Gravity Box and Other Spaces (24 page)

In the morning he found two rabbits caught in his snares. One was dead, but the other was very much alive and slipped from his fingers, running off into the dense wood. He reset the trap and took the other rabbit back to camp.

He felt terrible, feverish and achy, but managed to skin the rabbit. He spitted it and propped it over the fire then started scraping the hide. He could not concentrate. His chest felt as though a giant gripped him and squeezed now and then, making him choke and sputter. He wiped his forehead and found it damp. He shivered. He put more clothes on over what he wore.

A good hot meal is what I need
, he thought, but when the rabbit was cooked he found he had little appetite. He made himself eat, but the meat soured his stomach. He lay on his duffle, curled on his side, and tried to sleep.

If he lay on his stomach he did not cough so much and could rest longer at a stretch. In the morning he felt better. He ate what remained of the rabbit. It was tough now and chewy, almost tasteless. When he was finished, though, he felt well enough to go back to the stream.

The poacher was there again.

“Those are mine,” Sean called to him.

“Aye? Says who?” The man had two rabbits. He stuffed them into his coat pockets.

“I set the snares. They're mine.”

“We're both of us thieves, so who's to say which has better claim? Ye don't look like you miss any meals. Who are ye?”

Sean licked his lips and coughed. “Robbing—” he began and coughed again.

“Robin, is it? Well, Robin, just consider this your gift to the poor for the day.” He laughed. “Bit young t' be startin' a life o' crime, ain't ye, Robin?” He laughed again
and backed away carefully. When he was far enough, he turned and ran.

Sean swallowed hard through a dry throat. His headache was back and he shivered. His chest felt bruised. He checked the other snares, but they were empty.

On the way back to his camp, Sean thought about what the poacher had said. He had misunderstood. Sean had intended to say “Robbing me isn't necessary. We can share.” But the cough cut him short and the man took his name to be “Robin.” He laughed to himself.

I need to move the snares, he thought. Or set more—

He fell to the ground when he reached his campfire.

Sean knew he was in real trouble the next day when he could not stand up. He crawled to his store of kindling and dragged enough back to feed the fire, but that exhausted his strength.
How long had he been in the forest? Not long
, he reckoned,
but already he had done everything wrong
.
There would be no band of men now to rally for the king when he came to take back his throne. He would recruit no one.

He slept most of the morning. When he came awake it was to the smell of rabbit roasting. He pushed himself up.

Roy grinned at him across the fire. “Hey, you're awake. Hungry?”

Sean blinked, startled. “Roy—?”

Roy took the spit from the fire and gingerly pulled a leg from the blackened rabbit carcass. He returned the spit and came over to Sean.

“It's hot now.” He peeled a little meat off and fed it to Sean. “You're looking a bit pale, my brother.”

“I'm—all right—how—?”

“King's business,” Roy said. “Any day now he'll be coming back to rule England.”

“He—abdicated—”

“Ah, that's what they'd have you believe. But it'll work itself out. Here. Eat.”

Sean chewed on the bitter meat. “I intended to call the
Arrows
together—live out here and be ready—”

“It'd get a bit crowded, Sean. There's already enough.”

Sean heard the dull thud of something hard striking thick wood. He looked past Roy and saw a group of men with bows having target practice on a big oak fifty yards away. He watched as one nocked an arrow to his longbow and let fly. There was a tight pattern of arrows already in the center of a red spot on the tree. The arrow smacked in among them, splinters flying.

“We've always been here, Sean. Always will be. There's other work for you. Alan needs you. Other work for the living. Here, eat.”

“Roy—I thought you died.”

“There was a riot,” Roy said. “In Jerusalem. Enough talk now. Eat.”

Silently, he let Roy feed him rabbit until he fell asleep.

He opened his eyes slowly. His lids felt gummy and his vision blurred. He saw movement and brought up his hand to rub the crust from his eyes.

The poacher had scattered all his belongings across the ground and was squatted over them, picking through. Sean tried to push himself to his feet, but he barely managed to lift his shoulders from the ground. The poacher started and then grunted.

“Forest ain't no place f'someone ain't good at it,” the man said. “The way you feel I wouldn't give ha'pence that
ye live till morning. Ye won't be needin' none o' this then. So if ye don't mind, I'll just he'p meself—”

“You—” Sean began, only to be wracked by coughing.

The poacher laughed.

Suddenly Sean heard another sound. A thud, a shout, and what seemed to be something large sliding over the leaf-strewn ground.

“Here, now—”

“Leave off!”

Sean tried to open his eyes again. He thought he saw two men struggling near the embers of his campfire—the poacher and another in a gray coat—but he could not be sure.

“—found him like this, out 'ere all alone. He's pretty sick, he is. Got him to eat some, but he's been talking out of his head. There was some'ne robbin' 'im, too, but he run off.”

“My God, he's burning up!”

“Did what I could. I didn't want to leave 'im alone, so I had me wife watch 'im while I come for help.”

“Good, good; you did well.”

“I can't get 'is name out of 'im.”

“Sean Petty.”

“Roy's brother? My God. I wondered where e'd got a Broad Arrow.”

“He's been missing five days. Alan's been worried sick.”

“I hope e'll be all right.”

Sean listened to the coronation of George VI in the living room with Alan. England had a king again, though it
was not the same one who had been driven from his throne. Alan had tried to explain what had become of Edward VIII, but Sean refused to understand. It no longer mattered.

A new king—they would have to wait and see if he was a good replacement and not another John, out to take advantage—

Sean stopped the thought. Alan had been right. He was foolish and had nearly died. Better to believe in what lay right in front of him than any nonsense about Robin Hood or the
King's Arrows
. It hurt. He wished he could recover the way he had been, seeing his duty clearly and simply, and accepting on faith that the stories had been true and that Roy had known they were the truth. But he could not. Something had gone out of him with his pneumonia and the stolen rabbits.

The coronation broadcast ended and Alan turned the radio off.

“Maybe things'll be better now, eh?”

“Maybe.”

Sean pulled on a jacket and went outside. Spring was full on the countryside, turning it green and bright.

Someone stood by the gate near the road. Sean thought he recognized the gray overcoat.

“Who's that, now?” Alan, behind him, wondered.

The stranger raised an arm in greeting. Alan walked toward him. After a few moments' hesitation, Sean followed.

To Sean's surprise, Alan said, “Will Scuppin!”

The man smiled shyly. “Aye, it's Will. How ye been, Alan?”

“Not bad, Will, but—come in, would you? I heard from Jim and Mike that it was you found Sean. I wanted to
thank you. Can I get you something to drink? God, it's been—how long?”

“Oh, years, I suppose.” The man stepped through the gate with a bit of hesitation. He blinked at Sean. “How ye feelin', son?”

“Better,” Sean said.

“Pleased,” Will Scuppin replied.

Sean asked Alan, “How do you know him?”

Alan did not answer immediately. In the pause, Will said, “We was one o' Roy's
Arrows
.”

“Come inside, Will,” Alan said. “I'll get you something to eat.”

“No, I really don't have time. I got a job down the road a piece. Mike hired me on, and I wanted to come by and see that everything was all right.”

“Then let us invite you to dinner this Friday, after you get done.”

“I got a family, now, Alan.”

“Them, too. It would be good.”

“I'd like that. I would. Thank you.”

Will came by Friday with his wife and two children. The oldest was barely four and the other was two. All of them looked underfed. Alan set a table to make up the difference.

Sean listened to them talk about the hard times since '29 with only half his attention. He had heard most of it already and hearing it again did nothing to make it more interesting, even from someone who had saved his life.

Then, in a lull, Will said, “Do ye still have your pin?”

Alan shook his head. “Somewhere. I don't know. Do you?”