Robyn and the Hoodettes (19 page)

“
Not exactly sure. We left Roger and his men near the
Sheffield Gates, then we took the South Road. Soon after that,
Shadow cracked it with me and wouldn’t go any further.”

“
How far are we from Sheffield?”

“
Four milestones. The road’s over that way,” he pointed his
thumb over his shoulder. “This seemed as good a place as any to
rest.”

A few stretches and yawns later, Robyn sat by the fire that
Marion had made. He presented her with a tin plate piled high with
fish for breakfast.

“
This is amazing?” Manners be hanged, Robyn ate and talked at
the same time. “How did these end up in the bags?”

“
They didn’t. I caught them from the stream this morning,” he
said with a prideful grin.

“
Catch some more, they’re delicious!” Robyn held her plate out
for Marion to refill.

“
Already on it. I’ve got Joan and Georgia building us a shelter
further in the woods, and your mother and Ellen are catching more
fish as we speak.”

“
What about Will and Madge?”

“
They’re busy.” Marion turned bright red, showing Robyn exactly
how busy those two must be.

“
Right. So,” Robyn accepted the refill of food and shoved it
in her mouth. It was so perfect and buttery and melty. She pulled a
bone out.

“
Sorry, thought I got them all out.”

“
I like the bones, they’re good,” Robyn said, using it as a
toothpick. “Heavens! I feel so much better. I’m sorry I’ve been
snapping at you so much.”

“
We’ve all been beyond hungry.”

“
Yeah. That must be it.” Robyn shucked the last remnants from
between her teeth. “Any more?”

“
There will be when your mother and Ellen get back.”

The mention of the girl’s name was such a downer. “What are we
going to do with her?”

“
We can’t let her go, because she’ll run straight back to
Maudlin and tell her what we’re up to.”

“
Why can’t she be nice, like us?”

Marion laughed out loud.

“
Don’t mock me!” Robyn threw her empty plate at Marion, who
caught it.

“
I’m not making fun, I’m sorry. But Ellen probably thinks
Maudlin is the nice one. She probably thinks she’s doing the right
thing by sticking with her. Maybe she thinks we’re the bad ones
here.”

“
How can making sure other people don’t starve through
winter be the wrong thing?” Robyn rose and wiped her hands on her
tunic. Stretching again, she looked around their new surroundings.
In this forest clearing, Shadow and her horsey friend Plus One
chomped at the grassy tufts growing by the river. The water flowed
bright and clear.

She took a few steps towards the damp shore and swished her
hands in the icy stream. It was so cold her fingers could have
cracked off, but she filled her palms and took a good slurp. Ice
filled her chest and her head ached, but she slurped some more
anyway.

“
So I was thinking,” Marion said, coming up beside her and
taking a few sips of his own. “This is a good spot. Plenty of fish,
loads of fresh water. We’ve got supplies to keep us going for a
while . . .”

“
You didn’t think of that just then, did you?”

His face fell. “How could you tell?”

“
Because I can see Joan and Georgia from here.” She waved at
the women upstream who were building something against a tree.
Something amazing and solid and potentially big enough to last them
all through the winter. They had to have been working at that since
sunrise.

Marion offered a compromise. “We could head straight to
Nottingham if you want?”

Robyn sat on her heels. “You’re being far too nice. And I’ve
been a right cow.”

Marion held back a smile.

Robyn slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “You were
supposed to say I haven’t been that bad.”

This time Marion laughed outright.

***

A stick of c
old charcoal from the fire made an excellent crayon. Robyn
drew a small circle on the trunk of a tree and coloured it in, then
she drew a larger circle around it, and another, until the curve of
the trunk made it difficult to create any more circles with any
kind of accuracy.

“
Looks dead easy,” Marion said.

“
It’s supposed to be.” Robyn replied. “That’s why it’s
called practice. We’ll get some shots in, then taking steps further
and further back until we can’t hit it any more. Then we’ll move on
to this.” She pointed upwards. Marion followed her pointed finger
and saw a bag filled with mud and twigs, hanging from
rope.

This bag also had a charcoal target drawn on it, but the
folds in the bag wobbled the lines.

“
I’ll tell you now, I don’t have a hope of landing an arrow on
that.” Marion said.

Robyn couldn’t hold back a smirk. “You have so many other
things on your ‘To do’ list?”

“
Point taken,” Marion said, taking a look around.

They were in the Shire Wood, Sheffield was long behind
them. They had food and temporary shelter, full bellies and nobody
chasing them down this very minute.

“
OK, so we start with the easy target on the tree?” He
asked.

“
You can stand as close as you like, get your eye in, then we
can start moving further back.”

For the next long while
–neither kept time, but it felt like a good
session–they took turns at the bow and arrow, aiming for the tree,
either hitting the target or hitting very close to it. Most of the
time they hit the tree, which saved them searching the forest for
lost arrows.

Later, the tree oozing sap from its wounds, they moved on
to the mud bag. Arrow after arrow whizzed through the air. Some
made a passing glance, most missed.

Robyn pierced the bag once, the arrow ripping a hole in it
before falling to the ground.

“
You are amazing at this,” Marion said as they searched for
lost arrows along the forest floor. “When did you learn to
shoot?”

“
Father taught me.” Her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “A
couple of springs ago. We caught rabbits in the Shire Wood and
brought home the biggest we’d had in years.”

“
I remember that! There was so much food, the only place big
enough to cook it was the forge! My father grizzled about the smell
in the smithy.”

Robyn laughed at the memory. “He didn’t complain about the
food though.”

“
Too right.” Marion licked his lips and his eyes drifted
towards the trees as he recalled the memory. “Do you think we could
catch some now?”

The relaxed banter between them felt right. Friends being
friendly. Marion wasn’t making her feel remotely guilty about how
badly things had turned out in Sheffield. In fact, he’d been a
total gentleman and hadn’t mentioned it.

“
Sure. How’s your shoulder feeling
from the workout?”

He rolled a shrug to get his arm moving again. “Nothing a bit
of roast rabbit can’t fix.”

“
Let’s get one then.”

They collected oats to use for bait, then found a clearing
near the stream and made sure they stayed down wind so they
wouldn’t be sniffed out. They also stayed as quiet as possible so
they wouldn’t be heard.

Clever things rabbits, they could hear for miles on account of
those massive ears.

After an age of waiting, the only animals that took the bait
were pigeons.

Bored and sore from crouching, Robyn loosed an arrow and
pinned one bird with a perfect kill-shot.

“
Better than nothing I guess,” she said with a
shrug.

They cleaned and plucked the bird by the stream.

Marion sighed heavily. “I miss Father. And although they
annoyed the tripe out of me, I’m starting to miss my brothers as
well.”

“
Me too. I wish the stupid Crusade was over. Then we’d go
home.”

Marion rubbed his shoulder. It had been a long afternoon of
target practise. Then again, he was used to wielding a hammer on
the forge, so he shouldn’t be that sore.

Maybe he pretended to be injured? To save her
feelings.

That time she’d seen him without sleeves at the forge, seen
the definition in his arms. Yep, definitely fit. He had to be
pretending for her sake.

“
One pigeon won’t go far among eight of us. We should catch
more to share.” He said at last.

“
And waste more oats? We need to ration what we’ve got. We’ll
try this one first and see if it’s any good before we hunt any
more.”

“
Save our resources. Good idea,” Marion said as they walked
back.

As their camp came into view–the carriage to one side, a
half-built shelter on the other, Robyn pulled up short. Regret
clogged her throat. “We’re outlaws now, aren’t we?”

Marion scratched the back of his neck and then nodded. “Could
be worse. At least we’re not homeless.”

Ahead of them, they heard singing. It was Ellen and Eleanor,
making up songs as they sat around the campfire.

Robyn in a hood

Does a lot of good

Robs from the rich and gives to the poor

Lives in the Shire Wood

“
I love it Mother Eleanor,” Ellen said, “you truly have a
gift for lyrics.”

“
Thank you,” Eleanor said.

Robyn ground her teeth at how obviously Ellen was trying to
get into her mother’s good graces.

“
She’ll not replace you, if that’s what you’re worried about,”
Marion said.

Robyn glared at him. How dare he read her thoughts!

“
Steady on,” Marion held his palms up in surrender. “It’s a
good thing your eyes aren’t arrows, otherwise I’d be deader than
the pigeon.”

The small bird didn’t take long to cook, and neither did
the fish.

“
Tastes like greasy chicken,” Joan said as she nibbled the
pigeon drumstick.

Divided between eight of them, the bird offered no more than a
bite each.

It was a tough and gamey bird, just like the season. In
spring, fresh growth ensured rabbits and birds were fat and
delicious. But now they were using up their fat reserves in the
cold weather, and their muscles had turned to string.

“
There are still so many fish,” Ellen said.
“I stood downstream
where the water tumbles over rocks. As the fish swam near me, I
flicked my hands under their bellies and tossed them onto the
shore. Mother Eleanor sat on the shore and bagged them quick
smart.”

Everyone except Robyn and Marion murmured their
congratulations as they chewed the scant meat off the pigeon
bones.

“
It’s given me an idea,” Ellen said.
“Why don’t we build a holding pen,
here in the river? I can toss fish in there and we can feed them
with oats, and then next time we need supper, we need only grab the
fish we already have in the pen?”

It sounded like an excellent idea to Robyn, which made her
instantly suspicious because the idea was Ellen’s. The girl had to
be up to something.

“
I like it,” Madge said. “Especially as the river’s only going
to get colder as winter moves in.”

Ellen looked excited to have one person on board. “The river
could freeze entirely. It’s only a stream to be honest. Bagging the
fish now will stop us starving later.”

“
But what if the fish freeze in the pen?” Robyn
asked.

“
Then they’ll take a little longer to cook,” Ellen
said.

Mother Eleanor brightened. “Does that mean I won’t have to sit
near the water any more?”

Right now, they had plenty of fish to share, so none of them
would starve. But in a few weeks, would they still have food? As
sure as night followed day, winter followed autumn. What would they
do then?

As much as she hated to admit it, Marion was right. They
needed a plan to survive the cold months ahead. Otherwise they’d
all freeze and starve.

“
Does anyone want that last bit of pigeon?” Joan
asked.

“
Help yourself,” Robyn handed over her half-eaten pigeon thigh.
“How about you Georgia?”

“
I’m fine thanks,” she said, picking her teeth with a wing
bone. “I prefer the fish. I like Ellen’s idea. Could save us all a
lot of heartache later.”

“
Stomach ache, more like,” Wilfred said as he handed his
uneaten pigeon to Joan.

“
Fish is better for your skin at any rate,” Madge said,
linking her arm with his.

How strange that Robyn felt she could trust an outsider like
Wilfred, but not Ellen. Then again, Wilfred hadn’t betrayed
them.

As the sun dipped behind the trees, Mother Eleanor added
more logs to the fire to build it up.

Ellen started singing again.