Rise of the Wolf (25 page)

“No!” Martha growled, clenching her fist and bringing it down on the table, making everyone, even Matilda jump. “No. I'm saying you need to accept who you are: a girl. A woman. And there's nothing wrong with that. Is there?” She cocked an eyebrow at her husband who raised his hands defensively.

“No, nothing,” he replied. “Nothing at all – women are great. I think I'll go and milk the cow.” He got his feet and hastily made his way out the front door.

“See?”

Marjorie smiled at her mother's triumphant look. “Who milks cows at sunset?”

“He knows his place, just as we all do,” Martha told her. “And he knows who's the real head of this household.” She smiled again and grasped her daughter's hand, looking over at Matilda to include her in her words too.

“You've been trying to learn all these skills and that's good; you've learned a lot from it, I can see that. But, first and foremost, you're a young woman. Your place is here in the home, with me for now and, when you're older, with your own children in your own house.”

She lifted her right hand to silence any objections. “There's no shame in being a woman, lass. Just the opposite. There'd be no men in this world if it wasn't for the likes of us, right Matilda?”

Robin's wife nodded happily. “That's true,” she agreed.

Still, Marjorie looked unconvinced.

“Look, Robin and his mates might live an exciting life but where do you think they'd rather be? Every one of them? They'd rather be at home with their families – with their women. Not out there, being chased around the greenwood by the likes of the Raven and his men.”

“I know she speaks truly,” Matilda chipped in. “Robin's told me as much himself many times. It might look like an exciting life they lead but... it eats him up inside. All he wants is to be with Arthur and I...”

The three women sat in silence for a time before Marjorie eventually spoke.

“So you're saying I should just accept my lot and be a good wife and mother?”

“Is there anything more important – or as rewarding – in the whole damn world, lass?”

Matilda nodded, thinking of her own beautiful little son. “Your ma's right. I've lived as an outlaw – as a fighter. I'd rather be at home making arrows for my da and shouting at Arthur to get away from the cooking pot before he scalds himself.”

“Truly,” Martha fixed her daughter with a piercing stare. “Women make the world go round. And you're as fine a girl as there's ever been.”

Marjorie looked at her sister-in-law then back to her mother and stood up to embrace Martha, her eyes moist.

She knew now why she'd been so unhappy recently – she'd been trying to live a life that wasn't hers.

Still, she'd be the woman
she
wanted to be, not what everyone expected her to be...

James felt like he was about to pass out. His legs, particularly his thighs, ached terribly and it was an effort to keep lifting his feet as he pushed his way through the brambles and irritatingly lush foliage of the greenwood, insects, and wind-borne dandelion seeds, and god-knew-what-else flying into his eyes and gasping mouth as he went.

It was a shock, then, to realise a hooded man – and a big one at that – was standing silently in front of him, watching. The apparition wore a sword at his side and held a longbow, although neither weapon was raised threateningly.

James stopped, and let his head drop, resting his hands on his legs as his chest heaved and he tried to regain his breath without much success. Finally he managed to gasp, “In the name of Christ, I hope you're one of Robin Hood's men.”

In his peripheral vision James noticed just a flicker of movement, first on the left and then on the right and he saw two more men flanking him. One was a grim-looking soldier with unblinking green eyes, while the other wore chain mail covered by a red surcoat emblazoned with the cross of some religious order, although the young man had no idea which one.

“I can do you one better than that,” the biggest of the three said, smiling and appearing as relaxed as if he'd just met an old friend.

James returned the smile somewhat ruefully – he was a big man himself and he had his longbow but in the state he was in he was hardly a threat to these hard-looking  lads. “Are you Hood?”

“I am. This is Will Scarlet and our friendly Hospitaller, Stephen. Now that the introductions are out of the way, let's make this quick since you're obviously running away from someone and I don't want to find a force of soldiers appearing at your back.  What's your story?”

“You're right, I am running from someone but...” He stopped, wondering how to explain himself without the whole thing sounding insane but it seemed to be impossible.

“Spit it out, man!” The one Hood had introduced as Will Scarlet growled impatiently and James hurried to tell his tale. He was here now, he'd found Hood – if the man didn't believe him after all these miles, well...

“I don't know how much time you have, but Sir Guy of Gisbourne is coming for you, and he's bringing enough men to wipe you all out.”

He expected disbelieving laughs or some other reaction from the men but they just stood, watching and waiting for him to continue.

“Your friend Friar Tuck is on his way here right now. He can't be far behind me and he's got a friend with him – a monk. Tuck doesn't know it, but his companion is working with Sir Guy. I don't know why; I saw the pair meeting in the Swan back in Horbury and tried to overhear their words as best I could but I only managed to catch some of it.”

The outlaw leader glanced at his two companions who looked unsure of James's story before he turned round and beckoned the man to follow. “Come, you can tell us the rest as we head back to our camp.”

The other two outlaws fell in behind James, who sighed in relief and began to move, trying to pick out the near-invisible trail Robin was striding along.

“If this is some trick, you'll find my blade in your back, my lad,” Will Scarlet growled into his ear but James didn't reply, trying to save what remained of his stamina for the journey to the outlaw camp and praying fervently that it wasn't far.

“How did you know where we were?” The grizzled Hospitaller asked.

“I heard Tuck's mate telling Sir Guy you were camped somewhere near Selby, so I travelled there and, when I stopped at the ale-house to rest, the woman there told me her son, Peter, was one of your gang. I told her my story and she gave me rough directions how to find you.”

“Is that all she gave you?” Scarlet demanded, laughing suggestively and James flushed as red as the outlaw's name. Peter Ordevill's mother had tried it on with all of the outlaws at one time or another, much to her son's chagrin.

“Their plan is for Tuck to come along and be found by your men, just as I was,” James continued, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks. “The monk with him will leave a trail for Sir Guy to follow, straight to your camp. And then...”

“And then we die,” Robin said, to a grunt of agreement from the young archer behind him.

They lapsed into silence then, and, shortly, the foliage gave way and they walked into a clearing.

“John!” Robin shouted, summoning his giant lieutenant from the undergrowth. “The rest of you, stay hidden for now. We're still not sure what we face yet.” He turned to James and pointed towards the fire. “There's ale and meat there. Help yourself and rest while we discuss this. Even if Tuck's right behind you, Gisbourne can't be too close – he'll have to keep a safe distance so our lookouts don't spot him and ruin his plan.”

“Tuck?” Little John asked, baffled. “Gisbourne? What the fuck's going on? If the Raven's nearby shouldn't we be getting the hell out of here? He must have –”

Robin held up a hand to stop the flow of words. “Listen, and I'll explain what's happening, then we can decide what to do.”

* * *

“They must be nearby,” Tuck said, in reply to Osferth's grumbling about his sore feet and how much longer until they found the outlaws. They'd been advised to leave their mounts in the village by the residents of Selby, since the outlaws' nearby camp-site was hidden in a thick section of forest and both men were now thoroughly fed up with their walk.

“In fact,” Tuck smiled encouragingly, “their lookout's probably spotted us already and ran to warn Robin and the lads of our approach. I'm sure they'll be along to see us any time now.”

“You're not wrong there, father.” A voice, seeming to come from directly overhead, startled both of them, Osferth almost dropping to his knees in fright but Tuck chuckled, recognizing the voice as that of Allan-a-Dale.

When Gareth had taken up Allan's recently vacated lookout spot, he'd been pleasantly surprised to see their old friend and mentor Friar Tuck appear with some other monk in tow. He'd sprinted back to camp as fast as he could to give the men the good news, only to find they were expecting the friar. He and the minstrel had then headed back, again, towards the lookout spot, Allan explaining things to his companion as they went, before he climbed a tree about halfway along the only obvious path the approaching clergymen could take. Gareth continued on, taking a circuitous route through the undergrowth back to the his lookout post high in the great oak tree with orders to stay and watch for Sir Guy of Gisbourne's inevitable approach.

Now, not for from the outlaws' camp-site, the minstrel jumped down and Tuck grabbed him in a great bear-hug, the joy at seeing one of his friends evident on his ruddy face. Osferth nodded a greeting of his own which was returned by the burly outlaw before the man stood back and looked Tuck up and down.

“You look... well, just the same as when you left us, really,” he said. “Maybe a bit thinner again. You're not quite the big, pot-bellied friar I remember from that first meeting.”

“Aye, well, Prior de Monte Martini didn't feed me as well as I'd have liked, the bastard. Still, I'm sure you've got plenty of meat and bread – and ale – at your camp. So, are you planning on standing there, gaping like a trout all day, or are you going to lead my companion and I to sustenance? It's almost dinner time. And this is Osferth, by the way; a friend of mine from Lewes. He didn't like the prior much either.”

Allan glanced at Osferth and a look flashed across his handsome features but it passed almost instantly and Tuck was unable to read it.

“You'll never change will you?” The outlaw smiled, before turning to lead the two travellers into the undergrowth. “Can't do anything unless your stomach's filled. Come on then, stay close.”

Allan glanced back to make sure he was being followed by the pair and, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Osferth, a small blade in his hand, marking the trunk of the tree nearest to him.

“Gareth saw you coming,” the minstrel said, turning quickly to face the front again. “Edmond's got the pot bubbling away nicely you'll be pleased to hear. The men'll be glad to see you; we've missed you, old man.”

Tuck smiled. “I missed all of you too, Allan. I had to go back to Lewes though, and I'm glad I did. God had a purpose for me, which is why I'm back around Barnsdale again. For good this time, I hope.”

“Well, save your breath for now, you can tell us all about it when we get back. Come on,” he began to quicken his pace. “It's not far, but I'm starving myself so let's hurry.”

Tuck was glad when, soon enough, they came into the clearing where his outlaw friends were camped. The exercise had left him puffing hard and he had a painful stitch, but the sight of a grinning Robin, flanked by the bear-like figure of Little John and the stocky Will Scarlet made him forget his discomfort and he hardly slowed as he skipped past the fire with its attendant cooking pot and gripped arms with the outlaws.

“I've never been so happy to see a priest in all my life,” Will joked, shoving himself away from Tuck's embrace, a broad smile on his face. “It's good to see you again, you old bastard.”

The rest of the men seemed to materialize from the trees like ghosts, greeting Tuck happily, but he was surprised when the vast majority of the outlaws all faded back into the undergrowth after their hasty welcome. His feeling of unease only increased when he spotted a man – not one of the gang – sitting on a log beside the fire, nursing a mug of ale and watching him from wary eyes.

“You...” The friar racked his brain for a moment, trying to recall where he knew the young man from, before he nodded in recognition. “James, isn't it? The archer who spared my life when his friends would gladly have robbed and killed me.”

“You spared their lives too,” James replied, not mentioning the fact that one of the men had died later from the whack in the skull the friar had given him. No need to place that burden on the good friar's soul...

Tuck shrugged, as if to say the brigands had been nothing but a minor irritation, to be swatted aside like insects. “What brings you here?” He turned then to address Robin before James could reply. “What's going on anyway? Why are the men concealed, as if expecting something?”

“Ask your friend.”

Tuck looked at Osferth, who still stood at the edge of the camp, in confusion. “What? What are you talking about, Robin? Will someone please tell me what in God's name is happening here?”

Osferth's eyes had widened and his hand had fallen inside his cassock as if grasping for a weapon.

“Your mate is working with Gisbourne. He's been marking the trees along the way here so the Raven can bring his soldiers and wipe every last one of us out, once and for all.”

Tuck laughed and sat down beside James, helping himself to a slice of salted beef from the wooden trencher in the man's lap. “Osferth's been with me on the entire road here from Lewes, he hasn't left my side. How could he be helping Gisbourne? Why would he do that anyway?”

“It's true, father,” James said quietly, looking at the forest floor sadly. “I'm sorry, but I was in Horbury at the same time as you were. Your companion came to the inn I was staying at – the Swan – and met Sir Guy there. I overheard their conversation.” He looked up to meet Tuck's irritated gaze. “You helped me even though my companions and I had tried to rob you. That means a lot to a man like me so... when I knew that little rat bastard was going to betray you I came here to try and stop it happening.”

Tuck tossed his half-eaten slice of meat back onto the plate and rose to his feet, watching Osferth, who stood silently and serenely, as if he was simply back at the priory listening to evening mass.

“Well? Is it true?”

Osferth nodded. “It is, but fear not: the soldiers will not harm you.”

“What?” Tuck shouted in disbelief. “Fear not?”

“Sir Guy is coming to do God's work, just as I have done. These murderers –
sinners –
will know justice, and the world will be a better place for it, but Sir Guy knows not to harm either of us. Once this is all over we shall return to Lewes where Prior de Monte Martini will reward us.”

Tuck stared in astonishment at the man he'd thought was slightly unbalanced but this... it was unbelievable. “Are you insane, Osferth?” he demanded. “I punched the prior in the face. I stole his precious relic. You set half the bloody priory on fire, man! If we go back to Lewes we'll be excommunicated and strung up. That's assuming we survive this nightmare you've brought down upon us.” He strode across and grabbed Osferth by the scruff of the neck, almost lifting the slight monk from his feet. “The prior
hates
me. Why would he want Gisbourne to spare my life? Of all these men here I'm the one he'd like to see dead the most! Are you really so naïve?”

Osferth shook his head in denial of Tuck's words.

It was clear the Benedictine was lost in some fantasy where everything would turn out well for them, as God intended.

Friar Tuck released him with a shake of his head and turned to glare at Robin. “Well, what the hell are we still here for? If Gisbourne's coming shouldn't we be on our way?” He spoke again to Osferth, spitting the words out furiously through gritted teeth. “How many men does he have at his command?”

“I've no idea. At least enough to outnumber these evil-doers. I told him to send for reinforcements when I first sent word to him back in that little village... Bryneford, wasn't it? Where we slept in that local's house because they didn't even have an inn. I had the priest there ride to Nottingham to tell Sir Guy where we were heading and what our plans were.”