Chapter 19 | Robin
Ihad made a decision. No one fought me on it or tried to subvert my authority or dissuade my opinion. My mates believed in me wholeheartedly, and it filled me with happiness to know I always had them on my side.
No matter how tough things got, the Merry Men would prop me up. As Little John had once said, they would believe in me until I believed in myself.
Now, we circled the table again, poring over a map of Sherwood Forest. Our location was northwest of Nottingham and southwest of Ravenshead, somewhere between the two.
John jabbed his finger down on the map, trailing over two lines. “There are two paths to Ravenshead from Nottingham. At least two paths large enough for carriages to traverse, which we know an important person like a bishop will be using to move.”
I nodded firmly. “We can’t know when Sutton plans on riding to Ravenshead, but we have to imagine it’s soon. Agreed?”
All the men nodded. Marian, standing over their shoulders, not wanting to get too close, made no motion of agreement. She studied us just as much as she studied the map, and it was a bit unnerving. I could never tell what sort of diabolical plots were cooking in her mind.
I had to hope she wasn’t conning us. For the sake of morale, this was a huge move for the Merry Men to take; to punish the people who have hurt us, and put a message out to the rest of Nottinghamshire that we were not to be trifled with.
John, being the strategist of the group, took the reins on developing a plan of action. He looked across the table at Robert, who had joined with Uncle Gregory in the tent once I made the decision to pursue this.
“The only reason a message would mention one path over the other is because there are two,” John pointed out, rather obviously. “Which means we’ll want to scour both of them. See if we can find what Guy is talking about.”
“The path of the Templar,” I recited.
“Indeed, little hope. What the hell does that mean?”
John glanced over to Friar Tuck for clarification.
Tuck simply shrugged. He looked dour and unsatisfied, and I understood why. We were talking about bringing down a man who had helped him in his life. He didn’t want to believe Bishop Sutton was capable of evil . . . yet we wouldn’t know the truth of it until we had him in our grasp, would we?
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Tuck mumbled.
“Because you don’t want any part of this, chaplain,” Will spat.
I put a hand on Will’s shoulder to stop him before those two could get started again.
“Regardless, both paths go north,” John continued. “The western path veers around Bestwood and Hucknall hamlets. The other goes east around Dorket Head before converging on Ravenshead. Either is just as likely to be the path taken by a carriage convoy.”
Robert said, “We can suspect Bishop Sutton to be heavily guarded, too.”
Little John nodded in agreement.
I made a quick calculation and pointed down at the map, tracing the roads. “Before Sutton can get on either route, we have to investigate them both. If we wait until he’s on the road already, it’ll be too late. We need to be preemptive.”
“What will you have us do, then, little thorn?” Will asked.
“Will, I want you going east on the Dorket Head route. See if you can find anything and come back with your findings. Go now, while you have sunlight, in case Sutton wants to make the journey this evening under cover of darkness.”
My mate pounded his fist against his chest. “I’m on it.” He turned to leave the tent.
I stopped him, saying, “Hoy. I don’t want you going alone and trying to be a hero, either, Scarlet.”
He scowled at me, but the scowl quickly turned into a wicked grin. “You know I’m no hero.”
“Good. Then take, uh, Rosco, Griff, and Jamie with you. Keep a low profile.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wink, and exited the tent.
I glanced up at Little John across the table. “John, I want you and Robert going west to check that road. Is that all right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said. He was already strapping on his belt and grabbing his huge quarterstaff from where it was perched against a chair. “Loxley?”
Robert nodded. “Let’s go. Gregory?”
My uncle snorted. “This is a young man’s game, nephew.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to think that’s your excuse to get out of doing anything around here.”
Gregory smiled wide. “It just might be.”
I chuckled and then grew serious. “Be careful, yes? You’ve told me there are more bandits west than east, John.”
“Aye. They wouldn’t dare, though. We’ll be fine, lass, and we’ll be back before nightfall, all goes well.”
I let out a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” Finally, I felt like I could breathe again. I hadn’t even realized how hard my heart was pounding, now that all the attention had been focused on me and my decisions.
“What about me and Tuck?” Alan-a-Dale asked, looking a bit lost and left out.
I cupped his cheek, pouting before smiling. “I want you joining either group, but continuing straight to Ravenshead. We’ll need eyes and ears there to make sure we don’t miss the convoy. And I want to get a lay of the land for how the folks there are doing.”
“Aye. Smart, songbird. It will be done.”
My eyes moved to Tuck. “You’ll stay with me, Tuck, until we get word either way.” Before he could nod, I added, “And don’t try to change my mind about this, love.”
The friar sighed. Glanced at Gregory, then Marian, then me—the remaining people in the tent. “I can’t make any promises, little heathen.”
OVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS, I couldn’t stop pacing around camp. Merry Men were starting to look at me. Everyone had seen John, Will, Alan, and my brother leave by horseback, as well as Jamie, Griff, and Rosco by carriage. It was clear something was amiss, though we hadn’t told the group what it was, yet.
“Stop pacing, girl,” Tuck complained, “you’re making the others nervous. And me.” He sat on a log near an ashen fire pit, looking at his iron knuckle-bands in his lap and spit-polishing them.
I scowled at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Then I continued.
Tuck sighed. Leaned back to stare at me. “I don’t want you angry at me, Robin.”
“I’m not angry, Tuck. I’m just . . . anxious. I hate splitting up the group.”
“Aye, as do I. Those bastards can handle themselves, though.”
“I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I should be out there with them.”
“And miss the information when it comes back here? No, lass, sometimes the position of leader is one of waiting and planning. You’ll get used to it.”
Uncle Gregory—a man closer to Tuck’s age than my own—nodded and grunted. “The chaplain is right in this regard.”
My eyes danced between them and narrowed. “Awfully chummy for a couple men who leveled swords at each other in the past.”
I’d nearly forgotten my uncle and Tuck’s history. Once upon a time, when Tuck went looking for me in Nottingham, Uncle Gregory helped him and then pulled his sword on him. He held Tuck hostage until the friar brought Gregory to our camp.
And now look at them. Agreeing with one another.
Tuck glanced down at his knuckle-bands again—his weapons of choice he aptly called Atonement and Discipline.
“We are playing right into Guy of Gisborne’s hand, doing his bidding for him,” Tuck grumbled. “I hate this.”
With a heavy sigh, I looked over at him. “That’s why I’m letting you sit this one out, Tuck. We don’t know what kind of information he might have—how valuable an asset and captive Sutton might be.”
“That’s part of the problem. What if we learn nothing? Then all we’ve done is jostled the ire of Sheriff George, and woken the religious zealots like the Templar Knights, all but inviting them to knock down our door.”
The frown on my face grew. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to let Tuck dissuade me. He made a good point, but it didn’t matter. The wheels were already in motion.
“We’ll never know unless we try,” I finished, though my voice sounded weak and uncertain.
My uncle cleared his throat, drawing our attention. “If you’re going to sabotage my niece’s authority and strategy, Friar Tuck, then you have no place on this job.”
I gave Gregory a sad smile. I smiled because he stood up for me. It was sad because he directed his ire at a man I loved.
I understood why Tuck felt the way he did. It must have been a betrayal, of sorts, learning that the group you were apart of wanted to hurt someone who had aided you in the past.
Yet if Bishop Sutton was responsible for the flesh trading like Maid Marian said, he deserved no mercy or forgiveness. He was just as vile as the rest of them.
Another thirty minutes passed in relative quiet around camp, and the sun was beginning to wane. Both parties had been out hours now, which meant they had likely been able to traverse both routes.
What if we never find out what the “path of the Templar” is referring to? It will be a lost opportunity.
It would also be an opportunity to stave off danger and death, which wasn’t such a bad thing. Any job we took, especially with carriages and guards involved, would inherently be dangerous.
I hoped we could resist resorting to violence.
Some raised voices behind us made me spin around.
A horse trotted into camp from the west, pushing through the final trees to get to our glade.
Will Scarlet sat atop his horse, hunched over.
I hurried over as he dismounted and pulled his steed to our nearest stableman. When he approached me, I was wringing my hands nervously.
“Well?” I asked.
“A success, as suspected,” Will said haughtily. When I gave him a confused scrunch of my brow, he reached into his trousers and pulled out a scrap of cloth.
Across the muddy-white cloth, smaller than a man’s tunic, was a huge red cross.
The Templar Knights’ symbol.
My eyes widened.
“Found this on the path halfway between Nottingham and Ravenshead. Might seem innocent enough . . . if you didn’t know to look for it.” Will wagged the tattered cloth in the air. “Couldn’t have been happenstance, the way it was left there for me to find.”
“The path of the Templar,” I muttered, running a hand softly over the coarse, torn fabric.
“Aye. Good a clue as any.” Will scanned the camp. “John and Robert haven’t returned yet?”
I shook my head. Peered up at the sky, squinting against the orange ball of fire of late afternoon. “Nay. I’m starting to get worried.” Shaking my head of the thoughts, I asked, “What do you make of this, Will?”
“So far, your intuition has been correct. I believe Bishop Sutton will take his convoy east, where he feels safest from bandits.”
“Then we need Little John and Robert back, fast, so we can get moving.”
“This is all happening very swiftly,” Tuck pointed out. “Should we not stop and think about our plan a little longer? Wasn’t your impulsiveness something you wanted to change, Robin?”
I frowned at him. “My impulsiveness has gotten us into trouble in the past, true. This isn’t that, though. This is a thought-out plan, with a designated goal. Let’s reach that goal, my ornery love.”
With a groan, Tuck stood. He tucked his knuckle-bands away in the pockets of his habit. “Very well,” he said, and turned away to head for a tent. “Wake me up when it’s time to move. Whether I agree with you or not, little heathen, I’ll never abandon you.”