Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (16 page)

Paul stood up slowly, cramped by the hours of crouching next to her and sighed. That wasn’t good. When Paul sighed, people went to meet their maker, that’s how the saying went around the forest.

“She doesn’t got more days left,” he said.

Robin grabbed him by the collar. Suddenly he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He wanted to scream, he wanted to fling his bow across the room, hating it for its uselessness when he needed something to fight with more than ever. But death couldn’t be frightened away by an arrow, no matter how good the archer’s aim.

“What-do-you-mean?” he spit in anger.

“Rob, what’s wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Come on man, you knew it from the first she wasn’t long to live.”

“Don’t say that!” Robin shouted, shaking him.

But soon his energy was spent. He let go of Paul and sank to the ground.

“Leave me for a while, will you?” he said, not lifting his eyes from her white face.

Robin heard the door close softly behind him and took Rosa’s small hand in his brown, rough one. He bent near her face and studied its serene beauty, mesmerized.

“Will you be able ever to forgive me, I wonder?” he whispered, his lips against her ear. “
I
would not forgive myself, but then… you have proved yourself my better in so many ways…”

A lone tear traveled the length of his cheek and landed on her marble skin. He wiped it tenderly, hating the impression his calloused finger must leave on her gossamer throat, but relishing its feel at the same time.

“But I sure intend to find out, that’s why you’re going nowhere,” he continued. 

He touched her face, he caressed her cheeks, he breathed on her lips.

“Come on my girl, open your eyes, speak to me one more time; I have near forgotten the sound of your voice, we can’t have that now, can we? I have to ask your forgiveness, I have to… I have to try to steal one more kiss. I
have
to, I won’t be able to face myself if I don’t, you know I won’t.”

Silence met his urgent pleas, yet he continued fighting to coax her to life, trying to awaken her by his wooing.

“Wake up, even if it is only to tell me you hate me, even just to spit in my face. I won’t mind, I swear I shall even enjoy your wrath, if that’s all you want to direct at me. Come, open your beautiful eyes for me, please, open your eyes.” A sob rose from his throat.

Robin Hood, the brave outlaw, never cried. Nor did he beg.

But now he did both.

“Please,” he said in a hoarse voice, tears running down his cheeks. “I’m begging you, open your eyes.”

She did.

…

Her recovery was slow, but Robin didn’t care if it took her another year to stand on her feet again. He kept seeing before him the look on her lovely face when she’d first opened her eyes. He had cried like a baby then, taking her in his arms and cradling her while murmuring next to her ear “thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over again.

Then he had run out to shout for Paul.

Paul was very protective of his new patient, especially when he heard the news. For Robin had gathered the men all around him, that same first day of her awakening, and told them the tale, of how the daughter of the Sheriff himself had braved the dangers of the forest, and had had to face torture and death in order to serve them.

Every mouth had hung open, every man remained speechless, and Robin knew in that moment that Rosa would be the princess of the forest as she’d never been a princess in her own home before. But his own guilt still ate at him, and it didn’t let him rejoice in her awakening as he otherwise would. Paul strictly forbade him to upset her, however, and he himself knew better than to slow her recovery. He, too, saw that she was still too weak from her recent ordeal, and feared that the danger to her life had not altogether passed.

There was nothing he could do but pray and wait.

…

Merely a fortnight had passed and Robin was beginning to get impatient again. He hovered outside her cabin, but didn’t go in. Instead, he became a pest to his men, who were beginning to think they had had enough of it.

So, he went to hunt.

Now Robin Hood had very strict rules about showing respect to the magnificent animals that kept him and his men alive in the forest, and so he never went to hunt when it was unnecessary, urging his men instead to practice their aim on lifeless targets. He had no tolerance for mindless cruelty or disregard to the true king of the forest, the deer, and therefore always asked his men to beg forgiveness for every life they took, be it animal or human.

He was but starting to appraise a proud stag from a distance, silent like the wind, when the horn sounded. This was disturbing indeed, for he had severely instructed his men to use the signal only for matters of utmost urgency. His thoughts immediately flew to Rosa and for a minute he couldn’t move, his heart refusing to function. Then he ran.

It turned out that the sound hadn’t come from the camp at all, but from the top of a tree about a half a mile east. A rough road that ran through the forest led to that exact spot, and as soon as Robin caught his breath -for he was riding his horse as if he had the devil on his heels- he discovered to his surprise the Sheriff of Nottingham himself.

He was bound astride his own horse, his small eyes glancing about like a weasel, and he didn’t look at all happy with the turn events had taken, his men strewn about him on the ground, some dead, some wounded, some bound, and most of them no doubt fled in fear. Robin’s men regarded the man with apathy and enquired of their master what they should do with him.

Robin understood why they had blown the horn.

It wasn’t an every day occurrence for the Sheriff himself to ride in search of the outlaws. In fact, it was the first time in some years that he had ventured in the forest. He always preferred to stay at a safe distance and send his men to do his work for him. But now something had happened that required his very special attention and Robin once again admired with all his might that slender slip of a girl who had braved such a man and shown such courage and strength, even while fully knowing his ensuing wrath. Glancing around at his men’s faces Robin knew at once that they were aware of the reason of the Sheriff’s visit and was doubly glad that he’d entrusted them with the secret of Rosa’s identity and her protection.

“What to do with him?” he wondered aloud and was gratified to hear chuckles all around him.

But today he wasn’t in the mood to banter. Facing this man, ridiculous and frightened as he looked, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the crimes he had committed, especially against his own daughter.

Turning abruptly, he flung his fist right into the man’s eye, and watched with small satisfaction as his heavy form toppled from the horse and landed with an ungraceful thud on the ground. Robin found that even thus he couldn’t bear the sight of him and turned away in disgust.

“Right him and bind his eyes,” he shouted to his men and mounted.

He didn’t look back until they arrived. Then he ordered the Sheriff tied to a tree with his eyes still bound and made to endure every game the men could think of. And think of games they did. They made him into a bull’s-eye, they made him into a boxing sack, and generally did to him every humiliating thing they could think of, which at last turned into a competition in itself.

The men sensed their master’s anger and wanted to get even a small revenge on his behalf, for the sorrow and anguish the Sheriff had caused Robin pierced their own hearts sorely.

But Robin had no time for games. He went straight to Rosa’s cabin, his lips pursed in a determined frown. She was sleeping, as she was doing most of the time. He knelt next to her and brushed his fingers through her hair, making sure that her peaceful sleep hadn’t been disturbed by the commotion outside. He wouldn’t have her know for the world of her father’s proximity, and he planned to have him removed from here before dark.

“I shall kill him for you, Rose,” he said. “Rosa, my lady. I will kill him.”

She moved in her sleep as if uneasy and moaned softly, as she stretched an injured muscle.

“Shhh.” He tried to calm her, sitting up in alarm, but in a minute she was serene as before. “I shall not let him hurt you again,” Robin vowed, his breath coming short, “I’ll not let anyone come near you ever again. I don’t deserve to come near you either, but I won’t hurt you anymore, not ever again. I swear it.”

He raised his fist to his mouth.

“I will protect you with my life,” he whispered, the words coming out with difficulty past a lump in his throat

She turned again and moaned more deeply than before while the movement lasted. Robin watched helplessly, pale and shaking as if the pain tore at his own flesh.

A soon as she was quiet again, the realization hit him.

She wouldn’t want her father slain; she wouldn’t probably even want him to suffer. She would say no man deserved it, and especially not he who had been her father.

He got up in frustration. He was sure of it suddenly, that’s how she would think: her tender, forgiving heart would recoil at any form of cruelty, no matter how deserved. And if she were awake and able, she would do all in her power to stop him from killing the Sheriff.

He didn’t want to become that, he didn’t want to become the man whom she would try to stop, to prevent from committing a crime. This was the Sheriff’s area of expertise; he wouldn’t stoop to his level.

He got out quietly and strode to the camp with a determined step.

“Stop it!” he shouted to his men, even before he was upon them. “Stop now,” he repeated for they seemed not to hear him, or hearing, not to heed him.

Finally, they ceased their games, eagerly awaiting their orders on the prisoner’s next punishment.

Robin walked to the tree and bent down till his face was on the same level with the old man’s. He ripped the cloth that blinded him with one rapid movement, and the Sheriff stared at him with blood-shot eyes.

“Just so you know,” Robin said, his face close and his every word slow, laden with intensity and danger. “Just so you know, Nottingham, I intended to kill you this day. You would be carried dead from this cove, if only for what you did to your own daughter, to your own flesh and blood.”

“Where is she?” the Sheriff sputtered, “where have you hidden her?”

“She,” Robin replied, disgusted, “is none of your business. Your own actions declared it to be so. Now go back home dishonored,”  he ripped his hose open with one swift move of his knife, “humiliated,” he grazed his left temple only enough to leave a mark there, “and knowing that you owe your life to the daughter you have only a few days ago professed, by your own words, to have murdered.”

He lifted his knife aiming it right between the Sheriff’s eyes.

“For her,” he said, and brought it down, tearing at the ropes that had held him a prisoner.

Immediately the Sheriff leaped for Robin’s throat, but the men were there in an instant, holding him back, pinning him to the ground. They did look suspiciously at their chief and later one or two muttered their displeasure, for they had released their greatest enemy from right under their noses.

No further word passed Robin’s lips however, as the Sheriff was led by the men through the thick leaves, fuming, into the obscurity of the forest, his eyes bound again.

He was mounted backwards on his horse, facing its behind, and tied to it with thick ropes that allowed no room for moving. Robin’s leniency did not go as far as letting him ride back into Nottingham with dignity.

CHAPTER
7

THE TRAP

Father Tuck surveyed the scene peacefully from his favorite place, close to a small personal fire he had burning almost constantly. He didn’t speak until the Sheriff was well on his way, and then he chuckled softly to himself.