“Night is falling,” Much said. “I’ll get Giles. He’s the best tracker we have.”
“Yes, good. Send him ahead to catch them out. Will, you and I will follow and see what these scoundrels are made of—”
“And me, I’m going too,” Marian said.
“Marian—” She gave Robin such a look that he drew back. “I think I may pity these fellows when you find them, my dear.”
“We can make jokes later, when they’re safe.”
“Yes. Marian—” His voice caught, and she nearly burst into tears at that. Instead, she threw herself into his arms and clung there. He pressed his face against her neck, and they drew all the comfort they could from one another, their arguments forgotten.
In scant minutes they were ready, a troop of a dozen or so with weapons and shuttered lanterns, and strict instructions from Much to stay back until called. Still, it was too long, and Marian’s thoughts kept slipping to what such men might do to children, and all to get at their father. She had changed into a tunic and leggings, pinned up her hair, donned an old wool hood. Looked just like a forester.
She returned to the hall to tell Robin it was time to go and found him sitting with Little John. The injured man was bundled with blankets, fast and warm, and finally seemed to be close to sleep. She might have told Robin to let him be, but they were speaking quietly. Smiling, as if no time had passed. And oh, please let this be a reconciliation between them. Robin was a stronger man with Little John beside him.
Quietly, she drew close and listened.
“Rob, why did you name the boy John? I understand why Mary and Eleanor. But why would you name the boy after that horrible man?”
Robin chuckled, and the sound came out harsh. “He’s named for you, you brute.”
John stared as if such a thing had never occurred to him. “Oh.”
“Why did you never come home, my friend? You’d have been welcome any time. You should have come home.”
“You should not have gone to Westminster.” Robin gave him a look, and John ducked his gaze. “Sherwood is the only place I fit. The trees are bigger than I am.”
Marian scuffed her feet to make a sound. “Robin, we’re ready.” She held his bow and quiver to him. He approached to take them from her, and in his gaze she saw both rage and delight. He had once made a career of revenge.
He marched out. John gazed longingly after.
“Stay there,” Marian commanded. “Don’t try to follow, you’ll bleed out.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“We’ll return shortly. And—thank you for looking after my children.”
Little John grinned.
v
SOON ENOUGH, THEIR CAPTORS threw them down and made them walk, awkward and stumbling with their hands tied, choking on the gags. At least they hadn’t gagged Eleanor, but then, she hadn’t yet made a sound. Mary’s sister tried staying close to her, but one of the men would come along and shove her apart, just for the sake of doing so, it seemed. They didn’t travel very deep into the forest; they paralleled the road, even while keeping out of sight of it. Likely, they were meeting another party there. More enemies, more danger.
Finally, they stopped to rest. One of them kicked Mary’s and John’s feet out from under them, so they fell over. The men passed around water sacks but didn’t move to let their prisoners drink.
The ruddy-bearded man, Edmund, stood before them and looked them over, scowling at John and Mary. He considered Eleanor further.
“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? Not even a scream from you.”
Eleanor stared at him, owl-like, in that disconcerting way she had when she was unhappy.
“What’s your name, then?”
Nothing. Mary’s heart raced, knowing what would come next and being unable to stop it.
“I asked you your name, girl. What is it?” Eleanor was half his size—no, smaller even—but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her face, squeezing, pushing until he shoved her against a tree. She didn’t even squeak.
Mary did. She screamed, muffled against the gag, and thrashed against her bonds. Anything to get his attention. She choked herself on her own desperation. But the bully let Eleanor go, thank God.