The Greenwood Shadow (18 page)

He paused for a cheer, which came right on cue.

"There are those who would destroy our king! Those who would have our great country fall into ruin! Today we shall see one such traitor pay for these deeds! We shall see our land take a stand against treason and anarchy! Long live the king!"

The crowd cheered again, getting more and more worked up as Gisbourne spoke. Such a large group could be swayed to do anything, if the right words were spoken, and Sir Guy certainly knew how to do that.

He added more to his speech, but Evey didn't listen. She was terrified enough as it was. To make her last few minutes as nice as possible, she tried to think of comforting things. Hobbes came to mind first. He had always been there for her.

"If I get out of this, I'll feed him a whole basket of apples."

The guard glanced at her with narrowed eyes. Evey just smiled like she had been making perfect sense.

There were so many good things in life. Things she never appreciated until that moment before her execution. Sleeping out under the summer stars and fishing in the small creek. The satisfaction she felt the first time she actually hit a target with her arrow. Even her home and the wonderful meals that Guinevere used to cook for her.

Most of all she thought of Isaiah. She began to realize how much she had come to depend on him. Maybe it was more than that. He was her confidant, her friend, her partner in crime, her...

She stopped there. There was no point in opening that door, especially not now. Still, thinking of her friend was the most comforting, so she let her mind wander through their many adventures. She stared off into the crowd, reliving a particularly exciting raid, when she thought she saw an all too familiar face.

She started, and blinked several times before scanning the faces again. No. There was no one there. No one that she knew. It was just her imagination.

There it was again! An unmistakable flash of honey brown hair. She looked closer, but again there was nothing. Was she going mad? Hallucinating out of sheer terror?

She hoped that she was. Isaiah would only get himself caught. Then there would be a double hanging, which the crowd would more than welcome.

A soldier prodded her shoulder with the blunt end of a pike.

"Answer his question," the man growled.

"What?"

"I said, do you deny these charges?" Sir Guy repeated, clearly anxious to get on with things.

"What, that I'm a treasonous anarchist?"

Sir Guy stood a little straighter. "You heard me the first time. I'll not repeat myself."

She stood up straight. "Alright. Well, this is what I say to your charges!"

Her hands may have been tied together, but the rude gesture she made still came off good and clear.

Gisbourne gritted his teeth. "You're sure?"

"I am no enemy to this country, nor to this people!" Evey pointed straight at the king. "But I am an enemy to anyone who starves and beats them. If that makes me your enemy, sire, so be it."

The people gasped, while the king just made a startled face, somewhat like cow that just got milked the wrong way.

"How dare you insult me!" he cried.

Sir Guy used the momentum to stir the crowd up again. He spoke a few choice words, then signaled for the execution to begin.

The soldier used his pike to shove Evey forward. She stumbled for a few steps, then straightened herself, determined to look brave even if she didn't feel it.

She walked slowly and purposefully toward the platform. There were five stairs up, ten steps to the noose, and one step down onto the trap door. With each step, her stomach tied into another knot. Her breathing quickened. She might hyperventilate. She shut her eyes, ready to feel the rope slide over her head.

"STOP!"

The voice rang through the courtyard, completely silencing it. Evey opened her eyes in shock. It was not the voice of the king, nor of Sir Guy, but it rang out with such authority that the guards froze, arms raised halfway to the noose.

Evey quickly spotted the shadowy figure standing atop the wall. How had he even gotten up there?

"What is the meaning of this!" the king shouted. "Who are you?!"

The figure pulled a hood away, revealing a face covered with a strip of brown cloth. He uttered two words that set the crowd into a frenzy.

"Robin Hood."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The king waved a hand at the man on the wall. "Robin Hood? That isn't a real name. Now tell me who you are, or I'll have my guards string you up next to this outlaw."

That was odd. Too odd. At the mention of the name, everyone else had gasped, including Evey. They stared in wonder at the man on the wall. A massive longbow rested loosely in his right hand. A quiver of arrows sat ready on his back. He wore a mask and a cloak. By all appearances he was the very outlaw of legend.

Evey, of course, knew better. She had been just as surprised at first, but though she couldn't see the man's face, she'd know that shock of sunny hair anywhere.

What on earth could he be thinking? Standing in the open like that, he would be an easy target for the crossbow men, and there he was claiming to be the man they most wanted to catch.

"I am Robin Hood!" he called again. "Outlaw. Bandit. It was I who lightened your coffers so effectively during the tax season. I fight for the rights of the people, and I am here for one of my friends whom you have unjustly condemned to death!"

"What is going on?" the king cried. "Who is this Robin of Hood, and why should I barter with you over the life of a petty criminal?"

Obviously this wasn't exactly what Isaiah had been hoping for. He stood silent, seeming to assess the situation. Sir Guy tried to stand and take control, but the king spoke in a lowered voice, which nevertheless carried to the yard.

"Shut your mouth, and sit down, Gisbourne."

"Your highness!" Isaiah called again. "This is no ordinary execution. This girl has committed no crime against the country or the good folk of this land. She has only done what she felt was necessary in opposition to tyranny and oppression. Your people do not deserve your cruelty. Without subjects, a king is not a king. And you will very soon be without subjects if you do not change your ways!"

The king stood indignantly and folded his arms. "Are you threatening me?"

He was probably going for 'stern and unyielding ruler.' All he really accomplished was 'comical.'

"No, sire!" Isaiah pointed the end of his bow at the man. "I am warning you. Making you aware that you are systematically destroying your own country. You are the one who is harming your homeland. You are the traitor here."

The king squeaked out a very un-kingly gasp. "What do you know of the duties of a king? And why are you standing on that wall in the middle of an execution?"

Really, though, what was going on? How could the king, of all people, not know Robin Hood?

Isaiah's voice conveyed the same confusion. "I am an outlaw. I have more than five hundred gold on my head. Your men search for me over every other outlaw in the land."

The king frowned.

"And I wish to bargain with you: my life for hers. Set the girl free, and you shall have me without a struggle. A hanging will still take place."

"No!" Evey screamed. She hadn't meant to, but the word tore from her throat as she realized what Isaiah was doing.

The king just stood there looking bewildered. When Sir Guy stood up again, the king didn't protest.

Sir Guy shouted in melodramatic anger. "Hold your tongue, you rogue! I'll not have my king slandered in my presence!"

"It is not slander if it's true."

Though Isaiah's voice was low and calm, the whole courtyard still heard him,

"Treason! I'll not have it. Even if you were Robin Hood-"

"And how do you know I am not?" Isaiah interrupted.

"You're no seven foot giant. I doubt you can even pull that bow to full draw, let alone fire it accurately."

Isaiah shrugged. "True enough. I am not seven feet tall. I believe we have taprooms and taverns to thank for that. However, this bow is another matter entirely. The best archer in the country is currently standing in your presence."

He swept into a dramatic bow, then threw his arms into the air, which drew a cautious cheer from the crowd.

Sir Guy clutched the grip on his sword. "Oh really?"

He started to say something else, but was silenced by the sudden appearance of an arrow in a beam inches from his head. In the course of a few seconds another arrow had been nocked, aimed, released, and embedded in the king's scepter. There was silence in the courtyard. Wow. Now that was the way to make an impression. Isaiah's shooting had dramatically improved.

"You don't think I can hit anything I like?" he asked, casually fingering another arrow.

"So, you are Robin Hood."

Isaiah bowed again. "At your service."

"All the same," Gisbourne added in a threatening tone. "Criminals have no right to barter. Your word is as useless as your life. There will be no deal. This girl will hang today."

Isaiah made a show of sighing and rolling his eyes. "I thought you might say as much, Sir Guy. I'm a peaceful man. I tried to do this without undue fighting, but you can never be too careful when handling snakes."

His last words dripped with venom. Gisbourne's face turned a pretty shocking scarlet.

"Get him! Now!"

Several crossbows fired, but it was already too late. Just as Sir Guy called the order, Isaiah had taken hold of a rope near his feet and swung from the wall into the crowd, where he disappeared from sight. An explosion of sound rocked the scaffolding, as the crowd went into a panic. It appeared that the people were torn between hiding the hero and giving up his location to the irate Sir Guy.

The floor dropped suddenly out from under Evey's feet. Someone had pulled the lever for the trap door, and she crashed to the ground below. It hurt, but at least the guards hadn't gotten around to finishing the noose.

A hand grabbed her from behind.

"This way!" the man shouted.

At the far edge of the wooden enclosure, the man threw a cloak over her shoulders. She couldn't see it clearly, but it was obviously nothing like any of her rough garb. The material was soft, and she could feel the evidence of fine stitching around the neckline.

"Quick. Cover up and go," he said.

He pushed open a small door on the back side of the stairs and shoved her into the open air, where she was immediately consumed by the jostling crowd. In the sunlight she could see that the cloak was a silken lady's mantle, with a dainty looking hood and a rather frilly edge. Normally it would have horrified her, but today she was grateful. In it, no one would recognize her as the missing prisoner.

Everything was utter chaos. Carts tipped. People were thrown to the ground. Men and women screamed for relatives. Children cried as they were wrested from their parents by the human tide. Vendors tried desperately to save their merchandise from young thieves.

Evey followed the flow of the crowd, which pressed toward the main gate. Guards ran to shut the giant doors. No one wanted to be trapped or interrogated, so they pressed for the door even faster. Evey fully agreed with this consensus. She pushed her way through, until she'd nearly reached the front.

She was about to dash forward and sprint through the slowly shutting doors when she got pulled aside yet again. Her new companion wore a blue cloak, very like her own. She carried a small basket of threads and cloth.

Evey had no idea if the lady could be trusted, but she had very little choice. With the crowd pulling one way, the stranger pulling another, and soldiers charging toward them from a third direction, it was as much as she could do just to keep her feet.

The blue cloak went left, and she followed. Then it went right, and she followed again. Suddenly she found that they reached a dead end. She had been tricked. She yanked her hand from the stranger and turned to run, but the woman was ready for her. She caught Evey, pulled her back, and spun her into the wall at the corner of the yard.

"Will you stop running around like a headless chicken? I've got it all worked out," she shouted. Only it wasn't a she.

"Isaiah?"

"Obviously. Who else would it be? Sit in this chair like you don't care what's going on. Take some of this thread. Do some needlepoint."

Evey raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think I have any idea how to do needlepoint?"

"I thought all girls knew that."

"Not all of them," she replied. "Especially when there's farming that needs done."

"Well," Isaiah dithered for a second. "Just do something. Take this basket. Pretend like you're haggling with me or... I don't know, do something."

"Some idea," Evey huffed. "We'll stand out like a flaming torch! Everyone is running around in a panic."

Isaiah nodded to his right. "Not everyone. High class ladies don't run, and they don't panic."

Evey followed his gaze. Sure enough, there were several finely dressed women hunkered against the walls. Most of them looked plenty panicked, but they also made it a point to stay clear of the screaming masses.