Heart of Sherwood Read online

  All previous horror that had built up in Godfrey's emotions turned to silent rage. Every bit in command of this familiar sensation, he stared at Blanchard with lethal onyx eyes. "You," he began in a deliberate manner. "You mean to tell me that you fought with Hood, but he bested you with a sword and got away?" Pulses of dangerous wrath radiated from the sheriff's body as he took a step toward his deputy. "You stand here telling me this instead of pursuing him to the ends of the earth?"

  "Milord, I will go back out at once," he replied. "I assumed you would want to be informed…" he trailed off, lowering his head which sported a painful looking black eye.

  "Do you know what that churl did, Blanchard? Do you?" The Sheriff's words cut like a razor. "He absconded with Prince John's fortune." He stepped into the deputy's personal space forcing him to take a step back in turn.

  "We shall retrieve it at once!" he declared.

  Godfrey tilted his head considering this assistant who had served him for years. How could he have been so incompetent? Then reality melted away and his world became surreal. Nothing mattered anymore; this was the end of all things.

  "Prince John will kill me for this, but be assured, Blanchard–I will not go down alone." Instantly the knife from his belt was in his hand and he was plunging it into the heart of the burly man before him. Blanchard's eyes went wide in shock while thick, warm blood poured over Godfrey's hand. "You shall not fail me again."

  When he withdrew the blade, the deputy crumpled to the floor in a pool of crimson.

  Godfrey peered down at him in curiosity. "You don't look so big now," he sneered as the last life drained from the one who had been his second in command. He reached down and ripped a piece of cloth from Blanchard's tunic which he used to wipe his hand and blade. No, I will not go down alone. I will take as many outlaw-lovers and useless baggage with me as I can.

  Another knock sounded at his door. "Godfrey, quick!" The frantic cry was from his friend Guy.

  Godfrey sighed. "I cannot force Maid Marian to marry you and we have bigger problems." He opened the door a crack and peered out at Sir Guy through dead eyes.

  "Let me in!" he insisted. "I have to tell you what happened." Godfrey stepped aside, closing the door as soon as Gisborne cleared the threshold. "Oh good heavens!" he exclaimed upon seeing the deputy's body on the floor.

  "He shan't fail me again," he replied coldly. "Said Robin Hood beat him in a sword fight."

  "Oh dear, my friend, I fear he told the truth," Gisborne said in dismay. "On my oath, he is a fine swordsman; he even bested me! He took off with Maid Marian," he avowed, then stopped to rub his chin. "But, Godfrey, I think she wanted to go with him. It appears that she knew him and mayhap has been working with him all along. Impossible as it seems, she may have been our spy."

  "Bloody sardin' hell!" Godfrey ran a hand down his face as dread raised its vicious head. "They got the silver–all of it."

  "God's teeth!" Sir Guy's visage turned as pale as a weathered tombstone.

  "You should be safe; perhaps you could grovel and make a larger donation to His Highness. But I would suggest a hasty retreat to your estate until the Prince has time to calm down and regroup."

  "What about you?" Gisborne asked in genuine concern.

  "My only chance is to be off this island before he knows there is no money to hire the mercenaries." They nodded to one another and clasped hands. "Godspeed, old friend."

  "Saints protect you, Godfrey."

  *~*~*

  The rendezvous at the outlaw camp that afternoon was bittersweet. It was difficult for anyone to feel joy over their success given the price they had paid. By the time Arthur and Isaac had carried Roger to safety, he had succumbed to his wounds. They laid him on a blanket next to Will. Alan hugged his friend's mother close as he struggled not to break down himself.

  "Someone should say something," Much suggested. "Shouldn't someone say something?"

  "Friar Tuck isn't here," David answered as he sat on a log breaking twigs.

  Little John and Robyn exchanged glances and nodded to each other before Robyn stepped towards their peaceful bodies.

  "We all loved Will Scarlet," she began. "He could be moody and he could be gay; he could be pig-headed, but he was, by God, the most loyal friend." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It may appear that he betrayed our plans to the Sheriff, but think about it–was anyone guarding the chapel?" The lads looked from one to the other while she paused. "No. And did they arrest Friar Tuck and confiscate the wagon with which we planned to haul the loot? No. And do you know why?" They exchanged gazes again before turning their eyes to Robyn. "Because he didn't betray us at all. Gifford threw his innocent mother into the dungeon and threatened to kill her unless he revealed our plans. He told him something, alright; he told the Sheriff enough to make him believe he was telling the truth. But whatever he gave up, it wasn't our actual plan. Will's heart was as pure as a virgin snowfall. And when the fighting broke out, did he run away?" Little John and Alan dropped their chins. "No. He was in the thick of it, battling with all he had to protect his friends. Tell me, what would any of us have done in his place?" She passed her gaze over each of them. "Would not any of us do whatever was necessary to save our mothers?"

  "He should have told us," Little John grumbled. "We could have helped. He didn't have to go it alone."

  "I agree," Robyn said. "But Will felt a special burden of responsibility. When his father died, being the older son, the charge over his family fell to him. And what did he do? End up on the Sheriff's wanted list, branded an outlaw. He carried the guilt that he wasn't there to provide for his mother and brother. I think that is what drove him to feel the need to do this himself. But for whatever his shortcomings, Will Scarlet gave his very best to us today and every day."

  She stopped to sniff and wipe her nose as she could no longer hold back the tide of her sorrow.

  "Today we won, England won, because of the sacrifices of our friends. Most of you did not know Roger the farrier well, but I had the privilege to have known him. He was not one of us, but came to us after Giffard stole Loxley from its rightful heir and cut out his tongue for saying so much. He was a kind and gentle soul who loved his King." And his mistress, she thought. "Roger did not have to volunteer to go with us today, but rather he chose to, even though he was not trained to fight as the rest of us. He did that to stand up for every man, woman, and child that the Sheriff or Prince John or one of their lackeys had harmed. He wanted to count, to strike a blow against injustice. And, I think he believed that he had nothing to lose."

  Robyn took a breath and looked down at their fallen comrades.

  "They are heroes of England, and when we receive our pardons, I will ask King Richard that their names be cleared as well."

  The others nodded and verbalized their agreement. Then Gilbert asked, "Where shall we lay them to rest?"

  Will's mother spoke. "I will bury my son in the churchyard of St Mary of the Purification, in Blidworth. It is where his father and I were wed and where he was baptized as an infant. Will you help me?"

  They all agreed wholeheartedly. Then Robyn said, "Roger should be buried at Loxley, for it was his home. But as long as Giffard holds the estate that cannot be."

  "I think he would like to rest here in Sherwood," Isaac suggested. "He was at home here too."

  Robyn nodded. Then Alan, wiping at his eyes, said, "Will was my very best friend. I'm not sure what to do without him." Will's mother, still at his side, hugged him while they both shed tears and mourned his loss.

  *~*~*

  That evening, Robyn patrolled the perimeter of their camp by the light of a half-moon peering from behind mist-like clouds. She had feared the Sheriff or Prince John may have employed a skilled tracker to find them, but thus far it seemed that had not been the case.

  Now she remained too stirred up by the success and losses of the day to sleep anyway. Then she heard the sound of tromping footsteps approaching and crouched behind a shrub readying her bow.r />
  "Alan, what are you doing out here?" She rose, putting away her weapon upon recognizing him. He smelled of drink and still looked sad.

  "Oh, Robin!" he exclaimed as he drew to a halt. "Don't be jumpin' out from behind a bush at a fellow. I had to go in to see my Liz."

  Robyn gave him an incredulous stare and began to speak.

  "Now, before you go chastisin' me," he said raising his palms as if in surrender, "it turns out 'twas a good thing I did."

  "Alan, I can't believe you were foolish enough to go into town tonight of all times!"

  "See, there you go chastisin' me without even lettin' me tell you what I heard," he replied with impatience in his tone.

  "Very well; what is so important?" Although upset that he had taken such a risk when everyone was looking for them, she also understood. I wish I could have spent the evening with my girl.

  "So, I went to the tavern to see Liz and whilst I was waitin' for her to get off work, these two soldiers were down in their cups and goin' on about what they did this afternoon. Sheriff Giffard was so mad we stole the Prince's money and that he didn't catch you, he had to take out his anger on someone. So, remember that village we rescued a couple months back, Millhaven?"

  Robyn nodded, an uneasiness weaseling its way into her gut.

  Alan swallowed, his eyes starting to mist up again. "He took a group of men and burned it to the ground. The ones that was drinkin' said he ordered them to kill every man, woman and child, and even the livestock. They said, 'Even the livestock?' And they were feelin' guilt and shame over following the orders, but askin' each other, 'What were we to do?'"

  It felt like someone had struck a dagger into her chest and slashed her heart to shreds. Robyn bent over covering her face and praying that she would not be sick right then and there. She expelled a guttural utterance of pain that had no words.

  "I'm sorry to tell ye, but I knew you'd want to know. And I'm sorry for leaving camp, but I just had to... I needed Liz. I needed to know she was safe. You understand?" Alan took a step closer and reached out to steady Robyn.

  Her mouth went dry and her eyes moist, but she managed to hold herself together. That's on me! He killed all those people because of me–what I did, because he couldn't find me. Oh God, what have I done?

  She was shaking when she sensed Allen's comforting hand on her shoulder. No, another voice spoke inside her head. It was Godfrey Giffard; he killed them because he is a bloody ruthless bastard. He wants you to feel guilty and to use this to draw you out.

  "Robin, are you alright?" Alan asked with genuine concern.

  She nodded and straightened, rising with a grave intensity in her eyes. She turned around the guilt and grief and focused all her emotions on her enemy. What they had done was right and necessary. That tax money was collected from people to free King Richard and the treacherous John had used it for his own purposes. It had to go to the Queen; there was simply no question about it. And Giffard? "First Will and Roger, and now the entire hamlet of Millhaven," she said in a dark, determined tone. "There is something I must do."

  "I'll come with you," he volunteered.

  "Nay; I need you to stay here and watch over the camp. Keep vigil in case any of us was followed and sound the alarm if soldiers arrive. This is personal."

  Her eyes bore into his with such grim purpose that he withdrew his hand, concern showing in his expression. With a nod, she struck out past him into the woods. "Where are you goin'?"

  Robyn half turned around to meet his gaze. "To do something I should have done a long time ago."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Loxley Manor, very late that night

  Godfrey Giffard hastily packed a leather shoulder bag that rested on the bed of the lord's chamber of his recently acquired manor. The furnishings had all been selected and placed there by the late Earl, as Godfrey had not had time to remodel and make the space his own. Since his flight would be swift and secret, he would employ no wagon or retainers to carry trunks, so most of his belongings must be left behind. As he stuffed some documents into a side pocket, he considered, I have relations in Normandy… but Richard rules there as well. Mayhap I shall go to the Danes. I have always admired the Danes. He knew the expeditious way in which Prince John dealt with those who crossed or failed him; thus, he had set guards all about the house and grounds with instructions to watch for and intercept assassins who might come for him. Nonetheless, he hoped His Highness would not be so quick to think to look at Loxley estate.

  He selected a few of his favorite tunics and stowed them into the main body of the satchel over the trousers he had already placed there. The money pouch on his belt bulged where he had crammed every coin he could fit into it. Just room for a few personal items. His eyes scanned the candle-lit chamber as he reflected, I shall never see this place again; I shall never see England again. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that his skill and experience would make opportunities for him in whichever land he settled. His finest steed was saddled and ready in the yard below, so as soon as he was finished packing—

  Whoosh, thunk!

  Alarmed, Godfrey's head snapped up and his mouth gaped at the arrow that jutted from the wall opposite the bedchamber window. He straightened and tore his broadsword from its scabbard as he spun to face the opening. There, shrouded in his forest green cloak and hood, stood the lean figure of his arch-nemeses, Robin Hood.

  "Guards!" he bellowed as his obsidian eyes flashed with fury.

  "Now, now, Sheriff," the interloper chided in a tone that was far too intrepid. "Certainly you do not think that I left anyone conscious downstairs who may interrupt our personal duel, do you?"

  "So much for your sense of fair play, coming to murder me with an arrow to my back," he growled.

  Hood's mouth turned in a humorless half-smile as he slung the bow over his shoulder and drew a battle-worn sword. "If I was aiming for you, be assured I would not have missed."

  "Then you are a fool, for I shall cut you to ribbons!"

  Filled with rage, Godfrey charged toward the window, but the nimble thief sidestepped him with ease. Then, in the open area of the large chamber, the combat began. Settling himself deep into his stance, Godfrey reined in his emotions. Don't be thrown off by his wiles; you have a chance now! The fool came to you and now you can finish him and retrieve the silver.

  Calmed by renewed hope, he opened his assault with a thrust, but the archer parried his strikes and followed up with a perfectly executed riposte. As they danced about the room, matching blow for blow, the Sheriff became increasingly aware that his foe did possess skill after all.

  The outlaw must have read the expression on his face, for he began to taunt him. "You were not expecting me to match you with a blade, were you? Didn't Blanchard and Gisborne tell you of our bouts?"

  "Aye, but you are no match for me," he declared and launched into a feint designed to trick Hood into leaving him an opening to strike; unfortunately, the churl was not fooled. He then had to back-step while Hood advanced with seriously vicious slashes. He warded them off, but not without receiving a small cut on his sword arm. All at once it came to him. "You are being tutored by that bloody Friar Tuck!"

  Another smile appeared on that youthful, beardless face. "Indeed. He is a most excellent teacher."

  "Take heed, Hood–I am a better one!" he spat out and lunged forward drawing blood from the outlaw's upper arm, but was unable to deal a serious injury. "Now we are even; however, know that you shall not leave this room alive. I will enact my revenge!" A sharp exchange followed, causing sparks to fly from their steel.

  Hood rounded, keeping his back away from walls. Godfrey noticed a change in his attacker's expression at his words. It darkened menacingly. "You should not have killed the innocent people of Millhaven. Their blood has cried out to God Almighty, and I am come on their behalf, as well as for my friends who died in Nottingham this day, and for every citizen you wrongfully imprisoned, banished, or executed. Your time is at an end."

>   "No one is innocent," he spat with disdain.

  "Least of all you!" The series of blows knocked Godfrey back, but he parried them nonetheless.

  "Do not imagine yourself to be my better," he snarled. "You are nothing! I killed my own deputy for failing to catch you, so do not think you will escape my wrath." He saw the surprise–no the shock–that registered in the outlaw's face and took that opportunity to move in with a backhanded slice. The scoundrel had been taken aback by his declaration, yet still managed to turn away from his strike and counter attack with his own. How is it that this leggy trifle, known for his bow, can hold his own with a sword like this?

  Amid careful footwork, Hood retorted in a disgusted tone, "You murdered your own deputy?"

  "He failed me too many times; no one does that and lives. What is it to you?" Hood shook his head and pinned him with piercing chestnut eyes. Brown eyes… I've never been near enough to see them before. I shall be the man to close them forever!

  "You have failed the people of Nottinghamshire and your King for the last time," came his biting words. Next the young brigand took a bizarre action; he opened the large wardrobe affixed to the wall behind him, stepped in, and closed the doors.

  For an instant the Sheriff simply stood in confusion, baffled by the idiocy. Upon abandoning the search for reason, he plunged his blade into the oak paneled doors several times. There was no cry of pain, and on the last thrust his broadsword became wedged in the wood. He had to brace his boot against the wardrobe and use both hands to dislodge it. Just as he was about to open the cabinet and examine the body, he experienced a tingling sensation and the distinct feeling that someone was behind him. Spinning around, his eyes went as round as saucers to see Hood standing there.

  He quickly raised his blade, but was too stunned to think of a single strategic play.