Chapter 12 | Will Scarlet
Istaked off by myself before Alan finished his song, but made sure to stick to a nearby shadow to watch him reach his bombastic ending. When he was met with applause and cheers from the camp, I grunted and moved on, disappearing deeper into the woods.
I was glad my dandelion had found his place among the people. He could be fierce and protective like the rest of us, yet his strengths lied in empowering them. Similar to Tuck in way, except with wholly different ways of going about it.
Tuck held the people’s souls in his hands. He was undoubtedly the smartest of us, and the most learned. Alan had their moods and admiration. When Tuck brought spirits down with dour talks of God and conflicting beliefs, Alan raised their spirits with song and fantasy.
I supposed there was a place for both of them here.
Little John, too, had the utmost respect from the rest of the Merry Men. Whether people wanted to admit it or not, they deferred to him, even with Robin as our chieftess. He was the elder statesman of the group, and his comforting presence had been immediately felt since his return.
I couldn’t deny the importance he held for us, whether that be as a hard worker in camp and someone to emulate, or a skilled tactician on the battlefield.
If we were going to defeat Sheriff George and his ilk, we needed John to be at his best.
My little thorn, most of all, was an idealist. Someone who understood the broader picture of what it meant to be a Merry Man. Her brother, though a bit more pragmatic and realistic in his approach, was similar to her.
It was Robin Hood who connected best with the group. She deserved to be our figurehead and leader. Ever since her arrival, things had changed. For the better, in my opinion, as we became a bit softer and understanding. Allowing whelps like the orphans and servant girls into our group, giving them autonomy for the first time in their young lives, had been just the first step. Now we had people like Wulfric and Bess, too—sage elders who could be the orphans’ grandparents.
I strolled through the woods, ruminating, listening to the sounds of lively chatter fade behind me. I came to a creek and crouched to sip some water. It was crisp and clean, unburdened by the kind of filth that surrounded the water near Nottingham and other cities.
My mood was low. Sadly, Alan’s song did nothing to rectify that. Perhaps I harbored guilt and ill-feelings over what I’d done to Sir Charles after Robin had saved my life from Initiate Brandt.
It was difficult to reconcile being a murderer.
“Is that all I am here?” I wondered aloud, softly.
All my other brothers had found their place within the Merry Men. They fit neatly.
So why am I the only one, it seems, who feels lonely in this band? At times, I feel I don’t belong. Am I nothing more than an assassin and hired sword? An enforcer?
Sighing, I stood and stared down at the shimmering reflection of the moon off the creek’s surface. Even the animals and critters of the woods had gone still since my arrival here. Only the beating of my weighed-down heart filled my ears.
Once, I had stoked a fire inside Robin. The fierce love I felt for her brought out words I’d never spoken, and probably could never replicate. I had begged her to hit me, to take her anger and frustration out on someone other than herself. She had obliged, and I’d never been prouder.
Where did that Will Scarlet go?
Perhaps it was my father’s death weighing me down. The fact he never received so much as a proper burial before the Templar Knights descended and business became the topic of discussion. He had disappeared from this life much the way he had lived: in obscurity.
I knew Ravenshead wasn’t safe, much less the honey farm that had fallen into the citizens’ hands. They weren’t safe because of me, and the actions I’d done.
I didn’t start that fight—Initiate Brandt did with his assassination attempt. I sure as hell ended it, though. And now the Templars would come back heavy-handed.
“Wallowing?”
I spun at the voice behind me, startling my heart to my throat.
Robin stood perched against a tree trunk, arms folded, hiding under the shadow cast by the draping branches.
“Jesus, little thorn. How did you sneak up on me like that?” I chided.
She smirked and pushed off the tree with her foot, closing the gap between us. “I learned from the best. You.”
I frowned at her. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe—”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I tapped the sword handles sticking out from behind my shoulders. “I’m armed. And I can defend myself.”
“So can I. Also thanks to you.”
I snorted as she drew nearer, and the heat emanating off her skewed my senses. “Your footwork still needs adjusting. You’re far from a soldier, Robin.”
Rather than get angry at my critique, she smiled. Her hand came up and cupped my cheek, and the warmth of her touch on my cool skin nearly undid me. “What has you so down, love? Is it your father? The Templars? The whole mess?”
I struggled past a lump in my throat, unable to even sigh. Her eyes glittered, searching mine, and I became lost in her world. My first inclination was to deny, deny, deny. I was supposed to be the strong one. I couldn’t be seen as weak.
“I suppose it’s all of it,” I said at last, my shoulders slumping.
She nodded. “We can fix that.”
“What, right here?” I glanced around, but she brought my face back around with her hand on my cheek. “Are you looking for another woodsy ravaging?”
My smirk faded when her expression didn’t change. The concern twisting her features had me in knots, because I didn’t want her to worry about me. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.
“I mean we can fight through it. The pain, the loss, the heartache. We can fight through all of it.” She flashed a sad smile. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A fighter?”
The sigh finally slipped past my lips. “I’m not sure what I am anymore, thorn. I don’t understand my position here at times.”
“I always thought it was pretty obvious.”
My brow creased. “Elaborate.”
Her hand fell from my cheek, and the loss hit me immediately. She stayed staring into my eyes, however, and that was enough to keep me upright.
God, why am I so pliable and weak around her? How does she hold this power over me, to have me on bated breath for her every word?
“Say we do find Sir Guy of Gisborne—or, the more likely scenario, he finds us.” She tilted her head. “Who do you suspect of us will be good enough to fight him?”
It was not what I’d expected her to say. I wasn’t sure what I thought she’d say, but mentioning Guy only made my blood boil. Still, we were being forthright and sincere, so I didn’t lash out. “I’m not arrogant enough to guarantee I can defeat him,” I said.
“No, maybe not.” She shrugged. “But you instill confidence in the group, Will. I think that is your place here, more than anything. You sure as hell instilled it in me, when I was at my weakest. It wasn’t Tuck or Alan or John who did that. It was you.”
My lips parted. A foreign sensation clawed up my spine hearing her words. I was at a loss for words, so I just bent my head forward and kissed her instead.
Her tongue slipped into my mouth and we held the embrace for a long moment. The animals and critters of the woods began their symphony of chittering and clacking. If I scared the creatures away, Robin brought them back.
Our lips parted and I pulled back. “You shouldn’t be so good to me. I don’t deserve it.”
She balked in my face. “Is this the same Will Scarlet? The one who complains when I’m drowning in self-pity? Please, love, don’t ever say that. You deserve all my love, and maybe even more than I can offer.” She winked. “That’s why you have Alan-a-Dale, too.”
I stiffened. “It’s different between us. You know it is.”
“Aye. Tell that to him. I saw him searching for you when he finished his song.”
My brow rose. “Yet you’re the one who found me.”
“I’ll always find you, Will Scarlet. Because I understand all my men better than they understand themselves.”
“Oh?” I stepped back, hands on my hips. “And how about yourself?”
She blinked, taken aback. “W-What?”
“You still hide secrets from us, little thorn. Maybe I’m the only one who spotted it back in Ravenshead, though I doubt it. Little John is just as astute as I am.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked in an alarmed voice. The rise of her voice only deepened the lie she was trying to hold onto.
“You talk of fixing me, lass. Well, something has happened to you, and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m not sure any of us do, because we’re the ones that caused it.”
Robin’s chest moved shallowly as her breathing quickened. “I came here to help you, Will. Not be chastised.”
“Then we’re here to help each other.” I shook my head. “You’re going to have to confront this head-on, love. It’s the only way through it. I would know.”
She bowed her head, glancing down at the dirt and twigs, away from my scrutinizing eyes. “You’re talking about . . .”
“The darkness. The swell of excitement that comes to you when you’re watching a man bleed out. A man you hate. Remember when John and I first captured Peter Fisher and brought him to you, on his knees?”
She nodded curtly.
“Your would-be rapist. Yet you could not shove the blade into his chest.”
“I wasn’t a killer.”
Sadness wrapped around my heart. I didn’t dare touch her in this moment, as much as I wanted to, because I knew she would flinch. She was lost in her own thoughts again.
“The past tense being the key part there,” I said softly, trying not to anger her.
When she finally looked up at me again, the glint of tears blurred her eyes. She blinked them away and sniffed. “I don’t know what to do about it either, Will. Or how to fight it. But I won’t deny it’s happening any longer.”
“Then that is the first step.” This time, I did step into her and wrap my arm around her body to bring us together.
I was not one to coddle, and Robin had always preferred my tough-love approach anyway. I wouldn’t change that now, even if she was trapped in a moment of weakness.
A thought came to me. Perhaps that is my place here? Not an enforcer of swords, but an enforcer of confidence, as she said. “I know what you’re going through, little thorn, because I’ve been there.” My lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. “And I think I know what’s causing it.”
“What?” she gasped.
“You feel everything.” My hand curled around her chin, the pad of my thumb brushing her cheek. “And that is your burden to bear. The pressure has built so much, you wrap everyone’s pain around you like a quilt. I’m not just talking about the pain caused to you, but the pain of the entire band.”
She faltered a step back. “What are you saying?”
“You’ve come so far from your life as an heiress and noblewoman, and have flipped in the opposite direction, Robin. My family, too, was once respected and esteemed. As you’ve seen from the Ravenshead incident, that is not the case anymore. With you . . . you hold it all so dearly. You take everyone’s pain and make it your own. And, at a certain point, the frustration and sadness, the futility and indignation of it all, has boiled into sheer rage.”
She looked scared gazing into my eyes, and I could only wonder what my orbs reflected in that moment. I suspected I was a smoldering ruin of wrath—the same man Robin had first been frightened of, yet had come to love.
“By God,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I think you’re right.”
I nodded sagely. “Now, when you see a tyrant, you imagine their death. You want retribution rather than fairness. You’ve reached a point of discontent with the lords of this land that the rest of us reached long ago. It’s a frightful place to be—knowing your own savagery. You’re no longer the scared lordling from your father’s carriage. I suspect Sir Thomas’ death at your hands was the first step in your transformation, in fact.”
“It was the day I became a killer.”
“And also the day you became a Merry Man.” I frowned and shook my head. “Snuffing out the root of the problem, however valiant, does not unburden you from the feelings that build after it.”
She paused. Mulled that over with a furrowed brow. “You’re wiser than I imagined, Will. Especially for your age.”
I snorted and rolled my head back. “Age has nothing to do with it, little thorn. It’s experience, and I see my own mirrored in yours.”
“Do you have any suggestions, then?”
A smirk flicked the corners of my lip. “To not become like me, you mean?”
Shame clouded her face. She shrank a bit, which was the last thing I wanted. I wanted my woman strong and bold, because that was the only way we were ever going to defeat our enemies and find peace.
Ever so slightly, she nodded.
“Sadly, I don’t. I’m not the man for that. I can point out everyone’s problems, I suppose, but I’m damned when it comes to fixing them, much less my own.” I laughed at myself incredulously. “A hell of a trait, I know.”
She gave me a shy smile, looking up at me from under her wavy hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, love. I want you to know that.”
My eyes blew wide. “I . . .” I cleared my throat. “I would.”
She cupped my cheek again. “All of my men are unique. You are the fiercest. I believe that is your place here, Will Scarlet: to instill that fierceness in everyone around you. To remind them of their strength. Now that you’ve pointed out what’s violating my mind, I think I can work to figure it out. So . . . thank you.”
She kissed me again.
We held the kiss longer this time, and I felt truly at peace for the first time in ages.
NEXT MORNING, I AWOKE rejuvenated and with purpose. I didn’t even need to claim Robin the night before to feel the determination coursing through my veins.
I roused the younglings and grumbling orphans from their sleep early that morning. Then I took them out to a clearing away from camp and held an impromptu class.
Everyone stared at me like I was mad when I put them in a row, stood in front of them, and unsheathed my blades. These were practically children, after all. They shared fearful looks.
I’m going to bring out the fierceness inside each one of you, I promised.
“What’s this all about, penny-snatcher?” Rosco asked.
I twirled my blades and stabbed them into the ground. “If you’re going to live among the Merry Men, you must learn to fight. Perhaps that aspect wasn’t initially explained to you, so I’m here to rectify it.”
His friend, Tick, put his hands on his hips. “We aren’t fighters. Ros and I were guttersnipes not too long ago.”
“You’re going to have to become warriors if you want to survive in Sherwood Forest. We have enemies at our doorstep, and no amount of revelry will change that fact. Don’t let the soft songs of last night or the sermons of Friar Tuck fool you, boys: You must fight to survive, and I’m going to teach you how.”
My last comment seemed to perk them up and wipe the dreariness of the morning from their eyes.
I motioned to a pile of wooden swords I had whittled with Alan’s help a few hours before. “Pick up a sword. Face off against one another. I need to see what I’m working with. Today we will work on foundations and footwork. Tomorrow, we might—”
“Wait, tomorrow?” asked the one-eyed boy named Brand.
I stood straight in front of the lad, who couldn’t have seen more than fourteen summers. “Aye, Brand. We’re going to do this every day. That way, I can separate the wheat from the chaff. While Tuck, Alan, and John seem to want to coddle you, I need to make sure you can defend yourselves. Before long, I’ll make warriors out of all of you. You wanted to play knights and damsels last night? Here is your chance.”
Brand audibly gulped and looked around, hesitant. He wasn’t so excited to swing a sword as he’d been last night.
Sighing, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Boys. Do you know what it is the Merry Men do?”
I was facing about ten of them, of various ages, mostly from the orphanage but also friends we had brought along the way, such as Rosco and Tick.
“You rob people,” Rosco said, shrugging. He knew it because he did it, too.
“Aye.” I paced in front of the slouching group. “But not just any people, do we? We steal from the richest of the land—the ones who keep us under heel and don’t pay their fair share. What they do pay for, however, is protection. And to take their ill-gotten gains, we need to incapacitate the guards and mercenaries protecting them. We need to be just as good as the soldiers we face, yet sneakier and smarter.”
The boys nodded their understanding and went to the pile of swords to pick them out. I watched them, and then noticed a few of the younger girls arriving, curiosity on their faces.
The girl named Taffa asked, “Can we join?”
Griff, one of our elder whelps and a former friend of Much the Miller’s son, snorted over his shoulder. “Swordplay is for men, Taffa.”
The girl’s face burned red.
“In a traditional army?” I called out. “Perhaps. But in Sherwood Forest? Everyone is welcome.” I swept my arm out to the pile. “Please. Join us. And bring your friends, too.”
Behind Taffa, Enid, Ada, Gracie, and a few others, I noticed Robin watching. A smirk was plastered on her face, and she gave me a small nod as she watched.
It filled me with pride to know I had her as an onlooker. A rush of arousal swept through me, which I had to keep at bay. Trepidation also filled me, because I didn’t want to fuck this up with her watching.
Within the first hour, I realized how much work I had cut out for me. These lads and lasses knew next to nothing. Most of them could hardly even swing a sword.
I scratched my head with a sigh, and started to go through the motions and styles of swordplay. A small audience of older Merry Men—comrades I’d fought with and raided carriages with—had joined in the back to watch. I caught Maid Marian spying, too, yet she quickly dispersed once she knew I noticed her.
At one point, Tick threw down his sword in frustration and tried to tackle Rosco. The larger lad spun him around and they fell to the ground, sending up a plume of dirt.
While the other boys and girls laughed at the scuffle, I scowled and hurried over. I wrapped my arms around Rosco’s biceps, barred them behind his head, and yanked him off the smaller boy.
Tick was sniffling in frustration, his face bruised, his nose bloodied.
My harsh voice rose above the din of snickering, cutting off all their joy in an instant. “We are never each other’s enemy!” I shouted at Rosco and the others. Their faces went pale, the smiles fleeing. “Got it?”
“Y-Yes, sir,” Taffa replied, followed by the rest of the group.
“It’s something I’ve struggled with, so I know the sensation of frustration and anger,” I continued. “What is essential is learning where to focus your anger. Your comrades are the only ones who will be there to keep you alive. You never point your vitriol at your brethren. Not with blades raised. Understand me?”
The boys and girls nodded quickly, stunned silent.
In that moment, I found Little John towering over all the older members of the group near the back of the glade, watching. He gave me a tiny nod, as if acknowledging my directive and the times we had come close to blows.
If we are going to build a new generation of Merry Men, then we must build them better than we are, old friend.
Taking a long breath, I sheathed my blades. We had been at it for over two hours now, and the whelps were sweating and exhausted. Afternoon was nearly upon us.
“Now let’s go eat,” I announced.
The relief on their faces was palpable.