Robyn and the Hoodettes (13 page)

The jarring percussion ricocheted off the walls. The jackdaw’s
feathers fluffed out as she shook herself. Who would have believed
a little crow could look rattled?

“
I didn’t mean to hurt you, Robyn,” Ellen said. “You’re all
such nice people, to be honest. Maudlin, why don’t you let them go?
You’ve got the gold now.”

Maudlin made a wry grin and said to Ellen, “But you said there
was more.”

While they were distracted, Robyn took her chance to turn
slowly around and take in as much detail of the room as she could.
Marion’s “make a plan” doctrine really was helping. Not that she’d
tell him that, it would give him a big head.

How many windows? Were any of them open? The roaring fire
could be useful, and the tools in the hearth. What else could she
use for weapons? A broken chair leg? That could be good. And most
importantly, where were the exits, and was anyone guarding
them?

“
I’ve got to hand it to you,” Robyn made another loud clap. The
jackdaw cawed with annoyance. Good. “You’ve got the rest of my
villagers, you’ve got my mother and no doubt someone has already
taken our cow from the green. But there’s something you’ve
overlooked. A few things really.”

Maudlin smirked. “Oh?”

“
You’ve overlooked the fact that I don’t care.”

“
You’re bluffing,” Maudlin shot back.

“
You’ve also overlooked that you’re all the way over there,
and I’m way over here.” At which point Robyn shot off like a
startled hare for the doors. She threw the timber slat out of its
bolt and pushed the door free.

Not stopping, she darting through the alleyways. Just in case
someone was following her, she ran in the opposite direction from
the sheep pens where she hoped Madge, Grannyma, Wilfred and Joan
would be waiting for her. Oh, and Marion.

Damn that Marion. She’d have tell him what had happened,
then endure a lecture about how foolish she’d been.

But she also knew a things Marion didn’t know:

Ellen was working for Lady Maudlin.

And loud noises ruffled that hideous bird’s
feathers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wrung out from an evening spent explaining everything to
Grannyma, Madge, Wilfred, Joan and Marion, Robyn yearned to curl up
into a ball and hide from the world. But that was never going to be
an option, not with the way everyone was looking at her.

Expecting answers.

Naturally, they’d taken the news of Eleanor’s arrest badly.
And Maudlin’s play for their coins. And Ellen’s
betrayal.

And the unknown whereabouts of the cow–because Robyn had run
the other way and didn’t know if Bella was still on the green or
not.

So it was a lot to process in one hit.

“
We’ve been asking around,” Madge volunteered, “There are so
many new people in town, but none hailing from Loxley or Littleton.
Maybe they are in the dungeons.”

“
Should we look for Bella?” Joan offered.

“
Probably,” Robyn said.

Marion said, “We should stick together. No more getting
split up.”

That was met with a round of assenting murmurs and
nods.

Robyn moved things forward. “OK. What next?”

“
No idea,” Joan said.

“
I’m not even sure where the dungeons are,” Grannyma Miller
said, feeding Tuppence some thin porridge.

“
Me either,” Madge and Wilfred shrugged in unison.

H
ow
much could they trust Wilfred? He’d only joined them the day
before. He was sticking with them because they were paying him. He
and Madge had taken a shine to each other, so perhaps he was one of
them now? Or would he lure Madge away and their numbers would drop
even more?

Hmmm. Madge hadn’t seen Will in his full puffiness around
horses, maybe the sight of his scarlet face would turn her
off?

“
The horses!” Robyn mentally slapped herself for being so
dense.

“
Oh yeah!” Marion said. “Good thinking.”

Happiness beamed through Robyn like a rainbow after a
shower. They’d left Shadow and the other mare in the stables, back
at the first inn,
The Goose and Bridle
, not at
The Unicorn
where they’d stayed the night.

Oh dear, she remembered something else. “Ellen knows where the
horses are too. What if she and Maudlin are waiting for us when we
get them?”

Marion made a thinking face for a while. “Got it. Ellen hasn’t
met Madge or Grannyma, so we send them.”

Grannyma dropped her spoon, making Tuppence cry. “Count me
out, I’m no horse thief!”

“
No Grannyma, these are our horses,” Robyn said.

Grannyma’s voice slipped into ‘scold’ gear. “Don’t tell big
fibs. No matter how much you and Shadow might have bonded, she
belongs to the Sheriff of Nottingham. They hang horse thieves, you
know.”

Darn those facts getting in the way of a good plan. Robyn
sighed and mentally rubbed out the idea of taking Shadow back. “So,
what are we going to do then?” she asked.

Marion put his warm arm around Robyn’s shoulders and gave a
comforting squeeze. Her need for reassurance took her by surprise
and she leaned into him.

“
We’re all a bit strung out and tired. Why don’t we have
something to eat first and then we might be able to think
straight.” Marion said.

“
Now that’s a plan,” Robyn said.

“
Back to
The Unicorn
?” Wilfred asked.

Robyn jumped in with too much haste. “What about
The Goose and
Bridle
?”

“
Where the horses are?” Marion looked at her with one raised
brow.

Robyn gulped. “Well, yes, but no, but . . . OK. Yes. I want
to make sure Shadow is all right. I won’t get us in trouble. And
anyway, Ellen’s just as likely to be looking for us at
The Unicorn
as the other inn.”
It made perfect sense to Robyn.

Grannyma huffed. “Don’t blame me if we all end up in the
dungeons.”

***

The rowdy din at
The Goose and Bridle
made it hard to hear each other without
shouting. On the plus side, it guaranteed nobody could overhear
them unless they too shouted really, really loudly.

And they weren’t that silly.

Smoked belched from the open fire with each new log thrown on
it. This was a crowded and popular inn, heaving with people and
glowing with warmth. Exactly the place to be on a chilly autumn
afternoon.

The landlord brought a pot of stew and a tankard for everyone
at the table. Madge used one tankard as a ladle and served
everybody. Robyn noticed how much extra Madge gave
Wilfred.

The parts of the stew that weren’t gristly were slimy, but
Robyn didn’t care. It was some kind of meat, probably rabbit or
pigeon, along with grains of wheat and chunks of turnip. By the
time she drained her tankard she had a full belly and felt warmed
inside and out.

Across the other side of the room, a table of people started
all shouting at once.

“
Come on!”

“
Wrong way!”

“
Miserable little–”

“
Move it!”

Curious, Robyn wandered over to check out why so many of them
were shouting, transfixed by something on the tabletop. She had to
stand on a chair to see what was going on, and found they were
betting on snail races. Standing up high to get a better look meant
she’d also raised herself closer to the ceiling, thick with fire
smoke. A coughing fit made her stumble from the chair.

“
Careful!” Marion was by her side, giving her soft pats on the
back.

“
I just need some fresh air,” she said, slipping free and
heading out the closest door.

Boosh
! Robyn walked straight into the human wall of Roger of
Doncaster.

Explosive curses leapt out of Robyn and Marion’s
mouths.

“
Get out of my–” Roger started, then he grabbed Robyn by the
shoulder, “–I know you!”

“
No you don’t!” Robyn said.

“
Run!” Marion grabbed Robyn by the hand and charged away from
the inn.

“
Hold it!” Roger’s vice-like hand clamped on her
shoulder.

Robyn’s joints strained from being pulled in opposite
directions. “Ow! Let me go!”

“
Not until I work out who you are,” Roger said.

“
I’m nobody!” she cried.

“
Get your hands off her!” Marion yelled.

“
Seize him!” Roger called out.

People appeared from nowhere and grabbed for
Marion.

“
Run!” Robyn begged him. One of them had to get away, to warn
the others.

Darting between their assailants, Marion got away, shouting as
he ran. “I’ll come back!”

“
Stop wriggling, little fish,” Roger said, his breath sickly
sweet.

Had he been in the inn at the same time? Robyn hadn’t even
noticed. Saints! She should have known he wouldn’t be gone from
Sheffield for long.

Rain fell over them in cold splats as she
struggled.

He bellowed, “Tell me who you are?”

Robyn kicked him in the shins.

“
Ow! You little–” Roger howled. “I’ll have you for assaulting
an officer of the King!”

Happy she’d landed a blow, Robyn said, “I’m not telling you
anything.”

“
You will tell me or I’ll throw you in the
dungeons!”

Wait a minute, her mother could be in the dungeons. This
could turn out to be a good thing. “Oh no! Please, sir, don’t put
me in the dungeons. I’ll be ever so good.”

Roger’s voice cracked. “Really?”

“
Course not.” Robyn kneed him in the thigh.

Roger roared in frustration and wrenched her arm back, sending
fresh pain through Robyn’s shoulder and biceps. “I don’t care who
you are, you’re going down!”

There was a scuffle and a dragging sensation as one of Roger’s
helpers grabbed her other arm and they dragged her away.

When they reached the dungeons, Roger shoved Robyn into the
arms of the turnkey and said, “Lock her up for as long as you
like.”

“
What are the charges?” The guard asked.

“
Whatever you like,” Roger said, then turned and stomped
off.

It would have been the perfect plan if the dungeons, as Robyn
had imagined them, had been one big room full of
prisoners.

In reality they were a series of dark, dank and draughty
cells.

The guard was a tall woman with an iron grip and a deep love
of her profession.

“
Please don’t do this,” Robyn said, only half acting. She
figured most prisoners begged for freedom. But also? She didn’t
have to act too hard because the guard had a phenomenal grip on her
upper arm. Robyn was beginning to lose sensation in her
hand.

“
It’s my job,” the guard said, giving Robyn a smile full of
busted teeth.

The guard was such a giant, she reminded Robyn of
Joan.

“
But it wouldn’t be your job, not normally. It’s only the war
that’s taken most of the men away. You should be home in your
village, making clothes and keeping the fires going
and–”

“
BORING!” The guard tightened her grip and Robyn nearly passed
out from the pain. “In you get now.”

The cell she threw Robyn in–then clanged the door shut and
fastened the padlock–had nobody else in it. Judging from the
echoing silence, the cell next door had to be empty too. Down the
hall somewhere, she heard moaning. Somebody clanked a tankard on
the bars.

“
Hey Turnkey! Water.”

“
You should have collected it when it rained!” The woman
yelled, then gave a wheezy laugh.

As Robyn rubbed the feeling back into her limp arm, she looked
for a place to sit. The rubbing helped remind her she was still
alive. Still OK. Still had friends on the outside who would bust
her out.

Unfortunately, with only her deteriorating thoughts for
company, she started to wish she’d taken Marion a little more
seriously and made a better plan. A plan that involved all of them
being on the outside of the dungeon for starters.

Rubbing her arm created enough noise to drown out the silence
as she looked around her small cell for somewhere to
sit.

Nothing.

Not even a large stone on the murky floor to use as a stool.
After a few minutes she could feel her fingers and arm again, and
her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

“
Anyone here from Loxley?” She called out in hope of getting an
answer. “Littleton? Anyone?”

Her voice bounced around the stone walls, mocking
her.

From another cell, a croaky old man’s voice said, “I’ll be
from anywhere you want, love.”