Chapter 11 #3
Instinct took over and he grabbed for the nearest tree branch. Swinging up into an ancient oak tree, he held himself against the trunk, peering down to see what had been bearing down on him. Through the branches he could make it out.
A rider! The horse was charging wildly through the brush and the rider was barely hanging on. But what the devil… trailing skirts, a flowing wave of tangled red hair… by God, it couldn’t be!
But it was. Once again, he’d found Marianne Maidland careering through the forest. He dropped down just in time to land in front of the horse. Thankfully, it was enough to startle the animal and he stopped dead, rearing up and tossing his rider to the ground.
Damn, but had Robert just killed Miss Maidland?
It would serve her right, but still…. Dodging the panicked animal, he ran around to where she landed in a mass of nettles and shrub.
Judging by the sounds she was making, she was indeed not quite killed.
He breathed in relief, hoping to God she suffered no great injury.
“What on earth…! Oh, Robert Locksley… it’s you again!” she gasped, catching her breath and clearing her hair out of her face.
“Marianne! Are you well?”
He rushed to kneel beside her, but she shoved him away, pushing herself up to stand awkwardly over him. Unbelievably, she had her bow and her quiver at the ready again, if perhaps a few of the arrows did appear broken.
“Are you going to shoot me this time?” he asked, sitting flat on the muddy earth.
“I don’t know yet. What the devil did you do? The poor creature—he was already upset. Did you need to jump out and terrify him?”
She turned her back on him and pushed through the brush on her way to the horse that stood off to the side, wild-eyed and panting.
Robert shook his head. What was wrong with the woman that she simply could not be bothered to thank him when he very kindly bothered to save her life?
Why, that horse was huge, and he was out of control.
If Robert hadn’t intervened, it would have…
“Wait… that’s not a horse,” he said, staring in disbelief. “That’s a… is that Clarence?”
“And you nearly gave the poor old thing apoplexy!” she shot back, ignoring Robert as he plucked thorns from his backside and made his way toward them.
“What are you doing out here with Clarence?”
“I needed a ride, and Clarence was handy.”
“Handy? He’s a hundred years old! Much and I used to ride him when we were children. He was already ancient then.”
“I’ll agree, it did surprise me that he could move like that…”
“You didn’t run him all the way out here, did you?”
“Of course not! It was just a ways back when he heard a dog barking and it spooked him.”
“Ugh. The dog…”
“Your dog?”
“No! It’s my… well, I’m sort of keeping it for a while.”
She cocked her head and eyed him suspiciously. “Keeping it where?”
“Somewhere.”
“Well, you’re obviously not keeping it very well if it’s out running through the forest.”
“And obviously nobody is keeping you! Shouldn’t you be back in Nottingham?”
“I can be wherever I like to be.”
“Don’t you have some big dinner with your friend Gisborn to get ready for?”
“That’s not for a couple days! But… how do you know about that?”
“Let’s just say I’m working very hard to know what Gisborn is up to.”
“Well, you ought to work harder. He acts as if he’s master of Locksley now. Does he still think you’re dead?”
“Unless you’ve felt compelled to tell him otherwise.”
“I’m compelled to do very little where Mr. Gisborn is concerned. Now where did my bonnet go?”
“Is that it, caught in this tree?”
“Oh, drat. It’s probably ruined.”
“Not to worry,” Robert said and went to pluck the crumpled straw bonnet from where it had snagged when the mule reared up and threw her. “It doesn’t look any worse than your hair.”
He handed the bonnet to her while she fumed. She snatched it and tried—in vain—to tame her wild curls and make the misshapen bonnet sit on her head. Eventually even she had to laugh.
“I must be a mess.”
“You are,” he assured her. “Since the day that I met you. But come along. I’ll help you find your way out of here before the skies completely open up.”
“It is rather raining now, isn’t it?”
“It is. Your bonnet is probably going to get a bit more ruined before the day is out. Now… I believe we should go this way.”
“You believe?”
“Yes, I believe.”
“But you aren’t sure?”
“It’s a very large forest, Miss Maidland,” he pointed out. “When a person has to constantly endanger one’s life to gallantly rescue another, you can see that a person might get a bit twisted around.”
“You mean to tell me we are lost?”
“I mean nothing of the sort! I just mean that I believe we should go this way,” he said, taking Clarence by the bridle and leading him—hopefully—in the direction of the nearest road.
They took a few steps and the ground began to slope downward, toward the river. Obviously, that would not be the right direction. As far as he could recall, there was no road in this part of the forest near the river.
“Or perhaps it is this way.”
“We are lost!” she exclaimed.
“No, it must be this way,” he said.
“We should follow the river,” she said. “Come along. It will eventually lead us somewhere.”
He knew the basic flow and direction of the river, so he knew that it would, indeed, lead them somewhere. Since he particularly did not want to lead her to the hunting box, he decided to follow it downstream.
“This way then,” he said, pushing through the thick foliage and moving toward the river.
Clarence followed along politely. It was good to see the old fellow again. He was glad Much had kept him, even after all these years. He wished the old mule had not been quite so eager to assist Miss Maidland, though. What the devil was she up to?
“Why on earth were you riding Clarence in the first place?”
She paused and chewed her lip while contemplating her answer. She had a pleasantly plump lower lip; it tended to pout a bit when she was deep in thought. With all her recent activity, her lips were rosy red. That was rather pleasing, too.
“Well,” she began after a moment. “There was no time to go hire a horse.”
That made no sense whatsoever. “But why did…”
“Oh look! I believe we’ve found someone’s camp,” she exclaimed.
Robert saw that she was exactly correct.
The soggy remnants of a camp were tucked here in a dense thicket under the sprawling embrace of a huge oak.
The river was wide in the area which would have provided handy access to fresh water and fish, but when the rains came it no doubt rose out of its banks.
The shelters that had been created by lashing sticks into lean-tos were nearly washed away.
The only real evidence of human habitation were the remains of a few scattered bits of clothing and broken crockery.
One lone, headless doll made of twisted rags was left caught up in a tree root.
Ah, this must be where his men found the Grover family, half-drowned and starving. What a horrible time they must have endured, all in an effort to keep their family together rather than tossed into gaol.
“Who would have been living out here?” Miss Maidland asked, studying the area and moving from one pitiful shelter to another set up slightly higher on the bank.
“Sherwood is home to all sorts of people,” he replied. “People doing whatever they can to stay alive.”
“I fear the ones who lived here may not have,” she said, then noticed the doll and picked it up. “A child! Who would have brought a child out here?”
“Only someone in the most desperate circumstance.”
“Indeed,” she nodded. “People do all sorts of things when they are desperate, don’t’ they?”
She studied the doll and he knew the cloud of worry that showed on her face was not solely for the owner of the little poppet.
She had some reason for coming out here today; she didn’t just happen to take Clarence and run away with him.
What desperate thing had brought Miss Maidland into Sherwood today?
Before he could ask, something caught his attention. He froze and listened carefully. Clarence perked his ears. Miss Maidland dropped the doll and glanced nervously around. Her eyes grew huge and bright.
“Someone’s coming!” she whispered.