowess, sister. You have a good man on your side.”
“The best men,” I corrected, my smile growing crooked.
“Then it’s settled.” Robert pounded his fist on the table, and the mugs clattered, the soup—now cold—sloshing over the rims. “Sister, you will lead our alliance, because you will be taking on the most danger and the biggest burden. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”
“I am.”
“Then you have our support whenever you need it. And until—if we combine our camps—we will send a delegate to your camp to act as a liaison between our groups.”
“That won’t be sustainable for long, Robert.”
“I know, sister. I suppose the next question is: Would you rather we come to you, or you come to us?”
Briggs cleared his throat and sat up. “I worry the Merry Men coming to our campsite will bring unwanted attention to us, Rob.”
Robert put a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, I’m afraid the days of avoiding attention may be over, regardless. If we are going into this alliance, then our lives will become even rockier than before. It’s a simple fact of the situation.”
Briggs took that in, sighed, and nodded grimly. He said nothing.
Robert looked at me, lifting his eyebrows with a questioning expression.
“Briggs is right, though,” I said, and the captain perked his head up. “Bringing the Oak Boys to us only puts you in needless danger. Keeping this position hidden is smart. So we will bring the Merry Men near here—close enough that we can liaise and offer support more efficiently—but we won’t impede on this specific camp. That way, the Oak Boys can remain veiled, which should benefit both of us. Does that work with everyone?”
I glanced around and earned nods from my side of the table, and then the four on the other side.
Bess gave me a devilish smile. “Look at her, leading the troops already.”
My cheeks flushed with color.
The tent flap opened and a man walked in.
I double-took, realizing I recognized the man from our camp. One of our best carriage drivers.
My brow furrowed. “Jamie?”
He held a small, rolled scroll in his hand. “Apologies, Robin. An urgent message for you.”
“You rode all the way here to relay it?” I stood from my seat and hurried over to him, then took the proffered note. Rolled it open and read it, as Little John and Friar Tuck crowded behind me.
A gasp caught in my throat.
“What is it, little hope?” John asked.
“Will Scarlet requests we ride to Ravenshead before returning to camp.”
Tuck snorted. “Requests? Scarlet doesn’t make requests”
“Well. True.” I squinted at the tiny handwriting. “He writes for us to drag our, erm, ‘sorry, lazy asses’ to Ravenshead.”
“That’s more like it,” Tuck said, to the sound of chuckling from the Oak Boys at the table.
“Why?” John asked, serious.
I looked up at him, eyebrows arched pityingly. “He says his father is dying, and he anticipates trouble.”
The laughing at the table stopped. Tuck groaned.
Little John rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh of resignation. “There’s always fucking trouble where Will fucking Scarlet is concerned, isn’t there?”
I couldn’t argue with that.