The Greenwood Shadow (33 page)

He stuck his thumb toward the lead knight. "This kind of guy is usually a sucker for flattery and fake chivalry."

"Fake chivalry?"

"You know, the dueling and fighting, and having an important title, while conveniently forgetting the 'go about doing good' part. Anyway, I bet this guy has an ego even bigger than that monster of a horse he's riding. I think that if I challenge him to a duel, he won't be able to help himself. He'll have to accept."

Evey pursed her lips. "You're right. That's NOT better. What are you thinking? Your shoulder isn't even healed yet!"

"It's my right shoulder. I'm left handed, you know."

She waved her hands vaguely. "Right. But your other wounds. You can't. What if he beats you?"

"Marion, have you even looked at the way he's holding that ridiculous sword? I think I could've beaten him when I was ten."

"You don't have armor," she added. Though she was never one to back down from a fight, she felt an odd sense of foreboding at the prospect of a duel.

"I'll be okay. I promise," he said.

The main knight stepped his horse a few feet closer. "You there! We've had time to ride to the next county and back while you're sitting there flapping your gums! I demand that you approach and pay the toll!"

Isaiah started to ride up to the man.

"Wait," Evey said. "They won't fight a peasant, and they'll never believe you're a knight. Not dressed like that. You don't even have a decent sword."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we don't exactly have the time to think of anything better," he said sharply. Then in a softer voice, "It really will be fine. I promise."

She glared at him and whispered, "Don't you dare."

He just smiled at her and addressed the three knights.

"I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, good sirs. May I just ask, to whom do we have the honor of conversing?"

"Sir Alfred is my name," replied the burly leader.

"Never heard of him," Evey whispered under her breath. Isaiah ignored her.

"Not the Sir Alfred? Why, sir! I have heard of you many times!"

He sat up straighter. "Really? Well, it is nice to know that some people are well informed. Now, about the toll. It is for the king. I am sure a good fellow like you will understand."

Isaiah bowed his head a little. "Yes, I do, Sir Alfred. But you see, we have something of a dilemma. I am just a poor, lowly knight. My wife and I have only recently been married. Her father lives with us as well, and we have not a coin to our names. In fact, you have found us traveling in search of better fortunes. I would gladly pay a tribute to our fine king if it were in my power. Sadly, it is not. But if you would allow us to pass, we would be very much obliged."

Sir Alfred's face changed from an attempt at agreeable, to bored and impatient. In a slow drawl, he said, "I'm afraid I can't do that. You're bound to have something, I'm sure."

"Well, I tried," he whispered to Evey. Loudly he said, "I have nothing but my name and my honor. But perhaps there is another way to settle this? Knight to knight, in the traditional way?"

"It is not a habit of mine to duel those, uh... less fortunate than myself," Sir Alfred loftily replied.

"Of course not. Beating innocent people doesn't count as dueling, does it?" Evey muttered angrily.

The king raised his hand cautiously. "Are you certain that I can't–"

"Yes!" Both of them interrupted at once, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.

"I am a knight as much as you are," Isaiah called to Sir Alfred. "Even if I have nothing material to call my own!"

"And how am I to know that?"

"I–" Isaiah started, but Evey interrupted him.

"My sword. Take my sword. He'll know it to be a knight's sword."

"I can't take your father's sword."

"Just do it. Yours got lost at the castle. If you're going to make me watch this, at least do me the favor of using a decent weapon."

"What if I lose it to him? I couldn't risk that."

Evey pulled it from the saddle sheath and handed it to him. "What happened to 'I could beat him when I was ten'? Besides, you were more than willing to risk your life, before. That's a lot more important than a sword."

"I can't..."

"Just. Take it," she insisted with such finality that he immediately grabbed the hilt.

"Well?" Sir Alfred asked impatiently.

"This sword, sir. Passed from generation to generation. Knight to knight. It is the only proof I can offer without riding for a written copy of my family tree."

He rode forward. Sir Alfred looked at the sword for a full five minutes before reluctantly agreeing to the match. The rules were decided on, and the ground marked. Twenty yards of the road were allotted, with Evey and the king on one end, and Alfred's henchmen on the other. Neither group was to interfere with the combat, and the first person to yield owed his sword, and free passage of the road, to the other.

"I don't trust those cronies of his," Evey whispered as Isaiah prepared to enter the makeshift arena.

"Neither do I. I don't think they'd do anything too stupid, but keep an arrow out, just in case."

He removed his mask and cloak, and handed them to her.

"But what if they recognize you?"

"They most likely won't. But I am sure it'll make things worse if they see me dueling with a mask on. I'm supposed to be an innocent young knight who's just defending his new wife, remember?"

"I admit, that was a pretty good story."

"Why, thank you, m'lady," he said with a bow. He took her hand and kissed it in a showy way.

Although she knew it was for Sir Alfred's benefit, she still blushed slightly.

She nodded her head in response. "But don't forget what I told you before. I'll kill you myself if you get hurt."

"I believe you." Then he stepped across the line and faced off.

Sir Alfred spent quite a lot of time telling Isaiah all about his many military exploits, as though to scare him. He didn't even move within sword reach of the younger man until he had thoroughly annoyed Evey with his arrogant taunting. She had to restrain herself from shooting him.

Seeing that Isaiah was not at all intimidated, Alfred finally became serious. They began to circle, sizing each other up. Now that she looked for it, Evey could see exactly what Isaiah had noticed before. The man's grip on his sword was just one of many things that gave away his poor training. Evey was reasonably confident that she could face him herself with some degree of success.

Sir Alfred made the first move. It was a clumsy thrust, aimed straight at Isaiah's stomach. Had Isaiah been nothing but a beginner, the sword would have gutted him instantly. He was anything but new, though, and parried the thrust so easily that Evey wasn't even sure that she had seen him move.

Again Sir Alfred attacked, and again Isaiah blocked, easily and fluidly. Then the battle began in earnest. It was very clear that Isaiah was the better swordsman. Even a child would be able to tell that. But though he did many things wrong, Sir Alfred had a few surprising moves of his own.

Twice, a sudden reversal of his weapon nearly beheaded Isaiah, causing Evey to gasp in horror. Isaiah's biggest defense was his youthful agility. The lack of armor actually turned out to be an advantage. Sir Alfred was much older, and so he tired quickly. The armor he wore only weighed him down further.

The fight only lasted about four minutes. But even when Isaiah had Alfred on the ground, with his sword at the man's throat, Evey didn't release her grip on the longbow. And she wouldn't until they were well clear of those shifty looking knights at the far end of the arena.

Rightfully beaten, Sir Alfred handed over his sword, looking as though he would rather bury the blade into Isaiah's back if he got the chance. Evey wouldn't let him get that chance. She watched him closely until Isaiah was at her side again.

"Don't keep your back to him. You saw the look on his face."

"Good point," he said, and he turned toward the defeated men. "Well, I have my own sword now. Although I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it. The thing is absurd."

He held up the sword, which was richly encrusted with gems, and plated with gold.

"Put it over your fireplace," she answered in a light tone.

"I suppose that's all it's good for. Well, shall we?"

"Gladly."

They mounted their horses and rode away, leaving the disgruntled trio behind them.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

They rode to the far side of the village, near the last residence before the forest. As Isaiah tried to decide how to explain their plan, the king spoke up.

"I really don't understand why you had to fight."

Evey groaned. "Look, no one would have recognized you as the king. Not looking like that. You're about as far from royal as they come, at the moment. They would have just laughed at you and charged you double."

The king looked down at his clothing, which consisted of a simple brown robe over worn leggings and a tunic.

"I suppose you're right," he admitted.

"At any rate, do you want us handing over money to that kind of thug?"

The king stopped halfway to some sort of protest. "Um...Well, no. It's true that they didn't seem exactly honest."

Evey tossed her head toward the road. "Guys like that are everywhere. Worse than that, actually. Two and three to a village. More to a town. And most people can't afford what they ask."

"Truly? But I've never asked for tributes," the king said.

Evey dropped her head into her palm. Just breathe slowly.

"No, and you'll never see that money either," Isaiah said as he walked toward them. "They only say 'in the name of the king' so that we can't challenge their actions. Forgive me, your majesty, but your name's been almost taboo recently. People are afraid of it."

"No. Why would they be afraid of me?"

"We've told you," Evey muttered. "The taxes, the beatings, the 'tributes'. It's the strong preying on the weak, and everyone sees you as the face of the oppression."

"It couldn't be as bad as all that, though. I've seen the reports."

"Reports can be forged," Evey growled.

"Young lady!" the king protested. Isaiah stepped between them.

"Well, let's have you see for yourself, then."

They left the woods and hid themselves behind Alaine's house. She found it interesting that this woman was partially responsible for so much. Evey and Isaiah had both gotten their start here, and now the king himself looked through her back window. What he saw could potentially change the history of the country.

The king started to question them, but Isaiah shushed him and pointed. The widow was out doing the early morning chores, which was exactly what Evey was hoping for. While the other two stayed at the window, Evey crept inside and looked around for a place to leave the silver coins. She realized that the hens were gone, leaving two shabby, and obviously uninhabited nests.

"The chickens," she whispered, glancing in Isaiah's direction. She couldn't see him, but she knew that he had heard when he began whispering to the king.

Just as she had decided on a place for the coins, she was surprised by the sound of a tiny voice.

"Hallo," it said. It was Gwin. Evey turned around slowly, not entirely sure what to do. She had never been caught before.

"Hello," she answered back.

The girl seemed completely unafraid, and went about her few chores as she spoke.

"You're from Robin Hood, aren't you?"

"What?" Evey still didn't understand the girl's nonchalance.

"I saw you before, one time. And then we found money in our boots. I knew it was Robin Hood, cause no one else ever gave us anything. Are you Maid Marion?"

"Uh, yes. Where's your mother?" Evey began to get nervous.

"Oh, she's down by the creek with the goat. She won't be back for a few minutes, at least. Where's Robin? Is he here too?"

"I'm here," Isaiah replied.

He pulled back the threadbare curtain, and the little girl squealed with delight.

"Oh, it is you! You aren't very tall, but I don't mind. Mum says we'd never get along without you. When I was a baby and you came, you saved us being homeless. And once we hadn't eaten for three whole days, and then we found eggs and money under the chickens that day. The chickens must have liked you, cause they hadn't laid a egg for a while."

"What's your name?" Isaiah asked gently, as if he'd known the girl his whole life.

"Oh, my name's Gwin."

"Well, Gwin, we have to go. There's lots of people we have to see. But give this to your mum. Don't tell her you saw us, though."

He signaled for Evey to hand her the coins, which she did.

"Oh, I won't tell anyone," Gwin said sincerely. "I know all about the king hunting you down, and how you had to rescue Marion from the dungeons, and how he's mad at you for helping us. I won't tell
him
anything."