Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (12 page)

CHAPTER
5

THE CARRIAGE RIDE

Robin lowered his bow after his almost twentieth successful attempt at the bull’s eye. He had defeated more than half-a-dozen archers and was starting to get bored by the game. But he had a role to play, so he smiled at the cheering crowd with pride.

While his opponent, a rather opulent merchant hailing from Darby, shut his one eye to focus on the target, Robin let his gaze drift to the left, where the grey walls of the castle were discernable in the distance.
Maybe that’s where my love is right now
, he thought. Then he berated himself. First of all, she wasn’t his, he reasoned. He might have scoured the crowds repeatedly since they had arrived a couple of hours ago, searching for a glimpse of her fiery hair, but he had discovered no sign of her.

Secondly, he should concentrate on concealing his features behind his crimson hood, while winning this accursed archery contest, which by the looks of it, would be no trouble at all. He would be creating a stir with his abilities, while Little John and Matt sneaked away to the prisons. Hopefully, there would be enough of a distraction created already by the accolade of the golden arrow by the time all hell broke loose. 

They had been really careful, wearing disguises that would allow them to blend in with the crowd, even though Little John’s dimensions were a little hard to conceal. But they had decided that only three would come and John’s strength was incomparable. They wouldn’t be able to pull this through without him. Robin lifted his bow again and the crowd cheered with all its might, working itself into a frenzy with admiration for its new champion.

Then, as he lowered it again and another hopeful contestant took his place beside him, he noticed something peculiar in the crowd. Someone was waving a small blue flag in a festive manner, which wasn’t quite unusual in itself; what
was
unusual, was that the someone who was waving it seemed to be an exceptionally tall, sturdy man, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. Little John.

Beside him stood Matt the Miller’s son, who was beginning to stand out among the crowd as well, for he was not wearing the coarse brown cloak he had arrived in. Instead, that cloak was resting on the shoulders of a lean, stooped man with a haggard-looking face, which  he was trying to hide by bending it down low amongst the crowd. Robin looked closely. There was no doubt about it.

It was Will.

As soon as Little John saw that Robin had seen them, he lowered the flag and looked straight ahead, away from his chief. The crowd was beginning to shout and cheer, for it was Robin’s turn again.

Robin turned towards the target again. His opponent had sent his arrow close enough to the red circle in the centre, but he was not even a challenge to Robin. It would be such waste, he thought now, to lose that golden arrow -the prize of the archery contest. Something unbelievable had happened, but Will appeared to have been freed and yet his three friends did not seem to be pursued at all.

Sure, John looked anxious to be gone, but after all he had an escaped prisoner by his side. Robin’s lips turned up in a smile even at the mere thought of the Sheriff’s face when he found out that his precious prisoner had fled with no one being the wiser about it and that Robin Hood was safe in the forest showing off his prize to his robbers. He raised his bow determined to win.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

The girl. Rose. He wasn’t sure exactly what he thought right then, how she was connected in his mind with winning or losing; whether he considered what he would do if it was
she
who was the prisoner just freed from the Sheriff’s claws; or maybe he didn’t want to endanger his chances of seeing her again. He only knew that her face appeared in his mind, sweet and smiling, and he suddenly knew without any doubt what he would do.

He let the feathered arrow fly with terrible precision and it sliced the wood of the target just half an inch wide of his opponent’s arrow. The crowd murmured in disappointment as the man beside him stood dumbfounded at his unbelievable luck.

Robin disappeared in the crowd, unnoticed, as everyone’s attention was now turned to the other archer.

…

“Will you tell me what happened, damn it?” Robin asked, swearing under his breath. They were so impossibly annoying. He looked sideways at the three men, walking swiftly in the shadows, Will supported easily between the other two.

He knew their laughter tried to disguise their relief at having their friend alive and safe in their midst once more, but enough was enough.

In spite of his repeated questions and pleas, however, Little John and Matt didn’t stop guffawing even for a minute. That’s how it had gone, from the minute they were safely concealed among the thick trees of Sherwood Forest. They were laughing at him and teasing him for failing to win the tournament. Robin was beginning to think that he would have to give them their share of blows, since they had apparently received none in Nottingham by the Sheriff’s men.

“It was the strangest thing,” Will said finally, his breath coming a bit labored.  The other two sobered abruptly.

He looked haggard and pale, more like he would have looked after having spent a month in prison than a mere night. But Robin knew the Sheriff reserved ‘special’ treatment for his men. He tortured them inhumanly, not only because he hoped one of them might crack, but also because he needed to vent his anger and hatred. Little John turned and looked him in the eye. Will would relate everything to them soon enough, but neither Robin nor John were eager to know the monstrosities Scarlet had faced in the dungeon.

Little John cleared his throat and, abandoning his merry banter, continued what Will had started saying.

“They were asleep,” he said, not even now fully believing their good luck. “We snuck in there, secret-like, our fists raised for them, and all we could hear was snoring.”

Robin faltered in his step.

“How is that possible?” he asked, frowning with the incredulity of it all.

“There was a barrel of ale,” Matt took up the story, “although it was barely half-empty.”

“I think it had been tampered with,” John said.

“Well, it would have been impossible for a dozen guards to have become drunk to the point of oblivion on half a barrel of ale. So my guess too is that there was something in that stuff,” Matt supplied.

“But who…?” Robin started to ask.

Matt shrugged.

“That remains to be seen,” Little John said. “Who and why.”

“It appears we have an unexpected ally,” Robin said thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, chief, for a minute there it seemed too good to be true,” Matt said.

“Yea, we kept looking behind our backs, so sure were we it was another trap.” John was silent for a minute, then he went on. “You see, the drunken guards were not all.”

Robin raised his eyebrows in question.

“As we were making our way out of there,” Little John continued, “a guard snuck behind me, apparently the only one conscious enough to have heard the noise. He bid his time and would have struck me unnoticed by Matt, for we believed ourselves to have escaped them at last. Will saw him, but the man was depending upon the fact that he’d be unarmed. Only … he wasn’t.”

“You had given him his sword,” Robin said.

“No, I hadn’t yet,” John sighed at the near catastrophe due to his oversight. “I was stupid enough to think that we were safe from the unconscious guards and it nearly cost me my life.” Robin didn’t say anything because he was too interested in the story, but he would berate his friend later on his thoughtlessness. “As if by magic, Will produced a small dagger in his hand and saved us all,” Little John concluded.

“Robin, I tell you, I am almost thinking it
was
magic. Or a miracle by the Blessed Virgin,” Will said, holding out the slender weapon to Robin, who took it to examine it. “I didn’t even know that it was there in my hand until I had need of it.”

Robin weighed it in his palm.

“This is no poor man’s gift,” he said. “Look at the craftsmanship! And the handle is made of silver.” He contemplated it against the light of the midday sun for a while and then said, “Come, Will, let’s get you fed and rested and see if you can refresh your memory.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to you. You see, after they finished pulling me about I fell in the deepest sleep,” Will said sadly. “A sleep from which I thought I would not wake,” he added, a whimsical expression on his face.

Robin smiled at him encouragingly and reached out a hand to squeeze his friend’s shoulder, trying to conceal his disappointment. But it was just as well that they had no way of knowing who their secret ally was. He suspected he would feel a much greater disappointment if it turned out it wasn’t her. Now,
that
was a crazy idea. How could Rose possibly have access to the prisons, much as she would have wanted to help?

Robin shook his head trying to dispel all thoughts of the girl. If he went on at this rate, he would begin to lose his concentration.

This morning he was searching every face for hers and now he was imagining her being their miraculous benefactor. This had to stop. For one thing, too much depended upon his brains, it wasn’t safe to waste time daydreaming. And for another, sweet as the girl was, she would probably slap him in the face for thinking about her all day.

She may have kissed me
, he told himself with a shiver of happiness
, but what girl would want an outlaw as a suitor?

At the idea of himself as a suitor, a loud laugh escaped him, but much as his companions would ask him to share the joke with them, he kept his peace.

Rosa didn’t get much sleep that night, which was not entirely due to the commotion her father’s anger was causing. Of course, it would have been almost impossible to quiet down even for a minute amidst all the shouting and banging that rang through the place. But there were other reasons that kept her eyes wide open all throughout the night. For she was thinking of her Robin.

She was so proud of having been able to help the outlaws once more, that not even the fact that they were never likely to know of it diminished her joy.

Indeed, it was better that way, she thought, for she wouldn’t have to face their embarrassing gratitude. Of course that was supposing they ever had reason to suspect her of having access to the prisons, which they had no way of doing. This morning she had believed all was lost. But now, hope was rising in her heart fast and unstoppable. Her mind told her that it would be dangerous to take off into the forest tomorrow, but her heart knew that given half the chance, she would take it.

She was oblivious to the sounds of the castle all around her, lost in dreams of seeing Robin’s beloved face again and listening in delight to the narration of Will’s escape, when the door to her room was thrust loudly open and her father appeared on the dimly lit threshold, still fully dressed.

“Where is he?” he thundered and she quickly drew up the covers. “Never mind that!” he shouted, even more angrily, striding to her bed and bringing his face mere inches to hers.

“Where is who?” she asked, puzzled, and a little afraid. She had never seen him so wild, so out of control.

“Hugh! I can find him nowhere.”

“How should I know?” she retorted, annoyed at being reminded of her intended.

She was surprised by a stinging pain across her cheek. Her father had slapped her. Reeling from the shock and pain, she stared into his eyes, which were boring into hers, hatred and determination shining ugly in them.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me, you hussy! And mind, I intend to get to the bottom of this. Believe me, if I find you had any hand in today’s sorry events, nothing will stop me from inflicting upon you the punishment reserved for the worst of criminals!” he grabbed her by the throat and for a minute she really believed he would choke her, but he merely squeezed tight until it hurt unbearably.

“Now,” he went on, a mysterious gleam in his eyes, as if hurting her gave him a sense of satisfaction, “do you still insist you know nothing of Hugh’s whereabouts?”

“Yes, sir, I insist. I only know we had an argument of sorts sometime before noon.”

“Damn you! I only hope for your sake that you didn’t make him leave, with your foolish notions and your wanton wiles.” He let go of her and strode determinedly to the door. She gasped and coughed, trying to breathe. But before he exited her room, he turned to her.

“I trust there is no reason for me to stress to you that you
will
marry him? Surely you never imagined to refuse him?” he smiled at her, as she was lying there, struggling to draw breath, and went on sweetly, “No, of course not. Even
you
have brains enough for that. Even
you
have some sense of self-preservation.”