Chapter 16 #2
Mr. Reeve and his men showed up at the church earlier than expected.
He pounded on the door, demanding Mr. Fraytuck let him in to search the place.
Mr. Gisborn stood there, too, clearly the orchestrater of this action.
Their arrival had left Marianne trapped, confined in the church, wearing her Robin Hood costume.
The good vicar had no choice but to allow her to pursue her original plan.
She would let Mr. Gisborn think he truly had found Robin Hood.
She ran up the narrow, twisting steps to position herself in the belfry.
Mr. Fraytuck met the men at the church door, greeting them and claiming to be in fear for his life.
The wild archer would surely shoot him if he left the church, he said, and Mr. Reeve’s men were doomed if they tried to come closer.
To establish herself as a true threat, Marianne’s first arrows hit precise targets, forcing the men to back away from the church doors and take shelter behind corners or carts or whatever they could find.
Now here they were, at an impasse. Gisborn and Reeve’s men could see her clearly, but from a safe distance. With Mr. Fraytuck’s insistence that she was a he, the illusion of Robin Hood seemed complete. How long could she maintain it, though?
At some point Mr. Gisborn was bound to order his men into the church. How many could she stop before they made their way up to her? Or worse, how long would it be before someone produced a musket and dropped her where she stood?
Mr. Fraytuck’s last words to her were that he knew a way for her to escape this, she simply needed to provide a few minutes of distraction. She had done that, but those minutes had ticked away quickly. Now she prayed he truly did have a way to get them both out of this mess she had created.
“Please, Mr. Reeve,” the vicar pleaded loudly. “Keep your distance. Let me go up and speak to him. As a man of the cloth, perhaps he will listen to me and give himself up before there is unneeded bloodshed.”
The men in the churchyard grumbled and Mr. Reeve shook his head angrily, but Mr. Gisborn was clearly in charge.
“Very well,” he announced. “We will wait. Warn the man that the church is surrounded. If he does not agree to come out peacefully, or if he harms you in any way, we will take him by force.”
The huge door of the church slammed shut as Mr. Fraytuck left his post there. Marianne stepped into the shadows, her bow still taut and visible to those on the ground. Her muscles were beginning to ache, but she held steady. It would be just a few minutes longer; surely she could manage that.
Soon she heard the vicar’s footsteps on the old wooden staircase leading up toward her. He did not come all the way to the top. Instead, she was shocked to hear voices. He was speaking to someone on the level below! But who could it be?
Footsteps sounded on the staircase again, but not the heavy, labored feet of the vicar. No, these footsteps were pounding toward her rapidly, urgently. She was almost afraid to look. Had one of the sheriff’s men managed to gain entrance? Was she found out already?
Taking a cautious step toward the opening for the stairway, she steeled her stance. Her bow was tight, arrow pointed down into the darkness. Whoever was coming for her would regret it a moment later. To her surprise, though, she recognized the face that appeared.
“Mr. Locksley?”
“Ah, Miss Maidland and her bow,” he said, smiling from the dark opening even as he shushed her. “If you’d be so kind, please avert your weapon and come quickly! I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“But… how are you here?”
“Hurry! Their patience will run out at any moment. Fraytuck will hold them off as best he can, but you cannot be found here.”
“Neither can you,” she noted. “Oh, why are you always in such trouble?”
“Me?” he laughed quite heartily. “Dear Miss Maidland, you are not like any other.”
He reached up from the stairwell and nearly pulled her down to him.
She stumbled on the first step, but he steadied her and led her quickly by the hand.
Her nerves were quite a mess and she was glad for his support, even though she had a suspicion that it contributed greatly to her nervous disorder.
They rushed down the steep, turning staircase. At a landing below, Mr. Fraytuck waited for them, breathlessly motioning toward a narrow opening in the apparently solid rock wall.
“Here,” he said, ushering them forward. “Hurry in. I will tell them you left by another way. Miss Maidland, I have placed your things at the bottom—you will find them there. I didn’t realize that you’d be leaving with an escort.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, exactly, but was glad that he’d thought ahead.
Apparently this was the way out of here, and he was kind enough to have hidden her things.
When she’d arrived, she’d been wearing a simple gown over her costume, with a cloak over that to conceal that the gown was not fastened behind.
Before announcing herself to the vicar she had removed the gown and cloak, donned the cap, and left her items in a packet.
The vicar had commended her resourcefulness, even as he had scolded her.
He’d somehow managed to place her things where she could retrieve them and redon her clothes, hiding the costume so she could return home.
“Thank you, my friend,” Robert said, slapping the vicar on his shoulder.
“You’d best thank me a bit more forcibly, if you don’t want me arrested for collusion.”
“Is that truly necessary?”
“You know it is.”
Robert sighed and Marianne wondered what should cast such a worried look over his face. He seemed very grim when he replied.
“Very well. Forgive me, then.”
“I will, if you do an adequate job of it,” the vicar said.
Robert shook his head, took a deep breath, then whirled around and landed his fist into the vicar’s plump face. The man’s nose bloodied immediately, and he staggered backward.
Marianne cried out but Robert took her elbow and shoved her into the dark opening in the wall.
Her quiver with a few remaining arrows banged and scraped against the wall as she found herself in a narrow passage.
A secret passage! She turned back over her shoulder to see the vicar righting himself and actually thanking Robert for his cruel treatment.
Robert wished him well, then entered the passage with her.
Mr. Fraytuck shoved a huge stone panel over the opening behind them. They were left alone in total darkness.
“Why on earth did you hit him?” she hissed.
“You would not want the sheriff to think the good vicar was in league with Robin Hood and allowed him to escape, would you? I had to leave them reason to believe he’d been overpowered.”
At least that made a bit of sense, but she truly could not like it. She snapped at him.
“In order for us to escape the poor man had to have his nose broken?”
“I didn’t break it,” Robert claimed.
He squeezed past her—holding tight to her hand—and led her down another set of narrow, twisting stairs that seemed to wrap around the wooden staircase on the other side of a stone wall.
“At least, I don’t think I did,” he added. “Come along, though. He’ll no doubt send the men off on another route, but we ought to get you home as quickly as possible. What the devil were you thinking, anyway?”
She didn’t care for his accusatory tone, but she was glad that he seemed to know the way they should go. She could see nothing but blackness around them and had to feel for each step.
“I heard Mr. Gisborn say that he intercepted a note,” she explained, keeping her voice low. “He was planning to catch Robin Hood in the very act of thievery!”
“You honestly believed we would come rob from the church?”
“I didn’t know what to believe. I just… I just knew I couldn’t let him capture you.”
He paused. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel that he’d turned in the darkness to face her. As he was on the step below, he would have been directly at eye level.
“Thank you, Miss Maidland. That was really quite brave.”
She beamed and was glad that he could not see the warm flush that came over her face. He called her brave! He appreciated what she’d done. The thought of it made her unaccountably happy.
Then he ruined it.
“It was stupid, though,” he went on. “You could have got yourself tossed in gaol. Or worse! One of those men out there could have shot you.”
“Just as they could have done to you!” she said. “You ought to be grateful I was willing to help.”
“I’ll be grateful when you are safe. Come on.”
He was moving again, pulling her along, but going slowly enough that neither of them tripped on the narrow steps.
As they wound their way, she began to be aware of light.
Somewhere up ahead light was coming into their secret passage.
She worried—could there be a door up ahead and was the sheriff waiting there for them?
“The church is surrounded,” she whispered. “How will we get out?”
“This passage connects with a tunnel,” he replied softly. “Just ahead.”
“What is that light?”
Very soon she could see for herself. They rounded the last turn and their narrow staircase opened into a sort of tiny room.
A light hung in a sconce on the wall and the packet of her clothing sat directly below it.
She could see no door leaving this room, but surely there must be.
Probably there was another stone panel as she had seen above.
This ancient church was just filled with secrets!
Adding to her amazement, Robert knelt over an iron grate built into the floor.
He grasped the iron ring welded into it and with one tug he managed to pull the grate up and shift it to the side.
There was just enough light to make out another, even narrower and entirely too treacherous, set of steps.
“You cannot expect me to go down there!” she gasped.
“Or you could go back into the church and greet your dear friend, Mr. Gisborn.”