Chapter 17 | Robin
My mates and I were huddled around a small table in the camp’s largest tent, going over plans for the next few days. With things happening so fast around here—new enemies, new allies, new events—we couldn’t plan much further out than that.
A few things we knew. First, we had to keep an eye on Ravenshead, after the debacle with the Knights Templar. They were in jeopardy of becoming a central piece in our revolution, even if they didn’t know it or want it.
Robert, who joined the tent with Uncle Gregory, pointed out, “It might make sense to start gathering the townsfolk for the inevitable fleeing they’ll have to do when the Templars bear down on them.”
“And put them where?” Little John asked. “We’re running out of room with your people taking up space.”
“We aren’t a refugee camp,” Will added, his tone sour.
“Of course we are,” Tuck batted back, scoffing at the younger, temperamental bandit. “Have you looked outside this tent flap lately, Scarlet? Seen the numbers of women and children displaced from their homes?”
I frowned. I didn’t like it when my men fought, though they all raised good points.
“Maybe the naysayers were right,” I admitted, narrowing my eyes on Will, “and we should have never taken in the almshouse whelps and the women being sold. Is that what you’re saying, Will?”
He had the decency to look shamefaced, glancing away from me down to the table. “No, girl, I’m simply agreeing with Little John.”
“And offering no solution,” I said.
Uncle Gregory cleared his throat. “Peace, children. We aren’t each other’s enemies here.”
No, but it was getting more and more frustrating as the days passed. We were stuck with a large contingent of people who had nothing to do but siphon our amenities. It wasn’t sustainable—even I knew that.
Maid Marian had duped us. The Templar Knights had become more of a threat since William Elder’s house caused such a kerfuffle. I knew Will was still torn up over how his father’s death and residence had been treated, which was likely why he lashed out now.
Even after the heavenly, torrid, mind-altered affair we’d partaken in yesterday.
“I agree with my sister,” Robert said, coming to my aid. “To keep tempers from rising, we should focus on solutions from here on out.”
Little John said, “Then the answer is clear: We need a bigger space. We need to move camps.”
Alan-a-Dale lifted his finger. “Not so simple when we’re organizing a party this large. We’re getting new recruits from pockets of Sherwood daily, dear John. They see the Merry Men and Oak Boys alliance as a promised land of sorts.”
Will snarled at that, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his thin nose. “We’re not a dozen anymore. We’re over a hundred. Too much goddamn—”
“Solutions, Will,” I interjected.
That caused him to grow quiet. He was used to being the second-most listened-to person here, after Little John, and now even that was in upheaval. With Robert and Uncle Gregory here to represent the Oak Boys, and me as the head of the Merry Men, he was no longer the lieutenant he once was.
It made me sad, and tempered my emotions. We’re back to the place we were in the woods outside Ravenshead. The place where Will feels lost and frustrated. Purposeless.
My heart shattered at the idea of losing Will to a depression. It couldn’t happen—not on my watch.
“What if we split camps?” I asked to all the men at the table.
That was the other thing: It was hard being the only woman here. I was second-guessing myself every step of the way, just when I thought I’d escaped that misery.
As much as I hated Maid Marian, she did add an element of the fairer sex to these negotiations. Even if she couldn’t be trusted, she had a measure of weight behind her. She was an ambitious woman, and everyone knew it. Which meant she was listened to.
Then I suppose I need to be more ambitious.
“And run our soldiers—what few we have—thin?” Little John asked. There was no sarcasm or condescension in his tone, just simple facts. “It will be hard to protect two camps at once from invaders.”
“But not impossible,” I said.
He gave me a small smile, the thread of his brow flattening. “Aye, little star. Nothing is impossible with you at the helm.”
Sadly, I was starting to lose faith in his words of encouragement—in myself—even if he believed them. “Please. I can’t even wrangle my own command tent. How am I supposed to convince everyone that we’re on the right path?”
Friar Tuck said, “The folks only need to use their eyes to see, Robin. You’ve done your part.” He gave me an encouraging smile as well, which looked oddly similar to John’s. “We wouldn’t be gaining new recruits on a daily basis if people didn’t see hope when they came here. The community you’ve always wanted.”
That boosted my confidence a bit.
Will said, “Aye, you’re much better at this whole hope-giving thing than Little John ever was.”
John snorted and shouldered Will a few feet away from the table. “Fuck you, lad.” They both chuckled, which made me smile. “You’re not wrong though,” John admitted.
“I daresay it’s the most important quality in a leader, the hope-giving thing,” Alan said, wanting to join the fray of niceties aimed at me.
I supposed I’d bask in them for a minute, just so I could drown my doubts away.
“We can return to our camp east, if needed,” Robert said.
“No,” I shot back quickly, shaking my head. I put a hand on his shoulder. “I told you the Oak Boys were welcome here. We’ll need you in the coming battles.”
My brother nodded firmly and winked. “We’ll be ready, sister. Especially with Will’s help in training up the regiments.”
“I’m only useful with a blade,” Will said, shrugging. “Because I’m clearly not of any use in this tent.”
I rolled my eyes.
Uncle Gregory, always stern and unsentimental in situations as these, knocked his fist on the table lightly to get everyone’s attention. “I’m glad you’re all appreciating my niece’s finer qualities, but none of that answers the current predicament we—”
Low chatter swelled outside the tent. It became loud and noticeable enough to cut Gregory off, filtering in through the tarp, and he furrowed his bushy gray brow.
“What’s going on out there?” Little John asked, moving from the table to the tent flap.
Before he could reach it, the flap flew open. Rosco stood in the way, eyes wide. “Hoy, lordlings, generals, ye ain’t gonna believe this.”
I blinked at the lanky, fast-talking lad. “What’s going on, Ros?”
“See for yourself.”
I shared a quick confused look with my men, then we exited the tent together. They followed in my footsteps, and once I was outside, I noticed rustling and movement coming from the back of camp. I squinted to see what was happening.
A large group had congregated near the south of camp. Some of the people were parting to let others through.
Once I got closer I saw a shock of red, curly hair, and my pulse launched to my throat.
It can’t be.
Next I heard voices shouted joyously, which confused me even more.
“Jimmy! You’re back!”
“Praise God—He’s returned you to us!”
I pushed my way through the back of the congregation and came to the center of the crowd.
Maid Marian walked through camp like parted seas. Flanked on either side of her were two beaming lads: Tick and Bucktooth Jimmy.
Jimmy, who had been missing for months.
Rosco rushed in and punched the boy in the arm. “That’s for scarin’ all us, idiot.”
Jimmy scowled at him in return—and charged, tackling Rosco to the ground.
They both laughed. As they rolled around and people moved out of the way, orphans and Merry Men alike snickered in delight.
I smiled, shaking my head.
Marian walked up to us, and my smile vanished on my face as quickly as it had come. She looked tired, serious, and unkempt, as if she hadn’t slept in days.
If she’d ridden all night to Nottingham, and then back here next morning, then she likely hadn’t.
My men supported me by standing behind me like an iron wall, allowing me to speak with Marian somewhat privately.
“Care to explain yourself, Marian?” I asked, raising my chin and crossing my arms under my chest.
The corner of her lip curled. “Stoicism doesn’t suit you, Robin. Just be happy I’ve come back bearing gifts.”
My shoulders slumped a bit. She had a knack for bringing whoever she spoke with down a peg. Unfortunately, I was in her sights this time around.
“How?” was all I said.
“I told Tick last night that I knew where his friend was. He kept bothering me about it. Turned out the wind in my face while on horseback snapped me out of that stupor your hermit wolf-herder put me in.”
I bit my lip, embarrassed for Wulfric’s sake. “How did you know where Jimmy was?”
“Had him stashed at the Teahouse. He came to us months back, when he believed it was your estate still. Looking for refuge, I imagine.”
My eyes widened. “You stashed a mere boy in . . . a whorehouse?”
Marian snorted and marched past me, forcing me to follow her toward a tent, and my mates to trail behind us. “Don’t get your tits in a twist, girl. I didn’t corrupt the damn boy. He worked for me doing mundane tasks. I didn’t realize his importance to your crew until I laid eyes on Tick and . . . Rosco, was it?”
I nodded. “So you reunited them?”
Little John clarified what I was trying to say in my moment of disbelief. “She wants to get on our good side again, little hope, and what better way than to do some good for us?”
Will chuckled darkly. “Nay. She wanted to convene with her handlers. The only way to do that was to go to Nottingham, where they’re located.”
Tuck shook his head. “What if she just did it because it was the right thing to do?”
They all spoke of her as if she wasn’t standing right there. I wanted to believe Tuck, though I knew cynical Will and pragmatic John likely had the crux of it.
Marian threw her arms out. “What if I did it for all those reasons?”
Alan stepped forward, his beautiful face scrunched with anger. “God only knows what she told her people about us in Nottingham. If you expect thanks from—”
“Shut up, minstrel,” Marian snapped, causing Alan to back down with a start. “I don’t expect anything.”
Alan frowned and melded back into the group, muttering something about not being very good at being mean, and leaving it to the rest of us.
I said, “You may not expect it, Marian, but you’ll have it. Thank you.”
She tilted her head at me.
“You went out of your way to help us, but more importantly, to help two lads in despair. Look how they wrestle on the ground, like children again. That, alone, is worth whatever ulterior motives you might have had.”
Marian put her hands on her hips. She studied me for a moment, and I wondered if she would accept my thanks.
Of course, I should have expected she wouldn’t.
“I’ll be damned,” she said haughtily, smirking. “Robin of Loxley might not be a horrible leader after all. I suppose I should expect nothing less after guiding these boys by their cocks all these months.”
“Christ, woman,” John mumbled, “just take the win.”
“I’m basking in it, big man,” Marian said. “Can’t you see the glow on my face?”
“Face looks muddy and tired to me,” Will said.
Marian scowled at him. Even I did. He was extra sullen today, and at times I felt that man needed a muzzle on him.
“So how long are you back for?” Tuck asked, frowning. “Until the next time you’re needed to backstab us?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, chaplain. I’m here as long as you need me.”
Tuck scoffed. “I highly doubt that. Robin, think of what—”
I raised a hand to stop him from continuing. “It might be foolish, but aren’t you the one who preaches forgiveness and penance, Friar Tuck? I’d say Marian has earned her penance. At least for a while.”
Tuck’s face went ruddy with shame. He opened his mouth to argue, but then decided not to and nodded. “You’re the chieftess, little heathen.”
“Aye. And I can see the gripes on your faces, boys. You think I’m foolish. Too trusting. Too na?ve. That I shouldn’t let Madam Marian back into the fold.”
“Are we wrong?” Will asked.
“Probably not,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “But I do feel something has changed in her. I can sense it. Reuniting Jimmy with Tick was the smartest thing you could have done for yourself, Marian. And for us.”
She eyed me suspiciously.
“Only problem,” John cut in, “is now her handlers, whoever they are, know where we’re staying. Not moving is no longer an option. You should have stayed away, lass.”
Marian smiled at John’s threatening tone. “Nonsense, you big oaf. My handler already knew where you were staying. How else would I have found you the first time?”
I gasped. Shit. They could be on the way already, with soldiers. I glanced around at the faces of my men and saw they all agreed. A thread of fear connected each of us in our widened eyes, the words unsaid: We need to move!
“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us who your superior is, while we’re unloading secrets, eh?” Alan-a-Dale asked.
Marian shrugged. “Suppose it makes no difference at this point. Unless you want to torture me for the information?”
Alan flapped a hand at her. “Nay, lass. You’d probably like that.”
Her eyes glittered with mischief, and she smiled her ruby-red lips. “You might be right.” She cleared her throat. “He has a message for you, in fact, Lady of Sherwood. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe you will.”
I blinked hard, gulping past a dry throat. Even if she said the title sarcastically, “Lady of Sherwood” had a certain ring to it.
Marian reached between her cleavage, smashed together by her tight gown, and pulled out a snippet of parchment.
When she unraveled it, I leaned closer instinctively, conspiratorially, as did the men.
“He will take the path of the Templar to Ravenshead,” she read. Marian looked up at me, her fine crimson brow arched. “Any ideas?”
My mind whirled. Confusion hit me first, but it slowly melded into something like vague understanding. Someone who knows of what happened at Ravenshead. Otherwise why mention the Templar Knights at all? At the very least, someone with a strong suspicion.
This isn’t good.
“Robin?” John asked. “You all right?”
I blinked at all the faces looking at me, and slowly my blurry vision became normal.
“Who gave you that message, Marian? I think it’s time you lay out your informant, for the sake of us all.”
Marian smirked at me. It was a look that told me we shared a secret—deceptive, roguish, and sinister. We both knew something no one else here knew.
“Silly girl,” Marian chirped. “I thought it would be most obvious to you, of all people. It’s Sir Guy of Gisborne.”