She stared pensively at the grey sky. It could rain again. She hoped that
her grandfather had sought shelter somewhere. He was an old man. His body
would not take kindly to the dampness and cold. She could barely stand to
think of him out there all alone. What if he was ill or injured?
A tear rolled down her cheek. There was no one to help him. No one to make
sure that he was dressed warmly or eating a proper meal. He could be dying
in a ditch somewhere with only his horse to watch over him...
“What’s the matter?” the man behind her demanded when Enide began to weep.
“My grandfather could be dead now and it’s all your fault!” Enide wailed.
The vagabond tugged sharply on the reins and the horse stopped. “Listen, I’ve never even met your grandfather, lady! You can’t accuse me of
that!”
“Yes, I can! I might have found him by now if you hadn’t kidnapped me.
And...and perhaps Guy would have...would have helped me look for him if he
hadn’t been so busy chasing after you.”
“I doubt it,” the vagabond mumbled.
“Now...now Guy’s lying in Sherwood somewhere with an arrow in his chest!”
“Hold on!” the vagabond protested. “I only hit him on the head! I...I don’t
even own a longbow!”
“But Robin Hood does! He’ll have found Guy and planted an arrow in his
chest!”
“You don’t know that! Guy might have ducked or...or hid behind a tree!”
“Not if he’d just woken up! He would have been confused, disorientated...”
“He’s probably back in Nottingham Castle in front of a nice warm fire,”
the vagabond argued. “I wish I was,” he murmured under his breath.
Enide shook her head vehemently. “He’s dead. I know he’s dead. He’s dead and so is my grandfather. You’re
not just a thief now...You’re a murderer!”
The vagabond drew back in shock, and Enide twisted free of his grasp,
slipping off the horse.
“Come back here!” the vagabond shouted.
Enide glanced at her captor briefly then dived into some bushes. The vagabond cursed and urged the
reluctant horse off the road.
The outlaws separated into two groups. By splitting up, they hoped to find
the vagabond and Enide more quickly. Robin sent John, Will and Much to visit
the villages in case any of the people had spotted the pair or heard news of
two individuals fitting their description. Robin, Tuck and Nasir had focused
their efforts on picking up any trail they might have left as they travelled
through the forest.
They went to the spot where Matthew said he had found Gisburne and
discovered the vagabond’s old camp. Now it just remained for Nasir to track
the impressions left in the mud by Enide’s horse. The Saracen felt confident
that they would be able to locate the vagabond and his captive easily.
Indeed, it seemed that they had a better chance of success than their
friends did. They had certainly fared better than the two knights.
Sir George and Sir Guy were arguing about the younger knight’s sense of
direction. Gisburne insisted that he had an excellent sense of direction,
while Sir George believed that his old squire had no sense of direction at
all.
“We’ve been going around in a circle for the past hour!” Sir George said.
“No, we haven’t,” Gisburne answered. “You just think we are. One tree looks
very much like another.”
“Oh? And what about that tree with the big X carved in it?”
Gisburne reluctantly looked in the direction Sir George was pointing in, then closed
his eyes in exasperation. “All right,” he conceded. “We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”
“Just the one?” Sir George asked. “Bah! I thought you said you knew the
forest well.”
“I do!” Gisburne lied earnestly. “I should. I’ve been hunting those
wolfsheads for years.”
“And do you ever wonder why you’ve never managed to catch them?”
Gisburne flushed, but said nothing. Then he stopped his horse, swung down from the
saddle and disappeared through some trees.
Sir George sighed, wishing he had been wise enough to clamp down on his tongue. He dismounted his horse
and then tethered both animals to a tree. Guy had probably gone off to have a good long sulk, so Sir George
decided that he might as well take advantage of the situation and rest. He found a
fairly comfortable spot on the forest floor and stretched out. Some faint
rays of sunlight had begun to poke through the clouds. Sir George shut his
eyes and wondered why the ground felt softer during the day than at night.
He woke up when Gisburne crashed through some bushes a short time later.
Sir George blinked at him curiously, especially when he noticed the dead
rabbit in Gisburne’s hands.
“You caught that?” Sir George asked in astonishment.
“No, of course not! What do you take me for? A poacher?”
“Well, then, where did you...? How did you...?”
“I caught the poacher myself, didn’t I?" Gisburne said. "I told him to give me the rabbit or
I would arrest him and take him back to Nottingham.”
“But that’s stealing!”
“No, it’s justice. He shouldn’t have been poaching in the first place. And,
besides, I was hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“My granddaughter is missing and all you can think of is your stomach?”
Sir George exclaimed.
“Oh, and what about you? I suppose it’s all right for you to take a nap!”
Sir George blushed and tried to look away. “I’m...I’m an old man,” he muttered.
“And I’m a hungry one.” Gisburne laid the rabbit down on the ground and
disappeared through the trees again. God’s Legs, surely the rabbit is
enough, Sir George thought. He sighed and pulled out his dagger. If Guy
insisted on eating a meal, the least he could do was help. He picked up the
rabbit and began the unpleasant task of skinning it. He was almost
half-finished when Gisburne returned to their makeshift camp, his arms full of
sticks and branches. He dumped them with a grunt, then knelt beside the
pile.
“You’ll never start a fire with those," Sir George said. "They’re too damp.”
“It was the driest wood I could find!”
“They’ll never light.”
“Oh, yes they will,” Gisburne grumbled. He dug into the pile and pulled out
two sticks. He glared at Sir George as if expecting him to provide further
advice, but the older knight had returned to his task. Gisburne waited a
moment, then started to rub the two sticks together.
It took time but Gisburne eventually managed to produce a tiny whiff of
smoke. The branch caught on fire and a weak but steady flame arose. The
younger knight made no attempt to conceal his smirk as Sir George stuck the
rabbit on a spit and placed it over the fire.
“You realize, of course, that your vagabond is probably miles away by now,”
Sir George said.
“He can’t ride forever. He’ll have to stop to rest the horses, and Enide’s
bound to be tired.”
“Or dead," Sir George argued, trying to keep
the tremor from his voice. "She could be dead, you know,”
“No, he’d be mad to kill her. He’s in enough trouble as it is.”
“Then perhaps he no longer feels he has anything to lose.”
Gisburne shrugged. It was certainly a possibility.
“She would slow him down, hinder his escape,” Sir George continued.
“Yes, she would,” Gisburne admitted.
“Then there’s no reason why he wouldn’t kill her!”
“Well...”
Sir George leapt to his feet with surprising agility. “Stay and stuff your belly full of
rabbit if you wish,” he said, “but I have to find my granddaughter.” He untied his horse’s reins and led
it out of the clearing. Gisburne watched him go but remained stubbornly by
the fire. He was starving and the rabbit was beginning to smell so good...
“Damn him,” Gisburne cursed. He snatched the spit off the fire and walked
towards his horse.
* * * *
The novice entered the infirmary, her eyes taking in a long row of beds as
they searched for the sister she had been sent to fetch. At last they fell
upon the young nun with the pale freckled face. She was tending to a boy who
was sick with fever. The concern was etched in her face. The novice
approached her timidly, unwilling to disturb the woman but afraid to disobey
her prioress.
“Sister Marion...”
The nun looked up in surprise. Then a smile slowly appeared on her lips as she took in the wide
blue eyes of the reluctant messenger.
“Yes, what is it, Agnes?”
“The Reverend Mother wishes to see you, sister,” Agnes said. Then she
looked around quickly and lowered her voice. “There’s a lady here. Says she was kidnapped by a vagabond
and that Robin Hood killed her grandfather and some knight. Oh, what was his name...? Sir Guy! Yes,
that’s it.”
Marion’s eyebrows almost disappeared beneath her wimple, but she managed to keep the rest of her face composed.
“She seemed very upset. The Reverend Mother has tried to calm her,
but...Well, she thought you might be able to help her because you...uh...”
Marion rose to her feet. “Where is the lady now?”
“We took her to a chamber to rest, though she says she can’t rest until she
knows what happened to her grandfather.”
“And Sir Guy?” Marion asked wryly.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Marion sighed. “I’d better go speak to her,” she said. She allowed the novice to lead her
from the infirmary, pausing only briefly to ask another nun to keep an
attentive eye on her patient.
They soon reached the chamber in question. Marion knocked then entered,
the timid but curious novice accompanying her. The room’s occupants were
seated on the edge of the bed. The Prioress eyed Marion in relief. The lady
with the red eyes glared at her as if resenting the intrusion.
“Marion, how good it was of you to come so quickly. This is Lady Enide de
Girault,” the Prioress stated, with a wave of her hand at the surly young
woman.
Marion stepped forward and saw, on closer inspection, that the lady’s
braids had started to come loose and her hair was matted in spots with a
twig or a bur. There were also some scratches on her hands and one that ran
along her right cheek. So the lady really had been travelling through
Sherwood.
“How did you end up in such a state?” Marion asked bluntly.
Enide glanced at her sharply. “I was trying to escape from a vagabond who had kidnapped me from an
alehouse. When I happened upon this priory, I thought I had found a
sanctuary...peace.” She looked at the prioress coldly. “It seems I was
mistaken.”
The Prioress laid a hand on Enide’s shoulder. “My child, you’re exhausted and not thinking clearly.
If in a few days – ”
“A few days?” Enide cried. “I can’t wait a few days! I want to take my vows
now.”
“You wish to become a nun?” Marion said in surprise.
“The world is such a cold harsh place," Enide replied bitterly. "I can abide it no longer.”
“So you came here to run away from it.”
“Why not? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Marion opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of a suitable response.
“No, my child, that isn’t why she is here,” the Prioress said
patiently. “It isn’t why any of us are here. We’re here to serve God, the
Father of this ‘cold harsh world’.”
Enide bowed her head and blushed. “Forgive me, Mother. I...I...” Enide placed her head in her hands and began
to weep. The Prioress wrapped an arm around the shaking shoulders and gazed
at Marion beseechingly.
When the tears had subsided, the Prioress lifted her arm from the lady’s
shoulders and Marion sat in her place.
“I’d like to hear the rest of your story,” Marion said gently. Enide stared at
her for a moment, then managed a meagre smile. Soon she was telling Marion
about everything that had happened since she had arrived in Nottingham.
“Now do you understand why I wish to take my vows? What else can I do now that my grandfather and Guy are dead?”
“But they aren’t dead!” Marion exclaimed.
Enide shook her head sadly. “If only I could believe that was true.”
“Did you see them die?”
“No, but I saw Guy go down when the vagabond hit him on the head.”
“So they could still be alive.”
“What if Guy never woke up? What if that villain smashed his skull?”
“You said you tried to staunch the blood with your handkerchief. Did his
skull look as if it had been smashed?”
“No,” Enide admitted.
Marion smiled. “Then he’s probably still alive.”
“But...but what if Robin Hood found him? They’re enemies, you know.”
“Yes, I know that,” Marion said, carefully avoiding Enide’s eyes.
“So why would Robin Hood spare his life?”
“Because he is a just and honourable man,” the Prioress replied, studying
Marion.
“Then you think Guy is his prisoner?”
“Yes, he could be,” Marion said.
Enide sat in thought for a moment, absorbing this piece of information. “What about Grandfather?” she
demanded suddenly. “He’s an old man. What if he’s ill or-or lost in the forest?”
Both Marion and the prioress sighed. Then Marion rose from the bed and beckoned the Prioress into a corner of the chamber.
"If her grandfather is still in Sherwood, I believe I could find him,
Reverend Mother,” Marion whispered.
“Do you think that’s wise, my child? Think of the dangers.”
Dangers? Marion wondered if the prioress was referring to murderous cutthroats or the
influence of old friends. “I know Sherwood better than almost anyone," Marion said. "I’ll be safe.”
The Prioress still didn’t look convinced.
“I’ll be careful,” Marion persisted.
“You’ll return before nightfall whether you find the girl’s grandfather or
not.”
It wasn’t a lot of time, but Marion knew she had been lucky to gain the Prioress’ permission at all.
“Yes, Reverend Mother,” she said.
The Prioress smiled kindly and embraced Marion quickly before the nun
headed towards the door. The nun had barely shut it behind her when she heard
Enide exclaim, “She’s that Marion?”
Nasir had been following the road faithfully when suddenly he crouched
down, studied the muddy ground intently, and faded into the trees. Robin and
Tuck exchanged amused glances and followed the Saracen. He had stopped again
to examine the ground.
“The girl broke away," Nasir explained. "You can see where she ran,” he added,
indicating a series of footprints.
“He’s chasing her,” Robin said. He knelt down beside his friend and
gestured to the tracks made by the horse.
“Yes, he came this way," Nasir answered with a smile. "I could see that without looking at the ground. He
broke many branches when he rode through on the horse.” Both men rose.
“How far could she have gotten on foot before he caught her again?”
Tuck asked.
“There are parts of Sherwood that a horse can’t reach,” Robin said, “but
even if he has captured her again, we’ll still find her.”
“Well, I don’t see her anywhere,” Scarlet grumbled, grabbing the water-bag
from Much.
“Perhaps Robin found her,” Much said, snatching the water-bag back once
Will had had his fill.
The outlaws had stopped to rest on Will’s insistence. They were now sprawled in a glade
with a small patch of sunlight to spare.
“They could have left Sherwood,” John said, rubbing his beard
thoughtfully. “If they travelled all night, they could have been miles away
before we even came across Gisburne.”
“Gisburne,” Will growled. “This is all ’is doing. We wouldn’t even be ’ere
if it wasn’t for ’im!”
“And Sir George,” Much piped up cheerfully.
“I hate knights,” Will said.
“What about Sir Richard? You can’t hate him. He’s Marion’s father.”
Will glared at Much, then smiled faintly. “All right," he admitted. "I don’t ’ate Leaford, but
I don’t trust ’im either. ’E turned ’is back on us after Loxley died. Only came to us again
when Marion was in danger.”
“Aye," John said, "but he’s still a good man, Will.”
Scarlet grumbled something unintelligible in reply.
“If only Sir George knew Sir Richard," Much mused almost dreamily. "He could ask him to go on the quest
instead of Gisburne...”
Will whacked Much on the head with the water-bag. “I’m sick of ’earing about this bloody quest!
Real soldiers don’t ’ave time for that kind of nonsense. And I don’t ’ave time to lay around ’ere all day.
I’m going back to the camp.”
“But what about Sir George’s granddaughter?” Much demanded.
“It’s ’opeless. We’ve looked everywhere. She could be dead for all we
know.”
“She’s in trouble and she needs our help, Will. We can’t just leave her!
What would Robin say?”
“She’s one of ’is kind. Let ’im look for ’er.”
Much stared at Will in disbelief. “I...I...You’re just saying that because you don’t like Sir George!”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Well, I like him!”
“Then maybe you should go on ’is bloody quest with ’im!”
“Maybe I will!”
“Then you’d better – ”
John clamped a hand over Scarlet’s mouth. “Quiet! Both of you!” he hissed. “I can hear something.”
Will and Much forgot their quarrel. Will pulled John’s hand from his mouth and crept out
of the glade.
For some time, John and Much could only hear the twitter of birds and the
creaking of branches in the wind. Then there was a loud startled cry.
The outlaws stood up quickly and would have ran to their friend’s aid if
Will hadn’t appeared first with a captive in tow. The captive didn’t struggle much, but then he had Will’s dagger at his throat.
“Who’s this?” John asked.
“Well, who do you think?” Will said.
Much walked up to the stranger and gazed into his face. “The vagabond?” he asked.
“Yeah!”
“How do you know?”
“’E was riding a horse,” Will said. He waited for a response, but John
and Much were still looking at him expectantly. “'Ow many men do you know who carry ribbons in their saddlebags?”
“Ah,” John said.
Much continued to stare at the vagabond. “But where’s Sir George’s granddaughter?”
“That’s just what I was about to ask ’im, Much,” Will said. “Where
is she?” he barked, pushing the vagabond against a tree.
“Who?” the vagabond cried, more surprised than frightened.
“I want to know what you’ve done with...What’s ’er name again, John?”
“Uh...Edith, I think.”
“Yeah? I want – I demand to know what you’ve done with Lady Edith...de
Jerot.”
“Who?”
“The lady you took from Nottingham!”
“Oh, her! She...uh...She got away.”
“Got away?” Will exclaimed. “Do you really expect us to believe that?”
“It’s true! I swear it! She got away! She broke free and slid off the
horse. I tried to find her again, but she disappeared.”
“Tried to find ’er, did you? Why? So you could cut ’er pretty throat?”
Will demanded, pushing him again.
“No! I don’t want to kill her! I only took her to get away from Gisburne!”
The tight grip loosened a little, though Will refused to relinquish his hold
altogether. “Is Gisburne really chasing you?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Why does he chase anyone?”
“You stole something?”
The vagabond nodded, not meeting Will’s gaze.
“You stole a lot of things?” Will said.
“Aye,” the vagabond admitted softly.
“Did you...?” Will paused meaningfully. “Did you steal anything from
Gisburne...besides his bride?”
“What?” The vagabond’s head jerked up sharply, the look of fear clearly
evident in his eyes.
Will grinned and clapped the vagabond on the shoulder, while
John and Much finally released the laughter they had been trying to stifle.
“That’s not funny!” the vagabond shouted.
“Ah, now look what you’ve done," John said. "You’ve frightened the little fellow.”
Will crossed his arms. “’E should be frightened. She might not be Gisburne’s bride, but ’e’s still
trying to find ’er.”
“And so’s Sir George,” Much added.
“Sir George?” the vagabond asked nervously.
“’Er grandfather,” Will explained.
“Then he’s still alive?” The vagabond drew a huge sigh of relief. “Praise
be to God!” When he received strange glances from the outlaws, the vagabond
told them about Enide’s wild accusations and her belief that her captor was
a murderer.
John started to chuckle quietly. “She didn’t escape from you, lad: you escaped from her!”
“You’re lucky you got rid of ’er,” Will said. “If it ’ad been me, I
think I would have begged Gisburne to take ’er back!”
“Well, I can’t say I miss her much,” the vagabond confessed with a smile.
“What will you do now you’re free of her?” John asked.
The vagabond stared at him, taken aback. “I...I don’t know. I thought that would be your decision, not mine.”
“Then I say we go back to the camp,” Will suggested.
“But what about Sir George and his granddaughter?” Much said.
“I don’t give a damn about Sir George or ’is granddaughter!”
“But Robin said – ”
“Robin said we should find Lady Edith and the vagabond. Well, I found the vagabond, didn’t I?
And I asked ’im where Lady Edith was, but ’e didn’t know. So
I’ve done everything I can do, ’aven’t I?” Much nodded glumly. “Well, what’s
the trouble, then?” Will gave Much an encouraging shove, and the four men
began walking to the camp.
