The Greenwood Shadow (14 page)

"Bit hot for you, is it?" the mace man taunted.

He jabbed his toe into Evey's side with a cruel laugh. Any other day, she'd shout something to make a tavern-keeper blush, then follow it up with a left hook. Today, she could barely keep herself sitting up straight. So thirsty.

Right in front of them, the man took a long pull from his water skin. A trickle dripped down his chin. She would have let tears fall, not caring who saw them, but there was no water in her body. Her eyes were as dry and covered in dust as her throat.

The mace man quickly got bored and went back to the fire that the other three had built. They roasted a wild bird on a spit. The way they went about it, the meat would be dry and tasteless. Evey smiled. Maybe one would choke on a small bone.

With no food, no water, and feet tied to hands for the night, Evey and Isaiah were utterly helpless and miserable. Their sweat covered clothes chilled them once the sun had gone. They were too far from the fire to feel its heat. Their only cover was Evey's thin cloak, which was next to useless for warmth.

All they could do was slide close together and hope for the best. If only she could move enough to reach her dagger.

"Marion."

The voice sounded distant and hazy. She thought it might be some kind of dream. She tried to turn over. Just a few more minutes.

The pain in her bound hands reminded her where she was.

"Marion. Here."

Isaiah held a waterskin near her mouth and she gratefully took several swallows. The liquid cooled her throat and rushed through her body like a bolt of pure energy. Nothing had ever tasted so good in her life. Though she knew she shouldn't, she chugged as much as she could from the awkward position.

"Thank you. How did you get this?" she asked as she struggled upright.

He jerked his head at the sleeping knights, to indicate the open cask. "They drank a little too much ale last night and won't be waking up any time soon."

She was still thirsty, but realized that she couldn't reach the skin while sitting up. She almost rolled herself down to take more water when she realized that Isaiah wouldn't have had any.

"Give me that," she said forcefully and scrabbled at the leather bag with her fingers.

He gratefully transferred the skin into her hands and rolled himself to the ground. Sliding around was trickier than she expected it to be. It was a minute or two before she got the water to where Isaiah could get it. Between the two of them they re-corked the skin and slid back to the supply pile with it.

"We shouldn't let them know we took any," he said quietly, when he returned.

"Obviously." She didn't even bother trying to be good-humored. "Can you get to my dagger?"

For what seemed like ages they moved around, changing angles and distances, but it was no use. The dagger was tied to her leg under the ropes and Isaiah's hands were too close to his own feet to reach the top of her boots. Eventually they gave up, and lay still to conserve energy.

"What now?" Evey asked. "We can't tell them anything useful. As soon as they figure that out, we're dead."

"I think the only thing we can do is to pretend we know where to find Robin Hood. It'll give us time to find a way to escape."

She shook her head. "They'll know we're lying. What kind of hints could we even give them?"

Isaiah just shrugged. She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. For some reason, he chuckled.

"What?" she asked. She was not in the mood to be laughed at.

"I always imagined you rolling your eyes just like that, but you usually hide your face with the hood, so I've never seen it before."

With a gasp, Evey realized that her hood hung uselessly behind her, and she didn't have her mask.

"Don't worry." Isaiah said, with another grin. "You were right. This black grease does a great job. Even if I'd seen you a hundred times, I'd never know who you were. I won't be able to describe you to anyone."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I have to say, though, I am curious. I mean, we're under arrest for being partners with one of the most famous outlaws in history. Whatever you're hiding from couldn't be as bad as this."

Evey laughed nervously. "You have no idea."

They sat quietly for a little while. The only sound came from the morning birds that woke with the sun. A cool breeze ruffled Evey's already disastrous hair. It was nice, but not nice enough. Just the feel of it warned her that they were in for another blistering hot day.

Out of the blue, Isaiah asked, "You don't suppose he might try to rescue us?"

"Who?"

"Who? Robin Hood. Who else?"

Evey glared. "Why would anyone rescue two rogues like us?"

"I don't know. He seems a decent enough fellow. Maybe he'll come because we're in trouble on his account."

Evey gave him a non-committal shrug. She was torn. Several times in the past few weeks she had almost revealed her secret to him, only to decide that they were both safer if she didn't. Here she faced the same choice yet again.

But now, more than ever, it was important for her to avoid detection. They were already on their way to prison just for possibly knowing Robin. What would the king do to them if they found out that she was the real Robin?

A tiny sliver of doubt stuck with her. In the back of her mind she admitted that she wasn't entirely sure that Robin Hood didn't exist. All of the evidence pointed against the possibility, but maybe.

"What do you think they'll do with us?" she asked.

"I don't know. And I probably don't want to," Isaiah said somberly. "My father works with the king's advisors, but he's just an administrator. It's all clerical. They leave the military up to Sir Guy of Gisbourne and a few of his men. That's who these guys report to."

"We're going to the king?"

It never occurred to her that they might go all the way to the royal castle. She'd never been as far as that.

Isaiah tried vainly to scratch an itch on his cheek.

"Probably," he guessed. "Only the king can issue a proclamation like that one we read. Men can be rogues and thieves and bandits. They can even have rewards put on them, but they aren't officially outlaws unless the king says so. And when you're an outlaw, that's it for you."

"Oh."

Evey had much more running through her mind than "oh", but it was all she could say to keep from panicking. Playing Robin Hood was fun, and being in stories was a good laugh. Fighting the king's taxes was a grand adventure that made her feel important. But they had just stepped into a new game. One where it was literally life or death. And suddenly she didn't feel nearly as tough or stubborn anymore.

Isaiah noticed the change in her demeanor and tried to comfort her, but there wasn't much he could do with his hands tied. She could tell that he wasn't much calmer himself. They had both just realized that they were in much deeper than they had ever expected. And, Evey noted, even if the king's justice was fair, neither of them was really innocent.

At that moment, the knights began to stir. One of the crossbow men was the first to sit up, but he didn't stay that way for long. Evey suspected that he must have the king of all headaches after going through that much ale. They wouldn't be coherent enough to worry about, but it was still best to leave important conversation until she was sure they wouldn't overhear.

It took the better part of the morning for the soldiers to get themselves out of their bedrolls and over to the nearly dead fire. Isaiah and Evey were offered no breakfast, and no water. Eventually the prisoners got lashed to the horses, and they once again set off down the road.

The sun was already high in the sky, warming the summer air. A few mouthfuls of water had hardly compensated for the previous day's trek, and Evey was parched again before they had gone a mile. The day was hot and the road was dusty, but mercifully the travel time was shorter.

The routine didn't change that night. Once again the soldiers bound Evey and Isaiah, and left them to freeze away from the fire. Their damp clothes clung to them like ice. Their stomachs rumbled loudly. And, just as before, they were rudely forced behind the horses in the morning, starving and dehydrated. Evey's mouth was so sandy tasting that she wouldn't have been able to talk to Isaiah, even if the chance had come.

She had no idea how much farther they had to go. She only knew that London was three or four days of steady walking from her home, and five or six at a more average pace. She tried to calculate a distance, but her brain grew too fuzzy. Her head ached painfully. Everything that she tried to think about kept slipping in and out of focus. Even the road ahead got dim and blurred. The miles whizzed by like an abstract dream.

For the first part of that day she stared at a spot on the horse's flank to keep her mind from slipping. After that, she couldn't even see the horse as anything but a giant brown and white blur. For a while she still managed to keep pace, but her steps gradually slowed.

Finally, just after noon, she stumbled. She knew she had to get up. She was vaguely aware of being dragged roughly down the road, face first. For how long, she had no idea.

Evey awakened to the feeling of warm, leathery tasting water pouring into her mouth and down her neck. She gulped as much as she could before they took the skin away and gave some to Isaiah. It was amazing what the water did to clear her head. She had far from recovered, but at least she could focus her eyes.

Several hours before dark, the castle loomed on the horizon. It grew larger very quickly, as they approached. Even as exhausted and weak as she was, she was still blown away by the vastness of the place. The keep alone had to be over fifty feet tall. The towers that ran up each corner rose even higher. How many rooms to a floor? And how many servants to clean and cater to all of that space? A wall long enough to circle her entire village twice, enclosed the whole compound.

When they crossed the bridge, she tried to look at everything. She might be heading to her doom, but taking a stroll through the royal grounds didn't happen every day. Nothing was terribly clear, though. Her head already buzzed again. It was hard to note details that would have been obvious under normal circumstances.

The trip through the courtyard was relatively short, as the entrance to the dungeon was prominent and nearby. They marched through with only one brief question from the captain on duty. That made sense. No one cared about going into a dungeon. It was more important to keep people from getting out.

The place was musty and chill, with only a few lit torches to see by. This gave the stone corridors an eerie feeling. Shadows danced about on the walls. Some were short and clear, while others were strangely elongated, stretching the full length of the straightaways. After several curves and a few left turns, Evey and Isaiah got shoved into a dank cell and locked in.

There was no furniture. Just a hole in the corner, some straw on the floor, and several sets of manacles on the far wall. Neither of them much cared. Along with being hungry and thirsty, they were both exhausted. Thankful to be untied this time, they huddled together on a thin pile of straw and slept.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Only the smallest shaft of sunlight reached the cell through a slit near the ceiling. Evey didn't even know what day it was. She might have slept for a few hours, or into the next afternoon. Her limbs tried to collapse on her, but she forced herself to sit up.

Isaiah still slept, so she left him to it and examined their cell. Small. Probably normal for a prison, though. There wasn't much more to see than what she had already noticed. The manacles were still chained to the wall. The ominous hole still lurked in the corner. One whiff told her exactly what it was for.

The only new thing was a thin rectangle in the left hand wall. It had been covered by a crude strip of iron, and looked as though it were meant to slide open.

An ear shattering metallic squeal sent chills down her spine. In the bottom corner of the door, a small square of iron rose, scraping against the stone. Through the gap someone pushed a plate and a jug, and then let the iron fall back to the floor. The echoing noise woke Isaiah, and he sat up groggily.

"Breakfast," she said.

The jug was full to the brim with water. On the plate were two large chunks of bread. Evey had heard the stories of dungeons like this. The water would be rancid, and the bread would be too hard to bite. That's what prisoners stayed alive on.

As she greedily bit into her own half, she discovered that she was wrong. The bread was certainly not fresh from the oven, but it was soft enough. She gulped water from the jug and found it to be only slightly stale.

"At least they feed us well in here," she remarked dryly. As she did, Isaiah choked.

"Oh, no."

"Is it that bad?" She handed him the jug. He had to take several mouthfuls before he could speak again.

"You know how dungeons like this are supposed to be. They wouldn't waste good bread on us unless they were up to something. They like to have people good and strong before they... before they..." He trailed off.

"Torture?" she squeaked, and he nodded.