Robin: Lady of Legend (The Classic Adventures of the Girl Who Became Robin Hood) (33 page)

“Yes, well.” Lord Locksley’s keen blue eyes slid sideways to look at Robin. “Apparently, he had an unfortunate encounter with a band of outlaws the other day, and my daughter was there among them. Since she made no attempt to throw herself on the Sheriff’s mercy—in fact, she complained about his being present—he concluded that she was there voluntarily and that the kidnapping had been staged to break the engagement. According to the bylaws of Nottinghamshire, he has the right to demand recompense.”

Lord Locksley’s tone and words were neutral, and his face revealed nothing as he turned his gaze into the forest, but Robin knew as surely as if he had shouted it that he was aware she had orchestrated Marian’s disappearance. Shame filled her for not having confessed to the action the first time Marian’s name had been mentioned. Now, it was too late. Robin braced herself for her father’s wrath, but it did not come.

“You do not blame me?” she asked at last, bemused by his lack of rancor.

He did not answer her question directly, but merely said, “I shall be glad to see my daughter again.”

Robin felt even worse.

The sun was high in the sky and the fog dissipated by the time they reached the camp. It was much as Robin had left it, full of torpid men reclining at their ease. Even John was still at his place by the fire, staring drowsily into the flames. Had so little changed in their world? It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she had first espied her father on the road.

“Look lively, my friends!” Robin called to her men. “We have a guest.”

They turned to stare lethargically at the strange knight in their midst—at his rich clothes and his discrepant lack of jewels—who did not seem at all discomforted to find himself in an outlaw camp. Something about his demeanor sent them stumbling to their feet, and several of her people touched their hand to their forelock in an instinctive gesture of respect.

Robin led Lord Locksley to the base of the wide oak tree, stealing the blanket off Little John’s shoulders as she went. To her band’s surprise, she gave Lord Locksley her own place of honor, laying the skin on the ground for him to sit upon. Without being bidden, Lot sent two boys to the knight with a bowl of stew and a trencher of capon.

“Father!”

Marian ran over from across the clearing to hug the sitting man, almost making him drop the food he held in his hands. To Robin’s surprise, he let her hug him and even patted her lightly on the back in return, not seeming to mind that those around him were watching the display with avid interest.

“Father, what are you doing here? Did Robin bring you? Did Robin tell—?” but Robin coughed at that moment, and when Marian turned to look, she shook her head at her slightly. Disappointment swept over Marian’s face, but she bit off her question and turned back to her father with a smile.

“How are you, my child?” he asked when Marian finally let him go; his voice was strangely rough. “Do they treat you well?”

“Oh yes, Father!” she cried, sinking down onto the moss by his feet. Tears filled her eyes, and she hung her head. “I am so sorry to have worried you.”

“Never mind that now. You are safe when I had feared you were dead; that is all that matters to me.”

Robin was stunned; she had not realized that Marian and her father had grown so close. When had it happened? He had certainly never regarded
Robin
with—was that love?—shining in his eyes. She found she could not bear to look at them for long and turned her head away, accidentally catching Little John’s gaze. His face showed a clear comprehension of who this man was as he looked from Lord Locksley to Marian, and then back to Robin. Feeling self-conscious, Robin glanced away.

“. . . and are you happy here, my Marian?” her father was asking in a voice almost too low to hear. The girl beamed at him and nodded, but before she could expound on her answer, someone stepped up behind her and put a possessive hand on her shoulder.

“Will! So you are here, too?” Lord Locksley asked, quite surprised.

“Yes, sir,” he bowed. Marian tilted her head up to look at Will and reached to cover his hand with her own. Lord Locksley watched the tender gesture in astonishment.

“What is this?” he demanded.

Will gave a guilty start and quickly withdrew his hand from Marian’s shoulder, but replaced it a moment later with the air of a man steeling himself for a confrontation, clasping Marian’s fingers tightly in his own.

“I have asked your daughter to marry me, Lord Locksley. It would mean a lot to me—to us both—if you would give us your blessing.”

Sir Robert looked down at his daughter, who was gazing at him with hope and anxiety in her eyes. Her face had bloomed with light at Will’s determined declaration, and Lord Robert of Locksley remembered the way his own wife had looked the day she had agreed to marry him.

“Of course,” he said thickly, clearing his throat. “You will surely be a far better husband to my daughter than the one I had chosen for her.” Will’s shoulders sagged with relief, and silent tears slipped down Marian’s cheeks as Lord Locksley stood and kissed them both upon the brow.

One youngster let out a cheer, and to Robin’s surprise, Lord Locksley actually laughed. The rest of the band took that as permission to come up and clap Will on the back and to offer Sir Robert their congratulations.

“I thought you might insist on taking Marian back with you,” Robin murmured once the well-wishers had dispersed, squatting down next to where her father had resumed his seat.

He looked at her, his expression changing from one of fatherly pride to one of resigned sadness. “In three days time, even a forest home will be more than I can offer my daughter. Besides, she is happy here, and Will is a good man. They love each other deeply, that much is plain. It is best for them both that she stays.”

“Most lords do not care about their children’s happiness when it comes to marriage,” Robin said carefully.

“Most lords have not lost what I thought I had lost.” He gave Robin a wan smile. “All that I wanted was to secure a future for my daughters. Instead, my decisions stole both of my daughters from me, drove away my nephew, and lost me my estate. I have learned, too late, the value of happiness.”

“Well, at least you have Will and Marian back now. That has to be something,” Robin offered gamely.

“Yes . . . that is something.”

The melancholy in his voice was almost too much for her to bear, and Robin nearly blurted out her true identity right then and there. Only two years of carefully guarding her secret managed to stay her tongue. There was no point in revealing herself now, she reasoned, especially since it was likely that her father’s sorrow stemmed merely from the impending loss of his estate. Yes, that was it—he was concerned about the Manor; it had nothing to do with her.

“How much do you owe the Prior?” Robin asked him quietly, lowering her voice so that Marian, who was sitting nearby, would not hear.

He sighed. “Four hundred pounds.”

“That is all!?” Robin struggled to keep her voice from rising. “You are to lose your estate over a paltry four hundred pounds?”

“So says the outlaw,” the knight remarked dryly.

“What about your friends, the other nobles? Can they not help you? Can not the King?”

“The friends that I had when I was well-off have left me now that I am poor, and those who would have stood by me fear to do anything that might antagonize the Sheriff. As for the King, he is going on Crusade to Jerusalem and has no money to spare for a poor relation.”

When Robin spoke, her voice shook with anger. “It is a sad day when the only friend a lord can boast is an outlaw. Someday, I will make the Sheriff pay for all the ruination he has caused.” Lord Locksley stared at Robin, startled by her fury, as she got to her feet and sounded her horn. Heads snapped around to look at her, and those further away paused in what they were doing and wandered toward the center of the clearing to better hear what she had to say.

“My people! This honest knight has suffered cruelly at the hand of the Sheriff, and I would help him if I may,” Robin announced. “I wish to give him five hundred pounds from our coffers to buy back and reestablish his noble estate. I am well aware of the enormity of the sum I am asking, so I desire to know: does anyone protest my decision?”

The outlaws looked at each other. It was a shame for any man to lose his home, but five hundred pounds could feed five-score families for a year. Could they justify giving that sum to one man, even if he was Marian’s father?

Finally, David stepped forward. “Robin, you have always led us well. If you say that this lord is an honest man and deserves to have his lands, then it must be so. Do as you think is right.”

Affection for her people welled inside Robin as they murmured their agreement, and she had to turn away for a moment to hide her sudden tears. “Thank you,” she began, but her father interrupted.

“
I
protest,” he said, rising to his feet. “When I was wealthy, I treated five hundred pounds like it was a pittance. Now that I am poor, I know the value of the coin you offer. I cannot accept such a gift when your charity could help so many others who are in need.”

It was easy to see that he was sincere. His candid words filled the outlaws with awe, giving them hope for a future in which nobles could be so humble.

Robin, overwhelmed with pride for her father, shook her head. “Sir, your refusal does you honor, but please consider: it is my fault for stealing Marian away from you and for placing you in this predicament. You must allow me to remedy the situation. Furthermore,” she continued loudly, when he opened his mouth to interrupt, “you must not forget the many families and tenants who live on your lands. Though the Church is supposed to help people, it is said that the Prior is a cruel master, and your people are sure to suffer under his rule. Refuse to accept this money, and the Prior and Sheriff will accomplish not only your own ruination, but that of your people as well.”

Lord Locksley stared at Robin for a long moment, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Finally, he spoke. “I think, Robin, that you could convince the devil himself to leave off sinning if you so tried. I will accept the money you offer and use it to pay off my debts, but only on the condition of a loan,” he emphasized. “I will pay back your money, on my word as a gentleman and a knight.”

“Then I need not fear to see it again,” Robin said.

At her request, Will Stutley went down to the band’s treasure cave and brought back the agreed-upon monies. As he handed the bags to her father, Robin could not keep a slight smirk from appearing on her face—one of the bags was the Sheriff’s velvet purse, which had been taken during his recent visit to their camp. The second sack had—until two days ago—belonged to the Bishop of Hereford, by far the band’s least pleasant guest; Robin would never forget the hatred effusing his face when he had addressed her. It seemed appropriate that it was their gold that would help to pay her father’s debts, since it was the Sheriff and a Prior of the Church who sought to despoil him.

Her father received the contributions with stately gratitude, looking as though a thousand worries had been lifted from his shoulders. Holding his head high for the first time that day, he laid the monies aside in order to laugh and joke with her people, asking about their lives in the camp with genuine interest. Logan and Bentworth wrestled for his entertainment, and when the archers began to shoot, Lord Locksley took a turn and beat them all, although Robin declined to compete.

At last, he insisted that he could stay no longer, and Robin rose to lead him back to the main road; to her surprise, several of her men rose with her.

“We have been discussing the matter,” Little John informed them both, “and with your permission, we would like to accompany Lord Locksley to the Priory in case the Sheriff or the Prior gives him trouble. We shall return as soon as we are satisfied that he and his estate are safe.”

“Of course,” Robin granted, touched by their concern.

Lord Locksley seemed unable to speak. Finally, he said in a voice that trembled, “When I set out this day, I never thought to meet with such kindness. I cannot tell you how much I—” He tried again. “It means so much that—” but again, words failed him. In the end, he contented himself with, “If any of you are ever in need, come to me. I will lose my estate and all that I own before I let harm come to any of you.”

Robin brought over his horse from where it had been grazing, while Lord Locksley kissed Marian and Will on both their cheeks, promising to return for their wedding in the spring. Then he mounted his horse and allowed Robin to lead the way back through the woods, accompanied by a retinue of outlaws.

“Fare you well, sir,” Robin said when they reached the High Road, handing him back his reins. “Good fortune and God’s blessings be yours.”

“And yours also, Robin of the Hood. Someday, I will find a way to repay you for all you have done.” Then, placing one hand on her shoulder to steady himself, he leaned down from his saddle and kissed her on the forehead as a father might kiss his son. It was the first time he had embraced Robin since before she could remember, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. Lord Locksley gave her a small smile, and with a
tsk
to his horse, ambled off towards Emmet, Little John and her men walking at a comfortable pace behind him.

CHAPTER 21

A FATEFUL DECISION

LITTLE JOHN and the others did not return to Sherwood for several weeks, but when they did, it was with great elation over the outcome of Lord Locksley’s dealings with the Prior.

“That old man has some of your cunning, Robin,” Shane remarked to her in admiration, unaware of the truth of his own assertion. “Lord Locksley never lied once, yet weaved his words in such a way that the greedy Prior felt certain he would own his estate before the day was through. The Prior even lowered the quittance price to three hundred pounds, so as not to seem completely without mercy!”

“You should have seen the Prior’s face when Lord Locksley made good on that three hundred then and there!” Glenneth chimed in. “He turned as green as a basil leaf.”