stocks there to good use, but he did raise an eyebrow when he saw that the youth occupying them was wearing a uniform. As De Falaise joined them, Tanek explained that this 'soldier' and a couple of others – currently being held down in the caves – had been caught trying to flee the area by one of their routine patrols.
De Falaise bent slightly and asked the man his name.
'R-Rory,' he gasped, obviously having trouble breathing in the stocks.
'Was he not in Henrik's unit?' De Falaise asked Tanek. The larger man nodded.
'What happened? Why were you trying to escape?
At first Rory didn't answer, but then De Falaise gestured to Tanek, who grabbed hold of the captive, yanking his head up by his sweaty hair. 'Answer!'
'Gak… I was scared… Scared of… of what you'd do to me.'
'I see,' De Falaise said, 'as opposed to what we are doing now, you mean? No one has the option of walking away from my army, my young friend, I thought I had made that abundantly clear?'
Tanek pulled Rory's head back further and he let out a frightened choke.
De Falaise leaned in, his face inches from Rory's. 'Tell me what happened. Tell me what was so… frightening that you could not return.'
Rory's eyes flitted from Tanek to De Falaise. 'Our… our unit…wiped out.'
De Falaise raised another eyebrow. 'A whole squadron of men, with jeeps, motorbikes and a tank?'
Rory tried to nod, but Tanek's grip held him fast.
'And your commanding officer?' De Falaise enquired.
It was barely a shake of the head, thanks to Tanek, but it was enough.
'Impossible! Henrik was one of my best!' De Falaise searched Rory's features for any hint that he might be lying. 'How could this be? A gang, a group of resistance?' Had the people of the region banded together to fight back so quickly? If so, it was serious news indeed and they would require wiping out. Then another thought occurred to him. 'Or did you organise this yourself, perhaps? Kill the rest of the men and then make a run for it?'
Again, Rory attempted to shake his head, his breath coming in quick gasps.
'Then what? I need to know!'
'A… A man.'
'What? Just one man? You're lying.'
Rory forced out the words. 'No. A man… one man did it all. He came from the trees.'
'The trees? What on Earth are you talking about?'
'A man wearing a hood. He was like a ghost.'
De Falaise frowned. 'Where did this skirmish take place?'
It was Tanek who informed him this time that the incident had occurred not far from Rufford. De Falaise stood up and felt the corners of his mouth rise slightly. In spite of himself, and in spite of the fact he'd just lost one of his most capable and trusted fighters in Henrik, De Falaise was smiling. Then that smile turned itself into a chuckle, the chuckle a laugh. Suddenly De Falaise was guffawing like he'd just heard the funniest joke ever. Rory gaped at him, then stared upwards at Tanek, who appeared equally mystified.
'Can none of you besides myself see it?' De Falaise asked as he looked from the captive to Tanek. 'Someone else is playing the game.' They looked at him blankly. 'Do you not understand? A man wearing a hood… A hooded man? Just like the statue outside this very castle!'
He waited for it to dawn on them. This all made sense now, especially when you factored in what Javier had told him about Hope; about the name De Falaise had acquired there. If he was to play the role of the Sheriff of Nottingham, then someone was auditioning for the part of his arch nemesis. Someone who was a little too enamoured with the old legends of this place.
'Gentlemen, history is repeating itself, is it not? But there will be a different outcome this time. History is written by the victors, and it has painted my 'predecessor' in a remarkably bad light. That will not be allowed to happen again. This hooded man must be destroyed at once, before news of what has happened reaches the rest of the towns and villages. Before we really do have rumblings of rebellion.'
De Falaise ordered Tanek to extract as much information from Rory as he could about what had happened. 'Use any means necessary; and when you are finished with him, work on the rest. Then we will send out as many men as we can spare.'
'Where to?' Tanek enquired.
De Falaise grinned once more. 'Where else would we send them to hunt for the hooded man, but to Rufford. Rufford at the heart of Sherwood Forest!'
CHAPTER NINE
It wasn't an easy thing to do, but Robert was putting what had happened behind him. Not the big thing, not the thing that sent him out here in the first place, but the thing that had happened a couple of days ago at the market. He'd returned to his life as 'normal', busied himself with the everyday, with catching food and living out his time. At night he still dreamt of the men, of his son, of Mark, but on waking he was able to slot them into some hidden compartment of his brain. He'd quietened the voices that told him he was leaving Bill and the others to fend for themselves against overwhelming forces; armed men that he'd brought down on them. It was none of his business – Oh, so suddenly it's nothing to do with you? Weren't saying that when you were rushing to their defence, were you? – it didn't matter anymore what happened, he of all people should know that.
He could just keep on running, keep on hiding. It was for the best.
But Robert should also have known, especially after the amount of times he'd done it himself standing by the huge lake at Rufford, that when you cast a stone into the water it creates ripples. He could no more run from his destiny than he could commit suicide after losing Joanne and Stevie.
A few days later he spotted an intruder near to his camp.
Or at least he thought it was an intruder – he'd been on edge since his encounter with De Falaise's men, for which no one could really blame him. Robert had been bringing back some of the day's spoils when he spotted movement in the undergrowth not far from his tent. Robert had done his best to camouflage his home, and doubted whether any passers by would see it from a distance. But what if they were looking for it?
Relax, he told himself, might only be an animal. Though it hardly ever happened, deer had been known simply to walk into his camp before now. They never stayed long, though, and counted themselves lucky that the times they'd done so had been when he'd had more than enough meat to last him.
But it wasn't an animal. As Robert crouched down he saw the shadow cast across the trees. Leaving the catches where they were, he began to move around, encircling the camp, keeping low and loading a freshly-made arrow into his bow at the same time. The approaching figure was stealthy, but over time Robert had become the master. When he was close enough, he rose up out of the woodland, aiming his arrow at the intruder's head. His finger twitched, almost releasing the missile.
What he saw made him stand down, ease up, and let the tension of the bow lapse. There, holding his hands in the air, was Mark. 'Don't shoot!' he urged, a little too late. If Robert had decided to do so, there'd have been nothing he could have done about it.
Robert let out a long sigh. 'What are you doing here? I could have killed you.'
'I…' Mark began, the implications only now sinking in. 'You could've as well, couldn't you?'
Robert's gaze never faltered. 'I still could,' he informed him. 'Why have you come here when I specifically told you not to?'
He wasn't expecting Mark's answer. 'To warn you.'
'What?'
Mark nodded. 'They're coming for you, Robert. De Falaise's men.'
'How do you know?'
'How do I get to know anything?' Mark said with a smile. 'I keep my ear to the ground. And right now I can hear marching feet.'
'Let them come.'
