Hooded Man (69 page)

“Sire, sire!” This came from behind and the Tsar whirled around. It was the radio operator from the AFV they’d travelled in. “I have news of the other skirmish.”

“Ah, excellent.” The Tsar’s smile intensified.

“Our... our forces have been...” – the Tsar smiled expectantly – “...defeated.”

“What?” The Tsar grabbed the messenger by his collar. “Repeat that, man.”

“I... They have been defeated, sire.”

“You lie!”

The man shook his head. “One of the remaining vehicles just checked in. Commander Bohuslav’s.”

Remaining vehicles? What the fuck was this cretin talking about? The Tsar had sent enough firepower to lay waste to an entire city. And what did Hood’s men have? Sticks and stones! How was this possible? Bohuslav. He was to blame. Oh, when he got his sorry hide back here the Tsar would personally punish him.

“He himself is reported to be extremely badly injured,” the man blurted out, still petrified. “Near to death, in fact.”

“Bohuslav?”

The Tsar looked across at Tanek, who was nodding and grinning, probably at the thought of Bohuslav’s fatal wounds. “Impressive,” said the giant, “even for Hood.”

The Tsar shook his man again, tightening his grip.

“They... the enemy suffered heavy losses as well, majesty,” he blurted, probably hoping to be spared the Tsar’s wrath, “including the Hooded Man himself.”

At this news, the Tsar did let him go. The messenger fell to the ground, landing on his backside. Without even bothering to get up, he crawled away in case the Tsar should change his mind.

“Not so impressive, after all,” the Tsar countered, and forced a smile – though he couldn’t help thinking it had taken all those tanks, armoured vehicles and men to bring down that one man.

“Can we be certain he’s dead?” This came from Adele.

The Tsar glowered. “What is the matter? You seem disappointed.”

She shook her head. “It’s just that I hoped I might be the one to kill him.”

The Tsar nodded. He could understand that. He’d never met the man and he wished he could have done the deed personally. Now they’d both have to settle for recovering the body and putting the head on a pike.

“Those still alive will return to the castle,” Tanek said, not reacting to the news about Hood at all. Perhaps he didn’t really believe it.

“But they will not be expecting us to be here. They will return, battered and exhausted, leaderless, demoralised, expecting a warm welcome... only to find guns jammed in their faces instead. We have more than enough men to stand against them, taking into account our new comrades from the cult and these prisoners.”

As he waved a hand at the folk from the hotel, there was a sudden cry from one of them, a short woman dressed in scrubs, with a Ranger’s jacket on top. “Mary!” She’d broken ranks and was attempting to get to them, in spite of several automatic weapons now trained on her. But she was unarmed, and the Tsar was curious about who she was. He held up a hand to signal the men to hold their fire. She couldn’t do much harm with the twins and Tanek standing so close by.

“Mary,” cried the woman again, tears in her eyes. “Mary, what have they done to you?”

“And who might you be?” the Tsar asked.

She glared at him before answering. “Lucy Hill.”

The Tsar looked across at Adele, who shrugged. She’d obviously not had much contact with this woman who’d been lumped in with the prisoners. Lucy took another step towards Mary, but it was one of the twins – Ying – who stood in her way this time, arms folded.

“Please,” said Lucy, the tone of her voice changing from defiant to pathetic, “let me go to her. She’s been training me as a nurse and –”

“Oh, dear. If only you’d been here ten minutes ago,” the Tsar cut in. “We have just learned that we have no further use for her. You see, Hood is dead.”

“Robert?” Now the tears ran freely down Lucy’s cheeks. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you like. It is the truth.”

Tanek placed a hand on Ying’s shoulder, and was lucky the bodyguard didn’t cut it clean off. “Let her go to the woman,” he said, making it sound more like a command.

“But why?” asked the Tsar. “What purpose would it serve?”

He didn’t answer, but that just backed up what the Tsar suspected. Tanek didn’t believe Hood was dead either. He sighed and nodded for Ying to let the nurse through. What did it matter to him if Hood’s woman was fixed up, only to be executed later? It was their time and energy they were wasting, not his.

Ying moved aside and Lucy went to Mary, immediately checking her over. Tanek moved to join her, but the Tsar was not quite finished with him yet. “I want to know where Hood’s closest companions are,” he told the giant. “That is your priority.”

Tanek tipped his head, then continued on his path. Lucy said something to him the Tsar didn’t quite catch, but the next thing he knew Hood’s woman was being taken back up to the castle with the nurse. Tanek and Adele followed on behind, but took a different route when they reached the steps, heading down instead of up.

“As useful as he has been, I think Bohuslav may have been correct about Tanek. The time is fast approaching when he will have outlived his usefulness. Do you not agree?” the Tsar said to Ying and Xue. The women concurred with silent nods. “And when that time comes, I will call on one of you to do the honours.”

They smiled, no doubt remembering the embarrassment of not being able to best Tanek back in Russia.

The Tsar would have smiled himself, were it not that he might have to give the same instruction about Adele, depending on where her loyalties lay. He hoped she would be sensible and see the benefits of life with him. Who knew, if she behaved herself and lived up to his expectations – in all departments – he might even give her this castle as a present. Call it her inheritance.

In the meantime, they at least had something to celebrate.

The Hooded Man was dead. The Tsar was sure of it, even if Tanek wasn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
HE MAN SHOULD
be dead.

But instead of getting him back to Mary so she could treat his injuries, Bill had done as Robert requested. Once he’d cleaned up his wounds – stitching up the deep cuts in the shoulder and thigh before applying proper bandages and antiseptic – Bill had taken his former leader to Sherwood, bringing the Gazelle down in the car park of the old visitor’s centre.

All the way here, Bill kept glancing over at him, as Robert drifted in and out of consciousness.
One o’ these times I’m going to look and ’e won’t wake up,
Bill thought. Robert was that bad. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Robert this way before, after the explosion at Mary’s farm. But even then he hadn’t looked this ill, this close to the end.

Bill remembered them bringing Robert to camp – Jack carrying the man into his tent, Mary by his side, as she’d been ever since. Days later, Bill was flying him into Nottingham for the final battle, where Robert took on the Sheriff alone. He shouldn’t have been fit enough then, either. Shouldn’t have recovered nearly as quickly as he did, even with Mary’s attentions.

They’d been in Sherwood, though, hadn’t they? Robert had been in Sherwood. So maybe he did have a point after –

Bill dismissed the notion. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that as they flew to the forest, Robert seemed to rouse from his stupor. He was muttering something, half dreaming, calling out Mary’s name.

“Right, we’re here,” Bill informed him when the helicopter was down.

Robert lolled to one side. Then he opened his eyes wide and Bill saw him take a good look at the trees, before his eyelids began to flicker again and then close. Bill shook his shoulder gently.

“Let me take you back home, lad.”

Robert coughed, then mumbled: “I am home.” He was clawing at the door, fingers uselessly slipping off the handle.

Bill climbed out, rounded the chopper and opened the door. He had to catch Robert as he fell out. “Judas Priest, yer in no fit state t’be goin’ anywhere!”

Almost as soon as he’d said the words, he felt Robert stiffening, summoning strength from somewhere, forcing his legs to support him. Robert lifted his arm, pointing in the direction of the forest.

Bill had to half carry him down the path that led to the Major Oak. When they reached the ancient tree, Robert craned his head.

Then, nodding, he shooed away Bill’s hands and leaned on the fence surrounding it.

“Robert, come on. Enough’s enough.”

“Don’t... don’t try to... Bill, promise me you’ll... stay here... The others... They’ll... they’ll be arriving soon...”

“What others?” Bill said, fearing he’d lost his mind completely.

“This... this is where it’s going to happen... They’ll die unless...”

“Yer not makin’ any sense, Robert.”

“Promise me!” repeated Robert, his voice strengthening.

“Aye, all right. Bugger off, then!”

Robert was already pulling up his hood and stumbling away, using the fence and the trees for support as he made his way into the forest. Bill nearly went after him, but something held him back. Something told him to go and wait with the Gazelle, even though he was almost certainly leaving the Hooded Man to die amongst the trees.

And his legend along with him.

T
HEY WERE PUSHING
the horses too hard, even Dale could see that.

But he’d made a promise – and even as he was riding his mount across the next hillside, Dale wondered how Robert was. Robert, who he’d left in that field, bleeding to death but insisting that they go because the castle was – or very soon would be – under attack. Mary was in danger, that was the man’s one and only thought, but how exactly was Dale going to explain to her that he’d abandoned the man she loved?

“We’ll send back help...”

He’d shouted that as they’d left and he’d meant it. As soon as they’d assessed the situation at the castle, tackled the threat – and just how exactly are you planning on doing that? Take on another army with your own numbers depleted and no Robert to lead the charge? – Dale would do it, he’d send medical aid and –

But Lord knows how long all that would take. Robert might be –
would
be – dead by then. He’d lost a lot of blood from the sickle wounds, had been crippled by that jeep.

Dale squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, willing himself not to think about it. But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Robert’s mangled body.

Quit it! He’s relying on you to get to Mary, Dale. Now, I know you’ve never cared enough about a woman to sacrifice yourself like that, but it’s what Robert’s doing. His life for hers. So get on with it, get going, get to the castle!

Azhar was pulling up alongside him, having broken away from the pack behind, and was pointing to the horse he himself was riding; telling Dale what he already knew. Dale stabbed his own finger ahead. They were not stopping. The horses could rest when they arrived.

They had to reach the castle before it was too late.

E
VEN DURING HIS
days sneaking in and out of towns and cities to gather supplies, Mark had never pulled off a getaway like this one. He still wasn’t quite sure how they’d made it out of the castle grounds, let alone Nottingham.

They’d surfaced from the caves out by the Brewhouse Yard, a reversal of what Reverend Tate had done to gain access when De Falaise had been in residence. Tate had a fun time negotiating the steps, but with Mark and Sophie’s help he’d got down them okay. Of course, there had been men stationed in the Yard, who’d killed the Ranger guards, but Mark managed to creep up on them and took both out with blows to the head, hitting them with a fallen half-brick he’d picked up on the way.

The jeep had proved trickier, but while Tate and Sophie waited by the gate, he managed to creep up on the driver. Most of the vehicles had already entered the grounds, with some congregating up top or waiting down side streets because they couldn’t get in. They’d been lucky to find this one, very lucky.

Once he’d taken care of the driver, reaching in through the window and landing a well-aimed punch, Mark had climbed in and backed the jeep down to where his companions were hiding.

Sophie pulled the unconscious Russian out of the passenger side, and they’d climbed in, Tate having terrible difficultly getting in until Sophie helped out. That’s why they’d had to steal something with wheels; the Reverend wouldn’t have made it half a mile on foot.

Mark had kept the engine idling a good few minutes, however, at the Brewhouse gate, expecting to see Jack come bounding down those steps, Gwen, Adele and Mary with him.

No, not Mary. Mark had seen her, seen what the cave in had done. If she wasn’t dead already, she would be when the Tsar’s men or the cultists got their hands on her. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white.

He’d wiped the tears away, but not before Sophie saw them. She reached across and put a hand on his forearm. “We have to go, Mark.”

“Just a couple more minutes.”

“Jack’s resourceful. He’ll find a way to get out, to meet up with us. He wouldn’t want us to get captured. Would he, Reverend?”