Chapter 28 | Robin
We were ready to leave the hideaway we’d kept for months. It had become well-lived, like an honest home to the Merry Men.
Our packs were ready. The ground in the glade was left with the divots of our carriages, work benches, boots, hooves, tent stakes, and log seats. In the surrounding woods, numerous bodies were buried, including those we gave makeshift grave markers like Maria and Jamie, and those with unmarked graves, like Bishop Sutton.
Sadness crept into me as we prepared to leave before the setting of the sun. We would be adrift once more—nomadic, as we had been before.
Perhaps we have become too complacent recently, with Sheriff George and his hounds not bothering us as much.
Bess and Wulfric made a hearty meal before we left, to carry us through the night. No hallucinogenic herbs or spices involved this time.
As we ate, I caught Little John’s eye gazing far away, to the other side of camp.
He was looking at Enid, Ada, Gracie, Taffa, and the other orphan girls, who were huddled next to the almshouse boys like Brand and the guttersnipes like Rosco, Tick, and Jimmy.
I noticed Enid’s downcast disposition. Her small shoulders shook with silent tears. Her body was frail and her knees were hunched up to her chest. She was in despair, blaming herself for us having to move camps.
In truth, as I’d discussed with my mates along the riverbank, I didn’t blame her for acting out against Bishop Sutton. She saw him as a conduit for her attack, and the other girls joined her in a moment of violent mob mentality.
What’s done is done. There’s nothing to do about it, now.
The other members of the Merry Men and Oak Boys, however, might not have seen it that way. I saw more than a few sneers aimed in Enid’s direction, and it filled me with loathing.
Little John rose from his seat next to me and put down his eating bowl. He marched toward that side of camp, and every Merry Man and Oak Boy watched him go toward the orphans.
Furrowing my brow, I stood, glanced at my other mates, and hurried to catch up to him. “John?” I called out.
Alan, Tuck, and Will were close behind me. We all expected the worst, I supposed. John was silent and brooding as he marched with his long strides across camp.
I had to nearly run to catch up to him.
Before he could get to the group around the small campfire, I grabbed him by the elbow. When I turned him around, I said, “Please, tell me your thoughts.”
“I can’t, little hope. Just let me go.”
I blinked back tears. “She’s already been through so much . . .”
John cradled my chin with the rough pads of his hand. He swiped a thumb across my cheek, smiling sadly. “I know, love. Which is why I must go.”
Leaving me with that vague response, he unhanded my face and walked to the huddle of orphans. When he arrived, he crouched next to Enid, and I heard the girl let out a sharp gasp.
I stood back, watching intently, my heart hammering. Will, Tuck, and Alan looked just as nervous as I did, and a small group of Merry Men converged on the spot, moseying over to see what was happening.
“Enid. Lass.” John’s voice was deep and soft. He sounded as if talking to a child. “Look at me.”
Sniffling loudly, the small woman looked over. Even shorter and tinier than me, she was truly one of the littlest Merry Men in the band, yet with one of the biggest vindictive streaks inside her. The pain clamped around her heart must have been overwhelming.
The contrast between her size and Little John’s was stark. The other orphans surrounding Enid said nothing, their eyes wide with fear and trepidation as they watched John. Some of them were gawking, because it wasn’t very often the former leader of the group came to speak with them directly.
“S-Sir?” Enid stammered, wiping her teary face with her forearm. When she stared up into John’s bearded mug, her resolve broke. She let out her words in a tumble. “I a-am so sorry, Sir John. I know I messed everything up. I don’t know what came over me—I was just s-so, so angry. If you wish to outcast me, I understand. But please don’t take out your anger on the other girls who partook in that . . . evilness.”
“It wasn’t evilness,” John said simply. His voice was even deeper than before.
Ears perked up. More people arrived, and there were no less than twenty Merry Men and Oak Boys around us now, in a large circle—veterans and new recruits alike. People I had come to trust and love.
Little John gently squeezed Enid’s shoulder. The action caused her to shake, eyebrows cinching together as she stared into his dark eyes.
“I don’t fault or blame you for killing Bishop Sutton. None of us do.” He swept his free hand out behind him, to where I stood with my mates. “I wish I could kill my attacker, too, lass.”
Enid’s face shifted with more confusion. Low murmurs broke out among camp, with the general question clear: What the hell was Little John talking about?
I already knew. In fact, I was the only one who knew.
My heart wedged itself in my throat, my pulse rioting ever higher. It was hard to breathe, yet I coaxed him on in my mind, thinking, Yes, my love. Now is the time.
John glanced over his shoulder and realized he had an audience. He kept his gaze on them for a moment, saying, “You all might know me as someone who has sought to protect you. A fighter, perhaps. Even so, I admit my lack of strength at times.” When the murmurs continued, he nodded deeply. “Aye. Even me.”
He made a show of gesturing to himself, as if to point out that a man of his giant stature and larger-than-life attitude was still not impervious to pain and conflict.
His eyes returned to Enid. “We’re not so different, you and I, lass.”
She bit her lower lip, chewing it.
“What happened to you was not your fault . . . just as it was not my fault when it happened to me.”
Gasps from his audience. A few cries of confusion.
“The truth, Enid, is that it can happen to anyone. From the smallest girl to the largest man. So long as there are twisted men in this world. That’s why we do what we do, lass. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t think I do, sir.” She shook her head adamantly. “W-What are you . . . saying?”
John sighed and stood, finally releasing her shoulder. He stared down at her for another beat, and then faced the onlookers. He glanced at me last, and I gave him the smallest, firmest nod I could muster. It was a look of pride.
“When I was imprisoned inside Nottingham’s jailhouse,” he said, rolling his wrists, “Sheriff George raped me, just as his soldiers raped poor Enid and her friends. It was why I was not present during my own execution.”
Shouts of shock and outrage lifted from the crowd—Little John? Our strongest and most imposing member? It must have been a fabrication, no? A story to relate to Enid.
When I glanced over I saw the horror written plain on Will, Alan, and Tuck’s faces. They had paled, and no one knew how to properly respond. With anger? Violence? Humility?
Before the outcries could overwhelm Little John’s speech, he sliced a hand through the air to silence everyone. “The shame of my imprisonment has sat with me every day since it happened. Since Robin and you all helped me escape during the riot. Just as it has sat with Enid, I’m sure. I’ve only started to realize that the shame is not mine to bear. It never was. It took me months to realize I was the victim, and George the culprit.”
John paced in front of us, eyeing every man and woman down the line. Challenging us to disrespect or attack his valor or commitment to our cause.
If there was anyone who deserved every ounce of respect and honor we had to offer, it was Jonathan Little.
No one spoke up against him. No one spoke up at all, and the silence sat heavy throughout the camp.
“I cannot thank you enough for everything you did for me,” he announced. “When you look at Enid’s face and think ill of the position you think she’s put us in, I want you to see my face. And then I want you to think: How would you have reacted if it was your sister, mother, or daughter in that fucking carriage? If you knew what had happened to her and had an opportunity to avenge the indignity done to her? Neither of us asked to be in those positions. They are further sacrifices we’ve made in the name of the Merry Men.”
Confused faces in the crowd started to slowly nod along. When you mentioned “honor” and “indignity,” “opportunity” and “revenge,” to the Merry Men, they tended to listen. More than that, the example of these men’s daughters being possible victims struck a chord with everyone.
How could you deny such a universal understanding?
“Grief and pain might have caused Enid to do what she did,” John finished, “but that doesn’t make her a murderer. It makes her a survivor.”
I felt hatred in my veins for Sheriff George, and for the soldiers in that slaving carriage; for Bishop Sutton and the aristocrats who organized such a dark business; for my father Sir Thomas, and the opportunists who caused so much anguish and destitution across England.
Sherwood Forest was the bastion of hope for the outlaws, outcasts, and wronged. Yet, sometimes, the darkness of the world outside these trees crept in and possessed us. John and Enid’s attacks were reminders of the depravity and tyranny we fought against.
There was perhaps not a stronger justification or speech anyone in camp could have made—me included—that would have hit home harder than Little John’s admission.
It had been a long time coming, but I saw the way his shoulders lifted after he said his piece. The burden of secrecy and shame had lifted, and my smile was wide and confident when he gazed into my eyes.
“I love you,” I said, my voice nearly lost among the incensed voices that loudly defended John and Enid.
He winked at me, matching my smile. “And I love you, little hope.”
I folded my hand into his large palm, threading our fingers together. We stood close as the voices rose and died. Everyone lost their bluster after a few minutes.
“I’m glad you told us,” Will Scarlet said, patting John on the shoulder. For once, there was no snark or sarcasm in his voice when speaking to John. “I’ve never wanted to kill someone more than I do in this moment.”
“Aye,” Alan-a-Dale said, joining in. “How you kept that stuffed down for so long is a marvel, dear John. Your pain is ours to share.”
“Thank you, Alan, Will. But this isn’t about me.” He glanced down at Enid, who was sniffling quietly and smiling sadly up at him. Merry Men had started to pat her on the shoulder, giving her well wishes. Some of them even apologized to her face, and said they would protect the little lass from further pain, if it was the last thing they did.
“You hurt one of us, you hurt all of us,” John said loudly, pumping his fist into the sky. “So let us come together when we move camps now, and remember our shared stories. We can’t let the betrayal of last night seep into our pores! We’re all we have for each other.”
“Hurrah for Little John!” came a voice, and it was quickly followed by a bellowing echo from other men and women.
“Hurrah for Enid!” I yelled, voice carrying through the shivering tree branches.
Everyone answered in kind, saluting the sky.
Seconds later, someone asked, “Where are we moving to, sir? All our positions are either too small or compromised.”
Robert stepped forward. My brother nodded to me before focusing on the crowd. “The Oak Boys camp is open and unbothered. We have enough room to house everyone there.”
More cheers rose. I smiled—
Until a hand tugged on my sleeve. Wrinkling my nose, I spun around.
Emma stared at me with a ghastly pallor to her cheeks.
“Dear God, Emma. What’s wrong?”
She gulped hard. “Robin, it’s terrible. Please, come quick!”
I GRIMACED, TEARS FIGHTING against my eyelids. I tried to keep them back. This was just another blow to us, taking the wind out of the sails Little John had so masterfully flown for us.
“Fuck!” Will Scarlet bellowed. “No, goddammit!”
He ran to the bank of the river, alone, wading into the knee-deep water.
Behind him, higher on the bank, stood me and the rest of the camp. We all watched in silence, the energy of just a few minutes ago vanished.
A body floated in the water, facedown. Nestled between a few stones in the middle of the river, it was a gruesome sight to see how the running stream moved the body into the rocks, keeping it from releasing and floating downstream.
Will flipped the body over, though we all knew what to expect.
Griff’s glassy eyes stared up at Will, his lips blue, his face gray and bloodless.
Will lifted his head and, unable to control his rage, roared to the heavens.
It was Will’s anguish that broke me, and the tears finally won over and trickled down my cheeks.
Little John let out a heavy sigh next to me. In a low voice, he murmured, “I am so disappointed in the lad.”
I swiped my tears away, trying to control myself.
This was just another body to add to the death toll, and though Griff had been young, he had been a veteran. Much the Miller’s Son’s best friend, and the protector-apparent for poor Maria before last night.
For some reason, Will Scarlet had connected with Much and Griff more than most of the other lads in camp. Perhaps because he saw a bit of himself in them.
And now this.
“Disappointed?” I eked out, shaking my head. “He couldn’t go on without Maria or Much. He blamed himself for too much. Can you fault him for it?”
“He was young and foolish.” John grunted. “And now we’ve lost another strong fighter.”
The orphans from camp had huddled around Little John, finding him as their huge guardian.
John looked down to Enid and said, “Swear to me you won’t take the road Griff has taken, lass. I’ll promise I won’t, either. If the pain becomes too much to bear, you’ll talk to me, Robin, or Friar Tuck. Aye?”
Enid, face messy with tears, nodded diligently. “I promise, sir.”
“Good. Then our oath is bound. We share something sacred now, you and I, Enid.”
“Yes, s-sir.”
I flared my nostrils. I felt dead inside, which was such a contrast to the hopefulness I’d felt minutes ago during John’s speech.
Unlike Little John, however, I wasn’t angry with Griff. How could I be?
I was destroyed for him. My heart hurt.
John muttered, “Selfish lad,” and turned to leave, shaking his head.
I grabbed John by the arm and swung him around. “Selfish?” I seethed, baring my teeth.
“That’s what I said, little hope,” John shot back. “It might seem like the courageous thing to do, but it’s not.” He was furious behind his eyes. I could see it. As for Will, he still remained in the river, no one bothering him as his shoulders silently shook and he clutched Griff’s wet body in an embrace.
“I wished Griff had heard my words!” John wailed, throwing up his arms. “I was too late. As always, too late.”
Ah. So that’s it, then. More blame he places on himself.
John pointed over my shoulder, violently, and said, “Griff might have thought it was the only way to escape his grief, but he took the coward’s way out. All he did was leave behind his loved ones and the people who cared for him.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Even if John’s words were harsh, they had the ring of truth behind them.
“He had such a bright future. Just like Much.” John finished with a loud gulp, his throat bobbing. He seemed close to tears, like me, Enid, Will, and so many others watching the scene play out.
Alan-a-Dale, of all people, flared his nostrils and stepped forward next to me. “That’s bullshit, John, and you know it.”
John was taken aback. Alan never had an outburst directed at his closest brothers.
“None of us has a bright future ahead.” Alan threw his arms up in defeat. With the way his eyes glistened, seeming so distant when I looked into them, I wondered if he was thinking about his own past—about his grand delusions and plans to become a minstrel to noblemen and the masses. His schemes for a bright future.
Before spinning away, he loaded another barb on his tongue and shot it off, then marched away in anger to let the words sit and unnerve everyone who heard him.
“We don’t have a bright future, dear John, because, together or alone, we’re going to die in these goddamn woods.”