Chapter 21 #2
Ian, Lane, Ulli, Jette, and Rigelt left the hiding place but remained near the corner of the building, awaiting further direction from Robin.
Nele moved quietly against the back wall of the house, testing the two windows that sat on either side of the back door.
Choosing the closer of the windows—the one with the glow—Nele pulled some sort of tool from the pouch at her belt.
To Ian, it looked like a firm string, perhaps similar to a waxed bowstring, that had a small dowel attached to one end.
After sliding the string under the windowpane, Nele worked it back and forth. The night was so quiet that Ian could hear a distinct click when the tool accomplished its job. Nele pushed against the paned glass.
Robin, standing behind her, grabbed the glass and held it open while Nele deftly slipped inside.
Moments later, the back door swung open.
Robin gently closed the window, then motioned for the rest of them to follow her through the door.
Ian, entering last, barely saw Robin disappear through a small door at the opposite end of what was indeed a kitchen.
The room was much smaller than the kitchen at Lockwood.
While the reeve’s home was larger than any other in the village, it was still only half the size of the remote manor of Lady Lockwood.
Ian walked past the large stone fireplace, which gleamed red with banked coals for the night, and stepped through the doorway after Robin.
She stood on the bottom step of a narrow staircase. In front of her, Nele unwrapped an apple-sized piece of glowing Majis glass to illuminate the small cellar around her. The four walls of the cellar were lined with wooden shelves.
And each of the shelves was bursting with food.
Ian instantly noted the stark contrast of these shelves with the Lockwood larder he had seen a few days prior.
The wall to his left contained baskets overflowing with winter vegetables and the few fruits that would survive for a whole season or more in the right conditions.
The far wall held wax-covered cheese wheels, dried meats, and sawdust-covered eggs.
The final wall, to his right, was completely filled with familiar jars of preserved fruits, small barrels of brined vegetables, and cloth sacks of dried beans.
It was enough food to feed several families for an entire season.
“Here is our answer,” Ian said, standing on the stair above Robin as anger coursed through his body. “You do not even need me to count supplies.”
Robin did not appear to have even heard him. Her eyes were fixed on some point beyond the wall of the cellar. Even from the narrow view he had of the side of her head, Ian could see the pure, calculated rage in her expression.
For a brief moment, he nearly felt sorry for the reeve. The man was unlikely to survive his next encounter with Robin of Lockwood.
“This is too much for a single household to have taken on their own,” Nele said.
“He must have been sending several people to each delivery to pick up as much as possible, then deliver it back here to himself. But what of their own homes? Have their families been starving because he coerced them into this?”
Ian did not know the answer to that question.
Robin still stood on the bottom stair, unmoving.
Taking her shoulders in his hands, Ian gently moved her to the side, stepping around her in the tight space to stand near Nele.
Opening the satchel at his side, he pulled out an empty, folded canvas sack. Then he shook it open and placed it on the stone floor next to his feet.
Reaching over to the right wall, he began to fill his sack with the food that had originally come from Lockwood.
Nele stood over him, handing down one jar at a time as he carefully arranged them. When his pack was full, he tied the top closed and opened another.
“We take as much as we can carry,” Robin said, her voice devoid of the rage that still lined her face. She lifted the heavy, full sack from the ground and carried it up the stairs.
Rigelt and Ulli took her place on the stairs, each carrying up a filled sack until all the empty bags they had brought with them were full.
The shelves in front of Ian were only half emptied. Ian wished they could take more, but the sight still made him smirk to himself. Even when she was taking back her own gift, Robin could only take half.
Before he left the cellar, Ian grabbed one of the larger barrels of pickled vegetables and threw it over his shoulder.
Nele grabbed two glass jars, tucking them under her arm as she followed him up the stairs.
“Thieves!” a voice thundered from the kitchen above.
Running up the final few steps, Ian hefted the barrel on his shoulder, ready to throw it in defense of his friends if need be.
At the top step, he saw a burly man—presumably the reeve—had entered the kitchen carrying a thick, wooden club. His face was angry and red, accentuated by the glowing red light from the coals.
“Reeve Vahnell,” Robin said, standing in the kitchen just in front of Ian. Her voice was incredibly calm for someone standing within arm’s reach of a raised club.
“Lady Robin?” the reeve said, his face displaying several emotions in rapid succession. Ian thought he saw a flicker of shame, but the man landed on an expression of confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same,” Robin replied.
“I . . .” the man sputtered. “I live here.”
Robin pointed down to the cellar. “What are you doing hoarding the free food that I provided for the poor and hungry of Doulast?”
“Nothing!” the reeve said. “I mean, I was merely keeping it safe and ensuring the hungriest of the townsfolk received what they needed.”
“And how were you doing that?” Robin asked.
Ulli and Lane walked through the open back door, moving to stand on either side of Robin. Moving past Ian, Nele stepped into place behind Robin, creating an intimidating group of black-clad bandits.
Ian, still holding the barrel on his shoulder, realized that he was one of them. And the thought filled him with pride.
“By keeping it safe in my cellar,” the reeve said, answering Robin’s question as he slowly lowered his club. “And . . . and giving it to anyone who asks.”
“Has anyone asked for it?” Robin inquired.
The man remained quiet.
“Have you offered it to anyone?” Robin asked.
Knowing he had been defeated, the reeve shook his head.
“I will be redistributing this food to those whom it was intended for,” Robin said. “And when Ulli comes back in two days’ time, the rest of the supplies from me will not be in your cellar.”
Reeve Vahnell nodded.
“Should you ever find yourself in need, I will do what I can,” Robin said. She stepped forward, putting herself uncomfortably close to the now ghostly-pale reeve. “But do not ever mistake justice for weakness again.”
Robin turned and left the kitchen, turning her back on the reeve as she walked out into the night.
Lane and Nele followed Robin out the door.
Ulli gestured for Ian to leave ahead of him, so Ian leaned down and picked up the barrel before going through the open door.
Taking up the rear, Ulli closed the door behind them.
Rigelt and Jette stood near the gate of the fence, the large sacks of food at their feet as well as two prancing dogs.
Upon seeing Ulli, the dogs abandoned Rigelt and barked excitedly until they had received the last morsels of raw meat.
Ian followed Robin’s lead, picking up a sack of food and hefting it over his empty shoulder. It would be a difficult walk home with this much weight, but Ian had a feeling they would not be taking it back to Lockwood.
Once all of them were safely on the other side of the fence, Ulli closed the gate behind them.
As Ian had expected, the bandits had made a plan for what to do with any discovered food. Lane split them off into pairs and directed each pair to a quarter of the village.
Relying on Robin’s knowledge of the village, Ian followed her down their directed road. Quietly slipping up to each cottage they passed, they left small offerings of food until every house had been visited and the bags were empty.
Robin said very little as they went.
Ian wanted to know what she was thinking about, but they were too close to sleeping villagers to start a meaningful conversation.
A short while later, they met up with the others on the far side of Doulast and started the long walk back to Lockwood. Lane led the way this time, pushing quickly down the trail on his long legs, seemingly unaffected by a night of no sleep.
Ian found himself dragging behind the rest of them, hanging back close to Robin who took up the rear.
“Say it, Ian,” she said, so quietly that Ian doubted the others could hear her.
“Say what?” Ian asked. He definitely had things to say, but he wanted to hear what she was thinking first.
“Tell me I was wrong,” she said, her voice filled with self-loathing. “That my fear of enacting rules caused me to fail those who were counting on me.”
“No!” Ian protested. “That is not what I would say. I do not think . . .” He stopped speaking as the image of her unrestrained anger in the cellar came to mind.
He wondered if that anger had not been directed toward the reeve at all, but rather toward herself.
This was not about Ian’s opinion; it was about her opinion of herself.
“Robin. You are not a failure,” he said, finding the words as he spoke.
“I do not think that. No one thinks that. The people in Doulast were still getting the food they needed, the reeve was just taking more. That was his failing, not yours.”
“But I did fail,” Robin protested, her voice quiet and only for him.
“I failed the people of every other village on the route after Doulast because we did not have enough to go around. I failed the people who were relying on me to provide food for their children. That makes me . . .” She left the final word unsaid.