creams to treat a variety of ailments I suspected did not really exist. But it made Tuck feel useful.
Whenever Robard tried to draw him into an argument, he would control his temper, and it really annoyed Robard that he was so slow to anger. One morning, as we were readying to break camp, they nearly came to blows. Little John was again telling me stories of his army service under King Henry and some of the details of his campaigns with Sir Thomas. I loved hearing his tales, especially about Sir Thomas. After one particularly adventuresome account of their defeat of French knights, Robard couldn’t resist.
“Ha. It sounds like you won the war single-handedly. From your description it sounds as if the French folded like a tent in a windstorm. .,” he remarked as he was mounting his horse. Robard didn’t get the chance to finish. Little John flew across the campsite and pulled Robard off the horse with one hand, tossing him to the ground and knocking the breath from his lungs.
Maryam moved to intercede and I put out an arm to stop her. “Wait,” I said quietly.
Little John stood squatting over Robard, who tried to regain his feet but was held effortlessly on the forest floor by the giant man. “Listen to me, archer, and hear me well. You are a soldier and a man of honor, and I do not dispute it. You’ve spoken of your father and his father, who have also defended the kingdom, and their sacrifice is noted. The Hode family has my gratitude. But know this: you are not the only man who has served. You are not the only Crusader who has seen the waste of lives and terror of warfare. I won’t tolerate rude behavior, especially when it comes to my service in the name of England. Are we clear?”
Robard’s face reddened as he struggled to free himself. But I saw John’s words finally reach him, and his anger subsided. “All right, Little John. I apologize. You are right, I had no call to make light of your service.” Little John nodded, and Robard extended his hand and was helped to his feet. Without another word he mounted his horse and rode off, not waiting for us to follow behind him.
As the morning passed, Robard grew more animated. “We’re close, my friends. Sherwood lies to the west of Nottingham. We can be there by nightfall if we push hard enough! We’ll dine at my father’s table and you’ll see some of the finest land in all of England.” He went on in a similar vein until we were no longer listening.
In the late afternoon, still many hours from Robard’s home, according to his estimate, we decided to make camp. The horses could go no farther without rest. Robard argued to keep pushing on, but Little John and Maryam counseled against it.
“Now is not the time to grow careless,” Little John cautioned. “Let’s say we keep going and find ourselves surrounded by Templars or King’s Guards. Our horses are less than fleet as it is. We could not outrun well-mounted troops.”
Robard finally agreed. We made our camp in a small stand of trees with a shallow stream nearby. My bones ached from riding, and I welcomed the freedom from the saddle. We ate a dinner of smoked hare and fell fast asleep.
The next morning we woke to find the woods shrouded in fog. It had grown considerably colder overnight, and we wasted no time building a fire. With any luck, Robard told us, we’d be sitting by his hearth come evening.
The mist swirled over and around and through the trees, making it difficult to see more than a few yards in any direction. The forest was quiet, and the birds and other sounds you would expect to hear even on a winter morning were missing. As we gathered up our gear and saddled the horses, Robard paced about the camp nervously.
“Is something wrong?” Little John asked.
“I’m not sure,” Robard finally answered.
“Do you think we’re in danger?” Maryam asked, her hands unconsciously moving inside the sleeves of her tunic.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. It might just be the weather,” he said. “My father used to call a foggy morning like this ‘a bandit’s day.’ It’s easier for someone up to no good to move about the forest. I guess it’s just. . nothing, I’m sure.”
Everyone hurried to get under way as Robard circled the campsite, peering through the mist and straining to listen to the sounds of the forest. It was just past sunup, but it would be some time before the fog was burned away. He strung his bow before he mounted his horse, and rode with it in his left hand across the pommel of his saddle.
As it turned out, he was right about the weather. It was a perfect day for bandits. Less than half a league from our camp five men stepped out of the fog and demanded that we halt. They were dressed as foresters and like Robard carried longbows, but their faces were hidden by hooded cloaks.
And they each had an arrow nocked and pointed at us.
17
Their sudden appearance was so shocking that I nearly cried out. After a moment, two of the bandits took the lead horses by the reins while two others blocked our retreat. We were effectively cut off.
Despite our situation, Robard was a study in calm determination, his hands in the air.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
None of them answered. Without speaking, the leader directed the others with a series of shrugs and shakes of his head, the arrow in his bow never wavering from the center of Robard’s chest. One of the men went for Sir Thomas’ battle sword at Robard’s waist. He removed it, belt and all, and slung the sword over his shoulder. I was thankful for the robe Tuck had given me, for I had taken to wearing the satchel beneath it so it was not visible. I strained to listen, hoping for the Grail to sound, assuring me we would survive this encounter, but it was silent.
“You’ll answer for this,” Robard said. “I know these woods and know them well. There is nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.”
His threats had no effect. The thieves stood as still as statues, save for the one gathering up our valuables. Brother Tuck made his familiar clicking sound as the man advanced and rocked back and forth nervously astride his horse. He was scared, and I worried he might do something to cause himself harm.
“Easy, Tuck,” I said, reaching over to take him by the arm, hoping I could calm him.
Maryam started acting like a frightened girl. “What do you want with us?” she whined. “Please don’t hurt us!” She dropped her reins, slumping in the saddle, and cried the worst fake tears I’d ever heard. But as she hugged her arms, I could see she was reaching up the sleeves of her tunic.
The cowled leader, however, kept his eyes on Robard. Finally, he said quietly, “Drop the bow.”
Robard still clutched his bow in one hand. “I think not,” he replied.
“I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to. Release it.”
“Not on your life,” Robard answered.
“Drop it! Or it’s an arrow for your morning meal!”
The bandit standing next to Tuck was momentarily distracted and thus caught completely unaware when the monk goaded his horse forward and brought his giant fist down on top of the bandit’s head. The man crumpled to the ground as if he had been felled by an ax.
“Now!” Robard shouted. I dropped the reins and winced as I rolled backward off my horse. The distinctive twang of a bowstring sounded, and for a moment I swore I felt the rush of air as an arrow passed through the space where I had been just an instant before.
I landed on my feet with my horse between me and the bandit on my right, and drew my sword. Maryam’s ululating cry echoed off the trees, and Robard’s shouts and curses rang through the morning air. To my left, Little John shouted that he and Tuck had already subdued the other archer. Angel barked and growled and snapped. She was no doubt making life difficult for one of the thieves, but I kept my focus on the man just beyond my horse.
Since they had probably intended to steal our mounts to begin with, and they appeared well trained and organized, I assumed the bandit was too disciplined to shoot one of the horses. Keeping the animal between us, I grabbed its halter and whacked its rump, steering it at a quick pace toward the bandit.
The man was brave, I’ll give him that. He held his ground. When I was nearly upon him, I whacked the horse
