only just managed to back away before she kicked out – hoping to catch him between the legs.
De Falaise's face soured.
'Not used to fighting a woman, are you?' she goaded him. 'Used to them playing nicely, eh?'
He came at her again, the sabre swishing as it narrowly missed her. She leaned first one way, then another, countering his next swing with one of her own, before hefting the sword and almost opening up his belly.
There was a sound from above, heard even over the rage of gunfire. The thrump-thrump-thrump of a helicopter. It had been so long since De Falaise had heard the noise of rotor blades that he stopped what he was doing and looked. Shots rang out from the rooftop of the castle, hitting the side of the machine, but as De Falaise kept his eyes trained on the scene, someone leaned out of the side of the chopper and attempted to fire a bow and arrow.
When he looked down again, he saw that the woman was also gazing upwards – mouth wide in surprise. He took his opportunity, to make her as 'compliant' as the others females he had known, to knock the fight out of her as someone should have done long ago. De Falaise gripped the handle of the sabre and punched her with the hilt, splitting her lip open with the guard of the blade.
Her cry was music to his ears. She toppled backwards, losing her grasp on her sword. De Falaise grinned wildly. Whatever else was happening around them, he was winning his particular fight…
'How's the head?' Bill asked as they'd manoeuvred in and out of buildings, keeping low to avoid detection.
Robert let out a soft moan by way of a reply. Whatever Mary had stuck him with had left one stinker of a headache behind. The last thing he'd remembered was them hugging goodbye, then something in his shoulder – the prick of a needle.
'I'm sorry,' she'd said, as he slumped forward into her arms. But all he could think was: why are you doing this? Had she been a spy of De Falaise's all along? Impossible. The Sheriff's men had been attacking her when they arrived at the farmhouse.
Then there were no more thoughts, just dreams. The same one he'd had many times before, where he'd faced De Falaise. This time the balance was shifting, the darkness was winning.
He'd come to at some point in the early hours of that morning. Sitting up in the tent, he felt his head spin and nausea rise. What had she injected him with, that same stuff from when he'd been shot? Or something else, something stronger she'd found in the supplies?
'There was all kinds of stuff in the medical packs…'
Whatever it was it packed more of a punch than any fist.
Robert looked down and realised that his clothes were gone again, stolen. He glanced to his right and saw the clipboard with the sketch on Mary had drawn. Him with and without his hood. It was then that he'd had the first inklings of what she was intending to do. 'No… Mary, what were you thinking?'
Snatching up his bow and arrows, and the sword she'd given him, he'd staggered from the tent wearing virtually nothing. It didn't matter, because there was nobody in the camp apart from a sleeping Mills, tied to a tree. All Robert's men had left to put the plan – his plan – in motion. The only problem was they'd left without him!
He looked up at the sky and saw the first hints of light there. Whatever Mary had used had put him out for most of the night. But there was still a slim chance. Robert raced round, grabbing clothing where he could find it – spare bits of uniforms mainly. Then, though his head was pounding fit to burst, he ran through the forest he knew so well, taking a short cut to try and reach Bill. With a bit of luck he wouldn't have set off yet.
Robert just about made it, propelling himself from the trees just as Bill was preparing to take off. He'd waved his hands to attract the man's attention, but when that hadn't worked, Robert had fired an arrow across the front of the helicopter's nose bubble. Bill had looked over, mouthing the words 'Judas Priest!' when he saw Robert.
'Yer supposed to be in the city,' he said as Robert climbed inside and put on the headset. 'Left ages ago.'
'That was Mary,' explained Robert. 'I'll tell you about it when we get in the air.' And he had, waiting until they were well on their way before offering his hypothesis.
Bill tutted. 'What's she playin' at? Lass'll get herself killed.'
Robert knew exactly what she was doing, and why, but he didn't say anything. He just instructed Bill to follow the plan as if nothing had happened. They'd assess the situation when they reached Nottingham.
They came in low over the city. If all had gone well then De Falaise's spotters on the ground had now been replaced by theirs, but they couldn't risk using the radios to check in case frequencies were being monitored.
'We 'aven't been shot down yet. That's a good sign,' Bill commented. He kept low until dawn had broken completely, then he lifted the helicopter up above the rooftops and began their run.
By the time they reached the castle, everything was kicking off. 'Looks like the party's already started.' Bill pushed the chopper forward, dipping the nose to gain more speed.
Robert had his face pressed against the glass, looking down at his men attacking on several fronts – Jack from the north; Granger and Tate from the south; the rest from the east. It was the latter who were encountering the most resistance from the soldiers on the walls firing at them. Robert also saw the crowd and the gallows, making out the figures of De Falaise, a huge man who had to be Tanek, a smaller figure who was undoubtedly Mark – and a person dressed in his clothes. 'Mary,' he said.
Even as he watched, he saw Jack tackle Tanek – quite possibly the only man who could stand a chance against him at close range – then De Falaise and Mary's duel begin.
There was a heavy ping as a bullet ricocheted off the side of the Sioux. 'That were too close for comfort!' Bill exclaimed. 'Looks like we got our man there's attention.'
Robert took his eyes off the scene below and refocused on the castle rooftop. There was the sniper Granger and the others had told him about, and he had his weapon trained on them.
'Think you can keep us alive long enough for me to take him out?' Robert asked Bill.
'Aye.'
Bill zigzagged the chopper and Robert saw now what the man meant about manoeuvrability. If they'd attempted this in any one of the planes from the museum they'd have crash-landed.
Robert opened the door of the helicopter, wrapping one thigh around the safety belt and using it to hold him while he leaned out. He didn't dare look down, and kept his mind totally on the job at hand. This was a tricky shot, especially while the chopper was moving, and with the sniper still firing at them, but Robert shut everything else out apart from the gunman and the threat he posed. Time slowed down; he was back in the woods, in the forest, hunter versus prey. Robert slipped an arrow into his bow, drawing it back as far as he could.
Bill helped him by bringing the chopper sideways on, though he couldn't hold the position for long. It would be a case of who fired first, and who was the most accurate shot.
'Now! Y'have to take it now!' Bill shouted.
Robert let out the breath he'd been holding, then let go of the arrow. At the same time the sniper fired off another shot.
The sniper's round grazed the back end of the Sioux, but it was Robert's arrow that had the most impact. It rocketed through the sniper's scope and straight into his eye. The man let out a howl that could be heard above everything else. Flailing around, his hip caught the edge of the roof's wall and he went over.
'Shot!' Bill clapped Robert on the shoulder as he eased himself back inside.
The helicopter made a strange noise that sounded like a cough. That cough turned into a splutter and Bill wrestled with the controls.
'What's happening?'
'Must've nicked somethin',' Bill told him, stating the obvious.
'Can you get us in lower, I need to help Mary and put those soldiers on the wall out of commission.'
'We'll be goin' in lower, all right,' said Bill as the chopper took a turn downwards.
It was the speed they were coming in at that Robert didn't care for. He glanced at Bill, who threw a look back, and they both focussed their attention on the ground that was coming towards them fast.
They saw no more soldiers on their way up through the caves. Only when they reached the exit did some of De Falaise's men begin shooting.
Granger and his group returned fire, picking them off with bullets and arrows alike. It was Tate who pointed out that the men on the walls needed to be incapacitated first. 'Try just to wound or injure if you can. The fewer deaths the better,' advised the Reverend.
