Robyn and the Hoodettes (9 page)

Joan beamed with pride. “Now we can ride to Sheffield instead
of walk.”

“
Mother’s milking the cow. Help yourself while it’s
warm.”

“
Oh, hello, who’s this?” Joan said as she accepted the bowl of
milk –

–
which Ellen dropped as she took a sudden step back.

“
Oh, I’m so clumsy! I’m so sorry!” Using the cow as a shield,
Ellen muttered about getting her another drink.

“
This is Ellen a’Dale,” Mother Eleanor said by way of
explanation. “She’s wandered in from the valleys.”

***

Ellen couldn’t stand clumsy behaviour in other people, yet
that’s exactly what she’d become at the sight of the girl giant. It
had to be the same one who’d handed them their backsides on the
King’s Road. And now she was right here! Which meant any of the
others in the village could be her accomplice.

Would the giant recognize her? Oh please no, that would ruin
everything.

It was dusk when they’d met on the road, and, praise the
saints, it was pretty dark now. And she’d been disguised as a man
at the time to blend in with the rest of Roger’s men.

Well, they had all been dressed as men, hadn’t they? Still,
there was no mistaking this tall girl as the one who’d given her a
right walloping.

Then again, perhaps Ellen wasn’t the only one with bruises? No
doubt the giant had lumps on her head from forgetting to duck under
doorways.

Don’t be stupid, you can’t hide behind the cow forever. Hand
the giant her milk and if she recognizes you, make a run for
it.

Holding a full bowl, she stood up carefully, holding back
the trembles as she handed it over.

Not a flicker of recognition from the giant’s face as she took
the milk and drained it.

“
Thank you very much, Bella,” the giant said, then she handed
the bowl back. “I’m Joan, by the way, nice to meet you Ellen. Are
you here on your own?”

Yes and no. She had to think quickly. “I was with my family,
we were going to Sheffield to trade, but the Sheriff’s men stopped
us on the road and we all had to run off in different
directions.”

“
Him again,” Joan said. “We’ll have to clonk him harder next
time we meet.”

“
You what?” Ellen asked, pretending not to know.

The girl called Robyn elbowed Joan in the ribs to hush her and
said, “We’re going to Sheffield ourselves, once Marion’s finished
up. You can ride with us if you like.”

“
I’ll say ‘yes’ to that.” Ellen was grateful for the warm milk
in her belly, grateful they hadn’t recognized her, and especially
grateful for the offer of a ride back to Sheffield.

Going there alone would have been problematic; it was a
long walk, and she might run into Roger.

Travelling with plenty of other girls and a bad-tempered
blacksmith? It was the perfect cover.

Maudlin was going to be so proud of her when she turned Joan
the giant in. So long as these villagers didn’t work out who she
was before then.

“
Tie your frock,” Mother Eleanor said, coming over to Ellen and
looking at the state of her clothes. “My goodness but your skirt is
simply hanging off you. Tie them up better so you don’t get caught
in anything.”

“
Yes, of course, thanks,” Ellen took a step back and
adjusted herself.

Eleanor tend
ed the cow. “Joan dear, hand me that rope, we’ll tie Bella
to the back of the wagon and bring her too. And Robyn, for goodness
sake, tie your frock as well. You can’t go to Sheffield looking
like that.”

“
Who cares what I look like?” Robyn said.

“
I do, and so will the gatekeepers. You want to look like you
belong, not like you’re some desperate refugee whose village has
burned down.”

Ellen gulped at the mention of fire. She’d been one of the
arsonists.

“
Our village has burned down,” Robyn stated the
obvious.

“
Let’s not be telling them that either,” Eleanor
said.

Joan piped up. “We’ll say we’re traders on our way south to
Nottingham.”

Ellen stopped breathing. Joan had appropriated her own lie to
suit them. Did that mean Joan didn’t believe her after
all?

Oh dear. Despite appearances, the lumbering giant had a brain
as sharp as a pick.

Making a run for it back to the valleys suddenly felt like a
really good idea.

Robyn kept up her chat with Joan the giant. “OK, just for the
moment, let’s say our plan is to pretend we’re traders. What are we
selling?” Robyn asked.

“
Our spare horse?” Joan said.

“
Not Shadow!” Robyn ran to the animal and hugged her
neck.

Ellen tried very hard to stay out of it, but as she looked at
the two horses Joan had hitched to the front of the wagon she knew
exactly to whom they really belonged. These people were peasants;
they were lucky to have a cow. Highly unlikely they’d have not
merely one strong horse, but a ‘spare’ to sell as well. They’d
stolen these fine beasts as sure as dirt was dirt.

The list of charges was piling up!

The lad Marion came out of the forge with several leather bags
that made jingling noises as he walked. “We’re not selling, we’re
buying.” He tossed the leather bags to Joan, who deposited them
onto the floor of the wagon.

“
What are we buying?” Robyn asked.

“
Whatever they’re willing to sell,” Marion said.

“
What good will that do us?” Robyn asked.

“
We’re not really going to do that, that’s just the story we’ll
tell them if they ask us.”

“
Is that your plan?” Robyn asked him.

“
Got a better one?”

Ellen stifled a snicker. Oooh, that blacksmith really sounded
cross. With any luck, they’d be far too busy fighting with each
other on the way to Sheffield to even notice her.

“
Fine then. Everyone in the wagon,” Robyn said, climbing up and
getting the hem of her skirt caught on the wheel.

“
I told you to tie your frock,” Eleanor said.

“
Tie your frock, tie your frock,” Robyn said.

Eleanor’s hands turned to fists as she jammed them on her
hips. “Don’t mock me. Just tuck yourself in like a good
girl.”

“
Tuck, tuck, there you go,” Robyn said, tidying her
skirts.

Ellen approached the wagon. A heaving shove came from behind
as Joan “helped” her in.

“
Sorry. Some days I don’t know my own strength.” The giant
said.

With all five of them on board, the cow tied to the back and
the two horses harnessed at the front, Ellen curled herself into a
tidy ball as the wagon jolted forward.

What awaited them in Sheffield was anyone’s guess.

CHAPTER SIX

For a girl who’d spent all her life in Loxley, with the
occasional hunting foray into the Shire Wood and trade visits to
Littleton for chickens, the journey to Sheffield was a huge
adventure for Robyn. Shame it was at night, it was hard to make out
any of the countryside she longed to see.

She thought about the adventures her father and the rest of
the village men must be having as they took their crusade to the
Holy Land. Would they be having battles on the roads? Would they be
hiding in the forest? Did they even have the same sorts of forest
trees in the Holy Land?

Oh dear. Her imagination started getting the better of her
and she saw her father battling a fire-breathing dragon. Everyone
knew there were no more heathen dragons in England, but what about
other lands? They could have dragons that incinerated armies with
one breath.

And burn the villages.

Just as Roger and his men had done.

“
Do you know which way you’re going?” Marion asked as he sidled
up to her on the driver’s bench.

Irritation niggled Robyn. “Where else does this road
go?”

“
Don’t get snappy with me. I’m just wondering if we should have
waited until morning.”

Why did he have to be so . . . so . . .
Marionish
? And what was with people using
words like ‘snappy’? A girl could be in a wonderful mood, but the
minute someone accused her of being in a bad one, it became a
self-fulfilling prophecy.

The only way to calm down was to say nothing and wait for her
breathing to return to normal.

Marion nudged her. “You’re going silent on me now?”

Robyn kept her voice low so as not to alert anyone to her
rapidly worsening humour. Make no mistake, if Marion kept up this
niggling attitude, she’d be fair seething in no time. “You know
full well if we waited till morning, Roger would come
back.”

A shrug from Marion. “Maybe he won’t? There’s nothing left to
take.”

“
Thanks for the reminder.” Definitely in a foul mood
now.

If not for the job of holding the reins, Robyn would have
crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him. As it
was, she had to keep steering the horses. Straight if
possible.

The clip-clopping horse and cow hooves provided noise, but not
enough to fill the uneasy silence growing between them.

Why did things have to be so awkward between them all of a
sudden? They’d always been friends and mucked about together all
the time. But lately things were . . . different.

On they went, the cloudy sky providing a few glimpses of the
moon to guide the way to Sheffield. The cold night air swirled
around her neck, so she pulled her hood tightly over her
head.

“
It’s not your fault, you know.” Marion said at
last.

“
I never even thought that.” Robyn sounded far too defensive
to her own ears. Her guilty conscience told her if she’d not
annoyed the tax collectors so much, Roger wouldn’t have retaliated
so thoroughly.

“
No need to get defensive. Do you want me to take the reins for
a while? Have a rest for a bit?”

“
I don’t need a rest. I’m fine.”

Marion yawned.

Damn him, she caught the yawns faster than the pox and she
started yawning too.

“
Not tired, eh?” Marion said, then gave his top lip another
scratch.

Just a nod. If she opened her mouth to speak she’d yawn
again.

She could have sworn Marion was laughing as he too pulled his
hood up. He turned away, probably hiding another yawn. After a
while, he asked, “Do you have a plan for what we’re going to do
once we get to Sheffield?”

Not really, but she didn’t dare let on. “I’ve got it all under
control.”

“
Yeah?”

“
Course I have,” she bragged.

“
Fine by me.”

Using her ‘I’m in charge’ voice, she said, “We’ll be there
soon.”

“
How do you know? You’ve never been?”

T
hey
had to be close because the horses were tugging that bit more on
their harnesses, as if they knew the road.

“
There,” Robyn pointed ahead. In the distance, they could see
light spilling over the tops of a high wall. It had to be the
battlements around Sheffield Castle.

“
What are we going to say when we get there?” Marion asked.
“I’m sorry to carp on, but we do need a plan.”

“
I’ll think of something.” If he said that ‘P’ word one more
time . . .

Marion turned to head back into the wagon tray, parting with,
“Whatever you say, boss.”

Boss? The word scratched at her conscience. Being the boss
meant she had to be responsible for everyone.

Since when had that happened? Surely the adult was
responsible?

That same adult–her mother–
who’d been the one to bundle up the bag of
wheat and told her to run.

Yeah, that had turned out to be a wonderful plan.

Think, girl, think.

Marion’s idea of being traders simply didn’t ring true.
Firstly, they looked nothing like traders, what with the soot all
over their faces and hair reeking of smoke.

Secondly, they had nothing to trade.

They
had plenty of coin, but they looked so poor people would
assume they’d stolen it.

The horses pulled them faster towards the watch house by the
castle gates. There wasn’t time to call Marion back to the driver’s
bench to make new plans. She had to improvise something.

She yanked out a nose hair to set her eyes
watering.

Nothing for a second, then a delayed pain that really
hurt!

So much!

Tears leapt from her e
yes and her nose ran instantly.

Memories crashed through. Years ago she’d pulled out one of
her father’s nose hairs while he was sleeping. Oh the carry-on that
had erupted!

Now that she’d done it to herself, she understood her father’s
yowls of pain. Tears flowed like creeks down her face.